80. As Subtle as a Nuclear Bomb #2
Braxton stands so quickly that his chair scrapes across the floor and topples backward. He doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Outside. Now.”
“Wait just a minute,” Brighton retorts, throwing her napkin onto the table. “You don’t get to—”
“You”—Braxton’s voice is deadly, and he levels his eyes on her—“Say nothing. I’ll deal with you later.”
“Deal with me? The hell you will.” She stands, hands on hips. Her eyes meet his with venom.
Uh oh. Here we go.
He spins, throws open the front door, and stalks into the bright, November sun. Brighton is hot on his heels, but stopped by Willa, who snags her attention.
I stand, drop my napkin to my chair, and grab my tea, taking a fortifying sip. “Excuse me.” I murmur. I clap Layton on the shoulder as I round his end of the table to the front door. “Thanks, Lay. You’re as subtle as a nuclear bomb.”
I pull the door closed behind me as I step outside, knowing the effort is futile. This big, nosy family will have their faces pressed to the glass if they aren’t gutsy enough to spill out onto the porch to watch the show that’s about to go down.
Braxton stands, hands on hips, staring down at the ground.
My shoes scraping across the gravel alert him to my arrival.
I do not square off with him. He’s got forty pounds on me. Not to mention, he’s a hot-headed Italian.
I’m lean like a runner. He’s built for CrossFit.
I’m wily. He’s brute force.
I respond. Braxton reacts.
He needs time to think, but not to stew. And that’s a hair’s breadth difference in time and space.
“You’re fucking my sister?” His voice is sinister, and his words hit me like nails. When his head whips to meet me, and his gaze lands on mine, I know I missed the window between calm and storm.
Fuck.
The first punch throttles my cheek.
I give him that one. But only one. I made him a promise… a promise I’ve broken over and over again.
But now he’s pissed me off.
“Don’t talk about Brighton that way,” I warn.
His head rears back, as if I’m speaking Greek. “What?”
“I won’t have you denigrate her like that.”
“Denigrate her? You’re screwing her and you think how I talk about it is the problem?” His stance is wide as he readies his body for another punch.
“Enough!” Brighton yells as she runs toward us.
“Stop,” I bark at the same time.
“Why? So you can break another promise? Lie to me more? So you can use her? Fuck no, Eli. I won’t stop.”
“I’m in love with her, asshole.”
He swings, and I duck, shoving him in the chest, increasing the distance between us. We need to diffuse the situation.
Braxton rears back and lands a second hit as I put myself between him and Brighton.
He manages to hit the same spot as the first, splitting my cheek open and clipping my eye in the process.
The swelling makes it hard to see. The throbbing in my face has a pulse and immediately heats.
But the warmth of blood oozing from the split is the most distracting of all.
Boots crunch behind us as Bright rounds me, reaching up with her right hand to cup my cheek, before whirling on her brother.
“You don’t get to determine who I’m with, Braxton Paul Ranger! You don’t get a vote in who I take to my bed—” Her hands are flying, stained red from my blood.
“Enough.” Pop’s command slices through the weird menage playing out in the front yard.
“Brighton Alexandra, you may be a woman, but you’re still my little girl. Never use the words “take to my bed” in front of me again. Ever.” He shakes his head as if trying to fling the words from his mind. “Get Eli some ice for his face.”
“But-”
“Now.”
Kimp turns to me. “Wait right there.” His words pin me to the spot. Grown man or not, when the man who’s always been a father figure to me gives that kind of command, I do as I’m told.
He turns his back on me, but I don’t miss that he’s planted himself directly in front of me, toe-to-toe with Braxton.
He throws his arms low and wide. “You want to take a shot, Brax? Here.”
He looks over Kimp’s shoulder to me before staring down at his dad. He’d never hit his old man.
“What? You don’t want to fight?” Pop asks, baiting him.
Braxton glares at me before speaking to his father. “He betrayed me. He’s using Bright. He…”
“He—” Pop hitches a thumb over his shoulder at me. “Asked for my blessing and received it.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause as Pop lets that sink in. Brax looks like he’s trying to compute complex math in his head.
“He didn’t tell you at my request.” Kimp emphasizes the word, wreaking havoc on the moment. “You want that shot, son? It’s right here.” Pop thumps his own chest.
“Elias has been fighting for us for months. For our family—for our legacy. You—” Pop pokes Braxton in the chest. “Have been busy, distracted, and working so damn hard. But he has too.”
Kimp steps aside, no longer protecting me, but including me. “Eli has been a brother to you for damn near two decades. He will be long after I’m gone. Fucking treat him like one.”
Braxton drops his gaze to his boots, his toe making a divot in the shallow earth. The brother has replaced the barbarian, and the thinker has replaced the fighter.
Pop turns on his heel and claps a hand to my shoulder as he makes his way back to the house.
“Get back in the damn house. We have a lot to be thankful for, boys.”
Boys. We’re both nearly forty years old, but we’ll always be boys to Kimp.
I turn to watch him walk away. He intercepts Bright on her way down the steps, turning her and guiding her with an arm around her shoulders back into the house.
“How long?” Braxton demands, hands on his hips, eyes staring toward the ranch gates.
“A while.”
“More specifically.”
“Kimp gave me his blessing when I told him about the conservancy… the week Colt arrived.”
Braxton’s sharp eyes shift to mine, challenge still dancing in them.
“And you couldn’t find a time in the last six months to have that conversation with me?”
“There’s been a lot going on.”
He remains confrontational with me. “Like you breaking your promise to me.”
“Like me finally meeting my match. Finally finding someone who challenges me, fights with me, fights for me. Like me finally allowing myself to fall in love.” I hold his gaze, my left eye nearly swollen shut.
“I’m in love with her, Brax. I’m going to marry her and have babies with her.
I’m going to grow old with her and spend every day of my life fighting to give her the life she deserves.
You’re like a brother to me, and since I don’t have one by blood, I take that seriously. Don’t make me fight you for it too.”
I turn my back on him and walk to the house.
Brighton
The Thanksgiving table erupts in conversation as the front door opens and Eli and Brax return to the house.
The heavy, awkward silence that was here mere moments ago is broken by banal conversation and the rush of everyone trying to speak at once.
Willa, Exton, and Emberleigh quickly find their seats.
If it wasn’t completely obvious that they were watching the goings on outside, it is with the crescendo of fake conversation.
I grab Eli’s hand, smile at his mom, Deborah, to calm her, and escort him to the hall bathroom. I point to the closed toilet seat for him to sit before rummaging in the closet for a washcloth and first aid kit.
“Well, that went over like a fart in church.”
“Yeah, and if I know Brax, it’s not over yet.”
I let the comment hang in the air as I run cold water over the cloth and use it to wipe the dried blood from Eli’s face. His left eye is swollen shut. His cheek split and double its normal size.
“This won’t feel good, but I’ll be gentle.”
“For the record, the punch didn’t feel good either,” he mutters as he flinches.
I manage to get the wound clean and, much to his chagrin, give him two stitches. Having a vet in the family comes in handy during brotherly brawls.
When I finish, he pulls me between his open legs, hands bracketing my hips. “Is this going to be our life? You providing me with medical care that you’re licensed to do on large animals?”
“Only if you keep meeting the working end of someone’s fist.” I touch the last of the antibiotic cream to the closed gash.
“Touché.”
I lean down, wrapping my hands around his neck and shoulders, and place a kiss on his lips.
“You were right.” I hold his gaze. “We should’ve told him earlier.”
“No shit,” he deadpans.
I step back, swipe what’s left of my used medical supplies into the trash, and offer my hand. He stands and accepts.
“Ready to face the firing squad?”
He points to his cheek. “I’ve had enough for one holiday. But I would like some pie.”
We walk out to the long table filled with family and friends, hand in hand, finally out publicly with our relationship.
A fresh pack of frozen black-eyed peas sits next to his plate when we return to the table.
Before we can sit, Willa accosts me with a hug. “I’m so happy for you.” Her gaze slides to Elias and offers him a dazzling smile. “And for you. Make each other happy.”
Exton meets us in the huddle, extending a hand to Eli. “Congratulations, Elias. I knew there was more than met the eye.” A sly smile crawls across his face. “And good luck. She’s a hell of a woman, but Lord, you’re brave.”
“Hey.” I smack him on his shoulder.
He bats my hand away and wraps me in a big hug. “Love you, Bright. You deserve all the happiness in the world,” he whispers in my ear, before grabbing Willa’s hand and leading her back to their seats.
“Well, that was eventful.” Layton leans back, threading his fingers together and cradling his head in his hands.
If looks could kill, my leveling stare would obliterate him.