Razed (Barnes Brothers #2)(51)



Hell. The first month.

“Will he?” Travis asked, his voice soft as he took the cloth sack and crumpled it into one big fist. His blue eyes stared at nothing. “Everybody keeps saying he’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I talk to him and I hear his voice and I know—he’s not fine. He’s twenty-nine years old and he’s so far from fine I don’t even know where to start. He’s locked up inside himself. He’s been like this for years and I saw it coming, but I thought . . .”

He stopped and stared up at the ceiling. “Fuck,” Travis muttered. “Mom saw it coming. I told her to leave him alone. He’d work it out. But he’s just gotten worse.”

“He will be fine,” Zane said again, despite the knot of worry. “Something is going to happen that will jar him out of that empty place where he goes and he’ll be forced to open his eyes and look around. You’ll see.”

“I hope so.” Travis didn’t look convinced. “There was this . . .”

Then he stopped, shook his head. “That his business anyway.” He shrugged, looking away. When he looked back, it was like the tension of the past moment had just disappeared. “So, you’re here. Why are you here and not in Albuquerque? I was going to crash here. I guess I can flop on the . . .”

He paused and then eyed the box he had in his hand. “Or maybe not.”

Zane caught the box of Trojans Travis tossed his way.

“Got plans, Z?” A wide, wicked grin split his face. “And here I was thinking I should worry about you and Trey. I guess not.”

“Seeing as how you were too afraid to even buy your first box of condoms when you needed them? I think I can do without your concern, kid,” Zane advised, heading out of the kitchen. He put the box in the nightstand and turned around to see Travis loitering behind him.

“Condoms in the nightstand.” He turned and looked back into the kitchen, a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t tend to do a lot of cooking on my own—it’s just me most of the time. But it seems to me you’ve got the goings for a somewhat nice meal in there.”

Zane was quiet for a minute and then he pushed past his brother. “Zach and Abby have room at their place. I can give them a call. Or I can—”

“I can find my own room,” Travis said, his voice mild. “Now be quiet. I’m thinking here . . . although really, there’s not much to think through. Either you’re big on wishful thinking or she finally decided to put you out of your misery.”

Zane grabbed the olive oil he’d bought and put it in a cabinet near the stove. “Last time I was in town, I stayed at this nice little hotel on the outskirts of town. Quiet. Kind of run-down but it had a killer view. Give me a minute and I’ll remember the name.”

“What time will Keelie be here?”

Zane shot him a dark look. “Can you just shut your mouth? For maybe the next month—also, it wouldn’t hurt if you could fail to mention this. To everybody.”

“Now that kind of silence will cost you.” Travis grinned.

“Oh, kiss ass.” He flipped him off and then stared up at the sky. “Just what do you want?”

Cheerfully, Travis said, “I’ll hold it in reserve. Don’t worry, I’m not as demanding as the others are. I’m not going to mess with a hotel, though. If I can’t inflict my presence upon you, I’ll just go crash at Zach’s house. Abby will cook breakfast.”

“Do that.” Despite himself, he couldn’t keep the sharp edge out of his voice.

Travis caught it. Narrowing his eyes, Travis cocked his head and waited.

Zane ignored him.

And Travis just waited.

Now this was why Travis pissed him off.

The son of a bitch should have been a psychologist or a cop or something, the way people spilled their guts to him.

Finally, he turned and crossed his arms over his chest, stared the younger Barnes down. “Zach is a mule-headed son of a bitch.”

“You say this like it’s news,” Travis pointed out.

Zane didn’t comment for a long, long moment. Staring off into the distance, he brooded, debated. Then he started to talk.

Travis said nothing until Zane had finished. Zane started with the kiss Keelie had laid on Zach months ago—Zach hadn’t told anybody but him—and he finished with the visit to the space Zane thought he just might try to buy to use for his studio.

When he stopped talking, Travis pushed off the counter and went to the fridge, opened it. He studied the sadly lacking contents and pulled out a beer. “Zach has been lucky,” he said after a minute. “We all have, in one way or another. But Zach . . . yeah, he always knew what he wanted, where he was going. He worked for it, chased it. Doesn’t see how hard it can be for others, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve what he has.”

“I know that,” Zane said tiredly. Rubbing the back of his neck, he shoved off the counter. “I just . . .”

Travis slid him a look. “He’s just worried. He shouldn’t be. If anybody can make something work, it’s you. He’ll figure that out. It’s probably just because you’re grabbing for everything at once. You don’t do anything fast and all of sudden, you quit your job, you’re moving, you’re selling your house . . . Keelie.”

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