You really liked your life. The quiet, the predictability, the way everything was always in its place.

And whatever was about to happen next? It was definitely not on the list of things you enjoyed.

After your parents passed, you decided to stay in the family home. The walls held too many memories—some painful, some warm—but all of them were yours. Your older brother, Soap, had left years ago, drawn into the military life, leaving you behind in your small hometown. Alone.

But you were fine with that. You had built something for yourself, found peace in the solitude, in the stability of your routine.

So when Soap called a few days ago, saying he’d visit for the weekend, you had been genuinely excited. You missed his terrible jokes, his big-brother protectiveness, the way he always made things feel lighter. A few days with him couldn’t be bad, right?

Apparently, you had underestimated Soap.

Last night, exhausted from work, you had collapsed into bed, completely forgetting about his arrival.

Now, waking up to muffled voices downstairs, you blinked, momentarily confused. Then, realization hit you.

Shit.

You barely took a second to think before bolting out of bed and rushing downstairs, still in your pajamas, excitement pushing away any second thoughts.

But the moment you entered the living room, your excitement screeched to a halt.

Soap was there, yes—but he wasn’t alone.

Two other men stood with him. You recognized one as Gaz. The other? The one whose sharp, assessing gaze locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine? That was Ghost.

And he wasn’t looking away.

His stare dragged from your face, down to—oh. Right. Your pajamas.

"Nice PJs," Ghost muttered, his voice laced with amusement, though you caught the faintest hint of something else.

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the ridiculous cartoon print on your sleepwear.

Soap grinned. "Guess I forgot to mention I brought company."