Page 43 of Small Town Boy

“That what’s eatin’ at you?” Nash asks, not letting it drop.

“Who says anything’s eatin’ at me?”

My brother rolls his eyes, uncrossing and recrossing his legs, arms folded across his chest. I know this posture. This is the “I know that you know that I know, so just spill, damn it” pose. There’s an accompanying facial expression that goes with it, which actually makes an appearance more than the pose itself, and today is no exception. Looking at him now, I can’t help but wonder if all siblings are this in tune with each other, or if it’s a twin thing. I’m inclined to think the latter, since both Nash and I can read the other better than we can read ourselves sometimes.

“Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Bullshit.”

I whip my head around, glaring at my brother. The “I know that you know that I know” look is still there, with no signs of moving on. I huff out a heavy breath, turning around to face the same direction he is, and then hop up onto the tailgate. Nash follows suit, letting me know he’s in this for as long as it takes. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need to talk it out.

Doesn’t change that talking is one of my least favorite things to do. Ever. Unless it’s with Bronwyn.

“The new girl, Bronwyn⁠—”

“She cranks your tractor?”

“Hey!” I slap him in the chest with the back of my hand.

“That’s your expression, not mine,” he reminds me.

He’s right. That is exactly how I’ve put it every time the girls have bugged me about my personal life. It was funny at first. For a while actually. Seeing their reactions every time I uttered that phrase, refusing to give them what they wanted. But now…now it seems so crass.

“She deserves better than that.”

“Damn, man. You got it bad.”

I nod. I do have it bad. Have since the second I saw her, and all the time we’ve spent together has only made it worse. Better? Worse? I don’t even know. All I know is that it’s all about her.

“I do. No problem admitting that. At least to you.”

He nods, understanding what I mean. That part is definitely a twin thing—a bond that cannot be explained. I love Dustin and could not have asked for a better best friend growing up. Adding Camden into the mix has been great as well. But Nash—he gets me on a different level. We know each other’s secrets even without saying them out loud. Most of them anyway.

I chuckle, swinging my legs, looking out over the nursery. “You know, it’s almost as bad as you were over⁠—”

“Say her name and I’ll fucking kill you,” he threatens, cutting me off.

I throw my head back in a laugh. Saw that reaction coming.

“If you hadn’t been such a chickenshit⁠—”

“You mean like you’re being now?” he cuts me off again. I look at him, confused. “You can’t tell me you’re not. I know you. Every move of yours is carefully thought out and calculated. You don’t make any decisions without weighing the pros and cons and working through the risks. Watching you choose between botany and horticulture as a major in college was one of the most frustrating experiences of my life.”

“That was different. Bronwyn is different.”

“Is she now?”

She is. No question about it. Bronwyn is unlike any other woman I’ve met. And not just because she’s a Yankee. I wish I could put my finger on exactly what it is about her that makes my world stop. But I can’t.

Nash accepts my silent confirmation. “So, whatcha gonna do about it?”

The question floats out into the air, hanging there, almost like the words themselves are visible, forming a glaring billboard in front of me. Doesn’t make the answer any clearer though.

I shrug. Turning to look out over the rows of flowers, a soft pink camellia catches my eye. It’s early for the bloom—they tend to not show until later in October—but it’s as beautiful as ever. I can’t help but think how a bouquet of those, mixed with a lily or two, would look perfect on the kitchen counter of the cottage Bronwyn is renting from Sylvie.

“It’s not that hard,” Nash continues, plowing his way through the conversation. He’s used to it—having been carrying on one-sided conversations with me since we were kids. “You ask her out, you go to dinner, maybe try and tell a few jokes, then you drive her home and you kiss her good night.”

That simple, huh?