Reese stepped over to the boxes propped against the wall.
“Those are fancy,” Reese said, a smile returning to his face.
“Only the best for our girl,” Brantley told him. “The dog doors open because of the device that attaches to her collar. That way she can come and go into the house or the barn whenever she wants.”
Brantley’s cell phone buzzed, then his watch.
“That’s the cameras.” Reese glanced toward the side of the house.
Tesha had moved to stand at the edge of the deck, her tail still as she stared out into the brilliant sunlight.
The three of them remained like that until JJ came strolling by, heading toward the barn.
“What’s she doin’ here?” Brantley wondered aloud. “I thought she was goin’ to Baz’s dad’s for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“I’ll go talk to her.”
“And I’ll get Tesha ready to go to your parents,” Reese said, whistling for Tesha who had run out to greet JJ.
When Tesha headed back to Reese, Brantley started after JJ, calling her name when she kept walking toward the barn.
When she stopped but didn’t turn around, he knew something was wrong. The question was: what?
“JJ?” He stopped a few feet behind her. “Why’re you here?”
“Work?”
“Are you askin’ or tellin’, because that sure sounded indecisive.”
When he neared, JJ turned around, her eyes darting around him as though she expected the boogey man to jump out at her at any moment.
“Where’s Baz?”
She shrugged.
“I thought you were havin’ Thanksgiving with him.”
Her mouth opened, closed, lips forming a thin line.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“I can’t, Brantley,” she blurted. “I can’t have Thanksgiving dinner with his family. That’s… It’s too much. It signifies something … more. Something we don’t have. Yet. Maybe not ever.” JJ took a deep breath. “We don’t have that, B.”
Confused, Brantley waited for her to continue. She didn’t.
“Why’d you tell him you’d go then?”
“Because I didn’t want to disappoint him,” she whispered, her eyes lowering.
“But you don’t mind now?”
“I doubt he’ll even miss me.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I left him a message.”
For some reason, he didn’t believe her.
“JJ—”
She held up a hand. “I don’t need a lecture right now, B. I get it. You’re all in love and happy but that doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be. I like Baz. We … we have fun together. But that’s all it’s ever gonna be. I know that deep down. No sense confusin’ the issue by bringin’ family into it.”
He wished he could say he hadn’t seen this coming, but Brantley knew JJ. She’d been hurt so many times, she refused to open herself up to anyone. It was the very reason she kept all men at arm’s length, the same reason she had continued to take Dante the Douche back. With him she never had to worry that he would really want more than she could give, because he was notorious for fucking things up.
“All right,” he conceded. “I won’t harp on you about it.”
“Thank you.”
“Nor will I let you sit here by yourself on Thanksgiving. You’re comin’ with us.”
“To your parents’ house?”
“Yep.”
“Yay! It’s been too long since I’ve seen them.”
Why he’d thought she would argue, he didn’t know.Family get-togethers for Brantley’s branch of the family tree were not much different than the rest of the Walker clan. The most important thing for them was that they were with family. Every year without fail, Iris cooked lavish meals for Thanksgiving, ensuring every one of her children was going to be there, even if they could only stop in for a few minutes.
Not that any of them had ever done a fly-by on the house when they could help it. And yes, Brantley had been given a reprieve for the years he’d missed when he’d been deployed, but he had always made a point to call home to talk to his parents, ensure they knew he was thinking about them.
Brantley would admit he looked forward to getting together with his brothers and sisters, nieces and nephew, hanging out. His siblings were the same way. Although they all lived nearby, most of them still in Coyote Ridge, they didn’t get together as often as they would like. Unlike Curtis and Lorrie, Sunday dinners rarely involved all of them, even though Brantley knew the grandkids usually stopped in to see Grams and Poppop on the weekends.
“Damn, dude, you’re cuttin’ it close, aren’t ya?” Trey asked when Brantley walked into the house, Reese and JJ behind him. “The game’s about to start.”
The scent of food drifted toward him, his stomach rumbling in response, but he ignored it, in lieu of addressing his brother. Unlike the rest of them, Brantley wasn’t a huge Dallas Cowboys fan, so watching the big game on Turkey Day was never a thing for him.
“Reese, please tell me you’re a Cowboys fan,” Killian said by way of greeting.
