“Sorry about him.” “What do you have to be sorry about? Your brother should be overprotective. It’s our job as brothers. Be grateful you only have one. Everly and Grace have three.” “I guess,” I agree, slightly mortified not only by my brother’s actions but also by my spiraling thoughts as I lean into Nixon’s warmth. “Why do I make you nervous, Mac?” I can’t blame him for the question. I’m doing a lousy job of hiding it. “It’s not you, Nix. I’m just not used to . . . this.” I blow out a breath, trying to figure out how to explain it to him without sounding like a fool. “To guys like you.”
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