The Boys Down South by Abbi Glines

4

bray

“Have you seen Dallas?” Brent asked me as he walked inside the back door eating an apple.

Momma paused. Stilled for a second while she had been fixing my tux jacket and making sure it met her approval. I saw the small change in her expression. She knew where he was.

“Naw, I ain’t seen him,” I replied, still watching our mother as she didn’t say anything or even look up.

“He didn’t work out this morning and the farm truck is missing. He’s the only one unaccounted for. He came home last night, didn’t he? Last I saw him was at Jack’s.”

I nodded my head. I knew he had come home. I’d driven him home from Jack’s before going to fuck a new distraction. Momma’s lips were tight as if she was struggling to keep them shut.

“You see him, Momma?” I asked. Because she had.

She glanced up quickly then went right back to straightening the tux that fit just fine. She could move on to the next one of us now. But she was fidgeting. Acting as if she was too busy to listen to Brent.

“Sure he’s running errands. Dixie may have him busy. Lots to do today,” Momma said then patted my arm. “You look like your father in this. Now, go find Asher and wait with him for pictures.”

I studied her a moment but knew asking her if she was sure she didn’t know where Dallas was would be pointless. The most I’d get out of her was being told to shut up and go.

“Alright,” I replied.

“Get your tux on,” Momma told Brent. “And Bray, if you see Steel send him in here. I haven’t checked his tux on him yet. He dressed and left before I got in here.”

She didn’t seem worried that Dallas wasn’t here getting ready. She absolutely knew where he was. Interesting.

“Maybe someone should find our baby brother. There’s his tux. He ain’t dressed yet,” Brent pointed out.

“He’ll get here on time. Now get yours on. I’ll go have a look for him,” Momma said as she left the house and walked down toward the large white tent set up outside for the reception. People were working everywhere. Flowers, food, and the like was taking place. Lots of shit. It had woken me up at five this morning.

“Why ain’t she worried?” Brent asked after she was safely out of hearing.

I shrugged. “Cause she’s lying and knows where he is.”

Brent nodded. “I thought so too.”

“He’s fine. Get ready and do what she says. She’s already wound up about it all being perfect for Asher and Dixie. Dallas will show up in a few.”

Just as the words left my mouth, I saw the farm truck pull into the drive. Dallas was at the wheel. “And there he is.” I pointed at the window.

Brent grunted. But his mind was working. He wanted to know where Dallas had been and why Momma was bent on keeping it a secret.

“Glad he’s okay,” he finally replied.

“Yeah,” I agreed then headed out the door. Brent was going to grill him. Dallas would get pissy. I wasn’t in the mood to watch. I headed to find Asher. He was waiting to take the photos in front of Dixie’s house where the ceremony would take place. I figured I would drive the truck and made my way toward it now that Dallas was back.

“Where you headed?” he asked, as if he had a right to ask me shit. When his ass had been gone all fucking day.

“Asher is getting married today. You forget?” The sarcasm in my voice was obvious.

“No,” Dallas shot back. “I had some things to handle. Not that it did any good,” he muttered the last bit, “is it time to get dressed?”

“Pictures in less than thirty minutes at Dixie’s. I’m headed there now.”

“I’ll be there in a few. Gotta go get cleaned up real quick.”

“I reckon Momma will cover for you some more if you’re late. Whatever you’ve been up to she’s behind it.”

I didn’t look at Dallas but opened the truck door to climb inside.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he called out.

“It means she knows where you went. She covered for you. That’s what it fucking meant. I wasn’t speaking in a damn riddle.”

Dallas looked nervous. What the fuck had he been doing?

“I didn’t tell her,” he said. “She didn’t know.”

I laughed then. Because sometimes that boy was stupid as shit. “You don’t got to tell Momma anything. If she wants to know, she finds out.”

Dallas didn’t like that answer. He didn’t want anyone knowing what he had been up to. Damn if I wasn’t getting curious now.

“Go get dressed and get your ass to Dixie’s,” I said then started the truck and pulled out of the driveway.

Dallas was waving his hands. I stopped the truck. “What?” I called out through the window that was only rolled up when it was raining or cold outside.

“How am I gonna get to Dixie’s if you take the truck?”

“Walk,” I replied then drove off smiling. Damn kid should have been here sooner.

The decorations, flowers, and activity were less of a mess at Dixie’s. They had it all done it seemed. A few people were out doing some last-minute things, but for the most part, all I saw was Asher sitting on a white chair leaning forward resting his elbows on his knees as he stared straight ahead. And then to his far left was Steel talking to one of the bridesmaids. The rest of the action was inside with the bride.

I pulled the truck out of sight from the wedding then walked back to sit by Asher. He glanced at me briefly as I took the seat beside him.

“Nervous?” I asked. Because I’d sure as shit be nervous.

“That Dix will change her mind and decide against this,” Asher replied.

I laughed at the comment. Damn woman adored him. “That’s not happening. You’ll be hitched with the ball and chain by the time the sun sets.”

His lips curved just a little. “Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel.”

“No. I don’t.”

He turned his head back to look at me again. “You saying you don’t love Scarlet? Because it’s obvious you’ve had nothing serious since she left. Brent has. But not you.”

I’d had meaningless. Lots of fucking meaningless. I didn’t say that though.

“She’s gone. I’m over her.”

Asher frowned. Then leaned back and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was his typical older brother move. Anyone else would be punched. “No, Bray. You’re not.”

I wasn’t going to argue with him on his wedding day.

“We didn’t have what you and Dix do.” That much I was certain of.

He didn’t reply right away. When I thought he was finished with the conversation, he said, “Everyone’s story is different. Doesn’t make it less powerful.”