I’m still trying to figure my life out at twenty-seven. I’ve yet to find something that holds my attention for more than a few months. Thankfully, because of a few years of pro ball salary and smart investments, I don’t need to worry about finances. But it doesn’t help scratch the itch of restlessness I’ve felt since my career ended.
“We can get James on board,” Tank says.
I don’t miss the we, like he already thinks I’m on Team Tank.
“The location isn’t so far from Austin,” he continues. “The town needs a little TLC, but once we fix it up—”
“Let me stop you right there.” I hold up a hand. “The town needs TLC? Like, the whole town you bought?”
“It’s a little past its glory days,” Tank admits. “But nothing we can’t fix up. I think it will be fun.”
“Fun is taking a family trip to Cancun or a cruise to the Bahamas. Fun is an all-you-can eat brisket buffet. Fun is poker night. Fixing up a whole town does not sound like a good time.”
Tank only grunts, crossing his arms and giving me a dark look. Shut up, Patrick, I tell myself, because I can tell that with every word coming out of my mouth, he’s only getting more stubborn about this whole thing. But restraint is not in my wheelhouse.
“Let me get this straight,” I say. “You bought a town to house the brewery, and you want us all to fix it up HGTV style?” Tank nods. “But you didn’t think to ask us first?” He nods again, and I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have watched all those renovation shows with you. Now they’ve got you thinking you can just up and Joanna Gaines a town.”
“What did I say about nouns as verbs, son?”
I ignore him and pull out my phone to call in the reinforcements, aka my siblings. I’m not doing anyone any favors by running my big mouth.
Our dad has dug in his heels, and at this point, I think it may take all of us to pull the stubborn old mule off this idea. I open the group text with Collin, James, Harper, and her husband. Chase has a way of keeping us all calm. Or, at least, calmer. Our fistfights have decreased by at least seventeen percent since Chase joined the family.
Before I can type so much as a scared-face emoji or 9-1-1, Tank snatches the phone out of my hand. “Don’t tell your brothers. Not yet.”
“Give me my phone, Pops.” When he slides it into the back pocket of his jeans, I groan. “This isn’t the kind of decision you make alone. Or with just me. We’re all involved here.”
“I need you to see it first. That’s why I asked you to come over.”
“I thought you needed help moving furniture.”
“It was a ruse,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Clearly.”
“I need you, Pat.”
Being chosen should feel like an honor. Instead, it feels a little like my dad singled out the weakest member of the herd. I hate being thought of as the easy mark. Even if it’s true. I’m less intense and serious than my siblings, but it doesn’t make me a pushover. I’m the fun one. Not a dummy, not a weak link.
Except, maybe I am. Because already, curiosity is warring with my better judgment. I want to see the town in all its faded glory. But my brothers will murder me if I don’t tell them. Especially James. And since he’s the only one bigger than Tank, I tend to give his rage a wide berth.
“Tank.”
“Patty.”
Forget the African plains. We’re at the OK Corral, hands on our holsters, waiting for someone to draw first.
“You’ll understand when you see it,” Dad says. “You’re a man of vision, like me.”