Gannon holds a glass of amber-colored liquid. He does a quick assessment of me and winks. I smile back politely but withhold judgment. I’m not sure what to think about him.
“That’s Jason,” Renn says, pointing at his brother, whom I met briefly on the plane home from Australia. He’s tall and thin—strikingly like the man beside him. “That’s Ripley.”
“Welcome to the family,” he says warmly.
I instantly like him. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“And that isTate.” Renn enunciates Tate’s name in a way that amuses his brother. “Tate, this ismy wife.”
Tate smiles broadly at me, obviously working to annoy his brother. “Hi …sis.”
“Hi, brother,” I say, playing into the opening Tate gave me.
“Don’t,” Renn says just before his siblings start laughing. “Fuck y’all.”
Rory shakes her head like she’s given up.
“Sorry,” I say, sliding an arm around Renn’s waist and laying my head on his shoulder. “I’ve heard a lot about you all. It’s nice to meet you.”
Tate walks toward us. He’s the same height as Renn but without the bulk. He’s strong but leaner—not a professional athlete. His eyes are kind and playful. His swagger, complete with a hand in one pocket, makes me laugh.
“Wanna see my bedroom?” Tate asks me, teasing his brother.
Renn punches him in the shoulder. Hard.
Tate shakes his arm. “Don’t make me take you down right here.”
“You can’t take me down,” Renn says, scoffing.
Tate grins. “I wasn’t talking about you.” He moves just in time before Renn reaches for him. “All those muscles are slowing you down, old man.”
I laugh at their antics.
“And last but not least. Blakely, this is my father, Reid Brewer,” Renn says, the words cooler than he used with the others. “Dad. This is Blakely.”
“Hello, Mr. Brewer,” I say.
“Hello, Blakely.” He flips his attention from me to Renn and then to Gannon.
The chatter begins in earnest again, with everyone talking at once. It’s quite a spectacle—eight people talking simultaneously but somehow carrying on a conversation.
My nerves settle as I watch them and have a moment to acclimate to the situation.
Upon closer inspection, I spot pictures of all of them in various stages of their lives sitting on a mantel and pinned to the refrigerator. Fresh flowers that look freshly picked fill a Mason jar next to a tray of vegetables. A cutting board with the lyrics of a hymn leans against the backsplash next to the sink.
It’s not cozy like Renn’s house.But it’s their home. It’s where they all congregate and come when they need help. For family dinners or to watch the big game.
“So, Blakely, tell us about yourself,” Rory says, taking the tops off various foil pans.
The sound lessens a few decibels.
Oh. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and try not to fixate on all their attention landing on me.Why does this feel like a job interview?
“I graduated from college with a bachelor’s in business management,” I say. “I work for Mason Music Label and love what I do. My brother is Brock Evans, but I’m sure you all know that.”
I love cooking, like the color peach, red roses, and fall weather. Oh, and I love your son, but it’s not reciprocated.
“That’s exciting,” Rory says. “And ironic.”