The crunching of tires stops me from taking my first sip of coffee. “What the hell,” I mutter out loud, walking toward the door when a ball of fur barrels past me, running full force ahead.
“Slow down, boy,” I tell him, and he somehow stops before he nose-dives into the sidelight of the door.
I chuckle before moving the curtain to the side to see who pulled up. If it were anyone, I figure it would be Slade or Drake, but when I see that silly Rav 4 pull into the driveway, I know that it carries the Jennings women inside it.
“Fuck,” I grumble, then open the door, paste on a smile when all I really want to do is slam the door shut, slide back into Kellie’s bed, and ignore these crazy-ass women who I call my sisters.
“Don’t you even think about it.” My oldest sister steps out of the car after she abruptly put the vehicle in park.
“Well, don’t come crying to me when your transmission is on the floor,” I tell Peyton. My other two sisters, Aspen and Rowan, slide out of their seats, not nearly as hurried as Peyton. That girl has always been on a war path since the day she started walking, whereas my younger two sisters are way more relaxed and go with the flow.
“Whatever. Why didn’t you tell us what Kellie was going through and that you were staying with her?” She raises her voice.
“I don’t know, Pey. It could be because you’re being a nut job,” my baby sister Rowan says while coming up to me for a hug. She’s only twenty-one, and I have a soft spot for her. She always needed more attention. Our parents worked their asses off, which sometimes meant me pulling some extra brotherly duties.
“How ya doing, kiddo?” I return her hug, kissing the crown of her head.
“Good, you?” she responds with a bright smile.
“Never better, except for this shit,” I respond.
“Stop hogging Bridger for yourself,” Aspen says, moving into my other side. I guess Peyton is just going to stand there huffing and puffing. The two of them leave my side, and then I address the elephant in the room that Peyton wants answered, “It’s not my story to tell, and you damn well know it, and the only reason you have an inkling of what’s going on is because you Jennings women can’t go a day without cackling like hens. Mom was under explicit instructions to leave well enough alone. Now, you turn up here at my woman’s house expecting me to answer twenty-one questions. She’s asleep, Peyton, and if you so much as wake her up or bring up the past, I’ll ask you to leave. I love you, you know you girls have a big place in my heart, but Kellie, she’s firmly entrenched in there as well.”
“Shit, I screwed this up. It’s my fault. I was at Mom and Dad’s when you called to let her know what was going on and why you wouldn’t be there for our family dinner. I’m sorry. I really do want to make sure Kellie is okay and see if there is anything I can do to help. I promise I’m not trying to be cruel.” Peyton looks down at the ground.
“Come here, Pey.” She’s not wrong. There isn’t a mean bone in her body, but her delivery really fucking sucks at times. All four of us huddle together, our foreheads meeting, something we always did in our younger years, and we’ve kept up with this little thing.
“I’m such a dork, you guys know that. I suck today. I’m sorry,” Peyton tells all of us.
Aspen and Rowan laugh because this is just how Peyton rolls. It causes me to chuckle when everyone starts up their own version of giggling and snorting. We slowly pull away from one another, silently accepting Peyton’s apology.
“It looks like I woke up just in time.” That’s how Kellie greets us this morning. She’s back in her pajama shorts, white tank top with a cardigan over it, and Legend at her feet.
“Please tell me you’re making breakfast?” Aspen questions. “Kellie, have you had Bridger’s famous pancakes? I swear they are an inch thick and so fluffy.” Aspen is salivating for them, even if I weren’t going to, which I was, I’d be making them now.
“I can’t say that I have. I’m intrigued now. Please, where are my manners. Come inside. I haven’t seen you all in forever. Why haven’t you come to bust your brother’s balls at Nighthawk? I swear between Bridger, Slade, and Drake, they need it.” Just like that, all the awkwardness that happened when my sisters first got here is gone, and Kellie welcomes them with open arms. Of course, that could be because she’s met them a few times, all of them giving her ammunition to use against me.
“Morning, sunshine.” Her ocean eyes light up with a spark that I got to see a hint of in the middle of the night.
“Good morning, babe.” My hand gathers her hair. It’s down in all kinds of waves, mussed up from sleep.
“I like that,” I murmur before my lips meet hers. I don’t deepen it as much as I want to. My sisters would make a mockery out of us if we did.
“Me too,” she replies when our kiss ends. I open the door and watch as Kellie walks through with Legend, followed by my sisters. Something tells me this morning is going to be one for the books.
Eleven
Kellie
“I have a great idea. Why don’t we call Mom and Dad? They can come eat breakfast with us too. Knowing Mom, she’ll bring mimosas.” Peyton wiggles her eyebrows, and I see the eagerness in Aspen and Rowan’s facial expressions too. They are all for it, which I mean, that’s fine. It’s me, totally me. I’m not used to being around such a big family atmosphere. Even when my parents were still alive, it was only my aunt and uncle at the family gatherings. Looking around though, I could really get used to having Bridger and his sisters around more.
“I don’t see why not, do you, Bridger?” I ask him. He’s mixing up the batter for the pancakes. Aspen is frying up bacon, while Rowan is cutting up fruit, and Peyton is already reaching for her phone.
“If you’re up for it, I’m sure they’ll like that.” He looks up at me. I nod my head at Peyton, giving her the go-ahead to call them.
“Do you have plans today?” I ask the group.
“I’m going shopping later on with Courtney. She’s looking for a gown. The military ball is coming up soon, and her boyfriend is getting something this or that, medal wise,” Aspen says.
“I have a date.” Rowan blushes before going back to her task of cutting the strawberries while throwing them in the bowl for a fruit salad.
“The fuck you are.” Bridger turns off the stove after her statement.
“I do, Bridge. I’m not a baby anymore. I’ll text you all the information and check in with you when I get home. We’re also meeting at Dubrow’s Bar and Grill, Brother Bear,” she rushes. Bridger looks like he’s about to blow a gasket. I slide off the barstool, abandoning my cup of hot tea. Sometimes I’ll drink coffee, but for the most part, a hot cup of black tea, steaming hot, steeped to no end, and a plop of sugar is what I have.
“Hey,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around Bridger’s trim waist. He wraps one arm around my shoulder. His other hand holds the spatula, and he points it at Rowen. “You get me his name, first and last, picture, and you text me when you make it to Dubrow’s and the minute you’re locked inside your apartment, or I’m rounding up the boys.”