123. Bibbi
BIBBI
LIVY
Day two has flown by. Mostly because the past seventy-two hours have been insanity. Poor sleep, no sleep, surgery, late-night texts, and the emotion of fighting with Layton.
Layton threads his fingers through mine as we head to Braxton and Emberleigh’s for dinner.
The Gator is the coolest lazy way to get around.
The house is as you enter the ranch gates and not so far that it couldn’t be walked, but today is not the day to push ourselves in that way.
Pop is staying back with Kyle to keep him in resting mode.
I’m full of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories.
I could kick myself for not grabbing those prescriptions.
I know better, but anxiety is a friend to no one, and I was operating by its principles and not my own.
There was no need to be in the pain I have been when both would’ve helped the healing process.
When we get to their home, I lift a hand to knock. Layton, instead, pushes the door open and announces our arrival. “We made it,” he says to the vast room. A hand at the small of my back leads me toward the eat-in kitchen.
“Hey.” Emberleigh pops out from around the fridge and drops a kiss on my cheek. “I’m learning to cook all over again. That’s only partly true. I had hoped by now I would have a chef and a maid.”
I pull back, curious about a woman who must be my age—or at least within a couple of years—who expected to have a chef by now. “A maid I can get behind. And a massage therapist. If we’re going to dream big, let’s go personal massage therapist and a private pilot.”
“I like the way you think. Come on in.”
“And why are you learning to cook right now?”
“I grew up in Texas.”
That’s supposed to mean something to me, I guess.
“I grew up in New England.”
“Really? Where?”
“Boston. But what does Texas have to do with learning to cook?”
She laughs and looks back over her shoulder. “We don’t do anything without butter or bacon grease. Or some kind of drippings. And that’s the healthy stuff. Almost anyway.”
“Oh.”
“But that won’t work now, so I’m reading ingredients and making things without them. I’d be lying to say I’m good at it yet.”
“And she hates not being good at stuff.” Braxton enters the room with Colt in his arms, a sleepy head on his broad shoulder.
“That’s the truth. I’ll have this figured out as quickly as I can.” She lifts her arm and flexes her biceps.
“Thank you. But you didn’t have to do all this.”
“Oh, but we did. Otherwise, you’d have bread for dinner.” She turns her megawatt smile on me.
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last.”
“Right. But not when you’re here. Grab a seat. I’ll bring it over.”
“Unca Lay.” Colt leans around Brax’s face to see Layton. He points at me. “Bibbi.”
All eyes turn to me, and I do my best not to burst at the seams. I’ll take it. A nickname I didn’t give myself from someone who gave it freely. Like uncle, like nephew.
Over dinner, Emberleigh and Braxton tell me about how they met, about how she and Colt came to the ranch, and the craziness the last year has been for their family.
They serve salad and fruit, along with sweet potatoes, a quinoa concoction, and avocado. To theirs, they add a roast with chimichurri.
“How did you come to be a physical therapist?”
“I was pre-med at Delaware. I had an aptitude for science and enjoyed the biology and chemistry classes. But traditional Western medicine just wasn’t my thing.
Much to my parents’ chagrin, I’ll say. My sister, Natalia, is an attorney.
They would’ve been happy had I become a doctor for sure.
” I work to keep any snark or anger out of my voice.
“I wanted to help people and be hands-on, but I wasn’t about to become a prescriber or a biller. Both are necessary in the business these days. Right or wrong, it’s how people make a living, so I had to engage or find another path. And I found another path.”
I spear an asparagus on my plate.
“How did you end up in PR?” I switch the subject to a more interesting topic.
“It didn’t feel like a job, you know.”
Braxton clears his throat. “Oh, it’s definitely a job, all right.”
She hitches a thumb toward Layton’s brother. “He says I work too much.”
“You don’t have to work at all.”
She looks at me and rolls her eyes, stabbing a bite of roast and giving it a chew.
“He keeps repeating that. I think a week or two of downtime would be fine. A month or two, and I’d go crazy. I own my own business. I can set my schedule and work around Colt’s and his, ahem—” She clears her throat. “Twelve-hour days most of the time.”
“Ranching isn’t nine to five Monday through Friday.”
“You’re lucky Bright wasn’t here to hear you make that reference,” Layton cuts in.
Braxton extends a fist, and they bump. “Truth.”
My mental list of “What’s that about?” gets longer the more time I’m around this family.
“Brax, it might be time,” Layton starts. “Promote Cyler. Figure it out. This dude—” Layton points at Colt. “Won’t be small for long. You’ll blink, and he’ll be grown. You have a luxury most don’t have. It’s worth thinking about.”
“I’ve never told you how to train,” Braxton retorts.
“I may not have an MBA like you, but I have a degree in business and I’ve done okay for myself. Present situation excluded. I’m not telling you what to do, but pull your head out of your ass long enough to consider it.”
Layton and Braxton have gone from jovial to tense in thirty seconds.
“My sister accused me of having a fling with an engaged man last month, simply by the way I was dressed,” I say, only to watch Layton’s jaw clench and his eyes slice my way.
“She’s crazy smart and incredibly accomplished. And she doesn’t care a lick about whether she hurt me with her accusation. I don’t know what’s going on with you two.” I move my gaze between Layton and his brother. “But let me tell you what the last seventy-two hours have been like in observation.”
I begin ticking off on my fingers. “One, a man loves his brother so much, he calls a complete stranger to ask for help. Two, that man and his fiancée take massive strides to make that help happen. Three, the object of that man’s care wants more for his brother than an impressive résumé when it comes to the end of his life.
Are the two of you truly arguing over two amazing options for Braxton’s future?
If I understand, this isn’t ditch digger versus sewer cleaner.
Am I right? This is between what people dream about and what people buy lotto tickets for. Geez.”
Emberleigh puts out a fist for bumping, and I grin down at my plate after accepting her offer.
“For what it’s worth, most people don’t have families like yours.”
Layton pushes his food around on his plate. “I’m not sorry.”
I sigh. Emberleigh rolls her chin to the sky, and Brax puts both his fists on the table. “I’m shocked. Why would you be sorry?”
“Exactly.”
I look at Emberleigh, and she nods, and we both stand and move away from the table.
When we settle in the living room, she says, “They want the best things for each other, but their styles are so different. Hell, who am I to say that?”
I shrug. “I haven’t been on the ground for thirty hours, and I’ve already put my foot in my mouth. Braxton will wonder why he hired me.”
“No way. That’s exactly why he hired you. You’ll push where you need to push. Whether that’s with Layton or back on one of us in defense of his care, you’re the right person for the job. And…”
Her sing-song tone has me curious.
“There’s more than meets the eye with you two.
I’ve never seen Layton anything other than charming.
You know that attitude where nothing ruffles a man?
The world could crumble, and he’d crack a joke.
That was Layton until the accident. Since you came, I see fire in his eyes and a man I haven’t known until now. He’s… different.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “We get each other.”
She tucks in to the corner of the sofa. “Sometime, I want to hear that story.”
She doesn’t push, doesn’t expect me to spill all the details, and I’m grateful for that. Aside from Bean, I don’t have anyone I dish with.
“Family dynamics are challenging.”
“You can say that again. I know you haven’t been here long and it hasn’t been uneventful, but have you figured out which equipment you need? We can order whenever you’re ready.”
“I’d love to say I’ve considered it. Between the foal, the food, and our epic arguments, my day has been full. Right now, though, aside from a water treadmill, I don’t know. A pool would be perfect, but I haven’t seen one.”
“Why don’t y’all go to Layton’s place at the lake?”
My ears perk, and I sit up taller. This is the first I’m hearing of any of this.
“What are you talking about?”
“Layton has a home out on Lake Travis. Bright lives outside of town on a small property. Exton and Willa bought an old home downtown when they moved back. We’re here.
But Layton hasn’t lived in town since he got his contract.
At least that’s what I was told. He’s always been a little on the outside. Maybe by his own design.”
That’s a lot of information to take in. A pool for his therapy. A lake so I can see and hear the water. A little privacy for— “That might be perfect.”
“It has a home gym too, so it might be the perfect space for what you need.”
“I’m not postponing anything, but this leg threw a wrench in the works. I’m excited to see if that space can do what we need it to.”
“What space?” Braxton’s voice behind me indicates he’s entered the room.
“Layton’s house,” Emberleigh replies.
I turn to see Layton pulling up the rear. His face is carefully blank.
“Maybe so,” Braxton replies, tipping Colt down to Emberleigh.
Still nothing from the man behind him.
“We’ll figure it out,” I pipe in. “I’d like to see it. I’m sorry I’m slowing things down with my bum leg.”
“We can figure it out.” This again from Braxton.
“Layton? Is it time to go?” I ask since he hasn’t said anything.
A curt bob of his head communicates more than just his readiness to leave this situation.