Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Bianca and I were talking about it the other day—about how things are different but in a good way.”
“That’s a great conversation to have with Bianca.”
Our phones buzz at the same time. We glance at each other curiously as we pull our devices from our pockets.
Mom: She’s here! Please meet your beautiful niece, Emery Jane Carmichael.
“Bianca had her baby,” Jason says as a picture loads in the group chat. “What a cutie.”
In the photograph, our sister beams while holding a baby wrapped in a light pink blanket. Emery has a head full of dark hair and a button nose like her mother. She’s also alert as if she’s afraid to miss a thing just like her father.
The picture pulls at a place in my heart that I try to keep unbothered.
Ripley: She’s so pretty.
Jason: Tell B we said congratulations and can’t wait to meet her.
Renn: Welcome to the family, Em!
Tate: Renn, does this mean we don’t have to go meet the rugby guys this weekend? We should really go to see our new niece instead.
Me: Tate, try not to make this about you.
Jason laughs next to me.
Mom: Bianca asks that we hold off on visiting for a couple of weeks. She and Foxx want some time with the baby by themselves.
Renn: Then where are you?
Mom: Oh, I’m not listening to that nonsense. She obviously doesn’t mean me.
Me: She might. With all your traveling, God knows what diseases you might’ve picked up.
Mom: Gannon Reid Brewer …
Tate:
Mom: Foxx’s mom and dad, Damaris and Kixx, and I have been approved to visit.
Jason: Have you ever met Foxx’s brother Banks? Have fun telling him no.
“What’s the story with him?” I ask.
Jason shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know where to start.”
Renn: We understand. Tell Bianca to let us know when we can visit.
Ripley: But we expect lots of pictures.
Mom: I’ll tell her. Love you boys.
Tate: Love you, Mommy.
Ripley: Love ya.
Jason: Love you.
Renn:
Me: Love you, Mother.
“I bet Mom is eating that up,” Jason says, getting out of the cart. “Another grandkid and a little girl at that? Bianca won’t be able to keep her away.”
“At least we’ll know where she’s at.”
Jason laughs and pulls out his phone. “I need to send that pic to Chloe, or she’ll kill me.”
“We can’t have that.”
I go ahead and find my ball and take a few practice swings. I don’t have all day to wait on him.
“Fucking hell, Chloe,” Jason says.
I line up my shot and hit the ball with an iron.
“We’re gonna need to cut this game short,” my brother says.
“Why?”
We pass each other—him going to his ball and me returning to the cart.
“Because my wife just sent me a very private picture with a request to have the next Brewer baby,” he says, biting his lip. “There’s something so fucking sexy about that.”
I shove my club into my bag and ignore him.
“What about you, old man?” he asks, refusing to let it go. “Are you ever going to settle down and start a family?”
“I’m too old for that shit.”
“It’s never too late to—”
“Jason.” I glare at him. “Don’t.”
He holds my gaze for a moment before turning to his ball.
My thoughts float back to a time when I wasn’t so jaded. The world felt full of possibilities. My life felt like it was in front of me. I even bought a fucking house.
It was the first time I remembered being happy. I smiled a lot back then. I got up in the morning, excited for what the day would hold and even more excited to come home, knowing someone was waiting for me.
Until they weren’t.
I press my teeth together in frustration.
“Tatum said there was no way you’d show up, and we figure she knows you better than any of us.”
It shouldn’t fucking bother me. But before I know what I’m doing, I’m whipping out my phone. I find my inbox, and then the email Thomas Crenshaw sent me this morning to see if I’d made up my mind. I tap REPLY.
Thomas,
I accept your invitation. See you then.
“I think you got me on this one,” Jason says, surveying our balls on the green. “Again.”
I’m not sure whether Jason was joking about winding up this game early or not, but the thought of staying out here for another hour is akin to torture. I want to go home, grab a drink, and then a shower. Let my mind switch out of this gear and onto something more pleasant. Alone. Where it’s silent.
“Grab our balls, and let’s call it a night,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Unless you want to stick it out.”
He grins. “Hell, no. I’m ready to go.”
Once our balls are retrieved and clubs are secured, we make our way back to the clubhouse. Jason types furiously on his phone as I drive us in silence. Thankfully.
The silence continues as we return our cart and make our way back to the parking lot.