Chapter 11 #2
Nash mimes zipping his lips, but the damage is done. By noon, the entire Brotherhood knows something's up. Shaw claps me on the shoulder and says, "About damn time."
Gemma arrives at one, slipping in through the back door. She's changed into jeans and a soft gray sweater, looking nothing like the woman who fell apart in my arms last night. But when our eyes meet across the room, the heat is still there. Banked but burning.
We're careful not to touch. Not to stand too close. Not to give anyone more ammunition than they already have. But it doesn't matter. The air between us practically vibrates, and everyone in the room can feel it.
"You two are adorable," Nash announces loudly. "Just so you know. Adorable and also incredibly obvious."
Gemma throws a bar towel at his head. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"
"Nope. This is way more entertaining than my actual life."
The afternoon passes in a blur of work and stolen glances and the low-level hum of anticipation.
My nerves get wound tighter as the evening passes.
Not about Cole's reaction. I know Cole. He loves his sister, he trusts me, and he's been watching this coming for weeks.
What I'm nervous about is making it official.
Putting words to something that still feels too new and fragile to survive exposure.
Cole shows up at ten-thirty, right on schedule. He takes one look at me and Gemma standing side by side behind the bar and sighs.
"Let me guess. You two need to talk to me."
Gemma glances at me. I nod.
"Yeah," she says. "We do."
We sit in the back booth, Cole across from us, arms folded, his expression carefully neutral.
"I'm going to say this straight," I tell him. "Gemma and I are together. It happened last night, and I'm not going to pretend I'm sorry about it."
Cole's jaw tightens, but he doesn't interrupt.
"She's not a rebound. She's not a distraction. This is real for me, and I need you to hear that from me before you hear anything else." I hold his gaze. "You're my best friend. That doesn't change because I'm in love with your sister."
Gemma's hand finds mine under the table, but she lets me finish.
Cole is quiet for a long moment and then exhales slowly. "In love with her? You’re just now figuring it out? Jesus, Will."
"Yeah, I know."
Cole nods slowly, processing. Then he leans forward, his gaze locked on mine with an intensity I haven't seen since we were overseas together.
"You hurt her, I hurt you. Brotherhood or not. We clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good." He leans back, the tension draining from his shoulders.
"Then I'm happy for you. Both of you." He pauses, something uncomfortable crossing his face.
"But I need to say this once: The Forge.
I don't want to know about it, I don't want to see her there, and I definitely don't want to walk in on—"
"Cole." Gemma's voice is calm but firm. "You don't get a vote."
"The hell I don't. You're my sister."
"And I'm a grown woman who gets to make her own choices. You don't get to decide what I do or where I go." She holds his gaze. "That's not negotiable."
Cole turns to me, a plea in his eyes. "Will. Come on. Get her under control."
I laugh. Can't help it. "You've known her thirty years. When has anyone ever gotten her under control?"
"This isn't funny."
"No, it's not." I lean forward. "But she's right. She makes her own choices. That's the whole point of what we do there, Cole. Consent. Agency. She's not asking your permission, and neither am I."
Cole scrubs a hand over his face. "Fine. Just... scheduling. Give me a heads up so I can be somewhere else. That's all I ask."
"That we can do," Gemma says, and there's a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.
"Deal," I add. "And maybe keep the PDA to a minimum when you're around."
"Now that I can get behind." Cole shakes his head, but some of the tension has broken. "Christ. My best friend and my sister. I'm going to need a lot more bourbon to get through this."
Gemma laughs, the relief audible in her voice.
The conversation shifts to logistics. How they'll navigate the rumor mill in a town this small. I let them talk, content to watch Gemma's face as the worry fades and something lighter takes its place.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, expecting a text from Nash or one of the other brothers.
It's Tate.
I read the message once, then again, my stomach dropping.
Craig Burns landed at Portland International two hours ago. Rental car heading south on 101. He's coming.
I'm on my feet before I finish processing. "Cole. Call Shaw, get him here now. Then Tate—tell him I need everything he can pull in the next hour."
Cole doesn't ask questions. He's already reaching for his phone.
Gemma's smile has faded. She knows me well enough now to read the shift. "Will. What is it?"
"Craig landed in Portland two hours ago. He's on his way."
The color drains from her face. For a moment she looks like the woman who walked through my door weeks ago—hollowed out, hunted.
Then something else flickers in her eyes. Not fear. Anger.
"Good," she says, her voice steady. "I'm done running."
I reach for her hand. "You're not running. And you're not facing him alone."
Cole ends his call. "Shaw's on his way. Tate's pulling traffic cam feeds."
I nod. The Brotherhood is mobilizing. Craig Burns has no idea what he's walking into… but he's about to find out.