Finishing off his omelet, Brantley nodded. He set his plate in the sink, downed the rest of his coffee, then tossed his empty water bottle in the recycle bin.
“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he told Cyrus.
“And I’m gonna hit the road.”
Cyrus came around the island, stopping directly in front of him. After gently setting his plate in the sink, Cyrus reached for him, pulling him forward until their lips met. The kiss wasn’t a romantic or sweet gesture. It was a promise of what was to come.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Cyrus whispered then pulled back.
“I won’t. Maybe you can stop by for a beer next week.”
The slow smile said Cyrus knew what else would accompany that beer and he was completely on board.
Brantley patted Cyrus’s cheek. “See ya.”
“I hope so.”
At five fifty-five that night, Brantley was pulling up in front of his uncle Curtis’s house, mindful of the six-on-the-dot timeline Travis had referred to when he’d extended the invitation to Sunday dinner.
Why Brantley hadn’t made an excuse, or even stopped by his folks’ place for an alibi as to why he didn’t make it, he wasn’t sure. Oddly, after their Friday night IHOP encounter, he was looking forward to spending some time with his cousins and their families, seeing where everyone was at in their lives. It was one thing to hear about all the kiddos they’d mass-produced, another to witness them firsthand.
And witness he did.
From the moment he stepped into the house, he was surrounded. Mostly by the knee-high set, led by none other than Travis’s daughter Kate, who appeared, much like her father, to be the self-appointed leader of the pack.
“Uncle Brantley!” she cheered, running toward him.
Surprised that she would even know his name, he smiled and managed to catch her when she launched herself into his arms as though that was where she belonged.
“Hey, kiddo,” he greeted with a smile.
“Daddy-O told me to come say hi.”
He knew from the stories his cousins shared that Daddy-O was how Travis’s kids referred to him since they had two fathers. As for Gage, he had the honor of being called Daddy.
“Are you hungry? I’m hungry. We’re havin’ pig butt.”
He chuckled. “Is that right?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “It’s what Uncle Zane said.”
“Then it must be true,” he agreed. “Maybe you could introduce me to your friends,” he suggested, peering down at a few more of his cousins’ offspring, all wide-eyed and staring up at him.
“They’re not my friends, silly. They’re family.” Kate shifted in his arms, apparently confident he would not drop her, then started pointing and rattling off names. “That’s Kade. She’s Avery. Matty, Kellan, Barrett. He’s Mason.” She glanced at Brantley. “He’s the only one who’s older than me.”
“Is that right?”
“Yup.” Her attention went to the kids again. “He’s Rhett and that’s Gabriel.”
Yeah, there was no way Brantley was keeping those names straight.
“Kate, why don’t you bring Uncle Brantley into the kitchen,” Kylie said with a smile.
“Momma wants you in the kitchen,” she whispered. “Daddy-O promised not to put you in the spot.”
He chuckled, assuming she meant on the spot. “We shouldn’t keep your momma waiting, right?”
Setting Kate on her feet, he let her take his hand, with Mason stepping in to take the other. Together, they led him into the kitchen, where his aunt was moving around the space with the ease of a woman half her age.
“Aunt Lorrie?”
Lorrie stopped what she was doing and spun around to face him. Her eyes widened in surprise, and the next thing he knew, the woman was rushing over and throwing her arms around him as though she was welcoming him home after a long trip.
Caught off-guard by her surprise, he managed to wrap an arm around her, pat her shoulder. When he caught Travis stepping into the room, he shot the man a glare. So much for Lorrie being the one to invite him over. Clearly she hadn’t been privy to the invitation he was extended.
The smirk Travis shot his way said, It worked, didn’t it?
“I am so glad you’re here,” Lorrie said as she stepped away. Her soft hand went to his cheek, cupping it gently. “You look tired.”
Curtis appeared, offering his hand. “He’s not tired, darlin’. Just hungry. Ain’t that right, boy?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, shaking the proffered hand.
“Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for havin’ me.”
And just like that, he was pulled into the fold, treated as though he was one of the pack.
Chapter Four
On Monday morning, Brantley woke before dawn, but rather than hop out of bed, he remained where he was, staring up at the slowly spinning ceiling fan. It was becoming more familiar to him. Growing on him, even. The house, the solitude, being back home. Four months ago, he hadn’t been sure he would be able to sit still. Now look at him. Relaxing in bed.
