Page 96 of Oathbreaker

Colt stills.

Then drops his head back and laughs.

It’s loud and beautiful and so much like the Colt I fell in love with as a teenager that I freeze, watching him, soaking it in.

His gaze comes to mine, grin wide, and then he loops an arm around my middle and drops his lips to mine.

“I can handle it, baby,” he says once he’s kissed me senseless.

“Ugh!” I hear from behind him, turning to see Frankie standing in the opening, Banks holding Maisie, Aspen and Jade arm-in-arm, Willow at their side, Atlas and Royal behind them, and…

Dash.

Standing slightly removed, looking ready to murder Colt for daring to touch me, to kiss me, to hold me close.

That’s when the timer for the rolls goes off.

“And that was the end of that,” Colt finishes, the story of him, Dash, and their squadron battling against a goat who was obsessed with a soccer ball of all things.

Frankie laughs, and I’m right there with her.

The image of the goat chasing them all, wanting to get the ball and not afraid to use his horns to make it happen has all of us laughing.

All except Dash.

Who snorts and rolls his eyes, shoving his food around on his plate but not really eating it.

Even though he loves my Béarnaise sauce and seared steak and scalloped potatoes almost as much as Colt does.

Not tonight, though.

I swear he’s barely had a single bite.

“And then what’d you do, Daddy?” Frankie asks. “After the ball popped?”

“Well,” he says, ignoring the way my brother goes ramrod stiff at her use of the name Daddy (something we all take his lead on and do the same), “then your Uncle Dash did what he does best.”

Frankie tilts her head to the side in silent question.

Colt looks at Dash, holding my brother’s gaze for the first time. “He found a way to get over it.”

The table takes a collective breath, bracing.

“Then he helped me fix it.”

Frankie frowns. “But I thought Uncle Atlas’s superpower is fixing things?”

“It is, sweetie,” Jade says.

“Even all of Uncle Atlas’s fixing superpowers couldn’t fix this fucked-up shit,” Dash mutters from next to me.

I toss my napkin down onto my plate, turn to glare at my brother.

Willow steps in before I blow my stack, leaning over and ruffling Frankie’s hair. “Uncle Atlas is great at fixing things. But”—she grins, stage whispering—“Uncle Dash is pretty good at it too.”

“Oh.” She considers that. “He did help me put the batteries in my remote control car.”

“Because her Daddy wasn’t around to help with it.”