His Secret Older Woman Is Pregnant

Chapter 001 Levi

"Did I just hear you right?" My voice cracks, coming out closer to a squeak than anything a grown man should be producing. I stare at my brother Nash, trying to process the words that just left his mouth. "Did y'all just tell me that you're getting married?"

It doesn't make a lick of sense. His girlfriend, Braylynn, literally just got out of the hospital. She’s still got that fragile look about her, like a stiff wind might knock her over, but that’s a long story for another day. The point is, I never pictured my brother as the marrying type. Hell, I never pictured myself that way, neither. We’ve had a front-row seat to the disaster show that is marriage our whole lives, courtesy of Mama and Daddy. Personally, I have zero interest in signing up for that kind of misery.

"You heard right," Nash states. He’s sitting on the front porch of our childhood home, bobbing his head up and down like one of those plastic dogs in a rear window. "But keep it under your hat for now. Until we figure out what's going on with Mama and Daddy, Braylynn and I would like to keep everything simple."

Simple. Nothing in this family is simple.

"How long do you suppose that Daddy is going to be in jail for," I say. It’s a comment, not a question. The bitterness coats my tongue. If I had it my way, the old man would be in there for good. Rotting in a cell seems like a fair trade for the hell he’s put us through. Unfortunately, Braylynn is a better person than me. She showed him way too much mercy when the cops came.

"I don't know yet," Nash says, rubbing a hand over his face. "It depends on what the lawyer says. He hasn't even seen one yet. And I'm not forking out the dough for him to see one either."

"Same here," I say quickly. "Have you been to see him?"

"Not if it means leaving Braylynn. I just figured that we ought to talk about what we're going to do with this house."

I look around the porch. The paint is peeling, and the wood groans under our weight. It smells like old rain and disappointment. "What do you mean? Are we going to set Daddy down on his ass? I mean, I get it that he deserves it, but do we really want to be the ones responsible for turning our father into a vagrant? The first thing he’ll do is run for the bottle again."

"Do you want to keep paying his bills?" Nash asks, pointedly.

"We don’t have to. If Daddy’s not drinking away his money anymore, then he can pay his own damn bills. They’re coming in his name anyway. We’re just the fools that pay them for him." I pause, looking out toward the road. "Besides, I’m gonna need somewhere to hang my hat for a little bit myself."

Nash lifts his head, raising both eyebrows high. "Things not working out with your girl?"

My jaw tightens. "I never said I was living with her, Nash. All I said was that I wasn’t living at home. Sure, I’m staying with her, for now. But that’s only temporary."

"So, what’s your plan then? The offer still stands for you to stay with me and Bray."

"Billy’s offered for me to hang my hat for a while at the ranch. I think I’d rather do that, as it’s way less complicated."

He shrugs, leaning back. "It’s your call, Levi. But if you can’t see yourself staying in this house, then maybe you ought to think about getting a place of your own."

I crane my neck back, looking at him down my nose. Something hot flares in my chest. "Well, aren’t you the hypocrite today. Where do you get off telling me where I can and can’t stay? Just because you’re living with your fiance, doesn’t give you the right. When the hell have you ever had a place of your own?"

His eyes widen. I know I’m coming off strong—maybe rude—but I’m sick and tired of people trying to tell me what to do with my life. I’m tired of the looks. I’m tired of people judging me because my last name is the same as the town drunk who’s currently sitting behind bars. It’s not Nash’s fault, but he’s right there, and he’s an easy target.

"Levi, I don’t mean to offend you, brother," Nash says, his voice dropping to that calm, reasonable tone that annoys me even more. "You have every right to stay in that house if you want to, and I know that Billy would be more than happy to have you stay with him at the ranch, too. They may not be our blood family, but they mean more to us than our actual family does, that’s for sure. You do what makes you happy, that’s all that matters to me."

My gaze drops to my hands. They’re clenched into fists on my knees. Shame washes over me, cooling the anger. Nash means well. He always means well.

"That’s right," I tell him. I feel possessed, like I don’t have any control over the words spilling out. "I will do what makes me happy."

His eyes search mine, scanning my face like he’s trying to read a map in a language he doesn’t speak. He’s looking for the little brother he’s seen every day since I was born. Well, he’s not going to find him. That kid is gone. Nash thinks I’m not capable of handling my own business. He thinks I follow him around like a lost puppy, that I put blinders on when it comes to Daddy and the mess with Mama. But I see it all. I know it all.

I told him so a couple of days ago, but I don’t think he heard me. Or if he did, he didn’t believe me. People think I’m stupid, simple-minded. They think I don’t know what love is. But I do.

Nash slaps his thighs and stands up, signaling the end of the deep talk. "Well, I guess that’s it, then. We let Daddy fend for himself for once in his life." He shifts gears, his face brightening. "So, when do I get to meet this woman that's stolen my brother's heart?"

"Whenever you want." It comes out like a scoff before I can stop it.

"Well, she's in Dallas. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Why the hell would it be? I've been dating her, haven't I?" My voice is more condescending than I intend.

"Alright then." Nash blinks, recovering quickly. "How about dinner tomorrow night?"

"Are you sure that Braylynn will be up for that?"

"We can do it at her house if it's all the same to you, man. Six o'clock work for you?"

"I'll see you then."

My words come out cold. I turn and walk to my truck without looking back. As I drive toward Dallas, I keep rewinding the conversation in my mind, wondering what the hell came over me. The stress, the drama—it’s eating me alive. That’s why I go to Dallas. Nobody knows me there. Nobody looks at me with pity or judgment.

Nobody knows me except Shelly.

I don't know why, but these days, I like being invisible. And with Shelly, I can be as invisible as I want. She doesn’t ask questions. We have boundaries. I never thought I’d be with an older woman, but there’s something to be said for it. We don’t talk about the future. That suits me just fine.

Shelly invited me to stay with her, but it was less of an invitation and more of a convenience. I’ve ended up there for the last couple of weeks by accident, mostly. She gave me the code to her front door. Dallas isn't a small town—giving a guy the code that fast seems questionable, but I’m not complaining. In a small town, if you walk into a house that isn't yours, the whole county knows by sunset. Here, nobody cares.

I pull up to her place. Her car isn’t in the driveway. I punch in the code and let myself in.

The house is small, maybe the smallest on the street, but the inside is modern. Clean lines, cold surfaces. It smells like air freshener and nothing else. I check the kitchen. No food. I’m not even hungry, but standing in the silent kitchen, I suddenly feel lost.

Normally, I’d be at Billy’s ranch, hanging with the boys, or at home. Here, surrounded by Shelly’s things but without Shelly, I feel like an intruder. A ghost. I send her a text asking how long she’ll be, trying not to sound needy. I just hate the quiet.

A minute later, my phone buzzes. Late.

I stare at the screen. I make up my mind right then. I’m not staying here by myself, waiting like a dog by the door. I grab my keys and head back out. As I drive back toward the ranch, I mentally beat myself up for wasting the gas and the time. I’m not a planner. My hat usually rests wherever it lands, but trying to force it to land at Shelly’s feels like work today.

The debate starts the moment I pull up the long gravel driveway at Billy’s ranch. Has the word spread about the engagement? Lord strike me dead for being the big mouth if I spill it before Nash does. But then I see Nash’s truck parked further up near the barn. I’d bet my last dollar he’s already shared the news.

He does a double-take when he sees me pulling up. It’s embarrassing, seeing as I left him less than an hour ago.

"I figured you’d be off having a romantic evening with your girl," Nash comments as he walks over, wiping grease on a rag.

"I could say the same thing to you, seeing as you’re the one that just got engaged," I volley back. I don't bother hiding the snark.

"Fair enough. Although, my fiance, as you know, just healed from a head injury, so our celebration plans are on hold for now. What’s your excuse?" He grins and chucks me on the shoulder.

I just shrug. I don't have an excuse. I just didn't want to be alone in a house that isn't mine.

"Hey, Levi," Billy calls out, rounding the corner of the house. He’s adjusting his tool belt, looking like he’s been working since dawn. "Piper’s got some wicked stew in the house if you want some."

If Piper’s cooking, you don’t have to twist my arm. Besides, the last thing I want to do is stand out here talking about weddings and feelings. "You don’t have to ask me twice," I say.

I wasn’t hungry at Shelly’s, but the minute I open the ranch house door, the smell of beef and savory herbs hits me, and I’m a goner. Piper is sitting at the kitchen table, alone, eating a dinner roll.

"Hey, Levi. Come and eat. There’s plenty."

She rises and serves me a bowl of stew, thick with meat and potatoes, and balances a roll on the rim. There’s a dish of freshly churned butter in the center of the table. I sit down across from her, and immediately, the knot in my chest loosens. This place feels like home.

"The vases came for the ranch house today," she says between bites. "I’ll show them to you after you’re done eating if you want."

"I’m up for that."

"I was going to have a fire later. Burn off some of that old brush. Are you up for roasting some marshmallows?"

Piper has become like a sister to me. All the ladies around here have. It’s hard to say no to any of them. But I stop myself. "I can stay for a bit, but I’ve got plans later."

She gets a smirky, cute grin on her face. "And just when do I get to meet these other plans?"

If it were anyone else prying, I might snap. But it’s Piper. "Not ready yet. We’re not there yet."

"Tell me about her," she says, slathering more butter on her bun.

I grunt softly, shifting in my chair. "If I tell you, do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"You know me, Levi. I’m no saint. I’ve got plenty of secrets that will go to my grave."

I chew on a piece of potato, thinking. "She’s older. I don’t know how much older, mind, but she’s got them wrinkles on the sides of her eyes."

"Crow's feet," she corrects. "But that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s older. Lots of younger people get those."

God bless her. Piper wouldn’t judge a soul. "Her skin is different, too. And the way she talks... I can tell she’s not from my generation."

Her eyes widen a fraction. "You mean, she’s like, a decade or more older?"

"I think so. I’m not sure. But I think she was married once. Her engagement and wedding band sit on one of those little ring holders that my Meemaw used to have in her bathroom."

Piper stops chewing. "Are you sure she’s not still married?"

The hesitation in the room is heavy enough to weigh on a scale. "I’m pretty sure," I say, though my voice lacks conviction. "I’ve never seen any evidence of another man in her house before."

She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. "You ought to ask her, Levi. It’s easy to hide evidence. Although, I doubt she’d be so foolish as to invite you over when she’s still married. But if I were you, I’d check."

My stomach sinks. "It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard about it. Women do it all the time, and you know as well as I do that my Mama is one of them. But I really don’t think she’s that kind of girl."

"Not that I’m trying to burst your bubble, Levi, but you two haven’t been together long. You should have your back up more. Do those wedding bands look modern? A friend of mine used to wear her mom's old wedding bands."

"I wouldn’t know."

"Well, I can help you there. What do they look like?"

I shrug, feeling foolish. "Hell if I know. Sparkly?"

"White or yellow gold?"

"Yellow."

"One diamond or more?"

"One."

"Round, oval, pear shaped?"

"Round."

"How big?"

I lift a brow at her.

She smirks. "Size matters, Levi."

I snort a laugh. "I guess so. I'd say it was three quarters of an inch in diameter."

Her eyes bulge. "Okay, definitely modern. There is no way that that's an antique."

"I think you're worrying a little too much over this, Piper. And frankly, I don't give a damn if she is still married."

"You'll become a strange smell in the attic if he doesn't know she's fooling around on him," she says darkly. "Especially if he's bigger than you."

The image hits me, and I swallow hard. "Fine. I'll ask her straight up."

"You should specify, too. Make sure you ask if she's in a relationship with someone else, or if he knows that the relationship is over, all that. You never know these days."

"Are you saying I'll screw it up?"

"Are you seeing her tonight?"

"I said I was."

She bites her lip. "Anyone else in our circle know her yet?"

"No, but Nash wants us to come out for dinner tomorrow night with him and Braylynn."

Piper waves a hand dismissively. "Forget it. That line of questioning is for a woman. Let Braylynn fire them off. She'll be able to tell from a mile away if she's lying."

"I think I can handle it."

She ignores me completely. "I'll talk to her."

"Braylynn or Shelly?"

The look she gives me suggests I just asked if water is wet. "See? This is why Braylynn needs to do it. Because men can't hear the cues."

I sigh, exasperated. "Fine. Have a talk with Braylynn for chrissake. God, I gotta go."

"No, you don't." Her voice turns stern, motherly. "You sit there and eat your supper. I'll go give Braylynn a call. We'll talk about this later."

By the time I get back to Dallas and pick up Shelly, the sun is low and my nerves are high.

"What's this supposed to be? An interrogation?" Shelly asks, eyeing me as she grabs her purse from the console table. She smells the rat immediately.

"No. And I can call it off if you want. It's just with my brother Nash and his fiance Braylynn."

She looks unimpressed. Her voice is cutting. "This the one with the head injury?"

"Yeah. She's better now. She's up for meeting at a restaurant, too."

She slings her purse over her shoulder with an attitude that says hold my beer. "My truck or yours?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Fine. We'll take mine. That way if things go south, I've got a ride home."

I’m not crazy about the sound of that—like she’s already planning her escape—but Shelly isn't delicate, so I go with it. I let her out the door first, like a gentleman, and follow her to her truck.

The restaurant is busy, noisy with the clatter of silverware and conversation. The second we arrive, I grab a beer from the bar and guzzle half of it down, even though I'm not much of a drinker. Shelly gives me a satisfied look, like she enjoys seeing me sweat.

"Levi, hey," Nash says, coming up behind me.

"Hey, Nash, Braylynn," I say by way of introduction. "This is Shelly."

Braylynn gives Shelly an evaluating glance, scanning her from boots to hair before shaking her hand. There’s no warmth there. No hugs like when she met Piper. That, my friends, is not happening.

The hostess shows us to a table. We sit, and the tension is thick enough to chew. Before I can say a word to smooth things over, Braylynn starts.

"So, Shelly. What do you do for a living?"

"Well, I think y'all know the answer to that, don't you? After all, that's how Levi and I met."

Braylynn lifts her brows in open judgment. "You're a student? Y'all don't work part-time?"

Shelly gets a sly look on her face. It’s a look I haven’t seen before, like she’s holding the winning card in a high-stakes game. But before she can answer, the waitress arrives to take our drink orders.

Nash and I exchange a look—the universal brotherhood of we need alcohol—and order another round of beers. Braylynn orders a white wine.

Shelly hesitates. She stares at the menu for a beat too long. "I'll have a fruit smoothie," she says.

As the waitress walks away, Braylynn sits higher in her seat. She speaks on an exhale, thumbing the edge of her menu, her eyes averted from Shelly but her voice sharp as a tack. "A smoothie?"

Sucking her teeth, my girl sets down her menu. She looks straight at Braylynn, then at me, and responds in a way that makes me shit my pants.

"I'm pregnant."