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I feel Luna move around the island toward me, and close my eyes when she lays a gentle hand on my arm.

“Tuck,” she starts with a whisper. “You’re a great option to take care of the boys.”

I startle enough to look up at her. She offers me a nod and her encouraging smile that always made me feel better when she went to any of my games.

“I agree,” Liv says. “And let’s be honest, there’s not a person alive who would trust Dan with two three-year-olds, hell, his own kids don’t even speak to him, but Emma . . .”

“Yes,” Avery agrees with a sigh, and her worried eyes meet mine. “I know you want them to live with me, and I’d be more than happy to do that, Tuck, but I don’t think we should risk it. Especially since, like they said, you’re going to do right by them. There’s no doubt in my mind that Maddox and Mason would have amazing childhoods here. Much better than ours. You would support them, love them, and be there for them like you’ve always been there for any of us.”

I blink furiously when my eyes dampen.

“I only have a shot of being any good for them because of you, Avery,” I tell her honestly. “You’re . . .”

Fuck.

How can I begin to articulate how different my life—how different I would be if it weren’t for her.

“I’d be the mini-Jim he wanted me to be if it weren’t for you.”

That’s as many words as I’m capable of uttering.

Mark squeezes Avery’s shoulder as a tear streaks down her cheek, but she’s smiling—she knows what she’s done for me.

“That’s settled, then,” Liv says in her practical tone that always gets shit done. “The boys will stay with Tuck and we’ll all help however we can.” She nods to herself as if the matter is forever closed.

Though my lungs want to seize at the mere thought of being responsible for the happiness and well-being of my brothers, it’s not possible right now, not when I’m surrounded by my family.

I can hear the kids’ laughter from the other room, and feel a certainty I know will disappear soon.

“You’re both about to take on whole professional franchises,” I point out to Liv and Luna.

“And you’re doing the same,” Kyle points out with a quirked eyebrow.

“You told us you’re going to help us in any way you can,” Luna says, tilting her chin up. “You were talking about the Knights and Keys, but the same principle applies here, Tucker. Yes, we’re all about to be extra busy, but that only means we’re all going to support each other.”

“Okay.” I breathe the word out, then nod once. “Okay,” I repeat, more trying to convince myself than believing it. I take a moment, just a few seconds, to let it all sink in, and look around the kitchen. My eyes lock on the manila folder Shirley Wall handed me yesterday after our meeting with Baron.

Since I became the official beneficiary of the trust, a meeting with her was necessary—because the teams and properties aren’t the only thing I inherited, and when you’re dealing with billions, a meeting with the owner of one of the largest banks in the world is just par for the course.

I walk over to the counter, to the little tray I have for all my mail, and grab the envelope. I bring it back to the island and start pulling out everything.

“I need to think about something else,” I declare, focusing hard on every piece of paper. “And this is actually the reason why I wanted you all to stay here today.”

Because the funeral means we can all stop thinking about work for a day at least, and no one needs to rush out of here.

“What is that?” Luna asks, her eyes narrowing as I spread out the three thick envelopes. Their paper isn’t your usual thin stuff. It’s embossed with the Wall Bank logo.

There are no names on them, because that’s not how people like us deal with credit cards.

I know for a fact Shirley herself put these envelopes together. I know she wouldn’t let anyone, not even her sons, deal with this.

I open them without fanfare, and let the two velvet bags fall from each, then pull open the velvet bags too, and after reading the name on each black metal card, I hand them out to their new owners.

No one says a word until everyone has their cards.

Considering…everything, I start with a piece of information none of them know.

“I know that when each of you got married, Dad basically cut you off, that he restricted some access to your trust funds, and he probably even made some oh-so-reasonable remark about how he’d paid for the wedding and your husbands should take care of you now. I know they can.” I keep my eyes on my sisters, because no matter how much I like their husbands, this isn’t really about them or their success. “I know none of you need this, and I know you’re going to be pains in my ass about the whole thing, but I have to do this, okay?”