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Weston caught up to Chance by the time they were nearly to Kayleigh’s house on the north side of San Antonio. He kept an eye on the cars around him in case they were being followed, because he knew Chance was in no frame of mind to do it.

When they pulled up to the house, Chance was out of his car and running to the front door before Weston could unbuckle his own his seat belt. Weston muttered a curse, pulling out his weapon as he got out of his car.

“Chance, wait!”

Chance—the most strategic of all the Patterson brothers—was rushing into a potentially dangerous situation without a plan. Weston knew why, but he doubted Chance recognized it.

He wasn’t surprised when Chance threw the door open and started shouting before he’d even cleared the door frame.

“Maci! Maci, where are you?”

Weston shook his head. Chance’s actions announced their presence to anyone still in the house and made them vulnerable, but Chance was running on autopilot. Logic held no sway in his mind.

And Weston knew if it was Kayleigh in this house, he’d be doing the same thing. So, he would back Chance up, even if he was being a dumbass.

Because that’s what brothers did.

Both of them slid to a halt when their office manager poked her head out from the hallway before stepping into the living room with a duffel bag in hand. “I’m right here. I’m fine. No need to announce to the entire state of Texas that we’re inside.”

For a moment, Chance relaxed. They both drank in the sight of Maci, unharmed and as safe as she could be in the middle of a crime scene. Weston lowered his weapon, although he didn’t holster it.

The second that Chance caught sight of the bag in Maci’s hand, he went nuclear.

“What the hell is that?” His eyes darkened and he stepped as far into Maci’s personal space as he could without pressing their bodies together.

Weston wasn’t sure if it was restraint, the need for consent, or self-torture that forced his brother to keep that small bit of distance, but it made Weston’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile.

Chance’s fingers flexed at his side, but Weston knew that even though he was upset, his brother wouldn’t grab a woman in anger. None of the Patterson brothers would.

“You should have left the house the second that you noticed something was wrong. Instead, you packed a damned bag. Are you out of your mind?”

Maci glared at him, dropping the duffel to rest her hands on her hips. “Excuse me? I don’t know who you think you’re talking to that w—”

“No, I’m not kidding, Maci,” Chance growled. “We’re dealing with people who are actively trying to hurt Kayleigh and her father. They don’t care about collateral damage. Who knows what would have happened if you’d caught them in the act. And instead of finding someplace safe to wait for us, like you should have, you stayed and packed a bag. Are you always this stupid and reckless or is it just today’s luck?”

Weston winced as Maci’s face froze into a type of cold fury he hoped to never be on the receiving end of. She breached the gap between them and, even with their height difference, anger made her a formidable opponent, especially when it felt like the air around them cooled twenty degrees in a heartbeat.

“Stupid? You think I’m stupid? I’ve been working for you guys for over a year now, Chance. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in a dangerous situation. So, yes. I knew what I was dealing with and what I could have walked into, and I made the decision to do my job anyway. Isn’t that what you’re paying me for? To do my job?”

Maci continued to rant, but Chance wasn’t responding anymore. Weston knew right away what was happening. Chance’s body was there, but his mind was running through every terrible thing that Maci could have experienced if they hadn’t been in time, if the thieves had still been in the house when she’d arrived.

All the Patterson brothers had their own childhood trauma—abuse, neglect, fear. The years before Sheila and Clinton had taken them in had shaped them in different ways. They each had their own way of dealing with the residual trauma when it popped up.

Luke resorted to his fists. Brax used his charm and words. Weston reverted to silence.

Weston dug deep into the strategic part of his mind and thought of all the possible... everything .

It was what was happening to Chance now—what happened when he was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do. Where most people could fight their way through the feelings and into consciousness, Chance just ran scenarios and shut down.

Weston grabbed Chance by the shirt collar and got right in his face. He needed to break this cycle before Chance sank too far into it.

“Chance, you need to take Maci outside while I confirm the rest of the house is secure.”

Chance stared at him with no indication he had any idea who Weston was. He didn’t move or say anything. Damn it. Weston shoved him a little, trying to force a reaction.

“Chance! Get Maci outside where it’s safe. Right now. Get Maci safe.”

That did it. Chance blinked at him, recognition dawning in his eyes. “Weston?”

“Get Maci outside.”

Chance looked around, and Weston could see him putting it all back together. His brother was a genius and it only took a split second.

“Right, outside.”

“I’ll secure the house.”

Maci was staring at them both with huge eyes. Weston wasn’t going to explain anything to her. That was up to Chance.

“Go with him,” Weston said to her, praying she wouldn’t argue.

She nodded, not saying a word when Chance took the duffel bag and led her toward the front door.

Alone, Weston cleared the house room by room. It wasn’t ideal, but he wasn’t going to ask Chance to leave Maci long enough to help. His first sweep confirmed that Maci was correct: there was nobody else in the house.

After holstering his weapon, Weston went back through the whole house again. Everywhere he turned, the house had been torn apart. Drawers left open and rifled through. Contents of cabinets spilled everywhere.

Papers and shards of broken ceramic mugs littered the floor in what he assumed was the office. Chairs had been overturned and a few of the desk drawers were in pieces on the ground.

The place was so destroyed, it was hard to tell if anything was missing. He’d have to call Kayleigh to get her input.

He walked through the house again. This time, he tried to imagine what whoever had broken in was doing and why. This obviously hadn’t been a failed kidnapping attempt. If that were the case, it would’ve been smarter for the perps to have left no record of themselves so they could try again.

It almost seemed like they were searching for something... But then, why were the drawers only broken in the office?

Had the wannabe perps been optimistic at first, willing to leave things intact as they dug through the house, only to get discouraged when they didn’t find what they’d come for? What was so important in Kayleigh’s house that they’d trash the place to find it?

Weston didn’t know, but he was determined to find out what the hell was going on.

“I CAN ’ T BELIEVE I agreed to stay behind,” Kayleigh mumbled to herself.

She opened the cabinet and pulled down a mug. If she didn’t get caffeine into her system soon, she’d scream. Kayleigh let the smell of coffee wash over her as she poured her cup, trying to let the familiar scent relax her as it usually did. It didn’t work. She was too wound up.

Why had she agreed to stay here? It was her house that had been broken into. She should’ve been there. But when Weston had asked, she’d let him convince her otherwise.

It was everything she’d tried to avoid with her father.

“Weston is not Dad,” she reminded herself. “He’s trying to protect you, not surround you in bubble wrap.” Nevertheless, the situation didn’t sit well with her.

She was still mumbling to herself when Sheila walked into the kitchen. “Mind if I interrupt?”

Kayleigh’s cheeks flooded with heat. “I guess we can add ‘caught talking to herself’ to the list of things I haven’t enjoyed today. Can I get you a cup of coffee too?”

Sheila laughed, waving away the offer. “Trust me, I talk to myself all the time. Some days, I think it’s the only way I’ll get some quiet in my brain.”

“I’m usually by myself, so I guess I don’t even realize that I’m doing it anymore,” Kayleigh said with a shrug.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sheila asked, leaning on the counter across from Kayleigh. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. Raising four teenage boys, I had to learn how to perfect that skill.”

Kayleigh had noticed that last night. Sheila had been aware of everything that was being said, even when the kitchen had been pretty chaotic.

Talking to others wasn’t easy for Kayleigh. She wasn’t quiet like Weston, but she was alone a lot. But she would try. “To be honest, I’m upset.”

“With Weston?”

Kayleigh rocked her head back and forth. “I’m more upset with myself.” She sighed, taking a fortifying sip of coffee before explaining, knowing Weston had filled Clinton and Sheila in on enough of what was happening for them to have a pretty good understanding.

“My father has always been protective—overly so. In his defense, some stuff happened when I was a kid to make him that way. And he has a lot of enemies, so he also tends to be paranoid. It’s led to more than a few fights over the years.”

“He loves you. It’s hard for a parent to put those protective instincts away, even when the children are grown.”

Sheila was obviously speaking from experience.

Kayleigh smiled at her. “I do understand that. And I love Dad. But I can’t live with someone smothering me.”

“And that’s what you’re afraid Weston is doing too.”

Kayleigh let out a sigh. “When Weston asked me to stay behind when he went to see what happened at my house, I agreed because I trust him with my life.”

She’d gotten a text a few minutes ago that there was no danger at the house and Weston would call in a while.

But here Kayleigh was, hiding and sipping coffee, allowing herself to be left behind.

Sheila smiled. “Weston is the most trustworthy human being I know. Although I have four others, including Clinton, who run very, very close seconds. Plus, Weston knows what he’s doing.”

“I know. And Weston didn’t demand I stay behind. I’m frustrated because I didn’t even try to convince him otherwise despite how I feel about Dad being overprotective. It’s like the thought didn’t cross my mind, and now all I can think about is that I should be there, not here.”

Sheila was quiet for a second as she stepped around Kayleigh to fill a glass of water. Kayleigh could tell it was just a way for her to collect her thoughts, so she sipped her coffee and waited patiently.

Eventually, Sheila nodded to herself. “All of my boys are fierce protectors of the people around them. They’ve seen so much and been through the worst life can offer. I’m not sure how much Weston has told you.”

“He told me about his father and the burns.”

Sheila shook her head. “I’m glad he talked to you about it. It’s not something he finds easy to share.”

“He didn’t give me much detail.”

“No, that’s his way. He doesn’t want to burden anyone else. Wants to carry it all on his own wide shoulders.” The older woman gave a sad shake of her head. “He wanted to do that even when those shoulders were much smaller and frailer.”

Kayleigh had no doubt that was true. “I’m so thankful you and Clinton came into his life.”

“You know, when he first came to live with us, Weston was so quiet, I honestly wondered if he’d ever talk to us. He was with us in the house and present at meals, but it was like he was trying to be a shadow on the wall. Day after day, I watched him look at the world like he was outside of it—part of it but still alone.”

Kayleigh gripped her coffee cup, almost overwhelmed by the thought of a lonely, young Weston.

“One day, about three months after he started living with us, we all went out to eat together. It was nothing special, just a night I didn’t want to cook. But while we were out, we took a picture. It was one of the first ones where Weston was smiling. As soon as I got it printed, I hung it in the hallway. Come here, I’ll show it to you.”

Kayleigh followed Sheila into the hallway by the front door. There were at least a dozen pictures there. Some of the full family, a few of the boys on their own. A couple of the women who had joined their tribe.

“This one.” She pointed to an older picture of the family sitting in an Italian restaurant. The boys were all thirteen or fourteen. Brax was making a goofy face at Luke, with a fork of balled-up spaghetti in his hand. Chance had dropped his arm around Weston’s shoulders.

And, sure enough, Weston was smiling. Nothing huge, but enough to see it.

“When the boys got home from school the afternoon I hung it, Weston was the only one who noticed the new photo. Everyone else ran upstairs in their normal way. I came and found him just staring at it. When he saw me, he dropped his book bag and walked over and hugged me.”

Sheila dotted at the tears in her eyes. “First hug I’d ever gotten from him. Then he followed me into the kitchen and asked if he could help with dinner. He talked to me the entire time we chopped vegetables and stirred pots. From that night on, little by little, his trust grew for all of us. We adopted him a few months later.”

Kayleigh had to wipe tears too.

Sheila smiled at her. “Weston thrives best when people see him, when he knows that he’s a part of something. It’s part of the reason he went into business with his brothers. He works best when he’s a member of a team, even if he won’t say so. That’s why this family is so close. We’re a team who will do anything for one another. If you want to be with him, you’re going to be part of that team too.”

“I want that more than anything.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“So, you’re saying that I was right to stay here and not argue with Weston about going to my house.”

Sheila reached out and squeezed Kayleigh’s arm. “Weston’s and his brothers’ protective instincts are what make them so good at their job. San Antonio Security is one of the best for a reason.”

“Dad knew that. That’s why he brought Weston in.”

“You’re something special to Weston. I can tell by the way he looks at you. He doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.” And she really did. But, also, she didn’t want to have to be smothered just to make Weston happy, as much as she wanted him to be happy. “So, you think I should just stay put?”

“Hell no.”

A surprised laugh escaped Kayleigh. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Look, I know Weston wants to protect you, and that’s very noble of him, but that doesn’t mean you need to wait at home. You have to do what’s right for you because your needs matter too, Kayleigh. Even more so with your history with your father.”

At Kayleigh’s nod, Sheila continued. “You look like the type of person who needs a relationship to be equal to feel comfortable.”

“I do.”

“Good. You aren’t a doormat, you’re a partner. You’ll need to show Weston that. You’re welcome to stay here if you want, of course. But if you feel like this isn’t where you should be, then...” She walked over to her purse and pulled out some keys. “I’ve got a car you’re more than welcome to borrow.”

Sheila was right about everything she’d said. Kayleigh needed to show Weston that she trusted him, but she trusted herself too. That she wanted to be part of the team.

“I will take you up on that. Thank you.”

Sheila grinned. “Welcome to the family.”