Page 135 of Distress Signal

“Love you more.”

“Not possible.”

The bar was packed,and I knew Aria’s upcoming performance tonight had a lot to do with it.

Thankfully, someone had called ahead to reserve our usual table.

Déjà vu hit mehardwhen we walked in, being back here with Reagan for the first time since the night we met. With her hand in mine, towing her through the mass of bodies—the lines between past and present blurred, transporting me backward seven years while I remained in the moment.

Reagan and I had lost so much time together, and I vowed not to waste anymore.

I was going to ask her to stay. To build a life with me here in Dusk Valley. To make my house our home.

We’d barely settled around the large table before the bartender appeared, a younger girl I’d never seen before, carrying a tray of beers. Even Aspen, who normally didn’t drink out of solidarity with her fiancé, reached for one and slammed half before coming up for air.

“What?” she asked when she found us all staring at her. “I’m ready for this fucking wedding to be over.”

“Rude,” Crew muttered, though he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“It’s not you, hotshot,” she reminded him in a way that suggested they’d had this conversation before. “I can’t wait to be your wife. I just hate the production of it all. We should’ve eloped.”

Crew snorted. “And risk the wrath of Mama?”

Aspen softened. She loved our mother fiercely, and Mama loved her right back.

“Birdie is theonlyreason we’re doing the big reception,” she said to the rest of us. “That was the only concession I’d been willing to make.”

Though the guest list was over two hundred people, the bulk of them were only invited to the reception. They’d wanted tokeep the ceremony small, so only close family and friends would be present.

“Smart,” Delia said, raising her beer in toast, which Aspen clinked with her own. “When we told Birdie we were doing a destination wedding in the Bahamas, QB thought she was going to disown him.”

“She must’ve forgotten how much of my money keeps this place afloat,” Owen chuckled.

“Hey!” West and I protested in unison. I added, “The rescue is doing well.”

“And the dude ranch is booked solid year-round,” West said, proudly puffing out his chest.

Our oldest brother laughed heartily now. “Easy killers. I’m just fucking with you.”

He wasn’t entirely off base, though. After Dad died, Owen left college a year early, forgoing his senior season to declare for the NFL draft. A sizable portion of his signing bonus went toward keeping us fed, clothed, and the ranch running smoothly. The cash infusions continued until West and I returned from the service and ultimately took over operations. But we hadn’t needed money from Owen in a long ass time.

“The point is,” Delia said. “We all know how Birdie gets when she’s disappointed.”

I’d been on the receiving end of it myself more than once and knew Delia spoke the truth.

“Like when we told her we were enlisting?” West said to me with a grimace, plucking the thought right from my head.

“She didn’t speak to us for a week.”

“I remember that!” Aria said. “She made me be the go-between when Crew refused.”

We all burst into laughter, reminded of our eight-year-old sister acting as liaison between her mother and eighteen-year-old brothers.

“See!” Aspen exclaimed. “I donotneed that kind of karma.”

Loud, obnoxious feedback from the nearby speaker cut off further conversation, and Aria grinned.

“That’s my cue.”