by Penny Reid
“Does she?” I’d noticed the blush, but damn if I didn’t like that it was obvious and others had noticed as well. And now I had images of Sienna pole dancing flashing through my brain—not the awkward butter-churning pole dancing either.
“Congratulations, Jethro. She’s sweet on you. You’ve just taken one the world’s most famous role models of feminine independence and turned her into a giddy, flustered mess of hormones.”
My smile wavered, not sure about my feelings on the matter, which made Ashley smile wider. “Oh, you didn’t know?”
I cleared my throat, my attention flickering to Sienna, then back to my sister. “Hank may have mentioned something.”
Now her smile wavered, her eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. “Jethro, don’t you hurt that girl.”
I winced, her words hitting a target Ash likely didn’t realize existed.
Placing a gentle hand on Ashley’s shoulder, I pulled her a smidge closer. “Ash, I love you. You’ve been gone a long time and have only been back a few months, so I don’t mind repeating myself ’cause you haven’t been here to see things change first-hand.” I made sure she was looking at me, really looking, before continuing. “I don’t do that anymore. I haven’t for a long time. I have no intentions of hurting Sienna or anyone else. Not ever again.”
Ashley’s gaze flashed, likely with some unpleasant memory of a younger asshole me, then dropped to the deck. She nodded stiffly. Her tone was laced with guilt as she apologized. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’ve changed. Sorry.”
The set of my sister’s jaw was a painful reminder of how, no matter how far I’d come or how many good decisions I’d made in recent years, I couldn’t take back past mistakes. I couldn’t undo the consequences of my selfish decisions.
“No, Ash. I’m sorry,” I said, shaking her shoulder lightly so she’d look at me again. “I’m sorry, and I promise I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”
She gave me a brave smile that quickly turned affectionate, covering my hand with hers. “No need. You’re right. That’s all in the past.”
I didn’t deserve Ashley’s forgiveness. Not yet, at any rate. I didn’t know which was worse: Ashley’s wanting to forgive me so quickly without my having earned it, or Billy’s continued rejection despite my repeated attempts to reach out.
Regardless, Ashley had been gone during my reformation. I had a lot of making up to do with her.
“I’m serious about making it up to you. Do you need anything built? A barn maybe?” I teased.
She shook her head, her pretty face lighting up with a pretty smile. “No, but I’ll keep you in mind should I require a barn.”
“Come on, Billy. It’s a joke.” The edge in Duane’s voice had me glancing over Ashley’s shoulder to where the rest of our siblings were gathered.
“Was it?” Billy’s response was flat. “I was under the impression jokes were supposed to be funny.”
“You’re the only person this side of the Mississippi who doesn’t think that’s funny.” Beau rolled his eyes with great effect.
“That’s not true,” Cletus countered. “I know at least three other people who have no sense of humor besides Billy.”
“It’s no big deal.” Sienna shrugged, apparently unfazed by Billy’s bad attitude. “It’s a work in progress.”
“No. It is a big deal.” Duane was scowling at Billy. “You’ve had a stick shoved so high up your ass all night, I’m surprised you can’t taste it.”
“Now that was funny.” Roscoe lifted his beer toward Duane, then tossed a smile to Sienna. “But your joke was funny, too.”
“No, no. Duane’s was funnier.” Sienna tipped her wine toward Roscoe, then nodded to Duane. “I might have to steal it.”
“Thieving one of your hobbies?” Billy mumbled. More precisely, he said it loudly enough to be heard, but gave it the appearance of being mumbled in a world-class show of passive-aggressive antagonism.
Having reached my limit, I stepped away from Ashley and crossed to Billy, motioning for him to rise. “Okay, that’s it. William Shakespeare Winston, get up.”
“What?” he snapped, glaring at me.
“You heard me. You’ve got a problem with me. Not gentlemanly of you to be taking it out on Sienna. Don’t take your frustration out on her. We all know you’ve got a problem with me, but that’s no call for you to treat a guest with disrespect.”
Billy stood abruptly, his eyes flashing with the fire of hatred. “What the fuck do you know about respect?”
I set my jaw. I thought I’d eventually grow accustomed to the hollow ache settling in my stomach. Although I was used to his sporadic hateful outbursts, they never got easier. If it had just been us, just the family, I wouldn’t have said anything. Billy had every right to be pissed at me, for the rest of our lives if he so chose. But I wasn’t going to have him make Sienna feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. Not in my house, not anywhere.
His eyes, so like my father’s, pierced into me—through me—cutting and full of loathing. His lips parted, and he bared his teeth like he was fixing to volley another spiteful remark.
“Billy, please don’t.” At Ashley’s soft reproach, his mouth snapped shut, his gaze darting to our sister, then away.
Pulling a hand through his hair, he muttered a quiet curse; it sounded like fucking bastard. He swallowed. Then he turned and walked off the deck without another word.
Gloom fell over the previously merry group. I hadn’t seen Billy this angry in a while. He normally held back, especially in front of company, but not tonight. I wanted to apologize. But Cletus had told me after the first year he was tired of hearing me say I’m sorry. I’d taken to showing my family with my actions, knowing I needed to prove not just that I’d changed, but that I’d wanted to.
Beau was the one to break the silence. “Sorry about that, Sienna. Billy isn’t usually friendly, but he’s not usually an asshole, either.”
“No, no. It’s fine. I have a large family. We don’t all get along all the time.” I felt her eyes on me and I knew I would need to explain more about my past mistakes sooner rather than later.
“How large is this family?” Cletus asked.
Followed quickly by Roscoe, “And do you have any single sisters?”
Which of course made everyone laugh, because everyone wanted to laugh. They didn’t want any more cumbersome drama. We’d already been through enough drama this year.
Ashley stepped next to me while Sienna answered Roscoe’s question; my sister nudged me with her shoulder. “Go after him.”
I grimaced. Remorse, now so familiar I considered it a friend, tightened around my lungs in a vise-like grip. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, nudging me again. “But Billy once told me, ‘Apathy between family members makes the blood they share turn to water.’” She paused, allowing me a minute to think on these words, then pressed, “Billy may have several colorful feelings regarding your person, Jethro, but none of those are akin to apathy.”
This made me smirk. “You sound like Momma.”
“Thank you. I take that as the highest of compliments. Now stop trying to distract me and go speak to your brother.”
A low chuckle had both Ash and me twisting around, searching for the origin. Drew stood just behind us, his eyes on his boots, but he wore a rare smile.
“What?” Ashley demanded, narrowing her eyes.
He shrugged, his stare lifting to my sister. “It’s just, Jethro’s right.” My boss’s eyes moved over Ashley’s face with a fathomless well of affection and devotion. “You do sound like your momma, just less subtle and a good deal more autocratic.”
She considered him for a long moment, then unexpectedly wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on the game warden that was not fit for polite company.
I quickly averted my gaze and descended the stairs two at a time. “Pardon me. I think I’ll go talk to Billy.”
I was twenty feet away when I he
ard Roscoe groan, “Oh, come on. Really? Go get a room. The house has like ten. Pick one.”
***
I ignored the ensuing good-natured ruckus behind me, readying myself for a confrontation with my brother. We didn’t have many. He mostly pretended I didn’t exist. Or, if it was a holiday, he pretended he didn’t hate me for the sake of the others.
The woodshed was a popular spot for us boys when aggression was high and options for releasing it were low. Suffice to say, we had a lot of cut wood. I decided to search there first.
Billy was setting up the chopping block when I found him, wielding an axe with white knuckles. He may have loathed my person, but I had no fear for my safety. I launched into the heart of the matter, anxious to have this one point sorted.
“Listen, I know I can never make up for being a terrible brother to you growing up. But there’s no call for you to be.”
“You’re bringing women home? Really, Jethro?” Billy brought the axe down with a furious thunk, splitting the log with one strike.
Yep. He was pissed.
“Yeah. So I brought a woman home. So what?”
“What about Claire?” He didn’t look at me as he asked the question, but there was something about the way he said my friend’s name that had me standing straighter.
“What about Claire?”
He cast his eyes to the heavens. Billy swore like he thought I was an imbecile.
Between clenched teeth he asked, “How do you think Claire is going to feel?”
I stared at him, not understanding his question. “About what?”
“About you stepping out with someone else, jackass.”
The question surprised me so much I laughed. “Claire couldn't give two shits who I see.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” I eyeballed my brother’s back, deciding he’d lost his mind. This was the longest conversation he and I had shared in over ten years. He never spoke to me, not if he could help it, and now he couldn’t shut up about Claire McClure.
“You go over there every Sunday, Jethro. You can’t tell me nothing’s been going on. You two, you’re always together.” He brought the axe down again with another furious strike.
“That’s because we’re friends, Billy. You should try it, having friends. It’s nice.”
“You two are not friends.” His statement sounded like an accusation, one that troubled him deeply.
“Yes, we are. We’ve been friends since Claire married Ben. Just because he died doesn’t mean we stopped being friends.”
“Right.” Another angry strike of the axe, another split piece of wood.
“Right, what? What are you so aggravated about? That I have friends, even though I’m not deserving? Or that Claire is one of them?”
My brother said nothing, just glared at me over his shoulder.
“What the hell, Billy?”
I was so tired of this. Both he and Ashley were right, apathy makes blood turn to water, but in that moment I prayed for apathy. His grudge, how he wore it like a badge, was wearing me down, pushing me to not care what he thought or what he did.
“You know what?” I shook my head, aggravated and exhausted and over his perpetual rotten attitude. “I don’t have time for this right now. I don’t have time to say I’m sorry for the millionth time for being a miserable excuse for a human being when we were growing up. I have a guest over—yes, a woman—and I’m so fucking tired of you hating me. If you’re going to be mean, go someplace else.”
He caught my arm as I moved past, his fingers grasping, but not punishing. I met his glare, expecting to see more of the same, but instead, the searching, hopeful quality there nearly knocked me on my ass.
What the hell?
“You and Claire, you never . . .?” His voice was strangled, as though the thought had been suffocating him, maybe for years.
The man looked tormented by the thought.
I turned and faced my brother. “No. Claire and I have never so much as kissed. We did a lot of hugging when Ben died. I used to stay the night at her house. On the couch. We slept together once, just slept, while I held her and she cried. That was the night we got the news.”
Billy’s eyes moved over my shoulder as I spoke, focusing on nothing. I saw his thoughts were turned inward, like he was sorting through a burden too big and heavy for his shoulders alone.
“But you haven’t . . . I mean, there’s been nobody. You had no girls over, and I haven’t seen you with anyone else since Ben died.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t keep the hard edge out of my voice. “That’s right. Because I had bad habits, Billy. Habits that had me treating women like shit. Treating you and Momma and Ashley and everyone else like they didn’t matter. Habits that made me hate myself. So I decided to change.”
Billy’s hand dropped and so did the reinforced walls in his gaze. He blinked, his gaze penetrating, like he was seeing me for the first time in a long time.
So I took advantage of the moment, because I didn’t know if I’d ever have it again.
“I’m sorry.”
He flinched and looked away, at the wood pile, at the shed, anywhere but at me.
I wasn’t finished. “I’m sorry you had to be the responsible one. I’m sorry our father beat you senseless instead of me. I was the oldest, I should have protected you. I should have protected all of you. I’m sorry I was a crap brother. And I want to make it up to you, however I can. Tell me how to make it up to you, Billy.”
I watched him swallow, saw his eyes were rimmed with emotion and knew he hated I was there to witness it.
I took a step back, giving us both space, and held my hands out, palms up, beseeching. “Tell me what to do.”
CHAPTER 21
“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.”
― Rumi
~Jethro~
“I promised Dave you’d have Sienna home before eight, so no driving to Hawk’s Field and making out in the car.”
“Cletus,” I warned, wrapping my arms around Sienna from behind and pulling her back against my chest. I couldn’t be too irritated with Cletus. He was the reason Sienna had come over at all—him, and his meddling.
The evening had gone from fine to good, good to fantastic, fantastic to unpleasant, and unpleasant to miraculous.
Billy and I had returned to the deck together. We weren’t holding hands or singing Kumbaya, but we weren’t tossing insults at each other either.
No one remarked on Billy’s storming off. Dessert was served, during which Billy made a point to sit next to Sienna and apologize like a gentleman. He also laughed at all her jokes. Although he avoided my gaze for the remainder of the evening, I knew things between us must’ve shifted because he’d told a story about us two as kids.
We’d broken into Mr. Tanner’s junkyard to steal toilet seat lids. We’d covered them with Saran Wrap and placed them in public restrooms. Everybody was laughing, me most of all. I’d forgotten about the incident. We were close as kids, before all the bad that comes with being a teenager and wanting mischief of a more destructive kind.
It was good to remember, and it was good he hadn’t forgotten.
Now we were gathered on the front porch. Cletus, Billy, Beau, Roscoe, Drew, and Ashley were off to the jam session at the community center. Duane and Jess were off someplace else. I was fixing to drive Sienna back to her place. I didn’t think Green Valley was ready for Sienna Diaz to show up at a jam session. Not yet. But it was an occasion to work toward.
“Now, let me finish, Jethro,” Cletus protested my interruption. “It’s not polite to cut people off when they’re in the middle of a thought. As I was saying, don’t go to Hawk’s Field, that’s too long a drive. Go to Duane and Jessica’s love nest down the road, over by Wright’s Ridge. No one knows about that place and I bet Duane keeps the sheets clean.”
Jess winked at me and said, “We both do and you’re welcome.”
While Duane grumbled, “Thanks, Cletus
. Now everyone knows about it.”
“Not everyone,” Cletus said with an air of obliviousness. “I haven’t told Jessica’s brother Jackson about it.” Turning to Sienna, Cletus took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Thank you for coming, Ms. Diaz. I hope you plan on returning soon.”
“Thank you, Cletus. I’ll be happy to return anytime I’m invited.”
“You’re always invited,” I murmured in her ear, causing her to tilt her head reflexively as I tickled her neck with my beard. Her body shivered, just a subtle tremble, but it was enough to remind me of how very close I’d come to taking her against a tree.
For the record, I’d been very close.
Finally releasing her hand, Cletus noted conversationally, “If you come next Wednesday, I’ll let you try my sausage.”
I gathered a breath for patience and squeezed Sienna’s waist.
“Here we go,” Drew said as he swapped a knowing look with my sister.
Meanwhile, Beau rolled his eyes and released a disgusted snort. “Not this again.”
“Cletus’s famous sausage is famous,” Jess added helpfully, her eyebrows bouncing. She was already giggling.
Not missing a beat, Sienna asked, “How do you make it? Do you bake it?”
“No way. The heat isn’t right. In order for the sausage to mature, it needs the right type and application of heat. It needs heat on all sides, and wet heat is best.”
“You are the worst,” Billy said, though his mouth hitched on one side.
“This joke never gets old.” Jess was now laughing so hard she’d gripped her stomach, tears leaking from her eyes.
“It does when you have to hear it every month for ten years,” Duane complained, but couldn’t quite manage a scowl.
“My sausage is no joke.” Cletus frowned, wagging his finger through the air like we were all juveniles.
“So you grill it,” Sienna supplied, moving the conversation back on track.
“That’s right.”
