Rough Edge (Tannen Boys 2)

When we need to stop for air, and so that we can assume a more natural posture, with me not on my tippy toes and Brody bent and hunched over, I ask him for more even though he’s given so much. “Reed said this was Tannen Farm, and that’s what the sign said too, but you work for the Bennetts. How does that happen?”

He sighs deeply, and I know this isn’t going to be a happy story. My heart is already cracking for him because however it happened, he lost the one thing he told me he wanted. A ranch of his own. “I said Dad didn’t take losing Mom well, but it was more than that. I don’t think he ever had a happy day without her. That was when I took over around here—the house, the farm, the kids. Well, technically, Shayanne was the only kid, but really, we all were young fuckers who grew up fast. And I was doing it, handling it all until Dad died too. He owed money to some unforgiving people and we had to sell the farm to pay them off. We didn’t have many, or any, options, and the Bennetts saved us by buying the farm and promising us a chance to buy it back if they ever sell. We basically do what we always did, but Mark gets all the profits and credit.” A smile as he says that part lets me know that while it’s not his dream, he’s mostly good with how things are.

That’s important to me. Not whether he owns his own ranch or has a five, ten, and fifteen-year plan. I do, but not everyone thinks the way I do. And that’s okay.

Besides, my plan is sort of weird. Like don’t get arrested—again—and don’t tell Dad about racing and building racecars. Not exactly mature, exacting, progressive-thinking standards. And maybe not the best plan anyway, if I listen to Brody.

So maybe his version of being grateful for where you are at the moment is something I can learn from.

“I’m sorry. If I could fix it for you, I would.” I’ve never meant it more. I would do just about anything for Brody to get this back, and one of the things I do best is fix things. But this isn’t something I can fix with a torque wrench. Mechanics don’t have magic wands in our toolkits, and I don’t have a way to just wave my hand and make Brody happier.

Brody shrugs as though he’s already made his peace with the shitty situation. “I lived a lifetime of stress in under a decade. It’s nice to not worry for a bit, like a working vacation. I do what I know, what I love, without worrying if the bank is gonna foreclose or whether we’ll have enough money to keep the heat on through the winter. I want the responsibility back, and yes, I’m going to work my ass off to get it.” He looks at me from beneath the brim of his cap, reminding me of the painful words I threw at him. “And when I do have it all back, it’ll be because I earned it . . . each and every inch of dirt.”

“Would it make you mad if I said your dad sucks? I mean, I know I’ve got some pretty significant Daddy issues happening over here, but . . .” I’m teasing, a little. But hearing Brody talk about his dad’s relationship with Shay and Brody’s struggles to be an adult at a time when he should’ve still had a soft place to land makes me sad for him.

Brody huffs a laugh, a small smile cracking. “Nah, he was all right, just broken. I don’t forgive him for everything, but I’m not casting stones too much anymore. Just on occasion, when it feels warranted.” He takes a deep breath, seeming more settled than a moment ago.

“Will you show me some more?” I’ll take whatever he wants to show me—his heart, his body, his soul, his farm. Though I suspect those last two are one and the same.

“Come on, Lil Bit.” He guides me back into the barn, leaving the ovary-popping adorableness of the goats behind, and to a golf cart on steroids. “Get in,” he says, climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the machine on. It’s more of a diesel putt-putt-putt than the growling engines I’m used to.

He looks over at me, and a fizzy sensation washes through me. This is something I only feel when I’m the one sitting behind the wheel of a car on the line, with the light about to change.

I feel like I’m right where I should be. Like I’m on the edge of possibility, a moment where anything can happen from one blink to the next.

And then it does.