Titus: Book Two of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Anna could only watch through the living room windows as Titus hurdled over the fence and ran through the throng of cattle, his large body slowly disappearing until he was a mere speck in the distance. She turned to her mother-in-law, wanting to chase after the two men but knowing she wouldn't be fast enough. “Shouldn't we...do something?”

Tina put a hand up to her forehead, fixing her hair with movements that were so calm compared to the tenseness of this situation of Thrane and Titus literally almost killing each other. “Just give them some time. They usually only take about thirty minutes to an hour or so.” Tina directed a blank look to her husband. “Call the Urgent Care Department and let 'em know we'll be there in an hour.”

She was shocked. Here was an older woman who had just been screaming at her boys to stop fighting, and now that very same woman was going about as if nothing had happened. In fact, everybody but Tobias – who was busy puking into a garbage can in the kitchen – and Jane was going about it like this was no big deal.

Sure, Anna had seen it happen before, but that was when they had been adolescents and not grown men who could seriously do some damage. “Are they gonna be okay?”

Tina's eyes didn't even leave the TV. “Most likely. Trust me, dear. We've seen much worse. This one year, for Tobias's birthday, Thrane blew out the candles on the cake, and Titus took out a tire iron. Thrane threw some rocks, and they both ended up with concussions.”

“But,” she said, “they're so much bigger now!”

“Oh, don't go on telling them that, dear. It'll inflate their already gigantic egos. Besides, this isn't nearly as bad as what happened on this one Christmas.”

From there on, Anna learned all about the list of Cantrell events that had began and endured throughout all of what was going on outside. Tobias had branded Taivon with a cattle prod, Trace had strangled Thrane and had left bruises on the man's neck after his older brother had dropped Callie, and Titan had actually had to intervene one night when Titus had locked Thrane in his room and had thrown some sort of flaming fire ball inside.

“How are they still alive?” she and Jane asked at almost the same time.

“Oh, they love each other. If they didn't, I wouldn't have any sons left.”

The statement was said simply, but Anna didn't take it that way. Instead, she allowed her eyes to bypass the little kids' show on the television and scrutinize the hundreds of acres of field, waiting and watching for any sign of the two Cantrell men.

Nothing appeared. She saw the cattle, the grass, the wind, and the trees beyond, but she didn't see either Titus or Thrane. But her worry eased when Callie crawled up to her and asked her if she could teach her daddy how to braid.

“Please, Anna?” Trace pouted, sticking out his swollen lower lip – the damage most likely having been done by Titus.

She rolled her eyes and let the tension from her body release. For the next long minutes, she and Jane showed Trace how to make the french braid just tight enough to stay in place with a single hair tie but loose enough that Callie could wear it for a full twenty-four hours and not get a headache.

As Trace's long, roughened fingers combed through his daughter's hair with the most tender of strokes, Anna tried not to tear up at the thought of Titus doing this to the child inside of her. It was so easy to see him blowing raspberries on the baby's stomach, brushing his or her hair, and kissing the child every, single night like the father Anna knew he would be.

She didn't let herself think about what would happen after they got the divorce and she moved into a different house or – if she was lucky – got to keep her own house that was so close to Titus's. Clearing the depressing thoughts from her head, Anna went back to instruct the father on another braid, talking for what felt like forever until the front door burst open and Thrane stomped on inside.