Chapter Twelve Evan
Iknow it's coming the second Dylan walks onto the job site.
I'm elbow-deep in sawdust and insulation specs, trying to focus when my brain keeps drifting to the woman I left in my kitchen this morning.
I put the clipboard down, because this isn't a job-site talk.
This is brother mode, and Dylan Monroe in protective brother mode is a force to be reckoned with.
He's been building up to this for a good few days, I realize. Dylan leans against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, eyes steady on mine.
"So."
"So."
The single word hangs between us, loaded with fifteen years of friendship and the unspoken rules we've never had to test before.
"You and Cass."
It's not a question. It's a statement of fact, delivered with the kind of calm that tells me denial would be pointless and insulting to both of us.
I don't answer immediately, because what do you say to your best friend when you've fallen for his sister? When you've crossed every line you swore you'd never cross?
He gives me a long, measured look. "You going to deny it?"
The question is fair. Expected, even. He's giving me a chance to deflect and lie and pretend like the tension crackling between his sister and me is all in his head.
"No."
The word comes out rougher than I intended, but it's honest. I'm done lying and pretending, what Cassidy and I have is not special.
He nods once, like he's relieved I didn't insult both of us by pretending.
"Good. Because you're both shit at hiding it."
Despite everything, that makes me want to smile.
"You serious about her?" Dylan asks, and this time there's no mistaking the edge in his voice.
It's not a casual question.
It's the question.
The one that will determine whether I'm about to lose my best friend along with everything else that matters to me.
I know whatever I say next is going to shape the rest of this thing, this life I've started to build with his sister.
I wipe my hands on a rag, buying time, trying to find words for feelings I've never had to articulate before.
"I didn't plan on this," I say quietly, meeting his eyes. "I didn't think she'd show up looking the way she does, talking the way she does, turning everything in me upside down."
Dylan doesn't flinch. Just waits. It's always been his way, to give people enough rope to either hang themselves or climb to safety.
"But I'm not screwing around with her," I continue, the words coming easier now. "I wouldn't risk our friendship if I didn't mean it and I wouldn't risk hurting her if this was just temporary."
"You love her?" he asks, voice calm but tight.
Love.
I haven't said it out loud. Not even to myself, not really. I've danced around it, called it other things, like want or need. But Dylan's cutting straight through the bullshit and demanding me to be honest with him.
The truth is, it's been there, growing beneath my ribs for days now. Taking up space in my chest until there's no room left for anything else.
So I nod.
"Yeah," I say hoarsely. "I do."
He exhales hard through his nose, dragging a hand over his jaw. For a moment, he looks exactly like he did at seventeen.
Then he nods.
"Good."
That stuns me.
Of all the reactions I was expecting, anger, demands or even threats, acceptance wasn't on the list.
He shrugs, reading my expression. "I know you, Mills. You're stubborn as hell, but you don't do anything halfway. If you say you love her, you mean it. And I can live with that."
Then he steps closer, and his face hardens just a notch. This is the Dylan who built a successful consulting business from nothing, who can read people like books and isn't afraid to call them on their shit.
"You hurt her, though?" he says, jabbing me in the chest with his pointer finger. "You pull away or freeze her out or make her feel like less than she is? I will take your damn jaw off. Best friend or not."
The threat is delivered. This is a man who will destroy me without hesitation if I break his sister's heart.
And I respect the hell out of him for it.
I meet his eyes, letting him see the truth there. "If I ever hurt her, you won't have to."
Because it's true. Losing Cassidy would destroy me in ways Dylan never could.
Dylan studies my face for a long moment, then nods. The tension in his shoulders eases slightly.
"Then do the hard part, man. Tell her.” He claps a hand on my shoulder, the gesture carrying the weight of forgiveness and blessing and warning all at once. "She deserves someone who chooses her."
***
That night, I find her on the porch swing, her legs curled beneath her.
The sun has set behind the mountains, leaving the sky painted in shades of purple and gold. She looks up when I step outside, and there's something in her expression like she's been waiting for this moment.
"Hey," she says.
I sit beside her, the swing creaking under my weight, and pull her legs into my lap. Her skin is warm against my palms, soft and perfect and mine.
"Dylan knows," I say without preamble.
She sighs. "I know. I talked to him this morning. What did he say to you?"
I wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer, until she's practically in my lap, her head fitting perfectly in the hollow of my shoulder.
"He said not to fuck it up."
Her smile is slow. "Smart man."
"I told him I love you."
The words hang between us, and I feel her go still against me. Her breath catches, and for a moment the only sound is the distant call of an owl and the soft whisper of wind through the pines.
"You do?" she whispers, voice small.
I nod, eyes never leaving hers. "Yeah, Cass. I do."
She blinks hard, and I can see tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, even though she's smiling.
Then she leans in and kisses me. When she pulls back, her voice cracks with emotion. "I love you too, Evan. So much it scares me."
I kiss her again, pouring everything I feel into the contact. All the fear and want and desperate hope I've been carrying around for weeks.
Because this isn't the end of something temporary.
This is the beginning of something real.