Chapter 1 Shayanne #2
The Gator strains against my brothers’ combined weight, and rushing to get to his girls, Bobby sends it airborne over a hump, earning a death-glare from Bruce.
Anyone who wonders why his nickname is still Brutal years after his high school football days would only need to see that look once and they’d completely understand.
They hop out looking like slightly older versions of the boys I grew up with.
Dusty shirts, sun beaten boots, big boned frames, and mean mugs for everyone else and the occasional shit-stirring grin for each other. The sight hits me in the heart.
I can’t believe how far we’ve come. In spite of everything. Because of everything. Together.
“Hey, Shay Shay,” Bobby says, pulling me into a hug.
To the uninitiated, it’d seem sweet, but we both know he’s intentionally wiping sweat and dirt all over me.
Touring changed him, for the better, but he’s still my annoying big brother with the additional tease of the nickname a stagehand in Dallas gave me.
Then he wraps Willow up in a deeper hug that makes me miss Luke, who I haven’t had the chance to welcome home properly since he returned from his latest training trip just yesterday.
“Everything okay?” Brody asks. His jaw is set in stone, worry already blooming in his dark eyes.
“I’m not here for doom and gloom,” I quickly inform him. “But I am here as Mama Louise’s messenger.”
That has all three men standing up a little straighter. Nobody messes with Mama Louise.
“Luke is back from Washington, Bobby is home, and Mama Louise wants a full-court family dinner. Mark already has ribs headed to the smoker, so clear your Saturday.”
“We’re in. Rix loves these things,” Brody says easily now that his fear of the worst has been assuaged.
Bruce is less enthusiastic. “Why does this feel like a trap?” he asks, scouring my face for any tells. He won’t find one. My poker face is solid. “Is someone leaving on another trip? Or is Mark selling off cattle?” His face goes slack. “Oh shit, who’s pregnant?” He stares at me in horror.
Swatting at his stupidly hard chest, I chide, “Do not put that on me, Brutal Tannen. Me and Luke are doner than done.” Looking up at the sky, I make sure of it. “You hear that, Universe? No more babies here. Tell those storks to migrate elsewhere.”
“Kinda sounds like you’re tempting Mother Nature,” Bruce murmurs.
“We’ll be there,” Willow interjects, saving me. Or maybe saving Bruce. “A day with someone else cooking and countless sets of arms to hold Juniper? Count us in.”
“Where is my littlest girl?” Bobby asks.
“Sleeping. And no, you can’t just ‘peek in on her’,” she tells her husband and I wonder how many times he’s done exactly that and woken the sleeping babe.
Bobby gathers Willow into his arms once more. “I could take a peek in on my other girl,” he suggests. She giggles as she melts into him.
Seeing that they probably could use a moment, I give Brody a pointed look. “Grab the sandwiches. Let’s take this lunch outside and give these two lovebirds some space to discuss things.”
“Huh?”
Bruce picks up the lemonade. “Did she stutter? Get the sandwiches.”
As we gather up the lunch goodies, Bobby dances Willow down the hall. I think I hear him murmur something about ‘writing a song’ but either I misheard him or that’s a euphemism I don’t want to examine too closely.
On the back porch, Bruce and Brody immediately dig into the food, but Bruce hasn’t let his wariness go. "You swear this isn't a trap? That Mama Louise didn’t send you as her flying monkey because she knows we won’t argue with you as much as we would one of the other girls?”
“Flying monkey? Are you implying that Mama L is the Wicked Witch of the West?” Concern for my brother’s life is threaded through the question.
That brings him up short. “I’m not saying anything of the sort,” he declares. “The rush and surprise just feels… suspect.”
“No trap. Just good, old-fashioned family fun, some delicious ribs, plenty of laughter, and probably someone passing out in the yard.” There will be no passing out.
We’ll drink some of Mama Louise’s special brand of sweet tea that could send a skunk to the drunk tank, but we know how to sip it carefully.
“Last time we all got together like this, I ended up face down in the dirt, still holding half a pie. James wasted the damn thing trying to get it from me.” He scoffs, remembering their scuffle that did indeed make the remaining peanut butter pie inedible.
Brody cracks up. “I ended up in the Bennett hay loft having the best night of my life.”
“With Rix, I hope?” I tease.
“Obviously,” he deadpans.
Bruce sighs as he rolls his eyes. “Someone’s gonna end up pregnant. And it sure as shit won’t be Allyson.” He flashes a smirk at me, then Brody, hexing us.
Brody shrugs, unbothered, which grabs both Bruce’s and my attention. “You ready to add another one to your line-up after Ford?”
“If it happens, it happens.”
Huh. That’s surprising. I didn’t know Brody and Rix wanted any more kids.
Judging by the look on Bruce’s face, he didn’t either.
And while the dig at their son, Ford, is a bit harsh, the kid is hell on wheels.
Literally. Rix bought him one of those Power Wheels when he was two and now, he can back up a mini-four wheeler better than most grown adults and cut a corner sharper than one of Mama Louise’s kitchen knives.
“Alright,” Bruce relents. “We’ll be there too.” Pointing a finger at me, he adds, “But no games. Just lunch and family.”
I nod, grinning happily. Mostly because my brother doesn’t know the games have already started.
Bless his heart…