Brendon (12 page)

chapter
THIRTEEN

B
raydon had stopped pacing the floor about half an hour earlier when Brendon finally answered his damn phone. Well, technically, he didn’t answer, but he did respond to Braydon’s text that asked where the fuck he was. The response:
On my way home.

Yeah, that didn’t tell him a hell of a lot, but it had told him enough to end his state of panic.

Barely.

Last night, Braydon had sensed that his twin had needed him, so he’d left Jessie alone and come home. Finding the house empty, he’d opted to settle in and wait. Sometime around midnight, Braydon had fallen asleep in his recliner and when he awoke, he found that he was still alone. That was when the fretfulness had set in.

For months on end, Braydon had been worrying about his twin, unsure what Brendon might do next. His downward spiral had started nearly a year ago, back when Braydon found himself in a situation he’d never imagined being in: in love. More accurately, in love with a woman he was sharing with Brendon.

Problem wasn’t the sharing. Well, technically it was, because Braydon found himself wanting Jessie all to himself. He had come to the conclusion that he loved her, and in order to figure out what that was supposed to look like, he’d left town for a few months, attempting to get his thoughts together.

Turned out that running was stupid. He’d left Jessie alone and she and Brendon had a falling-out about the same time, which meant no one had been working through their issues, they’d merely put them off until a later date. Once Braydon returned, he decided to go after what he wanted. Or rather who. And after a rocky road, he and Jessie managed to work through their issues, admitting their love for one another.

As for Brendon . . . well, Braydon hadn’t considered the hell his brother would go through to have his world turned upside down. Brendon had done things Braydon never expected him to do, including drinking and driving, ultimately coming into intimate contact with a fucking tree.

Brendon’s mood had continued to darken for the last few months and though Braydon was still trying to figure out what his and Jessie’s future looked like, he couldn’t stop worrying about Brendon. Apparently neither could Jessie, which had caused a few additional unexpected bumps in their road to happily ever after. Namely, moving in together was put off, the wedding date still wasn’t set . . . just to name a couple.

Now, as Braydon sat on the edge of the sofa cushion waiting for Brendon to arrive, he was eager to find out where the hell his brother had been all night long. These days, it was extremely unusual for Brendon to stay out late. In fact, the guy had started acting like an old man over the course of the last few months, coming home early, staying in rather than going out, even passing out before ten. Braydon had attributed that to the depression his brother had seemingly been consumed by.

Needless to say, Braydon had a right to worry.

The front door opened and Braydon jumped to his feet, turning to face his twin as Brendon stepped inside, his cocked eyebrow showing his confusion. Braydon let his gaze rake over Brendon from head to toe, fully expecting to see him bleary-eyed and stumbling.

That was
not
what he saw when he looked at Brendon.

“Where were you last night? Where the hell is Scrap?” Braydon barked, his nerves not entirely settled even though his twin looked normal—more so than he’d looked in a long damn time.

Brendon spared him a brief glance as he hung his truck keys on the hook near the door before heading to the kitchen. “Relax, man,” was the response from the other room.

Following Brendon, Braydon came to a stop at the doorway to the kitchen, watching as Brendon started a pot of coffee.

“I’m relaxed,” Braydon argued, but even he knew he didn’t sound at all relaxed. In fact, he sounded uptight. Like a damn irritable woman.

Taking a deep breath, he studied Brendon, noticing his brother was calm and collected, his hands steady as he poured coffee grounds into a filter.

Was he whistling?

Holy shit.

“You were out all night,” Braydon informed him.

“Yes, Mother, I was.”

“Where the hell were you?”

“Out. All night,” Brendon said, peering at him over his shoulder, the dark slash of his eyebrows reflecting his irritation with the interrogation. But then the lines etched across Brendon’s forehead softened and . . .

Was that a damn smile on Brendon’s face?

Good Lord. It was.

“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Braydon asked, feeling as though he was in a bad episode of
The
Twilight Zone
.

“Nothin’,” Brendon replied as though he was simply shooting the shit with a friend. “What the hell’s goin’ on with you?”

Braydon laughed, he couldn’t help it, but the sound was strained. He didn’t recognize this man standing just a few feet away from him.

“Did you hook up with some chick last night?” Braydon inquired, wanting the damn mystery solved.

“No,” Brendon said assuredly. But he didn’t say anything more as he stared at the coffeepot, which was hissing and beginning to brew, and then moved to fill Scrap’s bowl with dog food.

Braydon gave his brother a break from the multitude of questions for a moment. He went to the refrigerator, retrieved the milk, and set it on the counter. He grabbed a banana from the hook, peeled it. Ate it. Still nothing.

Finally, when Brendon had a cup of coffee in his hand and had returned the milk jug to the fridge, he turned and leaned against the counter, casually crossing his ankles as he stared back at Braydon.

“So?” Braydon asked, still waiting for the damn answer.

“So what?” Brendon smirked.

“What’s with all the damn smilin’?”

“It’s a crime to smile now? I thought that’s what you’ve wanted me to do for the last eight months or so. No?”

“Yes. Damn it. But I want to know what the hell you’re smilin’ about.”

Brendon took a sip of his coffee, then met Braydon’s stare. “I stayed at Cheyenne’s last night. And before you go and get your underwear in a fucking knot, it’s a good thing. Don’t go askin’ a million questions, ’cause I ain’t gonna share the details. Just know that I’m in a good place right now.”

Braydon knew his mouth was hanging open, his brain still trying to process what his brother was telling him. He’d stayed with Cheyenne. And things were
good
.

He fucking stayed with Cheyenne. “Brendon—”

“Nuh-uh. No warnings from the peanut gallery, Bray. I’m a grown man, Cheyenne’s a grown woman. Let it be, will ya?”

“Where’s Scrap?”

“He’s still at Cheyenne’s. The little traitor wanted to stay there,” Brendon informed him with another shit-eating grin.

“Why are you here?” Braydon asked cautiously.

“Well, one, I live here. And two, to give her a little space. Ain’t that how it works? I’m not gonna overstay my welcome, even if my two-timin’ dog does.”

“So y’all are . . . ?”

“Nope, I told you no questions. None. Don’t overthink this, Bray. Let it be.”

Braydon wasn’t sure he knew how to let it be. Seriously, he’d been worried about Brendon for too damn long now and his twin had the gall to tell him to let it be? What the fuck?

Granted, the longer Braydon looked at his twin, the more he realized how content he looked. Gone was that crease on his forehead, the one that spoke of anger and frustration. And now there was a fucking smirk on Brendon’s damn lips.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to shower. I’ve got a date.” Brendon didn’t wait for Braydon to respond, merely turned and headed toward his bedroom.

Of course Braydon found himself following close behind. “A date? With Cheyenne?”

When Brendon reached his bedroom door, he turned, and Braydon damn near plowed into him. He was met with a grin. “I told you, no questions.” With that, Brendon shut the door in his face.

Braydon turned around, scrubbing his hands down his jaw as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Brendon stayed with Cheyenne.

Brendon and Cheyenne.

Son of a bitch.

Brendon and Cheyenne!

Dropping onto the sofa, Braydon grabbed his cell phone from the end table. He pulled up Jessie’s number and hit the green Talk button. When she answered with a sweet, soft hello, he responded in a rush. “Somethin’s happened to Brendon. I don’t know what the fuck is goin’ on.”

“Holy crap. Is he okay?” she asked, her words rushed, concerned.

“Yeah. And I think that’s the fuckin’ problem.”

A pregnant pause ensued, followed by, “You called me in a panic because there’s
nothin’
wrong with Brendon?”

“Well, yeah,” Braydon admitted, realizing now how fucked-up he sounded.

Jessie’s chuckle made Braydon smile. It always made him smile these days. But with Braydon’s worrying about and trying to tiptoe around his twin, the tension between Braydon and Jessie had intensified. Their relationship wasn’t deteriorating, but he could sense they had some lingering concerns they needed to address. He was ready to take things to the next level, get married, move in together, and spend every waking moment with her, but they still had Brendon to worry about. Jessie still worried about Brendon too, and according to her, she didn’t want to rush things, didn’t want to push Brendon to the breaking point.

Braydon had tried to assure her that his moving in with her wouldn’t break the guy, but even he hadn’t been so sure that wasn’t the case. Didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to take the leap anyway. He was prepared to set a wedding date, get hitched, and start their lives together.

He looked over at Brendon’s closed bedroom door. Was that really going to be a possibility in the near future? Was his brother actually coming out of his funk the way Ethan had told him he was? Not that he had believed Ethan, but when his younger brother informed him that Brendon had stopped by the shop to chat it up, Braydon’s hope had soared.

Secretly he’d wished Brendon would have reached out to him, not someone else, but he knew there was still a rift between them. One that would take time to heal. But Braydon was ready. He wanted to get back to where they had been before.

Well, not quite where they were before, but perhaps somewhere in the middle. He knew it was possible, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it’d look like.

Since most of his issues revolved around Brendon, he had a sneaking suspicion that his worries were about to be assuaged.

“Did he say where he was?” Jessie asked.

“With Cheyenne.”

Jessie squealed and Braydon had to pull the phone away from his ear momentarily. When he pressed it against his face once again, he asked, “What the hell was that for?”

“Brendon and Cheyenne. I knew the two of them would figure things out one of these days. Did he say what happened?”

“No, but the fucker was smilin’,” Braydon grumbled, remembering the look on Brendon’s face when he mentioned Cheyenne’s name. He hadn’t seen his brother smile like that in a long damn time.

“Well, don’t push him,” Jessie told him. “Let them work through this on their own.”

Braydon nodded, even though Jessie couldn’t see him. He wanted to assure her that he wouldn’t, but he was too damn nosey. He wanted to know what their plans were. Were they serious?

“Give it time, Bray.”

Time? Did she really think it was that easy?

Could it be? Could the tiptoeing around finally be over?

Damn. Braydon wasn’t sure he was going to know what to do with himself if Brendon wasn’t making him worry.

Then again, the worrying would still be there until he knew that Brendon was stable enough for Braydon to move forward with his life.

Move forward.

Odd. He didn’t like the way those words felt on his tongue. Was he really ready to move forward and completely separate his life from Brendon’s? Was Brendon at the point where he was okay with that happening as well?

Oh, shit.

Was Braydon becoming the clingy one? And if that was the case . . . what the hell was he supposed to do now?

chapter
FOURTEEN

W
hen Brendon emerged from his bedroom, the house was empty. For the first time in months, the silence he was met with didn’t bother him, didn’t have him cringing in fear of being alone. Could’ve been the fact that the only person he could think about was Cheyenne and the reality that she was on her way over.

They had a date with a couple of horses today, and when he’d reminded her that morning, Brendon had been riveted by the pure pleasure that had lit up Cheyenne’s face. She was looking forward to riding, and at that moment in time, he had realized he’d do damn near anything to put that smile on her face. If he’d had his way, he wouldn’t have had to leave her, even for a minute. Granted, when he’d told her he was going to head home and shower only to find that Scrap—the little traitor—wasn’t ready to leave, he’d found himself immensely jealous of his little dog.

Yet, somehow, he’d managed to walk out the front door and leave her and Scrap for a short time.

He found himself eager to see where this was going with Cheyenne, but he didn’t want to push things too fast, either. Although they’d spent two years working up to this point, Brendon knew deep down that they were moving fast. Probably too fast, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

A knock on the front door had him grinning from ear to ear. When he opened the door, Scrap made a beeline inside and Cheyenne met Brendon with an answering smile.

“You ready, camo boy?” she asked. If it weren’t for the sunglasses covering her eyes, he was pretty sure he’d see a glimmer of heat reflected there.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “Your truck or mine?”

“We can take mine, since it’s just a minute up the road.”

Brendon nodded and then told Scrap to be good before he closed the door and followed Cheyenne to her truck.

Just as she mentioned, it only took a minute to make it to the stables—located on his parents’ land—where his mom and dad housed their horses. He’d sent his mother a text earlier to let her know what their plans were so she didn’t worry if she came out to find the horses gone from their stall. He had practically heard her excitement in her responding text when she told him to have fun.

Getting the horses geared up took quite a bit longer than the trip from his house, but he worked alongside Cheyenne, readying his horse before helping to prepare one of the smaller geldings for her. After the saddle and bridle were in place, he assisted her onto the horse and then mounted the one he’d chosen for himself.

Once they made it beyond the fenced pasture, they had plenty of room to roam. Their horses moved together, walking slowly, seemingly enjoying the sunshine as much as Brendon was. The storm that had threatened last night had blown right past them, which was the only reason their outing hadn’t been postponed.

“Let’s play a game,” Cheyenne said, disturbing the silence of their ride, but easing some of the tension that had plagued Brendon for the last few minutes. She’d been so quiet ever since she arrived that he’d wondered briefly if something was bothering her.

“What game’s that?” he questioned, peering over at her from under the brim of his Stetson.

“Twenty-One Questions.” The smile on her face told him that she’d been considering this for some time.

“Twenty-
One
? I thought it was Twenty Questions,” he responded, confused.

“They’re actually two entirely different games,” Cheyenne informed him. “Twenty Questions would be if I were to think of something and you can ask up to twenty questions trying to guess what it is. Twenty-One Questions is simply we ask each other twenty-one random questions. Like an icebreaker.”

Brendon smirked. “I thought we already broke the ice.”

“Then let’s break it some more,” she said, laughing.

“I’m game if you are, but I think you’ve got on too many clothes, and we’ll have to get the horses back to their homes before we can start.”

“Funny, camo boy. I’m serious.”

“Fine,” he said on a long exhale, still grinning.

“Okay, good. I go first.”

Brendon waited patiently for Cheyenne to toss out her first question. Evidently she hadn’t thought that far in advance and he had to wonder whether that was because she thought he wouldn’t agree to participate. He wasn’t sure what he was getting himself into, but he was enjoying the ride, so he figured what the hell.

“Okay, first question. If you could only have one appliance in your house, what would it be?”

“I’d have to assume the television is not considered an appliance, so I’d go with coffeemaker. If the TV is considered an appliance, well, hell, I’d have to go with that one.”

“You and your brothers are all about the coffee, aren’t you?” Cheyenne retorted, but he could tell the statement was rhetorical. She knew them pretty well at this point. “Okay, your turn. You get to ask a question.”

Brendon considered that for a moment, staring at the land in front of them as the horses continued to steadily move forward. “What made you want to be a singer?”

There was zero hesitation in Cheyenne’s response. “I’ve always loved to sing. It wasn’t until I moved in with my grandparents that they encouraged me to take lessons. I was in the church choir and the choir at my school. But it wasn’t until high school when I was involved in one of the school’s performances that it struck me. I could do it professionally if I put my heart and soul behind it. When I talked to Grams about it, she seemed so excited. It was her excitement that spurred me on. There wasn’t any money for college, so I don’t have an education grounded in music though. Granted, I never thought I’d be where I am today. Honestly, I think it was a fluke that I had a run-in with Travis. If it hadn’t been for him, I really don’t think I’d have made it this far.”

“I don’t know about that,” Brendon said. “He might’ve jump-started it, but I think you’d have done it all on your own if he hadn’t been there.”

Cheyenne smiled at him and his chest swelled. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he could tell his statement had pleased her.

“My turn again. Do you prefer baths or showers?” she asked.

“Showers. Especially when they include you.” That was an easy one, so he figured he’d give her an easy one, too. “Do you like scary movies?”

“Love them,” she said. “I’m not all that into the gory ones, but I love a good adrenaline rush.”

He was actually surprised by her response.

“My turn again. What’s your favorite thing about Coyote Ridge?”

Brendon smiled, keeping his eyes forward. He wanted to tell her that right this minute, she was his favorite thing about his hometown. Bearing in mind she was probably looking for something a little more in-depth, he figured he’d skip that reply for now. “Everyone knows everyone,” he explained. “That doesn’t mean growin’ up here was all that easy. There was no gettin’ away with anything because my folks always found out. But, in the same regard, it’s good to not be just a faceless, nameless passerby.”

“That makes sense. I can definitely tell the difference when I’m here versus big cities. I like the solitude it provides, too. Sorry, didn’t mean to answer.”

“I’m glad you did,” he told her. Hell, he would be content just listening to her talk for the rest of the afternoon. Since that wasn’t an option, he tossed out another question. “If you had to change careers, what would you do?”

“Oh, wow. That’s a tough one,” Cheyenne said as she leaned forward and patted her horse’s cheek. “Maybe I’d own a ranch, get me a few horses, a couple of cows. Maybe some pigs.”

Brendon laughed. He could actually picture her taking care of animals. But he could also imagine she’d have a handful of kids running around, making her beam proudly.

“Next. Do you like to hunt?”

“Who doesn’t?” Brendon answered with a chuckle. “I go as often as possible. When we were younger, Pops would take us deer huntin’ all the time.”

“Gramps used to take me huntin’ when I was younger. Dove season was a big deal for him. He wasn’t much into deer huntin’ though.”

Brendon decided that Twenty-One Questions was his new favorite game. He wasn’t sure he’d have had such a hard time with women if he’d come up with it on his own. The fact that he was learning so much about Cheyenne—things he wouldn’t think to ask out of the blue—made him all the more eager to spend time with her.

And it was one hell of a way to waste away an afternoon with a beautiful woman.

CHEYENNE COULDN’T BELIEVE
how well the afternoon was going.

As much as she wanted to think that everything between her and Brendon was going to be hunky-dory going forward—forever and ever, amen—she knew that wasn’t likely going to be the case. After all they’d been through thus far, she still wondered whether or not their current state was temporary. Like a fog that had descended over them, leaving them with the illusion of something steady, less precarious than their regular interactions. Although she really was beginning to hope for something significantly more than that.

That wasn’t to say that she was going to look for the negative in the situation, because she certainly had no intention of doing that, but there were still doubts that lingered.

Yesterday had been perfect. Better than perfect, actually. But yesterday had been punctuated by some incredible sex. Today . . . this right here, right now . . . this was a test. For both of them. So far, she’d like to think they had both passed. This game they were playing . . . well, these questions were easy to answer, as was talking to Brendon in general. She liked him. A lot. And from what she could tell, he liked her as well.

But there were other questions, other things that neither of them knew about one another that were substantially more difficult for them to share. She had secrets, he had secrets . . . That’s how the story went.

“How much do you remember about ridin’?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“It’s like ridin’ a bike,” she told him. “You never forget how.” Not quite, but she’d gotten comfortable on the sweet gelding Brendon had picked out for her.

“Think you can run her?” he questioned.

Cheyenne instinctively tightened her thighs against the horse’s flanks. “I think I can. You up for it?” She enjoyed taunting him, got a kick out of the gleam of retribution in his eyes. “Aren’t scared to lose to a girl?”

Brendon’s rough laugh made her heart flip over in her chest. Until recently, she hadn’t known Brendon to smile often. Now, she was hoping she could always make him smile. The sound of his laugh, although rusty, made hope fill her chest.

“I ain’t scared,” he said huskily, the hint of a dare in his tone.

“Fine. We’ll see about that.”

Without preamble, Cheyenne relied on old memories and the way the horse had felt beneath her for the last hour. Giving her a nudge, she held the reins tightly and leaned forward when the enormous animal began to trot. Of course, Brendon knew his horse a whole lot better than she knew hers, so it wasn’t surprising that his took off, leaving her in the dust.

Holy crap, he—he being Brendon—was beautiful. Cheyenne wasn’t sure there was anything he did that he didn’t make to look sexy as hell. She couldn’t watch him for long because her horse decided it was time to get with the program, kicking up dirt as it took off after Brendon’s.

Cheyenne laughed, an overwhelming sense of freedom overcoming her as the wind blew her hair back behind her. This was living, she thought to herself. The adrenaline rush was comparable to what she felt onstage these days. She realized she hadn’t been lying when she told Brendon that she’d love to live on a ranch if she had to make a career change.

Not that she was thinking about a change. She was actually beginning to get a little anxious, ready to get back to work. And to think, she’d only started her brief hiatus two short weeks before. She knew she had to take the opportunity for a little time off while it was available, but she was already beginning to miss performing.

That was about the only part she missed. There was so much political bullshit involved at the moment, especially with the stalker on the loose and making threats. Not that she’d told Brendon about those threats. It was enough that she’d given him the details regarding what the asshole had done to her apartment. If he knew that the stalker was sending her other threats via her manager, he’d probably come unglued. As of now, she hadn’t seen them firsthand, which she was completely fine with, but she knew they were there. It was as though not seeing them with her own eyes made them a little less intimidating.

A little.

Then again, she hadn’t learned of those threats until the last few weeks. Another had come in recently and her manager, Preston Andrews, had sent her a text briefly detailing it that morning, after Brendon left her house. Preston had followed up his text with a pointed voice mail informing her that she had to give him a call. He hadn’t been too happy that she’d been avoiding him for the last couple of weeks, he let her know when she had returned the call. As if his ass chewing hadn’t been enough, he went on to relay that she needed to let him help her. The threats were escalating, he’d told her—which had sent a frisson of fear echoing in her chest. They were real. The police had been called in, but they hadn’t nailed down who the guy was yet.