Chapter 2 #2
But then he realized that the light had nothing to do with his lack of oxygen. It was the sun reflecting off something. He followed its dancing light across the faces of the people standing around until he pinpointed the source.
A silver star attached to a deputy’s uniform.
For some strange reason, the sight of Tallulah Gentry made his chest expand with air. Maybe because his mind was so busy categorizing the changes in her that it stopped thinking about the lowering casket.
The main change was the way she filled out the uniform.
She’d been just a skinny kid when her daddy had arrested him for robbery and vandalism. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She had one hell of a nice rack and curvy hips that made a pair of dorky khaki pants look sexy as hell.
Her hair was no longer a springy mass of unruly blond curls.
It was stick straight and slicked back in a tight ponytail.
As a kid, her high forehead, prominent nose, full lips, and large, expressive eyes had been too much for her small heart-shaped face.
But she’d grown into those features. Now, they were a combination that made up a stunning face that was hard to look away from.
So he didn’t.
He knew the moment she realized he was looking at her.
Her deep brown eyes widened and her cheeks blushed a pretty pink.
But, like always, she didn’t look away. He couldn’t count how many times in his life he glanced up and found those Bambi eyes staring back at him.
Back then, they’d been filled with an innocent awe.
Now they were filled with something else.
Something it took him a moment to identify.
Compassion.
A lump formed in his throat and tears burned the backs of his eyes.
He jerked his gaze away.
What the hell was a matter with him? No wet-behind-the-ears deputy was going to make him cry for his mama. He didn’t give a damn about Rosie because she had never given a damn about him.
So why had he come?
Standing there with the hot Texas sun beating down on his head and a softball-sized lump in his throat, he wished he hadn’t.
Like Poppy, he wished he’d skipped this torture altogether.
It had been a mistake to come. He’d gotten no closure.
No enlightenment to why his mama had been unable to love her kids.
All he’d gotten was sunstroke and a bunch of emotions that made no sense.
As soon as his mama was in the ground, he turned and headed to his truck to get the hell out of there.
His brothers quickly joined him.
“Well, that was a shit show,” Dawson said. “What say we go have dinner at that steakhouse out on highway eighty? I could use a couple beers and a thick porterhouse.”
“Sounds good to me, Dawg.” Huck hooked an arm around Dawson’s shoulders as if they hadn’t been fighting earlier. “I wonder if that pretty redheaded waitress still works there.”
Jaxon shot him a warning look. He might not have been here, but he’d kept in contact and knew what his siblings had been up to. “The pretty redhead who was married to the trucker who beat you senseless for flirting with his wife?”
Huck grinned. “That would be the one. I’m sure she’s divorced that asshole by now and is ready for some Huck luvin’.”
“More like Huck slobbering.” Dawson shoved Huck away. “But steak, beer, and getting to see you get your ass kicked will almost make coming home worth it.”
Not to Jaxon.
Nothing would make this trip home worth it.
“Hennessy boys! Hold your horses!”
All three men stopped in their tracks and glanced at each other with horror. They knew the gruff voice. Everyone in town knew the voice. Which was why they couldn’t ignore it. Jaxon had tried once and he’d never forgot the ear twisting and lecture he’d received.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to see Tully’s grandma striding toward them.
Bertha Lowell, or Birdie as she liked to be called, bore down on them like a harvester bearing down on a field of cotton.
She usually wore a flannel shirt and jean overalls.
Today, she had on a long, black dress that made her look even more intimidating.
She had the same blond curly hair and brown eyes as Tully.
Except her hair was interwoven with gray and her eyes didn’t look like Bambi’s as much as Rambo’s as they narrowed on Jaxon and his brothers.
“Why are you boys running off in such a hurry? Y’all got somewhere to be?”
Jaxon swept off his hat. “Yes, ma’am. We have to meet with mama’s lawyer to go over the will.” It wasn’t really a lie. They did have to meet with the lawyer . . . bright and early Monday morning.
Of course, Birdie read right through the lie.
“Bullshit! Billy Jones wouldn’t work on a Saturday to save his soul.
He don’t work three days a week, let alone six.
Now y’all are coming on over to my house for the funeral reception.
” She looked at Jaxon. “I realize y’all probably don’t have good memories of this town, but folks want to console you in your time of need and y’all need to let them. ”
She lifted her right hand and pointed her pinkie finger in Jaxon’s face.
Which would have been weird if she’d been anyone else.
But Birdie only had a pinkie finger and a thumb on that hand.
The others had been chopped off when, as a kid, she’d stuck her hand in the whirling blade of a running lawn mower.
It was rumored that she hadn’t even cried.
“You might have been hooligans,” she said. “But y’all have always been respectful to your elders. Don’t disappoint me now.” She turned and strode away.
As soon as she was gone, Jaxon looked at his brothers and they all spoke at the same time.
“Shiiit.”