July 2020

After a week at the beach and another doing his damnedest to keep a low profile, Brantley’s luck with avoiding his extended family had finally come to an abrupt end. Noticeable by the fact his cousin Travis was standing in his kitchen watching him as though he was a caged animal about to break through the bars keeping him contained. And here Brantley was thinking he was hiding his restlessness rather well.

“Four months,” Travis stated. “You’ve been here four months. Think maybe it’s time to furnish this place?”

Brantley flashed a smile while he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. “What’s wrong with my place?”

“Well, for one … where the fuck’s the couch?”

That was Travis Walker for you. Brantley’s cousin was always looking out for them. All of them. And if Brantley didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he’d become Travis’s personal pet project in recent months. Not that the guy had time to do much of anything else with all those rug rats, a wife, and a husband to tend to. Couldn’t forget the six brothers Travis ran roughshod over, or the demolition company he’d built, or the fetish resort Travis had, with help from his brothers, turned into some destination hot spot over the years. Guy should’ve been too busy to sleep, much less take up extracurricular activities.

Yet here Travis was, harping on Brantley for his lack of decorative abilities.

“Don’t need a couch,” he countered, passing over a cup of coffee, then taking one for himself.

“I beg to disagree.” Travis picked up the mug before taking a leisurely stroll through the open space.

If he were being honest, Brantley was just content to have a place to lay his head. He hadn’t been too terribly concerned with the condition of the house or the amount of furniture he could stuff into it. Having spent the better part of his life in the military, it was taking some time to adjust to this unexpected, and not entirely wanted, civilian life. He figured that meant he deserved props for buying, rather than renting, and impressing a permanent footprint in the small town of Coyote Ridge. Who the fuck cared if he had a couch or a dining room table? Or anything else, for that matter.

“Did you stop by at the ass crack of early just to give me shit?” he asked Travis.

“Yep.” It was simply put, and Travis had no shame, evidently.

“Liar.”

The smirk he got in return said it all. Travis was clearly up to something. The question was, what?

“Tell me you at least have a bed.”

“And a television,” Brantley boasted.

Travis’s gaze swung to the living room. “You SEAL boys have nifty invisible gadgets these days?”

Chuckling, Brantley pushed off the counter, strolled toward his cousin. “It’s in the bedroom. Only time I’ve got to watch it.”

His cousin grunted. “Beds are meant for sleepin’ or fuckin’. Who the hell has time to watch TV in the bedroom?”

“The single guy, Travis.”

That got him a grin.

He didn’t bother telling Travis sleep didn’t come easily these days. In the same regard, he was happy to say it wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it would be. Having been in the Teams for the past decade, it hadn’t been easy processing the fact that he’d been forced out. A medical discharge, they called it. Thanks to his femur being snapped like a twig and the subsequent issues that had arisen from the building falling on him and damn near crushing his skull, Brantley was no longer fit for duty. Rather than ride a desk for the rest of his days, he’d begrudgingly taken the discharge, walking away from the Navy, the Teams, his other family.

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.

And though he’d participated in the conversation, the topic had shifted to kids, leaving Brantley on the periphery. At the moment, Travis and Kaleb were relaying stories of their school-age kids and the interesting details Mason and Kate would relay when they came home.

Brantley remembered those school days. Oddly enough, he’d been sandwiched between two sets of Walker twins. Braydon and Brendon—his uncle Curtis’s set—had been in the same grade as him, while Leif and Lance—his uncle David’s set—were a grade below. But all of his classes had been dotted with one or more cousins. That was what happened when you came from a big family and lived in a small town. And while he’d been surrounded by cousins, his closest friends hadn’t been related.

“Oh. My. God.”

All heads at the table turned, including Brantley’s.

Standing just a few feet away was none other than his best friend from back in the day, as though Brantley had conjured her with his thoughts.

With a smile, he was instantly on his feet. “What the hell’re you doin’ here?” he asked by way of greeting.

JJ went up on her toes, threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him tight. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Someone cleared their throat, dragging a chuckle from him as he stepped back and turned to give the group his attention.

“Y’all, this is Jessie James, a.k.a. JJ.” He glanced at his longtime friend. “I’m sure you know a lot of these guys.” He pointed as he called out names. “Travis and his husband, Gage. Sawyer, Kaleb, Braydon, and Brendon. That there’s Ethan. Beside him his husband, Beau. That’s Zane, then CJ, Jaxson, Kaden, and Keegan.”

Not that an introduction was necessary because everyone knew everyone in Coyote Ridge. It was the way of small towns. And JJ had gone to the same schools as they all had, growing up with them the same as Brantley. Only difference, JJ had stuck around while Brantley’d opted to see the world on Uncle Sam’s dime.

Brantley’s eyes paused on the last guy at the table. “Last but not least, that’s Reese Tavoularis, no relation.”

And thank fuck for that, he thought. He didn’t know Reese, but he’d gone to school with Reese’s brother, Z. According to their brief conversation, Reese had started high school the year after Brantley graduated. However, he was all grown up now.

Reese tipped his head in greeting, then his eyes cut back to Brantley’s momentarily. They held for what felt like a lifetime but was no more than a couple of seconds.

Had this been any other man, Brantley would’ve considered his options for later. Unfortunately, Reese was straight as a fucking arrow, which meant there were no options. Nor would there be a later.

“All in one place,” JJ teased. “I’m assumin’ they’ve got law enforcement on the lookout.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Zane called from the back, earning himself a direct greeting from JJ.

“You’re one to talk,” Sawyer noted. “You’re the one named after an outlaw.”

JJ grinned. “That outlaw’s got nothin’ on me,” she noted, turning her attention back to Brantley and giving him a good once-over.

And just like that, everyone seemed to be finished, ready to head home for the night. After some pats on the back, promises to check with him later, the rest of them filed out of the restaurant, leaving the two of them standing in the nearly empty restaurant.

“You meetin’ someone?” he inquired, taking in her attire, which included a pair of painted-on jeans and a black, sleeveless silk shirt that showed off her toned arms and a hint of cleavage. Clearly she’d gotten dressed up for someone’s benefit tonight.

“Actually, I just finished.”

Brantley glanced around, looking for whoever she’d come with.

“It’s IHOP, Brantley. The guy brought me here for our first date.” She flashed a bright white grin, showing off that crooked incisor that gave her mouth some character. “And last, might I add.”

A waitress chose that moment to come over, snagging the check from the table.

“Any chance we could sit at a smaller table?” Brantley asked.

“Of course. Take your pick. Can I get you something?”

“Two coffees,” JJ told her, then led the way to a booth. “I heard you were back,” she said as she sat across from him. “Been plannin’ to drop in, force you to see me.”

“You wouldn’t have to force me, JJ.”

“No?” Her perfectly plucked brows lifted as she leaned forward, her light green eyes skeptical. “Then why the fuck haven’t you called me yet?”

Brantley had expected no less from the girl he’d come to love like family.

“Sorry,” she said, patting his hand. “Had to get that out there. Now that it is, we’ll pretend I didn’t say it.”

Grinning, he gave her hand a squeeze. “How’re your parents doin’?”

“Good. My mom’s retiring next year. Dad’s excited. They want to travel the world.”

“Do they?”

“Yep. Figure it’s time they got out of here.” Her smile fell. “Too many memories, you know?”

Yeah. Brantley knew. He knew all too well.

Nine years ago, Jessie’s brother had taken his own life. Jeremy had overdosed on pills. Jessie’s dad had found him two days later when Jeremy hadn’t shown up for lunch when he’d promised he would. Not more than a year before that, Jeremy had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which hadn’t surprised his family. Not the way it had Brantley. He hadn’t suspected Jeremy was depressed, but looking back, he wasn’t sure how he’d missed it. Sometimes he wondered if that was the reason Jeremy had ended things with him so abruptly right after he’d enlisted. One minute they’d been talking about doing the long-distance thing, the next, Jeremy had insisted it wouldn’t work and that they both needed to move on with their lives.

Truth was, Jeremy James was the only man Brantley had ever thought he’d loved, the one he’d actually imagined himself spending his life with. Of course, knowing now what he didn’t know then, Brantley recognized it as lust, not love. But he tried not to think about it, not wanting to diminish the memories.

The waitress delivered their coffee, passing over tiny tubs of cream before disappearing once again.

“So, what’re you up to these days?” JJ inquired.

“Little to nothing,” he admitted.

“Well, why the hell not? I figured you for the kind who’d blaze a trail after he left the military in his dust.”

Brantley offered a shrug, then found his coffee cup interesting.

“As much as I want to coddle you, B, you know I won’t do it,” she said softly.

That pulled a grin from him. “I know. And I appreciate it.”

Her gaze swept over his face before she smiled brightly. “So. You still into dudes?”

He laughed, couldn’t help it. “Yeah. I’d say that’s probably the only thing that hasn’t changed about me.”

She seemed to consider this. “Figures. Hottest guy in town’s gay.”

JJ had always given him shit about it. One time, she’d even made him promise that if he ever switched teams, he’d let her know so she could throw her hat in the ring. Of course, she was kidding, though she had copped to having a crush on him when they’d been in high school. He’d known and pretended he hadn’t. It was easier that way and it had worked in his favor because that high school crush of hers had turned into a lifetime friendship, one they’d maintained even while he’d been gone. As for why he hadn’t reached out to her since he’d been back … Brantley didn’t have an answer for that.

“Okay. So.” JJ took a sip of coffee, set the cup down. “Now that you’re back and you’re officially out of hiding, I think it’s time we got you acclimated to bein’ here.”

Leaning back, he studied her. “And just how do you propose we do that?”

Her gaze dropped to his chest. “For one, you’re not in the military anymore, sailor. It’s time you stopped dressing like it.”

Brantley peered down at the black T-shirt he wore. As far as he was concerned, it went fine with the black BDUs and the combat boots. “What’s wrong with my attire?”

“Put it this way,” she said softly. “Add a ski mask and this place is gonna clear out.”

Cocking an eyebrow, he waited for her to continue because he could see her determination.

“Tomorrow, we’re goin’ shoppin’,” JJ declared, knocking back the rest of her coffee and blinding him with a smile.

“Are we?”

“We are. Pick me up at ten. We’ll make a day of it.”

Interesting how, for the first time, Brantley didn’t even consider declining the offer.

Although shopping … right up there at the top of his things to avoid at all costs list.

Right below: eating glass.