Rough Love (Tannen Boys 1)

What if we drive by the farm and he’s just sitting on the porch sipping lemonade like missing practice was nothing? Or what if we see his truck, upside down with wheels spinning in the air, along the way?

No, I don’t say a word to Cooper.

But I head toward the Tannen farm by memory, not needing a map or directions even though it’s been so long since I made this drive. I feel like I’m heading straight toward the lion’s den.

There’s been quite a few changes, landmarks I remember gone. Like old man Sampson’s field, the site of our infamous mudding. It’s a pharmacy now, the rough turf replaced by the growth of Great Falls. It stings more than I let on, and I wonder if Bruce realizes.

Bruce. If he’s okay, I’m walking right into a trap, admitting that I need him, that the team needs him. Will he hold it over my head? Take delight in leaving me to fail?

I don’t want to think he’s that cruel, but I’m not sure.

The moment of truth arrives too soon, and I pull into the open gate at the Tannen farm. Except the metal arch says Bennett Ranch now. It tugs at something deep in me I didn’t even know existed. A bit of nostalgic sentimentality, a touch of sadness at the way things change.

I pull up to the house, and the front door opens.

A tall, dark-haired guy steps out cautiously. He could probably be described as handsome, but there’s something cold and scary about him, like without even knowing who’s come onto the property, he’s already half-planned your burial site on the back forty.

A thin, honey-brown-haired woman dips under his crossed arms, smiling at the car and waving like she was expecting us.

The two welcomes couldn’t be any more diametrically different.

I blink and realize who they are. Brody and Shayanne. Older versions of the people I used to know, but I can see it now.

“Uh, stay in the car for a second, baby. Let me talk to these folks real quick.” I unbuckle my seatbelt, eyes locked on Brody.

“Who are they?” Cooper asks from the backseat, trying to lift up to see over the edge of the door.

“Old friends,” I say, praying that’s true.

I get out slowly, approaching cautiously like they might attack me. I hate moving like this, willing myself invisible and non-threatening, but it seems to settle Brody a bit.

“What do you want?” he barks from the porch.

Shay smacks his chest with the back of her hand. “Ignore my rude brother. He’s Brody, I’m Shayanne, and you are . . . ?” She trails off, waiting for me to finish the introductions. She was so young the last time I saw her. I guess she doesn’t remember me.

“I know who you are,” Brody growls. Apparently, that’s a family trait, as is the ‘fuck you’ stare that makes me shrink from several yards away. “What are you doing here, Allyson?”

I swallow, my throat constricted tight with nerves. Absently, my fingers do a trick my therapist taught me to use when I feel anxious. I tap my thumb with each finger . . . 1, 2, 3, 4 . . . and then in repeating patterns . . . index, ring, middle, pinky, and then reverse the whole thing. It’s a little thing, but it helps focus me, helps me feel in control of something.

“Bruce didn’t come to practice this morning. We were . . .” I breathe deeply and try again. “I was worried because I didn’t hear from him.”

Shayanne’s smile is huge and bright. “Oh, you’re the mom coach! Dumb ass probably forgot to text you. He’s been helping me this morning, you see. I had a bit of a goat milk soap emergency and it was all hands on deck.” She talks fast, one word on top of the last, and the energy coming off her is more than I could get from a double espresso. But I still have no idea what’s going on or why Bruce no-showed.

“Goat milk soap . . . emergency?” I ask in confusion.

She nods and taps her nose. “You got it.”

I don’t have it. Goats can have emergencies? Or was it the milk that was the emergency? Or the soap? And what would be a soap emergency, anyway?

I am so lost, so I stick to what I do know.

“Could you point me toward Bruce? I thought I’d better touch base with him before Tuesday’s practice.”

You know, to see if he’s even going to come or if this so-called ‘soap emergency’ is going to keep him tied up? The least he could do is come up with something believable.

Brody grunts again, his dark eyes narrowed as they scan me. “I’ll take you to him. On one condition.”

I nod, because what am I gonna do . . . say no?