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I’m not given a chance to prod for context when Lachlan calls us over to the pit. Bron’s chair is folded up and tossed to one side. The four remaining seats sit in a perfect circle around the pit.

“Right here, sweetheart.” Lachlan pats the chair between him and Van. “Got to keep an eye on you when the fire starts.”

Despite the rock in my gut, I laugh at his teasing and accept the offering. I’m surprised when Lauren doesn’t argue about not getting to sit next to me, but she skips to hers across from mine and plops into it.

In the years after losing my parents, Van and Lachlan have made it a point to include me in every family activity. They insist I join them even if it is just Lachlan and Bron, or Lauren and Van. I’m grateful for their kindness. I know they feel bad for me, a lonely orphan with no family, but even if it is out of pity or obligation to my dad, I’m okay with it. I’ll do anything to keep having moments like this with them.

Anything.

But the fact that I get to watch Van and Lachlan do manly things is just an added bonus.

Like building a fire. Doesn’t sound impressive, but anything those two do gets my blood going. Like the wayLachlan’s shirt tightens over his back and across his shoulders as he aligns the logs in the pit. The way his big hands close around the wood with authority and purpose. The way the veins on his arms flex. The way Van moves to replace his friend. Folds all those muscles and swipes the matchstick across the box with a fluid motion.

The way he pauses with the lit flame between his fingers. Light and shadows paint the rugged lines of his face. Illuminates the fire in his eyes when they lift over the pit to pin me to my seat.

Air escapes my lungs with the force of that single glance before the stick is chucked into the nest of twigs at the bottom.

It’s all so masculine and precise. How can anyone resist? It certainly gets my brain — and other parts — revving. Parts that need things only my hand has been providing.

I tried with Bron in the months we initially started dating. I did everything including stripping down and he refused to touch me. The sneer of disgust as he physically threw himself off the sofa killed any confidence I may have had as I scrambled to gather my clothes together.

His,“What the fuck are you doing? Put your clothes on.”Lives in my head.

It’s why his performance earlier baffled me. He made such a big show about taking me to bed and yet, in the past, the thought turned him a violent shade of green.

All for Lachlan,the voice in my head states.It was all to goad Lachlan.

Which is crazy because why would Lachlan care? His son’s personal relationship can’t be that high on his list.

I steal a glance in the man’s direction to find him studying the fledgling flames lapping at the logs. The orange hue dances along the lines and contours of his beautiful face.

He seems so deep in thought. Lost to the voices. Part of me thinks he’s contemplating the events of tonight, but I could be wrong and he’s wondering what to make for dinner tomorrow.

Still, I feel the nagging need to apologize. He’d been so kind inviting me to his home and I caused such a mess. Maybe I should give us all some space. It won’t be easy but I’ll decline the next invitation. Give him and Van a drama free evening.

I toy with a loose piece of thread on my jeans and sigh. Not very loud. A tiny exhale, yet Lachlan’s head lifts in my direction. Gaze assessing.

“Okay?” he asks.

I will a smile. “Just thinking what a risk you’re taking. No extinguishers in sight.”

The corner of his mouth tilts. “Notice no marshmallows? I think we’re okay.”

I snort a laugh and turn to find Van watching me. No smiles. No softness in sight. Every line is taut. Hard. Cut with an anger he’s channeling into the bottle between his fingers.

Guilt sizzles in my belly and I have to look away. Ashamed. The need to speak, to explain gnaws at my gut, but all I can do is sit and stare at the fire and wish I’d gone home.

CHAPTER TEN

EVERLY

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PRESENT DAY...

I’m being punished.

There’s no other explanation as to why there is a marching band in my skull and my body is weighed down by rocks, preventing me from protecting myself.