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“Is that so?”

“Yes,” she said. “How do I look?”

He couldn’t look directly at her. That was the thing.

“You look good, Bix.”

“Thanks, Daughtry. You could try and make it sound like I’m not torturing you.”

He’d like to pretend nothing tortured him. Being tortured would require... caring.

Sex for him had always been casual. And there was nothing casual in how he felt for Bix; that was the problem. She was special, and he didn’t know what to do with special. Particularly because the feelings he would need to handle her well and proper were also feelings he felt the need to build a fence around.

But she wasn’t a symbol; she was a woman. And it was impossible for him to deny that now.

“You’re going to do great,” he said, deciding to sidestep the tension that was building between them.

“I know that, Sheriff,” she said.

They pulled up to the barn, and Bix hopped out, and he watched her skirt along the edges of the different people there. He could see her confidence growing, but it wasn’t all the way there yet.

He moved to join his own family, and had the strangest feeling creep over him.

They weren’t really any different. They didn’t know how to join people. Landry was the closest to figuring that out. Arizona was a close second, though she was still prickly as hell.

Justice, Denver and Daughtry didn’t really know how to do anything but stick to themselves.

And apparently adopt strays. He was struck by the parallels between himself and his brothers. He hadn’t really noticed them before.

He wondered if this was their twisted attempts at making a new family. He knew why Denver felt beholden to the Patrick girls. He’d been there when their father died.

He didn’t quite understand the connection between Justice and Rue.

It was some kind of deep caring that had started back when they were kids.

As for himself? He had wanted to help Bix, because he felt like his work as a police officer functionally meant nothing if he didn’t move to help a person in need too.

It was more than that now. It wasn’t about atonement, really. What he’d said to her hadn’t been honest.

Maybe this was friendship.

Except he was attracted to her.

One thing he knew: he was just as feral as she was.

That much was clear.

They all were.

And then Michael came over to stand next to Bix. He grinned, and was saying something encouraging to her. And Daughtry wanted to punch him in the teeth.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

For all his sense of law and order, for all he carried a badge. For all that he was Daughtry King, he didn’t want that guy being nice to Bix. He wanted to be nice to her. He wanted to be the one encouraging her, and he wanted his encouragement to be the most important encouragement.

You’re a dick.

His father’s lingering narcissism made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut. Because that was exactly the kind of thing his father would’ve thought.