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Then he’d found himself in Becca’s truck, being driven to a llama ranch. A ranch full of llamas, including two llamas that hadn’t taken to the herd or something? The guy running the place, Dan Sharpe, who’d seemed strangely familiar even though Gabe had never met him, said he was happy to have one inside llama, but his wife had put her foot down at two.

And suddenly, Gabe had a llama. Apparently, its name was Macaroni. Dan assured Gabe a change in name wouldn’t confuse it.

A llama.

“What am I doing?” he muttered as Becca helped him transfer the llama to the back seat of his truck.

“You’re professing your love with a weird animal, and I couldn’t be prouder. Or happier. Or—”

“She might not be as ecstatic about the llama as you are.” Or the love. Forty-eight hours wasn’t so bad in the grand scheme of coming to grips with years of childhood fucked-upedness, but he’d been mean. A little cruel.

He figured she could and would forgive stupidity. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to forgive cruel.

Becca added another blanket around the llama, cooing to it softly before she closed the back door and turned to him. “If she doesn’t want to keep it, I do.”

“So, the real reason you agreed to this comes out.”

She reached up and cupped his face, patting his cheeks. A little hard to be considered a pat, really. It was very close to a slap. “Off you go. Grovel, plead, beg, but don’t you dare make my Christmas dinner tomorrow awkward.”

Gabe gave her a mock salute, but he stiffened when she sniffled.

“I’msoglad you found—”

“Don’t you dare start.”

“—someone,” she continued, ignoring him completely. “I’m so glad you’re giving this a shot, and I’m so, so, so glad fate brought me the best pseudo-brother a girl could ask for.”

“Make sure you inform Jack I’m the best.”

“Only until Rose has the baby. Then he gets to be the best for making me a pseudo-aunt, but I’ll switch back when you and Monica get married.”

“Have it all planned out, do you?” Married. Christ. He had a ways to go on that front. Maybe it didn’t fill him with dread or anything—after all, he wouldn’t try to get over years of fear and shit for just anyone.

Married.

Becca grabbed him in a tight hug. “No jokes, okay? Just be honest with her.”

His initial reaction was to lean away, to carefully disentangle himself from all Becca’s care, but he didn’t let himself. He hugged her back because it helped with the nerves, leaning on someone. Believing in them and what they said and felt. “I’ll do okay, and if she kicks my ass, you’ll patch me up, right?”

“We all will.” She brushed a sisterly kiss across his cheek, then released him. “I want an update, even if it’s only text.”

He nodded, then got in the driver’s seat of his truck. On a deep breath, he shoved it into drive.

“Stay put, Macaroni,” he muttered. Because yes, he was in love and talked to llamas. That was his life now. Normal, normal life.

Panic was also a part of this new normal, because it beat through him like a wild thing. But it was a weird panic because he felt no compulsion to turn around. He wouldn’t go back. Couldn’t.

He followed the Shaw’s drive over to Monica’s cabin, then frowned at the prettily lit house. It looked like a fairy-tale Christmas cottage, but Monica’s truck wasn’t out front, and she clearly hadn’t been home yet, because there was some snow that had blown up over her stoop at least partially blocking the door. Based on the flight information Monica had given Becca, she should have been home by now.

“Well, Macaroni, we might be screwed.”

The llama shifted in the back seat, but that was about all.

Headlights splashed across the dark, and then her truck was pulling up next to his. She was here, and he had to actually do this.

He stepped out of his truck the same time she did.

She stared at him as if she couldn’t believe he was there, but it gave him some hope he didn’t see any traces of horror at him being here.