11. Reed

11

Reed

Seven years ago

T he image of Brandy sitting in my passenger seat this morning looking so fucking defeated filtered through my mind. I would’ve covered my thoughts with the burn of whiskey, but thought better of it tonight. Who knew what the fuck I would do if I mixed a few drinks with the impulse to go teach her father a lesson.

I’d pound his fucking face in if given the chance, just to see how he liked it.

But Brandy had told me to stay out of it, and what Brandy wanted, she got.

An aluminum can being crushed blurred all thoughts from my mind, sending them away like dust on the wind.

“Damn fucking right I did,” Beckham hollered, tossing his flattened can at the trash bin and making a clean shot. “Green ones ain’t got nothing on me.”

“Do you ever not brag about sitting out a horse’s little bunny hops?” Lettie asked, that typical sisterly annoyance clear in her tone.

Beck raised a brow at her. “Bunny hops?” He scoffed. “Please. Those were full-on ass-bruising bucks.”

Bailey tipped his beer in Beck’s direction, a finger pointing in agreement. “I saw it, Huckleberry. He’s right. That horse tried its best, but Beck wasn’t having none of it.”

Lettie rolled her eyes, sitting back in the chair on our parents’ porch. My dad, Travis, had spent the whole day out on the ranch making sure shit was prepped and ready for the early winter this year. We typically had a few more weeks, but the forecast had predicted snow in a few days. With the long hours he had been working, he’d turned in early, so we were trying to be somewhat quiet to respect his rest. Though, after a few beers in each of my brothers, that was proving difficult as time passed.

“Even my students can ride that out, Beck. It’s not anything special,” Callan said before taking a swig of his longneck.

Lennon pursed his lips to hide his grin while I just fucking sat there listening like I always did. Bailey and I got along great one-on-one, but put him in a room with my other siblings? We were practically polar opposites. But Bailey and I understood each other on a level my brothers didn’t, and that’s what drew us closer. He didn’t try to pry shit out of me. Instead, he had some way about him that made me an open book. To everyone else? I dared them to try to flip to page fucking one.

Beck stood from his chair, the legs scraping across the deck. “Then let’s go see how well you can do it, smart-ass.”

Callan shook his head, not bothering to look up at Beck as he swayed on his feet. “I’m not riding after this many drinks.”

Beckham shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Lennon leaned forward to grab the beer out of Beck’s hand. “And you shouldn’t either. You can compare how long your rides are tomorrow when you’re sober.”

The corner of my mouth tilted up slightly at the insinuation.

My phone buzzed in my front pocket, so I set my water bottle on the table and shifted to slide it out. Wyatt Pearson’s name lit up the bottom of the screen with a text. He was a good friend of ours, but a text from him this late at night couldn’t mean anything good.

I swiped up to unlock my phone, clicking his text.

Wyatt Party at Jefferson’s place is a little wild

I debated not even replying because I couldn’t give two shits less about some party, but thought fuck it. Wyatt was a nice guy, and leaving him on read was probably a dick move. Anyone else, and I probably wouldn’t have cared, but he’d done more favors for my family than I could count on one hand. Never gave me a reason to ignore him.

Little?

Wyatt Code for *it’s getting out of hand*

What do you mean?

The three dots appeared that he was typing, then disappeared. Wyatt wasn’t one for crowds as far as I was aware, which was why I was the slightest bit surprised he was at a party to begin with.

After about two minutes of waiting for his response, I locked my phone. Right as I was pivoting to slide it back in my jeans, his name lit up my screen again. I swiped up on it, doing a double take when I saw the name in his text.

Wyatt Brandy’s here. She looks pretty tipsy

Did she come with anyone?

My only concern was that she had a ride home if she was drinking.

Wyatt Not that I saw, but she’s hanging with some older guys now. Keeping an eye on her

You are, or they are?

If there were some pervy fucking drunk guys copping a feel of her, I wouldn’t hesitate to break their fucking noses.

Wyatt Both?

A sigh passed my lips as I stared at his text.

“Something wrong?” Lennon asked.

I shook my head, staring at the screen like Wyatt would reassure me everything was fine in a moment. Or better yet, he’d tell me it was a joke. What if she was acting out because of what happened this morning? If she wasn’t thinking, or in the right frame of mind, who knew what the fuck she might do at that party. And if she was drinking, was anyone making sure she didn’t overdo it? Wyatt being there to make sure no one tried anything with her did little to ease my growing worry, despite my trust in him.

But she wasn’t my fucking responsibility to worry about.

“Nothing,” I replied.

“That crease between your brows is deeper than usual, so I’m going to have to call bullshit.” Lennon was too fucking observant.

The rest of them were in some heated debate about who’d been thrown off a horse more times, but I wasn’t paying attention.

No. My mind was only running rapid with concern for Brandy while it had no fucking reason to.

If I had to blame it on anything, it’d be this morning. She’d had a bad start to the day and was clearly taking it out by going to a simple party. That was it. There was nothing to worry about.

But what if something else happened with her dad after she left our ranch earlier? Had he hit her, upset her? What if he hurt her when she inevitably came home drunk? She wouldn’t be able to fight him off—not some fifty-year-old who had no respect for women to begin with.

Better yet, how was she going to get home in the fucking first place? Lettie was seated at this table with me, which meant unless Brandy had someone else drive her, she’d be walking.

And that didn’t fucking sit right with me. Not with the sun having just disappeared behind the horizon now.

“I’m fine.” I stood from the chair, about to abandon my water, but then thought she might need it if she was drunk, so I swiped it in a fist. “I have to head out.”

Lennon’s mouth was a thin line as he dipped his head in a nod. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

I left the rest of them bickering at the table, heading for my truck in the driveway. As I walked, I glanced at my screen three more times before tossing it on the passenger seat and sliding in behind the wheel. No more texts from Wyatt. That was a good thing.

Regardless of trying to convince myself of that, I started the engine and headed down to the main road. If Brandy wouldn’t let anyone else know what happened—if shutting everyone out was that damn important to her—then she could make that decision.

But no way in hell would I let her keep me out, too.