Page 10 of To Have and To Hold
For now would have to work.
Chapter Three
“Hey! They made it!” Meghan, Brantley’s niece, shouted when he and Reese walked into his parents’ house shortly after six on Thursday evening.
Brantley smirked at the girl. “You didn’t think we would?”
Meghan hopped off the couch and hurried over to give Tesha love. The dog cherished every second of attention she got from the kids.
“Ididn’t,” Ashley muttered from her spot at the other end of the couch, her cell phone in front of her.
Ashley and Meghan were like night and day in every way. While Ashley was the spitting image of their mother, Sadie, Meghan looked nothing like Brantley’s oldest sister and everything like her father, Devon. Ashley had thick dark hair and dark blue eyes, while Meghan’s hair was golden, and her eyes were the color of coffee. Their looks weren’t the only thing that was different. Now, anyway. At twelve, Ashley was quickly morphing into a surly teenager, and Meghan—only ten—still held the innocence and exuberance of a child.
“Well, you’re twelve,” Brantley told her. “Your opinion’s often wrong.”
She flashed those ocean-blue eyes up at him, and a smile slowly formed. “Whatever.”
Ignoring her pre-teen, the-world-irritates-me attitude, Brantley asked, “Anything new on that phone screen?”
“TikTok.”
“Ah,” he said, like he hadanyidea what she was talking about. “Where’s your mom?”
“Kitchen.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Kitchen.”
“Where’s Nana?”
“Kitchen.”
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
“Kitch—” Her gaze darted to him. “I don’thavea boyfriend.”
“Yes, she does,” Meghan tattled. “His name’s Jake. He’s a teenager.”
“Is that right?”
“He’sthirteen,” Ashley snapped at her sister. “And he’snotmy boyfriend.”
“Yuh-huh.”
Brantley couldn’t help it. He laughed. Having grown up with six siblings, he remembered these snap-fest conversations fondly.
“Uncle Reese’s Pieces is here!” Eric shouted from the kitchen. “Hey, Uncle Reese’s Pieces! Got any candy?”
“He realizes that’s not funny anymore, right?” Reese muttered to Brantley as they made their way through the formal living room to join everyone else in the kitchen.
Brantley reached into his pocket, pulled out an orange package, and tossed it to Eric. The eight-year-old caught it, dangled the package of Reese’s Pieces for his dad to see, then threw his head back and let out a booming laugh.
“That’s not helpin’,” Reese told him.
“No, but it’s funny as shit.” Brantley walked over to his mother. “Hey, Ma. How’re you?”
He planted a kiss on her temple when she leaned in and gave him a one-arm hug. “Can’t complain.”
