Rough, Raw and Ready(87)
Rough, Raw, and Ready
His sister stormed to the dining room and spun around so fast she clipped him with her big belly. “Do you see now? How he pretends to be fine but he’s not?”
“Yeah, I see. What’s the coughing from?”
Lianna rested her hands on her protruding stomach. “Emphysema.”
Trevor lifted both brows. “And yet Ma is still smokin’ around him?”
“Like that oughta surprise you. She’ll damn well smoke in her own goddamn house if she wants to.” Lianna looked over his shoulder. “Ma’s words not mine.”
“She puffs away while she’s takin’ care of him?”
“She don’t take care of him. Guess who gets stuck takin’ care of him? Me. Tanner’s gone most the time. Molly is a coupla bricks short of a load and Brent wouldn’t rock the boat for nothin’. I’m not supposed to be doin’ half this shit anyway.”
Lianna practically invented martyrdom, but it was her own damn fault. “Then why are you doin’ it?”
“You see any other able-bodied family members lining up?”
“No. But it ain’t like Ma and Pa don’t have the cash to hire a full-time nurse.” Trevor looked Lianna straight in the eyes. “You know why you’re stuck doin’ this? Because you don’t have the balls to stand up to them both and flat-out refuse.”
Lianna’s mouth opened. Snapped shut.
“I know I ain’t been around, so feel free to tell me to blow it out my ass, but if you don’t take a stand, your only function will be takin’ care of him while Ma smokes in the living room and does word searches all damn day. Is that the contribution you wanna have to the ranch? Think about it.” Trevor snagged his coat and wandered outside. Damn cold. He stamped his boots and had no idea why he’d left the warm comfort of the house.
Comfort. Right. Not a word he’d ever associate with the Glanzer abode.
He noticed Tanner’s horse trailer and ambled over, beating his fist on the door to the living quarters until a thump sounded inside and the door swung open.
A shirtless Tanner squinted at him. “What the fuck, Trevor? I was sleepin’.”
“It’s four in the afternoon. Why ain’t you helpin’ Brent with evenin’ chores?”
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Tanner laughed. “Right.” Then he yawned in Trevor’s face and scratched his ass.
“I’m up. You might as well come in.”
“Gee, thanks.” Trevor set an empty cardboard thirty-pack of Keystone Light on the floor so he could squeeze into the bench seat of the dinette table.
“Wanna beer?” Tanner asked, cracking open the mini-fridge.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Little wifey gotcha on a tight leash these days?”
“Yep.”
Tanner popped a top. Then a shit-eating grin broke out across his face. “Yeah right.
The day you let anyone control you—least of all a woman—is the day I eat my hat.”
Trevor studied his brother. Tanner’s dark hair stuck up every which way. Dark stubble covered his jaw. Hickeys dotted his neck. Tanner’s body frame was slight, and Trevor, at four inches taller, had always outweighed his brother. Not these days. Tanner packed on some serious poundage. His beer gut hung over the unbuttoned waistband of his jeans.
“So the old man called you back here.” Tanner plopped on the other end of the bench seat.
“Woulda been nice to know about Pa’s heart attack right after it’d happened, not a week later.”
Tanner shrugged his thin shoulders. “Maybe if you called to check in once in a while you’d’ve known.”
His brother’s attitude was another reminder on why Trevor had chosen to stay away.
“Anyway, we all know why you’re here.” Tanner chugged the beer. “Pa’s offerin’
you full control of the place, ain’t he?”
Trevor didn’t answer.
“You’ve always been his favorite.”
“What the fuck are you babblin’ about? Favorite. Right.” Trevor snorted. “That’s why I ain’t been home in years. Because I’m his favorite.”
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“He ain’t puttin’ Brent in charge, or neither of the girls. So it leaves you and me as front runners.” Tanner twisted the metal tab off the beer can and flicked it at the garbage, yelling, “Score!” and pumping his arms in the air when it pinged into the can. “So I propose a compromise. We tell Pa we’re a package deal and we’ll both run it.”
“What about your rodeo career?”