Again with a tight feeling in his gut, he said, “Yeah, brother, I do. But like I said, ain’t gonna be an easy ride.”
Sig’s gaze finally hit his again and stuck. “Nothin’ worth havin’ is easy, brother.”
No shit. Trip knew that only too well. But he wondered what was behind Sig’s dark eyes when he said that. They’d been apart way too long and he could no longer read the man who turned out to be his real brother.
Half-brother. Same shit to him. Though, he wasn’t sure if it meant the same to Sig.
With a chin lift, Trip extended his hand, hoping he wasn’t making a mistake. If down the road, Sig bit the hand that was offered, Trip would kill his brother himself.
Sig slapped his palm into his and they bumped shoulders. “Welcome home,” Trip murmured as he did so. “Welcome home,” he repeated again, as he patted his brother on the back and glanced over Sig’s shoulder at his woman.
He may not be able to read Sig any longer, but he could now read Stella like a fucking crystal ball and she looked as uncertain as Trip felt.
Time would tell whether this move would be one of Trip’s fuck ups.
He hoped like hell it wasn’t.
If it turned out to be, he’d rise up from those ashes again and start the fuck over.
Because stubborn fuck that he was, he refused to let the Blood Fury remain buried in those ashes.
And the Fury was in his blood and always would be.