“I knew it!” he says, spinning her around once. “I told you it was a girl!”
Ella laughs, her eyes beaming at him. “Jess, you told me it was a boy first, then twins, then a girl.”
“Okay, but still, I had a feeling, Ella,” Jesse insists, setting her back down gently.
The way he looks at her is just…they’re so in love.
Dad raises his glass of sweet tea. “To a little girl. God knew we needed one.”
Everyone starts chiming in at once, joking about names.
Brantley leans closer to me. “So, is that it?” he whispers.
I glance at him, unsure what he’s talking about.What?I mouth.
“The gender reveal thing? I thought it was gonna be a bigger to-do,” he whispers.
I shake my head and focus on the conversations happening around us. My stomach twists a little, uneasy that he’s not having a good time. I know that’s not what he said, but it’s underneath the words, behind the question.
By the time we get cleaned up from lunch and in the living room to start an episode ofThe Dukes of Hazzard, Brantley’s attitude seems to have shifted for the better. Or so I thought.
He’s sitting on his phone, zoned in on whatever he’s watching. Meanwhile, Jesse’s sitting over on the couch with Ella, an arm slung around her, his other hand holding hers. Both are watching the TV.
I shift slightly, inching away from Mason and rubbing my shoulder against Brantley’s. He doesn’t get the hintthough, and moves further away. Probably thinking I need more space.
“No,” I mutter, grazing my hand down his arm and holding his hand. His grip is hesitant, not in a way that says he’s embarrassed to do this in front of my family, but more like he’s irritated because he only has one hand to use his phone now.
A few minutes pass by, the episode just getting good, and Brantley shifts, expressing he needs a drink. His movement is sorta abrupt, and even Mason notices. I watch him veer into the kitchen. Catching Mason’s raised eyebrow, I get up and leave the room too.
Brantley’s leaning against the counter, sipping water, his eyes glued to his phone. The volume is up just enough that I can hear the sound of a rodeo.
When he looks up to see me, he’s quick to turn it off and slip it back in his pocket. “Hey, I’m coming back in there, I was just—”
“Is there something wrong?”
His eyes squint at me, brows knit together. “No?”
“You don’t want to be here.” I cross my arms. “I can tell.”
“It’s not that. I just…” His voice trails off and he sighs with defeat. “I have this other rodeo next weekend, and I’m—”
“So you’d rather not be here so you can focus on that, right?”
He shrugs. “Yes and no.”
“Then just go.”
“It’s fine,” he argues.
“No. I don’t want to make you feel obligated to be here, especially if you don’t want to be.”
He huffs again, this time quicker, as if I just said the most offensive thing in the world. “Okay.” He sets his glass in thesink and walks back to the living room entrance. “Thanks for lunch. I’m gonna head out,” he says with a wave to everyone.
I walk him to the door, watching him put his boots on under his jeans. “You don’t need to come out,” he utters, pressing a kiss to my cheek that seems almost unbearable for him, and leaving before I can question it.
I stand still for a moment, annoyed with how this all just took a turn. I hear his truck grumble and roll down the lane.
When I get back to the living room, Mason’s got his feet up in my spot, but he moves them without hesitation.
