Seth swallows the brick in his throat.
His brother’s dark eyes evaluate him intently, his brow now furrowed in concern. Telling Seth he’s this close to pulling out the overprotective big brother card. “Somethin’ else on your mind?”
Luke’s way of asking him what’s really up.
If only Seth knew.
But he doesn’t. All he knows is that these days, he always wants to hit something. A door. A mirror. His own damn self.
Because he feels fucking lost. Uncomfortablearound his own family. Disconnected from the music. It’s like he’s burning inside now, all the time, ever since Luke got hurt. Overthinking, over-drinking, replaying that damn fight in his head, avoiding his brother and Sal like they can see through his bullshit.
And the one person who knows him the best, who’s asking what’s really wrong, he can’t talk to.
No matter how hard he tries, he can’t chase away this funk he’s in. Sometimes it seems like all he’s good for is letting people down and fucking things up.
“You okay, Seth?”
Seth looks up to see Luke staring hard at him.
“I’m gonna go say hi to Sal,” he says, moving for the door before his brother can get into it further. He gives him a cocky grin. “Sounds like she needs some entertainment in her life.”
Luke’s snort follows him.
Inside the farmhouse, the fireplace crackles, chasing away the chill of the outside night. Seth shrugs off his flannel jacket and hangs it on the coat hook.
Sal’s in the living room lying on the plush leather couch, looking small but mighty. She’s propped up by about a million pillows. A book balances on her tiny swollen belly, the television on mute. Winston, her scruffy terrier, is curled up on the floor. Ever the loyal guard dog, he looks up when Seth approaches and lets out a low woof.
Seeing Seth, Sal’s green eyes light up. “Oh, thank God,” she says, wiggling into a sitting position and pulling her legs beneath her. “Someone to talk to.”
“How’s the bean?” Seth asks, slipping beside Sal and curling an arm around her shoulder.
Sal smiles. “Kicking.” She palms her growing belly. Although you’d never know she was pregnant. She and Luke have been doing their damnedest to keep it out of the papers.
Before she can catch him worrying, Seth gives her a quick once-over.
Despite being stuck on the couch for the last week, Sal looks bright-eyed and happy. Which makes him goddamn ecstatic. This kid’s coming in a couple of months and everyone’s on pins and needles waiting for it to be born. Seth included.
Sal nudges him with her shoulder. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.” He makes a disgusted face at the TV. The Nashville Star’s flashing pictures of the best CMA fashion mistakes. “Why are you watchin’ this shit, anyway?”
Sal raises an eyebrow. “Making sure they don’t say anything else about you.”
He groans. “Sal, you’re pregnant. You don’t need to be worryin’ about this.” But his protest is useless. Sal’s shaking her head. Her pretty face fierce, her eyes sparking with determination.
“You’re our family, Seth. We’re not just going to let the Star trash you.” She squeezes his arm. “Besides, you’d do the same for us. You have.”
At the slam of a door, the rustle of plastic, Seth glances over the back of the couch. Luke stands, the bag of food in his hands, an amused smile on his face.
“You were right,” Seth says. “She ain’t so good at relaxin’.”
“I’m tellin’ you, she’s gonna have me goin’ gray before I’m forty,” Luke jokes, tapping a finger against his temple.
Seth winces. The callback to where Luke got clocked by the beer bottle still stings.
The ringing of a phone has Sal gasping in delight.
“It’s for me.” Sal holds up a hand to Luke, who’s made a move toward the phone. “And it’s my only source of fun, Luke, so let me get it.” She narrows her green eyes, sliding the bar to answer it. “I will bite your hand off, country boy.”