and finally browbeat her into returning home. She’d told them that she didn’t have a home anymore. And for four more years, that had been the truth. No matter where she’d lived, it had not been a home. Until Jason had moved into her apartment and made it one. Dex, eyeing her in the mirror he’d pulled down from his visor, smiled tenderly. “Go ahead and cry, darlin’. We’d understand.” But his brother’s snort of derision kept her clear-eyed. Crying over a man! How that would make Cary howl with mocking laughter. No Armstrong man would ever cry over a woman. But, Isabel told herself for the thousandth time, I’m not an Armstrong—I’m a Morgan! And Morgans cried aplenty. “I’ll pass,” she said, earning a grin from Dex and the slightest nod of approval from Cary. God, she’d forgotten how easy it was to live her life under their thumbs, to be ecstatic when she earned their respect and crushed when they disapproved of her behaviour. It was a pattern as old as the hills they were passing. Somehow, she would have to break it. Someday she would have to stand on her own two legs again. Someday soon.