“And what’s Dante doin’ these days?” he asked with a calm he didn’t feel.
“He’s workin’ for a security firm. They help big companies shore up their cybersecurity.”
“And that’s where you come in,” he mused, realizing where this was going.
“Yes. I’ve been hired a time or two to hack a company’s system, to identify its weaknesses.”
He considered that. JJ was a big girl; she could take care of herself. Didn’t mean Brantley didn’t want to wrap her up and keep her safe. From the government, who would most definitely not approve of what she was doing. From Dante, who would most definitely take advantage of her at the first opportunity. From—
“He’s not the same guy you remember,” JJ noted.
“No? He have a personality overhaul?”
JJ gave a lengthy sigh that said she’d expected that much from him. “No, Brantley. He grew up. Just like the rest of us.”
Brantley sighed.
“I know you won’t believe me,” JJ added, “but he’s changed.”
He cut his eyes to her. “How so?”
“Well, for one, his dad’s the governor of the state of Texas.”
A laugh escaped him, but there was no humor in it. “Fantastic. Our own governor’s one who condones hittin’ women.”
“Dante didn’t hit me,” she declared hotly. Her tone cooled when she added, “I know you’ll never believe that, either, but it’s true. What happened that night … it was unfortunate, but he didn’t intentionally hit me.”
“But he did hit you?”
“We were arguing, and I got rough with him.”
“No excuse,” he snarled.
Another sigh from JJ, then, “He’s changed, B. You have to trust me on this.”
Thankfully, they were pulling up to her house because Brantley was well and done with this conversation.
“You wanna come in? Grab a beer?”
“No. I’ve got things to do.”
It was obvious she didn’t believe him, but at least she didn’t argue.
“I’ll see you around then?”
He nodded and managed to look her way. “Yeah.”
A slow nod was all she offered before JJ was out of the truck. Brantley waited until she’d made it inside her house before he drove off, managing to keep his foot from the floor. Barely.
Several hours later, Brantley was sitting at the small desk he’d stashed in one of the extra bedrooms, his laptop in front of him, an open beer beside it.
Bored out of his mind, Brantley had been skimming his Instagram feed, then followed up by checking on some old friends on Facebook. When he’d come across a familiar name, he had smiled and shot off a message before he could think better of it.
On the screen was the response: Holy shit. Are you back?
I’m back.
Well, hot damn. Where’re you staying? Your folks’ place?
I’m back for good, Cyrus. Got a place of my own.
The response wasn’t immediate, and Brantley could practically see Cyrus letting that information sink in.
He smiled, ready to type something when Cyrus’s message came back: And to what do I owe this honor?
The cursor flashed, waiting for him to type something in. For a second, Brantley considered ending the chat session, pretending he hadn’t reached out in a rare moment of weakness.
Another message came in: Want to talk about it?
That got a smile from Brantley, his fingers sliding over the keyboard.
Last thing I want to do is talk, Cyrus.
The reply was instant: Of course you don’t. Assume that’s an invitation.
They both knew it was. That was the way things worked between them. They’d have no contact for months, sometimes years, then Brantley would come back to town, look Cyrus up, and they’d get together. No, they didn’t do much talking, but they didn’t need to. Their mouths were usually busy with other things.
It’s an invitation, yes, he typed, then snatched his beer, took a long pull, his eyes never leaving the screen.
Give me an hour. I’ll head over.
The door’ll be unlocked, he informed his friend.
I’ll need an address.
Smiling, he typed in the address, shot it over. Brantley didn’t bother with anything more. He simply closed the laptop lid, leaned back, and downed half of his beer.
Inviting Cyrus Jernigan over was a mistake. He was man enough to admit that, but sometimes mistakes were necessary. The best thing about Cyrus? He knew what Brantley wanted and he didn’t mind the fact that this encounter would lead exactly nowhere. That was the best part about it. Sex for the sake of sex. Fucking to blow off steam. They’d engaged on more than one occasion and never had Cyrus called him up for a date. Or vice versa. It had been working for them for the better part of a decade now, Cyrus making himself available whenever Brantley was in town. Why they hadn’t hooked up since he’d put down roots a few months ago, he didn’t know.
Okay, that was a lie. He knew. Hell, he knew exactly why he hadn’t established a single relationship since his return. It was because he didn’t know how to insert himself into people’s lives. He’d spent so much time keeping his distance because it had been necessary, he’d lost touch with the part of him that knew how this worked.
