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I don’t have all the details worked out. That is Brody’s area of expertise, and I trust him to work with Mark to figure it out, and Allyson can do whatever legal contract work we need. But first, they have to agree to let me buy the farm back.
Mama Louise sets her fork down and interlaces her fingers. “Sounds good to me if it’s okay with the boys.” She looks at James, who nods, Luke, who holds his hands out, and Mark, who grunts but looks at Brody.
The ball’s in his court.
“It’s yours, Brody,” I tell my brother, sharing business I know he’d rather keep private, but if I don’t lay everything out now, we’ll all pay the price of his stubborn pride. “I know you need it. But it’s ours.”
Rix lays her hand over Brody’s. I don’t know what conversations they’ve had about our family and our farm, but she seems to know how much this means and how difficult it is for him to agree. I need to give him a way to save face, a reason to say yes. Lighter, I joke, “Besides, I’m gonna need a place to come home to after my concert tours. Roughing it in one of those fancy RV buses with my name on the outside is gonna be hard. Actually, I might just buy one and park it where your truck is now.”
He chuckles, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “You’re such a shit. Had to rub my nose in that, didn’t you?”
To her credit, Mama Louise still doesn’t interrupt to correct his language, though I think she’s literally biting her tongue not to do so. I’m sure she can sense that we’re on the verge of something major.
“I could probably get you tickets next to Shay’s if you want? Probably not free, but at a discount, at least.”
Brody throws a solid punch at my shoulder, and I rub at the bright spot of pain. For a moment, I think he’s going to agree that easily. But he sobers and shakes his head. “Bobby—”
Willow interrupts his sad tone, musing aloud, “Sometimes, you love by doing things for people. I get that, believe me, I do.” Her eyes pin Brody. “You get that. Maybe we do things differently, but you take care of them.” She doesn’t have to explain who she means. We all know what Brody has done for us, how much he’s given up to handle everything when Dad went off the rails. And they all understand why Willow did what she did too. “But I’ve learned that doing things for others sometimes means letting them do stuff for you.”
Brody looks at Shayanne, who’s smiling wide enough to see nearly every tooth in her head. Then Brutal, who grunts.
Finally, we’re eye to eye.
“It’ll be rough out here without you, but I reckon we can make it work while you’re on the road in that fancy tour bus with people chanting your name. Can’t say I understand it.” He scratches at his lip with his thumb. “But I can’t fault people for their poor taste if it’s buying the family farm, now can I?” The sarcasm runs deep through every syllable. If he’s back to giving me shit, that means we’re going to be okay.
And it means that he’s agreeing.
“To be clear, I don’t care whose name is on which acre or what tag is on each cow’s ear. I’ll expect you all to dinner at six thirty every night like usual, and polite manners require a phone call if you’re skipping out. Understood?” Mama Louise’s tone allows for zero disagreement, not that any of us would.
“Yes, ma’am,” we all say. We might be big, strong, rough country guys, but we know where our bread is buttered and who does the buttering, so we won’t ever piss Mama Louise off by not showing up at her dinner table.
With that decree, Mama Louise picks her fork back up and gets back to eating. Following her lead, we do the same.
Chapter 29
Willow
I scrub at the bar so hard the wax sealant is in jeopardy. But I can’t stop. I have to get everything spotless, spic and span, and cleaned to within an inch of its life. It’s a coping mechanism, I know it is, but that doesn’t change the urge to do it.
“Put that towel down, girl. The bar’s as clean as it’s gonna get,” Unc snaps from his perch by Richard and Doc Jones. They’re drinking and talking as they watch the game on the television above the bar.
Sighing, I follow orders and drop the towel into the bin of dirties. Not able to truly stop, I pick up the whole bin and scoot my way to the back to start a quick wash load.
Behind the bar again, I fidget with my hands for all of two seconds before giving in and pulling out a bag of lemons to cut.
