Robert didn’t even blink. “Dead serious, sir.”
But it was Rett who leaned forward slightly, meeting my dad’s eyes with that quiet, grounded confidence that always made me feel like the world wasn’t ending—even when it absolutely was. “I’d die for her,” he said, calm but firm. “But more importantly… I plan to live for her. Every damn day.”
A beat of stunned silence. My heart did something weird in my chest. Like it stumbled, forgot its choreography, and then tried to improvise its way back.
My father arched a brow, clearly not expecting a poetic werewolf in a Henley shirt. “And what happens,” he asked dryly, “if she burns your kitchen down trying to boil an egg?”
Robert smiled, just a little. “I’ll install fireproof counters.”
“And I’ll handle the fire extinguisher,” Rett added, liftin
