Braydon(92)

“Yeah,” she answered. “I need to talk to them.” Jessie looked out the window to see that both of their trucks were in the drive. There was another car parked alongside Brendon’s, and it was sporting a rental sticker on the back.

“Call me later,” Kylie said. “I’ll see if I can get Gage to go check out your car.”

“Thanks,” Jessie answered. She figured there was no hope for her car at that point. When she’d left the office, her car hadn’t even made it out of the parking lot before it sputtered, coughed and then it died. A quick glance at the gas gauge told her it wasn’t that she was out of gas, which meant the damn thing had probably just croaked.

Not that she could afford to buy a new one anytime soon.

“I’ll stop by and pick you up in the morning,” Kylie said as Jessie climbed out of the truck.

“I’ll be ready.”

And with that, Jessie closed the truck door and watched her sister drive off before turning to the house. Her stomach was a jumble of butterflies desperately seeking a way out. She had resigned herself to coming over and trying to make amends with Brendon, for her own sake as well as Braydon’s. After her conversation with Kylie, she figured it was the least she could do. Her sister had a point. Everyone seemed to be talking, but no one was talking to each other about what was important. She had a strong urge to rectify that.

At least with Brendon.

Making her way to the front porch, Jessie glanced back at the silver car parked in the driveway. The butterflies turned into swarming ants and suddenly she felt sick.

After rapping her knuckles on the door and not getting an answer, Jessie decided to try the knob. She knew that Braydon and Brendon were there because their trucks were. As the knob turned, that’s when she heard a woman’s voice.

“Brendon. Oh, God!” the woman shrieked.

Jessie was pretty sure her stomach was about to revolt. As the door opened all the way, she noticed Braydon and . . . Oh, crap. It was Cheyenne.

They were both leaning over Brendon, who was lying on the couch. Granted, she could only see his feet hanging off the end, but she knew it was him. She just couldn’t see exactly what they were doing because the back of the couch was facing the door. However, from where she stood, it told her enough.

What the f*ck!

Braydon looked up, their eyes met from across the room, and she saw something she’d never seen there before. Was it fear? Guilt?

“Oh . . . my . . .” Jessie didn’t get the rest of her sentence out before she spun on her heels and took off toward her house. It would probably take about ten minutes to walk because the Walker property wasn’t exactly small, but at the moment, she needed to do something. It was that or she was going to go back and . . . and . . .

How could he? How the hell could Braydon do this to her?

He and Brendon were with Cheyenne?

The tears started to fall, and Jessie knew there was no way to dry them up so she let them. And when she finally made it to her front porch ten minutes later, she decided it was high time she did something she should’ve done long ago.

It was time to pack.





chapter TWENTY-FOUR

“What the hell are you doing?” Braydon asked Jessie half an hour later when he’d managed to get Brendon settled.

His heart was still pounding from the scare he’d received when Brendon went down like a ton of bricks. His brother had passed out, and although they’d been fiercely worried, they had concluded that it was more due to dehydration than anything else. Cheyenne had threatened to call an ambulance, but Brendon managed to talk her out of it.

The guy was pretty damn persuasive. Braydon would give him that.

Once Brendon’s color had returned and he’d accepted a glass of water, Braydon told Cheyenne he’d be back in a little while. She agreed to stay with Brendon, at least until someone else could show up. As he walked out his door heading for Jessie’s, he’d called his mother and informed her that Brendon had passed out. She was on her way over, thank God.

But now . . .

When Braydon stepped into Jessie’s bedroom and noticed she was packing a suitcase, suddenly the bottom dropped out of his stomach.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jessie yelled.

“Why the f*ck are you doing this, Jess?” he asked, his throat threatening to close up on him. She was leaving? Seriously?

How the hell did this shit keep happening? If it wasn’t Brendon freaking out, it was Jessie. Braydon felt like he was on a f*cking roller coaster that was on an endless loop, and the longer he stayed on the ride, the worse he felt.

“It’s clear you don’t need me anymore,” she ground out.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Braydon stared at her blankly, trying to figure out just what she was talking about. He’d known she had come over to his house; he’d seen her standing in the doorway, her face pale, her pretty blue eyes wide. But Braydon had been too busy to even greet her. His brother had passed out and all of a sudden she thought he didn’t need her anymore. Shit. He was pretty damn sure he needed her now more than ever.

He was that f*cking scared.

“Jessie, please,” he begged, lowering his voice. “Talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you!” she screamed, turning to face him, the shirt she was holding fanning out around her. “You and Brendon have more women than you know what to do with. I have no intention of being second choice.”