“What happened?” Nothing in his words leads me to believe he’s doing anything but still keeping everything running smoothly, and he’s talked about the cattle and harvests, even showing me pictures when we text. But the tension through his body tells a much different story.
“Everything went to shit, and no matter how hard I tried to keep it, I lost everything. It all washed through my fingers like sand I couldn’t hold onto.” He holds his hand up, making a fist to catch the invisible grains. I weave my fingers through his, kissing his knuckles. I feel the thick swallow he makes and wonder what part of the story he’s forcing down. I know his Dad died so maybe that’s what he’s understandably not ready to talk about? “Actually, that’s not true. I have near everything now, just not in the way I thought I would. Mama Louise and the Bennetts are real good to us, better than we ever deserved, especially from them. I’m grateful for them.”
I think back to the oddly comfortable dinner I’d had with the Bennetts and how it’d seemed like they were one big, happy family. But maybe that’s not always been the case? I don’t voice the question, letting Brody share what he wants the way he let me do the same.
“One day, I’ll have a ranch and own and work my land, not someone else’s. It’ll be somewhere safe for my brothers and sisters, a place to be Tannens, no matter what else is going on. It won’t be the same as it was before, I know that. Shayanne and Luke are always jetting off here and there, and they’ve got a place of their own. Brutal and Allyson’s house will be done soon enough, and they’ll be gone. Bobby’ll find his way—maybe fall in love, maybe just run off to Nashville. But one day, I’ll have a ranch where the cattle’s mine, the choices are mine, the good times and bad times are all mine.” It sounds like a prophecy, like he’s putting that out into the universe and expecting it to deliver any moment.
I realize with a start that he wants what I have, in a way. My dad’s garage, a legacy from him to me, is exactly what Brody wants. A place of his own, for his brothers and sister, like he said, but I think it’s more than that. Brody wants a future and roots. His is just grass and dirt, while mine is grease and oil. He thinks he’s a casual, fly by the seat of his pants type, but he’s not. He’s just playing at it.
He rests his chin on the top of my head, a move that feels like a connection. A string. We said no strings when this started, but damned if they’re not stitching themselves to us with each and every share. Right now, I don’t examine that too closely. I just snuggle into him and will the tick of the clock on the wall to slow down, wishing for the sun to sleep just a little longer so I can stay in Brody’s arms.
Chapter 18
Brody
“Last load, I promise!”
Shay’s sing-songing voice tells me there are at least three more crates that’s she’s ‘forgetting’ about in her twisted way of motivating me to do her bidding. I set the no-way-it’s-the-last-one in the back of the truck but make zero moves to close the tailgate.
In three, two, one . . .
“Oh, I forgot . . . there’s still a couple more in the kitchen. On the counter by the fridge.”
“Called it,” I announce victoriously as I boop her nose. She scrunches it and swipes at it like I rubbed dirt on her. To be fair, I have before but didn’t this time. Helps to keep her on her toes if I make it where she doesn’t know for sure.
In the kitchen, I stack two crates to carry and she grabs the last one. “You sure? This everything? Nothing in the fridge or on the porch or in one of the other trucks or in Mama Louise’s kitchen?”
Shay instantly shakes her head, but I can see her mentally double-checking herself so I wait while she actually confirms. When she sticks her tongue out at me, I know we’re golden. “All right then, let’s roll.”
Finally in the truck, we start the trip down the grassy drive toward the gate. “This is the official last run of spring jams to the resort. And I’m hoarding carrots like a bunny for the Easter carrot cakes they ordered.” She holds two fingers up behind her head, scrunches her nose again, and sticks her top front teeth out over her lip. She does look remarkably like a rabbit when she starts twitching.
“Never do that again, Shay. I don’t want Luke figuring out what a weirdo you are and bailing on you. We have a no take-backsies policy. You’re his problem, and it’s a done deal.” I’m teasing and she knows it, but she huffs in annoyance and punches me in the shoulder anyway. It’s okay. I deserve it and had already flexed in preparation because I knew it was coming. Shay can throw a mean right jab, and the sharp bite of a little pain is bright. The pride in my heart is brighter. I taught her how to fight like that and then made damn sure she never needed to.