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I breathe in, deep. Let it out slow.

“You’re not losing me.”

Her smile is warm, steady—like always. Like home.

We don’t need to say more. I see it in her eyes—everything we’ve shared, everything we will. If I were to let this rift grow, Ray would win more than a ruined night. He’d steal the one thing I’ve held on to longer than any romance.

My friends.

I won’t let him do that to me, no matter how much it stings my pride.

8

RAY

“The wild one,” Sammy says, shaking his head. “Charge on in. What, you think you’re Raul? You charged in there like a goddamn maniac. You’re lucky you got away with just a smack.”

I have to take his shit—because he’s not wrong. That’s what pisses me off the most.

I lost it. No strategy. No patience. Just reckless, raw impulse. I saw Stacy with that jackass and my blood boiled. Instead of walking away and letting it cool down, I let it spill over and the wolf surged. Even then I should have stopped it, but I didn’t. I let my wolf’s impulse to dominate take over.

And Stacy was pissed.

That calm, gentle gaze—full of possibility—vanished in a blink. Snapped like a dry twig underfoot. How am I supposed to blame her?

I can’t stop replaying it. The way her eyes narrowed, her body stiffened, and the warmth drained from her face like I’d slapped her soul.

I hadn’t just scared her—I’d betrayed something between us. Something that I hadn’t even had the courage to name.

I pretend to focus on the alternator, but I’m really just waiting for Sammy’s next dig. And sure enough…

“You sure that’s the right screw, genius?” Sammy asks, not even bothering to look up.

I glance down. Damn it—wrong again.

You charged in there like a goddamn maniac…

“Not now, Sam,” I mutter.

“Then when?” he snaps, looking up. His usually soft brown eyes are sharp, unforgiving. “You think everyone’s just going to forget what you did? The risk of it? Not only did you make a scene, you embarrassed all of us. And don’t get me started on how much you scared her.”

I flinch. That last comment lands hardest. Stacy.

It’s been three days and in every one of them Sam has made it his personal mission to remind me of what a jackass I was. Every misplaced tool, every minor mistake—he pounces, tying it all back to North Haven like it’s the goddamn Rosetta Stone of failure.

I’ve given him grief too—it’s what brothers do. But when I do it, it comes with a smirk. A laugh. A jab that lands soft. Sammy’s throwing punches, and isn’t pulling back. Sam’s definitely not laughing, and neither is Raul.

Raul, I thought he would understand. He set the tone, didn’t he? He lost it on Monica’s ex, but fat fucking chance. He doesn’t tease me or snap, but he won’t look me in the eye. Hisdisappointment cuts deeper than Sammy’s sniping anger ever could.

And Monica? Hell, she used to welcome me with hugs, laughter, and invitations to dinner. Now it’s a cold nod, if that. A polite smile stretched too thin to be real. A smile that cracks around the edges when she notices me looking. All that welcoming warmth is gone.

I apologized. Twice. Said everything I thought might matter. Told them I was sorry for storming that mansion, for putting Stacy on the spot, for not thinking it through.

Problem is they don’t want apologies. They want me to be someone else. Someone better.

Raul says I should’ve controlled myself—like I wasn’t acting on instincts he has every bit as much as I do. Monica said I shouldn’t have been there at all. That I wasn’t invited. They’re both right, but that doesn’t make their baleful silence any easier to bear.

“I’m done for the day,” I say, tossing the carburetor onto the bench and walking away.