“Just sittin’ here tryin’ to help Sawyer dry his tears,” Braydon said with a stern face, and Sawyer damn near choked on his beer. Jab number four.
That one got a rise out of him. “Fuck off,” Sawyer grumbled on a laugh.
“See, all dry. My job here is done.” With that, Braydon actually stood from his stool, slapped Sawyer on the back none too gently, and headed toward the back where the pool tables were.
Shit, if Sawyer had known it would be that easy . . .
“Is he here by himself?” Brendon asked, taking his place in the exact same spot his twin had just vacated and jerking his chin toward Braydon.
“Guess so,” Sawyer answered, tilting his bottle to his lips and twisting on his stool to study the rest of the room.
“Where’s Jess?” Brendon asked, referring to Braydon’s fiancée.
“Hmm,” Sawyer pretended to consider that for a moment. “I don’t think it’s my night to babysit her. Or did I miss a memo?”
“You missed a memo, bro,” Brendon retorted, smiling.
“Yeah?”
“Damn straight. The one that said you weren’t allowed to be a pussy.” Jab number five.
Sawyer laughed, staring at Brendon, trying to figure him out. For the last few months, Brendon had been a royal pain in the ass in every way possible. From his frequent shitty attitude to the accident that landed his ass in the hospital after he’d done the unthinkable and had too much to drink and then climbed behind the wheel of his truck, Brendon had been stirring up shit left and right.
Not that Sawyer had tried to get up in his business. He was more the type to watch things unfold. If his interference was necessary, he didn’t have any qualms about speaking his mind. But as far as Brendon went, Sawyer just wasn’t sure whether there was anything he could say to help him. Brendon was going to have to figure this out on his own.
“Me? You’re sayin’ I’m the one actin’ like a pussy? Sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” Sawyer held out his hand and watched Brendon stare at it. “Kettle. You must be pot.”
“Fuck off,” Brendon said with a strangled snort. The beer he inhaled probably hurt just a little.
You’re welcome.
Truth was, Sawyer actually felt a little better now that his brothers were there to give him a hard time. Especially Brendon. He’d missed the little twerp and his smart-ass mouth. Sawyer much preferred seeing him with a smile on his face rather than the damn frown he’d plastered there for months.
“Where’s Travis?” Brendon asked, taking the beer Mack delivered without his even having to request it.
“Shit,” Sawyer grumbled before downing the rest of his beer.
“What’s wrong?”
“I forgot to call everyone and find out where they were, what they were doing, and when they’d be here. Sorry, bro. Apparently, I’m fallin’ down on the job.”
Brendon’s lips tilted into a genuine grin. “Shut the fuck up.”
Sawyer returned the smile, and then slapped Brendon on the back. “Tell ya what. I’m gonna let you take attendance tonight. So, as of right now, don’t you dare ask me where anyone else is.”
“Fine, grumpy ass,” Brendon said with a snort before sauntering off to the back of the bar to join his twin.
Not that he was interested in figuring out the location of his six brothers tonight, four of whom had not started off their Thursday night by giving Sawyer a hard time. But now that Brendon mentioned it, Sawyer was a little surprised that Jessie wasn’t there with Braydon. Ever since the two had hooked up officially—and by official, Sawyer was referring to the proposal Braydon had sprung on an unsuspecting Jessie back in September at a family dinner—they’d rarely been seen apart.
That was just shy of two months ago. Then again, every guy needed a little alone time. However, in their case, Sawyer could very well see Jessie shoving Braydon out the door so she’d have a little peace and quiet. Especially since they’d all just spent quite a bit of time together over Thanksgiving. Any holiday was a big deal at the Walker house, but Thanksgiving and Christmas were all-hands-on-deck-type celebrations. With Christmas coming in just a few short weeks, there wouldn’t be much downtime for any of them.
“Haven’t seen Travis in recently,” Mack offered when he joined Sawyer at the end of the bar.
“Knowing him, the old fart’s probably at home hovering over his wife, his hands out as though waiting to receive a football.”
Mack grinned, probably imagining the scene the same way Sawyer was. “Kylie’s gettin’ close, huh?”