out. Of course, that meant JJ was going to blame Brantley in some way. That was the way it worked, right? The messenger took the brunt of the anger.
“How much do I owe you for the material?” Brantley asked, getting to his feet and dusting his hands on his jeans.
“Nothin’,” he grumbled. “It’s my contribution to the business.”
He expected an argument, could even see the storm brewing in Brantley’s eyes, but it never came.
“I’m meetin’ with one of Lauren’s teachers,” Brantley explained, turning away from him. “I’ll grab lunch while I’m out.”
Because he could add nothing, Reese said nothing.
A few minutes later, he was alone in the barn.
After carrying his water to his desk, he flopped down, stared at the pile of wood that would eventually give them access to the loft. He had no idea what Brantley intended to do with the space, wasn’t sure it was even his place to ask.
Rather than worry about it, Reese grabbed his phone, pulled up JJ’s number, shot her a text.
You doing all right? Just checking in.
He didn’t expect a response, certainly not for her to call him rather than message him back.
“Hey,” he greeted. “You slackin’ off today?”
“Workin’ from home,” she said, her voice huskier than usual.
“Everything all right?”
“Actually, yes. Where’re you at?”
“HQ,” he said, using her term for the barn. “Helpin’ Brantley put in stairs. You should come by. Another set of hands’ll be good.”
“Stairs?”
“To the loft,” he explained.
“Oh. Sounds fun.”
It wasn’t, but Reese didn’t say as much. Truth was, he was spending time with Brantley, and right now, that was all that mattered. He knew once the project was complete, they’d go back to working solo until it was absolutely necessary. Hell, Reese wouldn’t be surprised if Brantley hired on a couple more people just so they didn’t have to work together ever again.
“Anyway,” he told JJ. “If you need to get outta the house, I’ll be here.”
“Where’s B?”
“He went to meet with one of Lauren’s teachers, then he’s grabbin’ lunch.”
A soft grunt was her only response.
“JJ?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t be mad at him. You should’ve seen him on Saturday night. It took me and Trey to hold him back when he saw Dante. He’s got your back. Don’t think he doesn’t.”
“I know.” She cleared her throat. “You’re right. I know you are.”
“Dante’s not worth it. You deserve so much better than him.”
“I really do,” she agreed and he was almost positive he could hear the smile in her voice.
“Like I said, if you wanna swing by, I’ll be here.”
“’Kay. Talk to you later.”
Setting his phone on his desk, Reese leaned back in his chair and stared around.
How the hell had everything gotten so fucked up so quickly?
Chapter Nine
By the time Saturday rolled around, Brantley could see the light at the end of the tunnel for the project they’d spent the week working on. Hadn’t taken much to get the stairs installed. From there, they’d added a railing to the loft level, manufactured hardwood to the plywood floors, then installed a window because JJ said some natural light would be good.
Turned out, the two of them worked well together when it came to building projects. Brantley was rather impressed with how well they’d done for amateurs. And he knew they’d done a damn fine job when JJ had given her approval. Granted, she wasn’t talking to him much, but she had stopped by on Wednesday to check in. She hadn’t stuck around long, insisting she was working from home until they were finished. He took it as a good sign that she’d come by every day after that.
Brantley was giving her a wide berth, not sure where they stood but hoping like hell they’d find their way soon enough.
And while the work had gone smoothly, the interactions between him and Reese hadn’t. No conversations had taken place, the barn filled with music in an attempt to avoid having to talk. That had been Brantley’s doing. He could tell Reese wanted to talk, and as much as he wanted to clear the air between them, Brantley wasn’t ready yet. However, he did hold out hope that they would eventually be friends again.
One day.
Not that he wanted to think about that. He was exhausted, both body and mind. It had been a successful week with the exception of one more migraine last night. Once the pain had subsided, he should’ve been able to catch some z’s but sleep eluded him.
If Brantley had to guess, he had managed at least three hours of shut-eye every