Page 63 of Throw Down
“God, I hope that’s not true,” he blurted before he could catch himself.
Susan shrugged and grabbed him by the wrist, hauling him to his feet with a strength that reminded Briar wryly of her brother.He snatched up the blanket and whistled for Sabbath, following haplessly as Susan led him over to a large picnic area bustling with activity.
Children darted between adults like pinballs, and a couple toddlers were plopped on blankets beside a young woman who Briar supposed was James’ wife.An older man with a cane hovered beside a smoky grill, arguing with anyone who tried to offer a bit of advice.
Briar didn’t recognize all the men congregating around the meat, but Derek stood out even with his back turned.He towered over the other men. Every cell in Briar’s body yearned for him to turn and offer some reassurance, but he might not have even existed for all the attention Derek paid.
“Everyone, this is Briar,” Susan announced.“He’s the city transplant who’s been helping Nate down at the clinic.”
All activity seemed to pause—or maybe that was just Briar’s paranoia.
Derek’s mother, a frail-looking woman with sallow cheeks, wiped her hands on an apron and extended one hand.Her fingers were cool even in the heat, but not as cool as her tone when she said brusquely, “Nice to meet you, dear.”
“Hey, bud,” West greeted cheerfully, saluting him with a longneck bottle.“Grab a beer and a plate.”
“Where’s your other half?” Briar asked gratefully.West had always been friendly during Briar's vet calls at the ranch, and he'd gone out of his way to make conversation when they’d gone out for drinks.
West raised an eyebrow and gestured toward the lake.“Who do you think is catching all the fish?” he asked.“I would’ve helped, but I didn’t want to embarrass him with my skills.Besides, someone’s got to stick around here to make sure Dad and Derek don’t kill each other.”
“Don’t be an ass, West,” Derek said, startling them both.He hadn’t appeared to be paying any attention, but now he reached behind West and fished two bottles from the cooler at his feet.He effortlessly cracked the tops on the edge of the grill and then passed one to Briar.
Briar reached for the bottle, but Derek didn’t immediately release it, forcing him to meet his gaze.The look he gave him was intentional, quickly searching Briar’s eyes to make sure he was okay.Briar tried to hang onto the moment, but something tugged on his shirt.
“Do you play soccer?” asked a little boy with popsicle smeared in his hair.He was the spitting image of a miniature James.
His innocent question popped the tension like a soap bubble, and Briar laughed.
“No,” he admitted, “but I can try if you promise to take it easy on me.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Briar stuck with the children as much as possible.Playing with them gave him a chance to observe the family without forcing any awkward conversation.He felt included but separate, like a wildlife photographer, afraid to get close.
The family was lively, and the bonds they shared were obviously deep and worn, but there was an underlying current of tension between them that kept Briar on edge.Derek’s parents were spirited but visibly aged beyond their years.His father’s hands trembled, and he wobbled on the uneven ground.Watching him made Briar nervous.He was terrified the old man would fall and break a hip, but he snapped at anyone who dared lend a hand.Mrs. Owens mostly showed her affection for her children by fretting loudly until they soothed her with over-the-top assurances.
The true patriarch of the family was Derek.He was the locus of all activity.He didn’t say much, and he didn’t seem to enjoy playing with the children, but they buzzed around him like fireflies, vying for his attention.Everyone seemed to actively seek out Derek’s approval for even the most trivial of matters.They roped him into every decision, from bringing down extra coolers to how long mayonnaise could sit in the sun.He was both pack-mule and problem-solver, and as the sun began to cool and evening approached, Briar couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked.His temper got shorter, his words got sharper, and his siblings began to give him a wide berth.
“It happens every time,” Susan said, coming up behind Briar and handing him a plate full of grilled fish and macaroni salad.“He never really enjoys himself at family dinners.”
“Maybe if he got a chance to sit down,” Briar suggested, forking up his first bite of flaky white fish and hoping she hadn’t noticed his sarcasm.
Susan smiled wryly. “You’d think, right?But he wouldn’t sit down even if he had the chance.He’s wired to solve problems.”
Briar nodded his understanding.“He’s really good at it.”
“He is,” Susan agreed, flashing Briar an approving look.“In another life, he’d be off curing cancer and launching rockets into space.Instead, he’s stuck fixing my van for the hundredth time.”
Derek, who had been giving every impression of ignoring their existence, glanced up from all the way across the picnic area and barked, “The van broke down again?”
“Not exactly,” Susan hedged. “It’s just making a clunking noise that Ian can’t figure out.”
“I haven’t had time!” protested her husband, a slightly flabby looking man in a trucker cap who hadn’t gotten out of his camp chair the entire afternoon.The look Derek gave him was scathing.
“You shouldn’t be driving that shit bucket,” Derek told his sister fiercely.“Either let me rebuild the engine or take one of the cars I’ve got for sale.”
“We don’t need your charity,” Ian blustered.
“It’s fine, really,” Susan interrupted, and then she physically stepped between the two men to cut their line of sight.Like stepping between dogs at the dog park, Briar thought with grim amusement.“It’s probably just me being paranoid.I’ll let Ian take another crack at it first.”
“Like hell,” Derek snarled, and held out his hand.“Give me the keys.”