Chapter 35
brODY
I wash my hands in the kitchen sink, watching the water turn pink in the white basin.
The scent of paint lingers in my hair and on my clothes.
An old, ripped tee and dirty jeans. I speed up my washing, not wanting my grandmother to catch me in here looking like I just crawled out of a barn.
Even if that’s exactly what I’ve just done.
“Is that you, Brody?” she calls, voice distant enough I know I have a couple of minutes to get gone.
I twist the taps to cut the water and don’t waste time drying my hands before I’m slipping out the back door, sights set on the guest house.
It’s a bit of a walk, but that makes it all the more private.
I need the time to myself the walk will grant me.
I’m a mess of nerves, more than I’ve felt in a long, long time.
Over the past few years, Christmas has become a bit of a tense time around here.
Before coming back home those few months ago, I hadn’t been back for the holidays since the first year I moved to Nashville.
The resentment my grandfather held for me was too strong to endure for days at a time.
Snide comments and unnecessary digs at the dinner table. It became too much.
So, I hid. I came up with a million excuses, knowing damn well each one was hurting my grandmother deeper and deeper. She’ll never tell me that I hurt her, but she doesn’t have to. I’m aware of my actions and the consequences of them. That’s how I know having me home this year means so much to her.
She invited Annalise for two reasons. The first being the most obvious—that nobody should spend the holidays alone.
Hearing that Anna was going to be alone for the holidays poked at her strong caretaker instincts, urging her to take her beneath her wing.
The second reason is the one she’s tried to deny.
That she was thinking of me. That this was a matchmaking effort. One I didn’t need her to bother with.
I told her as much when she got back from her hair appointment.
Grandma walks into the dining room, bouncing her curls against her open palms and grinning up a storm. “Do you like my new do, Brody?”
Something in her voice makes the hairs on my arms stand as I look up from my seat at the table, a glass of water in my dirty hands. I’ve just finished fixing up the bucket on Grandpa’s broken-down skid steer, a near crick in my neck hurting like a motherfucker.
“Looks great. And let me guess, you asked Anna to fit you into her schedule?”
“As if I’d have anyone else touch my hair now that that sweet girl is available.”
“Well, she did a great job,” I say, not falling for her oh-so-obvious trap.
“You should get her to give you a trim again. Maybe on Christmas.”
Suspicion flares. “Why would she want to cut my hair on Christmas?”
She glances around the room, eyes wide and too innocent. When she makes for the bowl of apples on the table, I tug it out of reach. Her grin only grows in size.
“You want the apples to yourself? Go ahead, I know how much you love them.”
I fight a cringe. I’ve hated apples since I was a boy. Used to sneak all mine out to the stable and hand ’em off the to the horses.
“You’re trying to distract me from the fact you stuck your nose somewhere it didn’t belong, aren’t you?”
Her lips pop open. “How dare you?”
“How dare I? Grandma, you might be old, but you’re not that old.”
“Brody Christopher Steele, you did not just mention my age!”
I belt out a laugh as she stalks toward me, so short she hardly reaches my shoulders but tough as iron. Her hands come flying at me before fingers dip into my sides and stomach. I slap them away, jerking backward as she scrunches her brows in concentration.
“I’m not a child anymore, Grams. You can’t just tickle me whenever you want to in order to get your way.”
“If it keeps you from being such a stubborn mule, then so be it!”
“I’m a stubborn mule now?”
She drops her hands to her hips, giving my stomach muscles a break. “Were you really not going to invite your woman to Christmas?”
I blink slowly. “I figured she had plans of her own.”
“If you’d have asked her, you’d know she didn’t. It seems her family is otherwise occupied this holiday season.”
The quick bite of judgment in her tone has me jumping to her family’s defense. “They’re good people, Grams. They just live far away from one another.”
“It doesn’t matter either way. I invited her, and she’ll be here for Christmas. With us.” She pushes her shoulders back, chin high. “We’ll make her feel like family.”
The sentiment warms my belly like a long swig of hot chocolate. I want Anna to feel at home with my family, want her here over the holidays. I’m a fool not to have asked her myself the way I want to.
“If you’re doing this just to play matchmaker, I don’t need the help. I’m doing pretty well on my own.”
She sets a hand on my forearm, staring up at me softly. “I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you. Don’t play it safe and risk missing out on important moments, Brody. Figure out what it is you want, and do everything in your power to make it happen.”
She left me in the dining room a beat later, claiming she needed to change before getting started on dinner. As if she didn’t just want to leave me to sit in my thoughts. The days since have been much the same.
She’ll ask me the same few questions about how Anna’s doing, if she’s excited for Christmas and what she’s been up to.
I spent a lot of time searching for Anna’s Christmas gift, and Grams was extremely giddy about that.
It took nearly the two weeks since the idea sparked to not only locate what I needed but to complete my vision.
Now that I’m done, I’m left with a bucket load of nerves and the hope that she loves what I’ve done.
Trees and bush separate the main house from the guest house, wrapping around the front and providing a necessary sense of privacy in such an open space.
Long gravel roads connect the two houses, now covered in thick snow.
The ranch is a sight to behold in the summertime, and there’s an ache in my chest when I think about not being here to witness it again.
It’s been so long since I’ve been home in the summer, to feel the sun baking my shoulders and watch the breeze dancing through the fields. Fuck me, I’ve gone soft.
The guest house is big. Big and spacious and fitted with upgrades that the main house lacks. I had it built a few years ago, spent my first big paycheque from the label on it, knowing I needed a place of my own for when I came back home.
My first apartment in Nashville was the shits.
I found a place that was rough and outdated and, most importantly, dirt cheap so I could focus on finishing up my place in Cherry Peak first. I never told anyone back home that little fact.
They thought I was living it large in Music City. I was living well but not large.
Grandpa hated that I was the one to get the house built. He’s old-fashioned that way, but if me adding a piece of property to the ranch meant I’d be coming back home to them, he kept his mouth shut. I’m surprised he didn’t burn it to the ground when I decided to stay away.
I shove those thoughts aside as I walk inside and flip the lights on. My boots come off before I head for my bedroom, triple-checking along the way that I haven’t left a mess for Anna to see anywhere.
Today’ll be the first time she’s been inside this place.
Unlike the main house, these walls are mine.
Everything inside of them is mine. Memories and keepsakes.
Mementos from my career as of late and back when I was a teenager playing no-good covers at the diner on Saturdays.
Pieces of me are everywhere. Everything I had in my grandparents’ house growing up is here now.
Inviting Anna here feels a lot like slicing open my chest and baring my soul to her. But I don’t want to keep her out any longer. She’s already pried me halfway open and taken what she can anyway. There’s no use in fighting giving her the rest.
Pleased with the lack of mess, I take a quick shower and change before tossing my hat on and making my way back to the front of the house. I’ve gotta pick her up right about now, and I’m itching to see her.
I’ve hardly tugged one boot on when I hear tires roll over the packed snow outside. I put on the second boot before opening the door and stepping outside, arms bare in the cold.
The small, clunky red car comes to a stop seconds before the passenger door is flying open and Anna’s hopping out.
Fit with tight blue jeans, my old jacket, and her new boots, she’s a fucking dream.
I’m entirely unprepared for when she reaches back into the car and then sets a light brown cowboy hat on her head.
With a beaming smile, she takes a gift box from Poppy before shutting the car door and jogging toward me.
“Merry Christmas, Brody,” she calls, each step bringing her closer and closer until finally, she’s in my arms.
I scoop her up and lift her feet from the ground, spinning us around. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I was just about to come get you.”
Glancing at the car in front of my house, I wave at Poppy before she returns the gesture and leaves the way she came.
“Poppy stopped by to drop her gifts off, and I couldn’t wait any longer to come. It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Three days without kissin’ you and I’m damn near outta my mind,” I mutter before I’m remedying the problem.
Our kiss isn’t soft; it’s hard and fierce and desperate, chock full of a longing that I don’t think I’ll ever fucking understand.
It’s been a long two weeks of trying to take my time with her.
Of trying to learn her body with my hands and tongue while giving her the opportunity to learn mine in the same way.
We haven’t had sex yet, been holding off as long as possible to take that last step, but I’ve about run out of time.
Vocal therapy was a pain in my ass. It kept me away from her more often than I’d like, but for as good a reason as any.
My vocal cords are nearly back to where they were before I came home.
I’m relieved not to be hurting anymore but dreading what comes next.
Going back to Nashville. Leaving this place, this woman, behind.
Anna’s the one to pull back, running a soothing hand up and down my back as I try and pull myself together. She presses up on her toes and butts my nose with her own.
“Don’t think about it. I’m trying not to,” she says, reading my mind.
“We gotta lot to talk about the next two days. Don’t plan on lettin’ you leave here without us figurin’ somethin’ out.”
“Alright. How about we step inside before you end up spending the holidays with a cold?”
I step into her body and take a deep inhale of her perfume before cupping her cheek and bringing her in for another kiss.
This time, I take my time with her, tasting her lips and tongue, drawing it out as long as I can.
She feels like heaven, soft against my hard.
Warm to my cold. It takes everything in me to keep from taking her to bed right now.
“I’ll grab my coat, but then I wanna give you your present,” I murmur against her swollen mouth.
“Already?”
“I have more than one, but this first one is special. You’ll love it.”
Her eyes twinkle when she backs up and holds my gaze. “I’ve never been one to turn down a gift. Get your jacket!”
When her hand comes down on my ass, I choke on a laugh and hightail it into the house.