6. Reed

6

Reed

T he next day, after finishing my morning chores, I decided there was no way in hell Wyatt was going to go help Brandy with her car.

“Yello,” Wyatt answered.

“Seems old habits don’t, in fact, die hard,” I said.

“I knew it was you calling, Reed. I had to do it to piss you off.”

My brothers and I used to give him shit for the greeting back in high school, but with answering phones as a part of his job, the habit stuck.

“It’s cute you think I believe you.”

“What do you want, Bronson? I know your shiny ass truck ain’t broke,” he said.

I leaned a hip against my truck, my elbow resting on the side of the bed. “You’re just mad I replaced the old beater with something new since you lost my business.”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t lose your friendship along with it,” he mumbled.

My lips ticked up at the corners before the hint of a smile fell. “You know about Brandy’s car, from what I’ve been told.”

“Yep. Hole in the radiator. Why?”

“Is the new one in your shop?”

“Yep. Sitting right next to me. Why?”

“Do you ever not ask questions?”

“Do you ever answer them?” I sighed as he chuckled into the phone. “I’m just giving you shit, Bronson, but not nearly as much as Brandy will be giving you if you show up to her place with this radiator.”

“I can handle her.” I’d been handling her attitude my whole damn life. I had no choice.

“Mhmm. You let me know how well you handle it when she breaks your damn nose.”

“She wouldn’t punch me, Wyatt. Get over yourself.”

“How are you so sure? Have you seen that woman bite?”

Because I knew. Brandy wouldn’t raise a hand to the people she cared about. And that included me, even if she pretended not to by covering her true feelings with hate.

“Far too often. I can be there in twenty to pick it up on my way to Beck’s.”

“Beck’s back in town?” he asked, surprise evident in his tone.

“Yep.”

“For good?”

“Who’s the one with the questions now?” I asked with a smirk.

“Actually, if you’d look at the time… I can get over to Brandy’s in about ten minutes if I leave now.”

“Wyatt,” I warned.

He chuckled again. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. But seriously, though. Beckham’s home?”

“He is,” I replied. “Bought a house and everything.”

“Sounds serious,” Wyatt said, the sarcasm no longer in his voice.

“He may be willing to settle down, too, if you’re open to it.”

“Alright, dipshit. I’m hanging up now. Her radiator is by my desk if I’m busy when you get here.”

“Thanks, Wyatt.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

I hung up the phone, pocketing it before getting in my truck and starting the engine. Heading out of the pasture, being sure to close the gate behind me, I pulled onto the main road.

On my way to Beckham’s new house, I picked up the radiator. Wyatt was talking to an elderly lady about her tire alignment when I got there, clearly stuck in conversation with her as he sent me pleading eyes, so I’d given him a quick wave and was on my way. I was sure he’d give me shit for that later.

Beck had purchased a double-wide off the highway on a twenty-acre parcel. From the looks of it on the outside, it seemed pretty new. He’d never purchased a home before now, not seeing the reason for it.

Buying a house meant he was staying. Was he truly done with rodeo for good?

It didn’t seem like the Beckham I knew, but a lot changes as you grow up. We’d been trying to get him to quit bronc riding for a while now. Maybe he’d finally come to his senses.

I was only thankful he wasn’t hurt in order to realize he wanted to leave.

Bailey and my brothers, Callan and Lennon, were already here, their trucks lined up out front.

I parked and got out, approaching them where they stood next to Beckham’s small moving van.

“There’s honestly not much,” Beck said, moving to open the rolling door of the van after I stopped next to the others. “It’s all just stuff I’ve accumulated over the years that I liked or saw on sale.”

Lennon had his arms crossed where he stood to the left of Callan, his dark blonde hair hidden under his ball cap. “That’ll change as you get settled.”

“No shit,” Beck muttered before pulling the door up.

Bailey gave me a nod in greeting before I looked inside the van.

“There’s three boxes and a table, Beck,” Bailey said.

“There’s more than that,” Beckham defended.

“A couch and a mattress,” Lennon added, eyeing the bare van.

Beckham frowned. “Okay, not a ton more, but it’s enough to get started.”

“That’s okay. We all start somewhere.” Callan landed a pat on Beckham's back. “We’ll get it inside.” He hefted himself up into the back of the van.

“You sure we can handle all this? We might need more guys,” Bailey joked.

I pressed my lips together to keep from chuckling.

“Listen, Cooper, you want to be a dick—” Beck started.

Bailey clapped him on the shoulder before getting in behind Callan. “I’m only kidding. With me here, we’ve got it handled. I’d be worried if it was just those other guys.”

Lennon shook his head despite the smile on his face.

I grabbed the box closest to the edge to bring it inside as Bailey and Callan got to work lifting the couch.

When I was halfway to the door, Lennon asked, “What the fuck is this, Beck?”

I turned, looking to where Lennon was deep in the van, holding up a longhorn skull with horns that stretched farther than my arm span.

“An antique,” Beckham said, grabbing it from him and hopping down from the back.

Lennon raised his brows, looking down at him from where he’d moved to the edge of the van. “ That’s what you accumulated over the years?”

“No,” he defended, but offered no further explanation.

He picked up another box from the back of the van, walking past me with a slight brush of the shoulder. Lennon raised his brows at me and I shrugged in response.

I didn’t know what the fuck was up with Beckham, and I wasn’t going to get in the middle of it. Our mother had every right to be worried about him. His closed-off behavior only solidified it.

With the light amount of Beckham’s belongings, we got everything moved inside in less than thirty minutes. I left the door to his house open behind me, letting the cool, early fall air breeze through the house.

“Pretty full place,” Bailey said, surveying the living room. “Might get crowded in here.”

Callan surveyed the scribbled writing on the boxes. “Do you need plates or anything? Sage and I have an extra set since she and Avery moved into my place.” Avery was Sage’s daughter, who Callan loved like his own.

Beck waved him off, taking a sip of his whiskey he’d grabbed from the kitchen counter. I glanced at the clock on the oven from where I was standing with a shoulder against the wall, my arms crossed. One p.m. and he was drinking. I couldn’t judge, though. If I had just gotten done moving into my first house, I’d want a beer or two to celebrate, too.

After he swallowed his first sip, Beck said, “All good, Cal. I’m covered. I actually have someone coming over in about”—he glanced at the clock on the oven—“twenty minutes, if you guys could skedaddle.”

“Oh, so we’re just your pack mules now,” Bailey said.

Lennon grabbed his truck keys off the counter. “I have to go anyway. We’ll have to all get together for a beer once you’re settled, Beck.”

Callan snorted. “Not much settling he has to do. It’ll take him an hour tops.”

“Real funny, Cal.” Beckham set his glass next to the bottle of whiskey on the counter, heading toward us.

That was our cue.

We filed out the door, saying our goodbyes and heading to our trucks. Beck had barely stuck around long enough for us to close our driver’s side doors, already heading back inside to presumably pour another glass of whiskey.

With a subtle shake of my head, I started my truck and was on my way. Brandy had no idea I was coming in place of Wyatt, and I planned to keep it that way.

I drove up her driveway, parking my truck next to the patch of lawn that led up to her porch. As I got out, I noticed only some of her rose bushes were pruned, some perfectly shaped, the others a mess of branches sticking up in every direction. Was that how she’d cut her hand, cleaning up her rose bushes without gloves?

“Please, enlighten me on why the fuck you’re standing in my driveway right now,” Brandy said, emerging from her house and immediately crossing her arms as she stopped at the edge of the porch.

My gaze moved from the roses to her. Just as dangerously beautiful.

She was wearing an oversized crewneck and shorts that disappeared under the hem of the sweater. Likely having not been expecting anyone this early, she was barefoot, and her hair was loose, waves of it rolling down around her shoulders, nearly touching her hips.

“Wyatt couldn’t make it,” I replied, moving to get the radiator box out of my truck bed.

“Bullshit. He said he’d be here.”

“He had something come up,” I said as I walked over to the Bronco, setting the box in the dirt.

She glared at me. “Again, bullshit. Get off my property, Reed.”

“If I leave, the radiator goes with me.”

She shrugged. “I’ll just have Wyatt order another.”

“Horse training has you loaded, huh?” I said, finding the clasp and lifting the hood.

“Maybe I’m making money another way.”

My nostrils flared, but I refused to give in. She was baiting me, wanting a reaction. I wouldn’t give it to her.

She heaved a dramatically heavy sigh, and then her front door slammed as I assumed she went back inside.

I had no desire to be around her. Her radiator needed to be fixed, and I didn’t want her wearing some revealing clothes around Wyatt. Not that he gave a shit, but Brandy would do it just to piss me off.

I rolled the sleeves of my button-up up my arms, revealing the tattoos that covered my skin. Ink decorated my arms in different large pieces, but that wasn’t the only place I had them. A few years ago, I’d decided to get one on my thigh, and just recently, I got a piece done on my chest.

Setting my black cowboy hat on the hood of my truck, I got to work taking the old radiator out of Brandy’s Bronco. I knew how to work on trucks because Bailey always suckered me into helping fix his old Chevy, not to mention I had my old shit box years ago, so I assumed installing a radiator on a Bronco wasn’t all that different. To be safe, I looked up a video to be sure I was doing it properly. After about two hours, the work was done.

Brandy didn’t come back outside once.