22. Reed

22

Reed

M ornings were my favorite. Not because I liked getting up early, but for the sole reason that the world was still quiet. No expectation of small talk or a forced smile. Add in the lowing of the cattle while you doled out their breakfast, and it was nearly perfect.

Feeding the herd in the mornings was typically my job. I’d drive my truck from my house on the other side of the property over to the barn, load up the hay, and head back out to drop flakes in their usual spot. The cows knew what to do, never putting up a fight.

Felt nice to have that.

It was after breakfast that war was likely to happen. When my siblings would show up, or Brandy would arrive to start working on some horses. My mom paid her a good bit to socialize the rescues, and an even better cut for breaking the younger horses. Putting those first few rides on a green horse was no easy feat, and I could never stand to watch Brandy do it.

We’d both had our shares of being bucked off, but the risk was higher with the young ones. The groundwork before that first ride helped tremendously, and if there was one thing I’d willingly compliment Brandy on, it’d be her ability to do that shit well. Not everyone had the patience. Hell, it was a miracle even she did—with her short temper and all. It made me wonder if that was the key to getting on her good side. Being a fucking horse.

I parked my truck by the barn after getting done with feeding, my attention snagging on something out in the field after I hopped out. It’d been a few days since the wedding, and all traces of the festivities were now cleared. My mind jumped back to Brandy wearing some other man’s hat, and my jaw clenched. I shook my head. Forget about it.

Leaving the keys on the driver’s seat, I shut the door and walked toward the fence to the pasture. Kicking a boot up on the bottom, I squinted against the morning sun to find Beckham sitting in the middle of the field with that old bronc he had Bailey and Lettie rescue from a kill pen last year.

I debated ignoring the fact that he was out there and heading inside my parents’ house for a cup of coffee, but Beck being alone in the middle of a field didn’t sit right with me. Something was going on with him, and I didn’t get why he wasn’t fucking telling anyone.

Not that I was the most open book either, but Beckham was a hell of a lot better with handling his feelings than I was.

Unlatching the gate, I stepped inside, securing it behind me before walking in his direction. The old bronc’s ears perked up, but Beckham didn’t look my way as my boots rustled in the grass.

“No need to check on me, Reed,” Beck muttered as I stopped behind him.

“How’d you know it was me?” I asked.

“You and Dad are the only two out here this early, and Dad doesn’t walk that fast.”

I set a hand on the bay’s neck, looking out at whatever Beckham’s gaze was trained on, like it might be the most interesting sight in the world. “There a reason you’re out here so early?”

“Just wanted to sit with Bucky for a minute before the day started,” he replied.

I stared down at him sitting there with his knees pulled to his chest like a fucking kid. “Does the day even start for you?”

He held a hand up against the sun as he turned to look at me. “There somethin’ you want to say?”

“You haven’t got a job since you moved home,” I pointed out.

He faced forward again, pulling on a few blades of grass to twist them between his fingers. “I’ve got some money saved.”

“Can’t imagine it’s a ton.”

His fingers froze, and from this angle, I could see his lips flatten. “If all you’re gonna do out here is pick on me, fuck off.”

“Why’d you come home?” I asked instead, trying to reel in what I really wanted to say. That he needed to get his shit together and stop worrying the fuck out of our mom. Hell, out of all of us.

“Already told you. Wanted to see my family.”

I grunted. “Mom believe that?”

“Doesn’t matter if she does.”

I flexed my fingers, trying to contain the frustration that flowed through me at his comment. He was being fucking selfish. “Yeah. It does matter, because she’s fucking worried about you.”

His fingers went back to pulling on the blades of grass. “What about you, Reed? You worried ‘bout me?”

“That your goal with this little act? To get people to feel bad for you?”

“No,” he answered, honesty clear in his tone. “Would just surprise me, is all. You don’t worry about anyone but yourself anyway.”

“‘Scuse me? I didn’t fucking hear you over the bullshit coming from your mouth.”

Bucky moved at my side, bending his neck to graze.

“You never called,” Beckham said quietly.

Remorse hit me in the gut like a fucking punch.

“Never checked in. Never sent a quick text. Nothing. You were quiet when I’d come home, and that was it.”

“I’m always quiet.” As if that was excuse enough for how I’d treated him. Truth was, he’d left home, choosing to spend more time with friends in between events than with his family. Couldn’t fault him for it, though. He had a life to live. But that didn’t mean I didn’t see the worry etched into Callan’s brow every time he watched Beck ride, or how Dad was extra closed-off those days, or that Mom would busy herself, drinking half a dozen cups of coffee to keep on her feet so she didn’t have a moment to sit down and overthink.

Beckham shrugged his response, not buying my poor excuse for a second.

“That your reason for moping around, not getting a job? That one of your four siblings didn’t call?”

Another shrug.

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who chose to leave. Chose to stay at your friends’ houses in between events rather than coming home.”

“We all make decisions, Reed. Doesn’t mean they’re the right ones.” His voice was softer now, like the little fight he had in him left.

“What the fuck are you getting on about? Whatever it is, spit it out. I’ve got shit to do.”

“You and Brandy, and this constant back and forth battle. Making a scene at our little sister’s wedding.”

“I didn’t make a scene,” I retorted.

He was silent, giving it a moment to sink in that maybe I did. I’d had no right grabbing Brandy at the wedding over a fucking hat.

That woman was making me go insane.

I took a step away from Bucky, dragging a hand across my jaw. “You want a job, I can teach you to shoe horses, or Lennon can hire you at the feed store. You’ve got options, Beck. Don’t be an idiot and refuse all of them.”

I didn’t give him the chance to respond as I turned and headed back for the gate. I wasn’t going to stand there and try to pry things out of him all day. I had a job to do.

But as I slipped through the gate and latched it behind me, I instantly knew I wouldn’t be getting to that anytime soon. Not as Brandy and Lettie pulled up the driveway in Lettie’s car.

Last thing I needed right now was a fucking distraction, and that’s all Brandy was.

I kept walking, heading into the barn to grab the wheelbarrow and rake. I’d offered to take care of some of Bailey’s chores since he’d just gotten married, which was why Lettie’s being here didn’t make sense to me. They were supposed to be enjoying their time together.

As I got to work on the first stall, the two of them entered the barn, talking about some plans for Sage’s gender reveal. I tried to tune them out, but Brandy’s laugh kept filtering my way, making my palms damp against the wood handle of the rake. Every time I heard it, my muscles tensed, wanting to know what the fuck was so damn funny.

After the sixth outburst, I tossed the rake in the wheelbarrow, the sound echoing through the barn. I shoved it out, closing the stall door behind me. Grabbing the two handles, I looked up to find Lettie and Brandy peeking their heads out of the tack room door, eyes wide.

“You good out here?” Lettie asked, her blonde ponytail slung over her shoulder.

“Fine,” I grumbled, pushing the wheelbarrow past them with the intent to go to the other side of the barn, far the fuck away from the two of them. Beckham had put me in a shit mood, and all I wanted was some fucking quiet.

“I should get going anyway. Wouldn’t want to provoke Satan into burning the place down,” Brandy said, my back to her.

“You visiting your mom today?” Lettie asked, their voices carrying through the long hall as I continued walking.

Brandy let out a short sigh. “I don’t know. I might. Depends if he’s there.”

I dropped the wheelbarrow, the feet hitting the ground with a thud. My muscles tensed as I turned to face them. “Who the fuck is ‘he’?”

Brandy’s gaze found mine, her arms crossed defensively. “Don’t know who you’re talking about.”

My lips rolled together in an attempt to rein in the irritation at her poor attempt to dodge the question. “Don’t play dumb.”

She shrugged. “I’m not.” She faced Lettie again. “Thanks for dropping me off. See you tomorrow?”

Lettie smiled, giving her a quick hug. “Yep. I’ll bring the bouquet so we can work on drying the flowers.”

With a nod, Brandy started walking, striding right past me like I didn’t fucking exist. In her universe, I probably didn’t. Too bad I didn’t give a shit.

“Brandy.” My voice boomed through the hall as I took off after her, my boots pounding on the mats.

She ignored me, as I expected, aiming for her Bronco.

“Brandy, stop.”

Not a muscle in her body indicated she heard me.

I started to jog, catching up to her quickly. My hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to a stop. “Who the fuck would be at your mom’s house?”

She whirled on me, a slight sheen to her narrowed eyes. “She’s allowed to have friends, you know.”

Fuck, she was stubborn. “Friends you wouldn’t want to see?”

She yanked her wrist from my grasp, anger turning her cheeks a light shade of pink. “Leave it alone, Reed.”

I took a step closer so she had to lift her chin to keep her eyes on me. “Is it your dad?”

The slight flare of her nostrils told me I was correct.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I gritted out. My hands balled into tight fists, my knuckles aching from the strain.

“It’s none of your business,” she spit back.

“Is that why you were upset at the wedding?”

Her jaw moved as she ground her teeth together. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Like hell you don’t.”

“Why? So you can come save me again? Be my big, broody protector?” Her voice wavered on the last word.

Pure frustration pulsed through me, causing me to get in her face. “Yes, Brandy! That’s exactly why you fucking tell me, because no one’s going to come into your life and put you at risk and get away with it.”

She crossed her arms, brushing my chest with the act. “Too bad! He’s the fucking reason I’m alive, so I have to live with it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You think I haven’t tried to get her away from him? She gives in every single time he comes back. He’s my dad .”

My voice dropped lethally low, barely contained rage vibrating off me. “He lost that title the day he hurt his family.”

Pain flashed in her eyes at the reminder of it. Though I was sure she never forgot. Brandy was good at holding things inside, especially grudges.

“Let me make this clear, Reed Bronson,” she gritted out, our noses nearly touching as she spoke quietly, enunciating each word. “My problems are not your problems. You don’t get to come in, guns blazing, and pretend they are. You lost the privilege to that a long fucking time ago.”

Her eyes darted between mine, a lock of hair falling in her face before she turned, yanking open the door to her car.

“You know, that’s the thing about being Satan,” I said, playing into her little nickname. “He doesn’t follow the rules.”

With pursed lips, she slammed the door in my face, started her engine, and took off down the driveway, spewing dirt in her wake.

And I stood there watching, making sure she knew I wasn’t going to back down. The last time she had a shit day because of that man, she nearly ruined herself.

I wouldn’t let it happen again.