It was taking time to adjust, to pretend that the real hell on earth wasn’t right here in his hometown of Coyote Ridge, Texas.
Oh, it was a great little town, mind you. Chock full of nosy people who were curious as to what he was going to do with the rest of his life. Those who didn’t care for the details merely kept their eye on him, as though waiting for him to lose his shit. There were times he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t bear witness to it.
“How’s the rehab on the leg goin’?” Travis asked.
“Almost done.”
“Heard you were runnin’ again.”
Brantley nodded, took a sip from his coffee, stared out the back door. Yeah, he’d taken up his running routine again. Figured it was his duty to follow through considering it was one of the many things he’d pledged to get back to once he healed. Those endless months of recovery had been hell, hearing the doctors tell him he might not ever walk again… Brantley was too hardheaded for that shit. And he’d set out to prove to them he was as fit now as he’d been when he enlisted seventeen years ago. Still some aches and pains, but none the worse for wear.
“Your sisters been by here yet?” Travis inquired, drawing Brantley out of his thoughts.
“Yep. Gave it their stamp of approval,” he lied. Of course, Sadie, Tori, and Bryn had stopped by more than once, as had Brantley’s brothers. And sure, Trey, Griffin, and Cal might’ve given him shit about his lack of a dining table, but they hadn’t harped on him about it. Much.
Travis snorted. “Maybe I’ll call ’em. See what they really think?”
Brantley figured the guy had already done that. More than once.
“You like it here?”
“It’s growin’ on me,” he admitted.
Initially, Brantley thought he’d go batshit crazy being pinned down to US soil. Truth was, it wasn’t quite so bad. Or rather, it was getting easier to accept with every passing day. He was beginning to see the merits of sitting on his ass every day, trying to find something else to do with his life. What that something else might be, he didn’t know yet. However, he knew what he wouldn’t be doing, and he suspected that was the reason Travis was here. To follow up on the proposal he’d made right after Brantley returned home back in March.
Taking a sip from his mug, Brantley decided to wait Travis out, knowing the man would get around to the point eventually.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.
“So, you give any thought to my offer?”
Brantley set his mug down, thrust his hands in the pockets of his BDUs. “I have.”
Travis pinned him with a curious stare, one dark brow slowly lifting, that steel blue gaze assessing him.
Grinning, Brantley broke the eye contact. “As generous as it is, Trav, I can’t do it. Right now … shit.” He looked at his cousin again. “I haven’t figured out what I wanna do, but I figure when the time’s right, I’ll know where I fit in.”
Travis’s slow nod reflected his acceptance. “I had a feelin’ you’d say that. But I had to make the offer.”
“I know. And I appreciate it. Really.”
“I assume it’s not about the money,” Travis noted.
“It’ll never be about the money.”
“Figured.” Travis gulped what was left of his coffee, set the cup on the kitchen island. “Like I said, had to try.”
“Understood.”
“If you change your mind…”
Brantley nodded. “I won’t, but thanks again.”
“Fine. Now for the second reason I’m here.”
Surprised, though he wasn’t sure why, Brantley met Travis’s gaze, held it.
“Sunday nights we meet up at my folks’ place for dinner. My momma insisted I invite you.”
Brantley chuckled. “I apprec—”
“Uh-uh,” Travis interrupted. “This one’s nonnegotiable. You show up for dinner or my momma’ll sic someone on you. My brothers’ll be there, wives, kids. Kaden and Keegan have found permanent seating at the table. Once in a while, Jared’ll stop in.”
“And if I wanna visit my own folks for Sunday dinner?” he asked, grinning.
“Feel free. But don’t think Iris won’t get a call just to make sure you’re spendin’ it with family.”
Another laugh escaped him. Brantley was all too familiar with Lorrie Walker, Travis’s mother. And he loved his aunt, he really did, which was the only reason he found himself nodding in agreement.
“Fine. I’ll head that way tomorrow night.”
“Six sharp. Don’t be late.”
He wasn’t making any promises, but he nodded anyway.
“And we’re talkin’ about hittin’ Moonshiners tonight if you’re up for it.”
Although he had been back for four months, it was true Brantley had been keeping a low profile. He’d managed to grab lunch with his sisters and shared a couple of beers with his brothers during that time, and yes, the trip to the beach, but the whole social scene wasn’t high on his priority list.
Then again, not much was at the moment.
“No pressure,” Travis tacked on. “Just show up if you wanna hang out.”
“Thanks.”
Travis nodded. “I’ll get outta your hair.”
Brantley followed him toward the door, coming up short when Travis turned back.
“It’s good to have you back, man. I hope you know that.”
Surprised by the sincerity in Travis’s voice, he found himself nodding again. “Thanks.”
“I just hope with time, you’ll improve your coffee-makin’ abilities. That’s the weakest shit I’ve ever had.”
Brantley barked a laugh, stared as Travis continued to the door.
Before it closed behind him, Travis peered back over his shoulder. “Buy yourself a goddamn couch, Brantley.”
“I’ll consider it.”
And he did. For about three seconds, then he tossed it aside, just as he’d done with everything on his to-do list lately. The only time he worked on his house was when the quiet became too much.
Which, these days, seemed to be all the damn time.
A beer tonight, dinner tomorrow.
Brantley took a drink of his weak-ass coffee, smiled. If this was weak, Travis must’ve been used to drinking motor oil.
Staring out the back door, he noticed the sun was just coming over the horizon. Sure, he’d been up for a couple of hours now, but that was par for the course. His day started long before everyone else’s. Probably would’ve made sense if he was doing anything with the fifteen acres of land he’d planted his ass on. Like plowing the earth, harvesting something.
That was something else he’d considered. For about a minute.
Nope. Farming, like working for his cousin, was not on his bucket list.
Not yet, anyway.
And if he was lucky … not ever.
Later that night, Brantley found himself sitting at a table in IHOP with nearly a dozen of his cousins and a couple of guys he’d been briefly introduced to.
His cousin Sawyer’s idea, of course.
After a round of beers had been downed at Moonshiners, someone had mentioned pancakes, which had gotten Sawyer, another of Brantley’s cousins, riled up until, eventually, they piled out of the small bar and made the thirty-minute trek to the neighboring city. They’d gotten comfortable at the table a good hour and a half ago, and based on the slumberous gazes, they’d all gotten their fill, yet no one was moving to leave.