“The wanderer returns,” he drawled as Gray reached the door, and leaned his guitar against the weatherboard wall. “What, no paparazzi? No screaming fans?” He dropped his voice an octave. “No groupies?”
“Sorry to disappoint you.” Gray wrapped his brother in a bear hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in New York.”
Tanner shrugged, lifting his hand to push his sandy hair from his eyes. “I heard you were coming. I came for the groupies.”
Becca wrinkled her nose. “You’re disgusting,” she said, swatting his arm. “Both of you.”
Gray held his hands up straight in front of his chest. “Hey, I didn’t say anything.”
“He doesn’t need to say anything. They flock to him.” Tanner grinned. “Hey, Becca, did I tell you about that time I saw Gray in Vegas.”
“What’s all the noise out here? You trying to drive your father crazy?”
Aunt Gina walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, her eyes lighting up when she saw Gray on the porch. “Grayson. You’re here,” she said.
“Yep. And you owe me five bucks,” Becca told her.
Aunt Gina shuffled over the threshold and pulled Gray into a hug. “Oh, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she whispered into his chest. “I didn’t think you’d really come.”
“Then why did you get his room ready?” Tanner frowned.
“Because I always have hope.” Aunt Gina took a step back and looked Gray up and down. “Is that new?” she asked him, pointing at the edges of a tattoo peaking out from under his sleeve.
“This old thing?” Gray grinned at her, and went to pull his top off to show her more. “You wanna see?”
“No, I don’t. You keep your t-shirt right where it is.” She shook her head. “We have standards in this house.”
“Unlike in Vegas,” Tanner drawled, winking at his aunt. “Gray’s top was constantly off there.”
“You can be quiet,” Aunt Gina said, shaking her head at Tanner. “And bring your brother’s things in.”
Tanner frowned. “He can carry his own stuff.”
Gray swallowed down a laugh. Some things never changed. Becca’s over enthusiasm, Tanner’s bitching, even Aunt Gina’s cluckiness felt so familiar it made his stomach twist. It was like he was straddling two time zones, somewhere between the man he was and the kid he used to be. “I’ll carry my bags,” he told Tanner. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt your back, sweetheart.”
Tanner rolled his eyes. “I’ll take it,” he said, grabbing the handle. “I’d hate for you to hurt those pretty hands of yours. They must be insured for a million dollars.”
“Two, actually.” Gray shrugged, remembering his own outrage when he’d first discovered that fact.
Tanner reached for the guitar case, but Gray got there first. “I’ll bring this one,” he said, gently lifting the strap over his shoulder. As he followed his aunt inside, the smell of butter cookies filled his nose, making his mouth water.
He was home. Whatever that meant. Maybe a few weeks here wouldn’t be so bad after all.