Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Easton

F or the second time, I’m showing up at Rhett’s house unannounced. This isn’t something I’ve ever done until recently. I tried to stay away from my brother once I was out of the house. Rhett and Morgan had to deal with me enough when we were kids. The last thing I want is to put my shit on them as an adult too, but this visit isn’t about me. It’s just me doing some really weird shit I’ve never done before.

I knock on the door, and this time, Rhett doesn’t answer it sweaty or covered in sawdust. He’s got on jeans and a T-shirt, but even the sight of that is different when it comes to him. Rhett has always been more of a slacks-and-nice-shirt guy, like Gregory.

“Nothing is wrong with me.” I’d rather get that out before he has the chance to ask because the question will just annoy me.

“I wasn’t going to ask. I am surprised you’re here, though.”

I shrug. “That makes two of us.” Probably not the best answer, but it’s honest.

“Our family doesn’t really work that way, does it?” He turns and begins walking away. “Come in if you want. I don’t care either way.”

“Careful, Rhett, or you’ll sound too much like me.” I close the door. “We were taught not to really care about each other, but to care about everything else—what people think, how we look to others, sounding polite and interested, when really all we do is think about ourselves.” That’s how Gregory has always been, how Rhett has been because of him.

“I don’t care about that anymore.” He picks up a stack of papers and slips them under his laptop, then closes it. “What are you doing here, East?”

I wring my hands, wishing I had a piece of paper so I could fold a butterfly to keep myself busy. It’s as good a distraction method as I’ve ever had. “I don’t know.”

His forehead wrinkles. Clearly, he didn’t expect that.

“I stopped by Gracie’s. Morgan’s got a lot of plans. He’s real proud of what he’s doing at the bar, and I just thought you might want to know.”

“The two of you are getting close. That’s good.” He looks down.

“I’m not sure how to do this, Rhett. It should be Morgan here, not me. I’m shit at stuff like this. I can’t tell how to comfort you or if you need it. I can’t say the right things, but…give Morgan a chance. He deserves it. You deserve it.”

His head snaps up, that curious look in his eyes. “What about you?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“We’re all brothers.”

I run a hand through my hair. “Just talk to Morgan.”

It surprises me when Rhett nods. I can’t say if that means he’ll actually do it, but I hope so.

Ask him if you can all do something together. You should all be together.

It’s more important for them, El, and you know it.

No. You’re important too.

And then, for some reason, I think about Archer. He would say the same. What is it with people in my life telling me stuff like that all of a sudden? Sure, one of them isn’t even alive and a lie I tell myself because I don’t know how to handle life without her, but still.

“Maybe we could all…do something. They’ll come over to see my dogs sometime. You could come too.” My stomach twists, the urge to pull back into myself, to take the words back and walk out the door tugging on me.

“Morgan hates me, even if he’s trying to act like he doesn’t. You’ve never wanted anything to do with me. You don’t have to pretend otherwise.”

Rhett stands and tries to walk past me, but I reach out and grab his arm. His words repeat through my head, creating a picture I’ve never seen before, one that’s not a Rhett I’ve ever imagined, yet more similar than I would have thought. Coming from someone else…it hurts to have them think of themselves that way. “You sound like me,” I say softly.

“What?”

We all sound like this, don’t we? All three of us have so much fucking anger, so much resentment at ourselves and each other, and none of us feel like we deserve anything more. Morgan is learning now because of Dusty, but Rhett and I, we’re still lost, kept afloat by a lifetime of a man breaking us down until we can’t help but hate ourselves and everything around us. How did I not see it before? I never thought I had anything in common with Rhett—Morgan either, but Rhett the least. In this moment, I realize I do. We’re tied together in our trauma, and it’s shaped many of our pieces to be the same.

“He’s fucked us up so much, Rhett.” It’s more than Gregory for me, of course, because it’s my fault Ella died, but the rest of it, it’s all on the man who was supposed to love us but never cared about anyone but himself. And I’m not sure if I deserve this, don’t know if I should be trying to…whatever the fuck this is I’m trying to do, but I don’t think I can stop myself.

“He did,” Rhett answers, not pulling out of my hold. Except for that night at the jail, it’s the first time he hasn’t automatically defended Gregory.

“You should meet the dogs.”

“Me, you, Dusty, and Morgan? That sounds like an accident waiting to happen.”

“Archer will be there too.”

He gives me that studying expression he’s so good at. He’s often the smartest person in a room, and he can make you feel like an experiment he’s trying to work out. This one I know is about Archer—take one mentally scarred man, and another who is probably the best damn person to ever live, and…

“When?”

“I don’t know yet.” I’m not sure how ready I am to do it ASAP, but it needs to be done.

“Sure, East. I’ll come,” he says softly before stepping away. This time, I let him.

This was enough for me today. My hands are shaking, heart beating too fast, emotions short-circuiting my brain. “I’ll let you know when,” I tell him, then walk out without another word.

The second I’m back in my truck, I pull a piece of paper from the glove box and begin folding a butterfly. As soon as it’s done, I fold another and another until I’ve been sitting there for who knows how long and I have a passenger seat full of butterflies. But it’s not enough, never enough.

My chest is heavy like there’s a weight on it. I want to go to a bar, go out and get drunk or cause trouble because it’s easier than feeling things. Want to drive too fast and dangerous for the rush. Risk myself because there’s no reason not to. Why shouldn’t I just be the fuckup everyone wants me to be rather than sitting here, trying to fix shit with my brothers and…Archer. I don’t want to disappoint him. Don’t want to give him a reason to not be friends with me anymore. Maybe he won’t walk away. Maybe if I can do the right thing, I won’t lose him.

Instead of going to the bar, I call him.

“Hey. You never just call. Is everything—”

“I want you.” I shake my head. “Shit. I’m sorry. You might be busy…at work or whatever and…I shouldn’t have called.” Yesterday he visited his sister after work, so maybe he’s doing that again.

“Yes, you should have. You can always count on me. I’ll always be there for you, and I’ll always want you too.”

Damned if I don’t want to believe him. What is it about Archer Thorn that reaches me at depths I didn’t know I had?

“Where are you?”

“About to leave Rhett’s. On my way home now.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“I…” Thank you. Why do you like me? How do I make sure I don’t lose you? Would you still like me if you knew I told Ella where to hide?

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart. I want to be the person you call. And not only that, I want you to be the person I call too.”

I nod as if he can see me. It’s so hard after a lifetime of negative thinking, of cruel words being hammered into me, not to always envision worst-case scenarios, not to always think negatively about myself. But I want to change. Ella would want that for me…and Morgan does too. And Rhett, and Archer. “See you soon.” I end the call and drive home, pulse thumping too fast the whole way.

When I pull up in front of my house, Archer is already there. He’s leaning against his car, waiting for me, arms crossed. When I get out, he smiles. It’s so big, it nearly takes over his whole face, and all I can think is…how? How can someone be that happy just to see me?

I shake my head. “I don’t understand you.”

“But you called me, and you want me. You told me so. I’m gonna wear that as a badge of honor.”

I roll my eyes, but hearing him say that makes my heart grow. It had been shriveled up before, like a plant I never watered, that no one watered until Archer, and while it’s not thriving yet, I’m afraid to be hopeful that it’s coming back to life.

“I want your cock,” I tease, walking up to him and palming his bulge. Which is true, but that doesn’t feel like enough. I can’t wrap my mind around exactly what I’m feeling, what I can handle, but it’s not just the sex. “And no one else’s.” I nuzzle into Archer’s throat, and he tilts it, giving me access. “My head was fucked up…I wanted to do something reckless…but then I thought about you, and it helped. You always help. From that first night years ago when you sat in the dirt with me.” I kiss him, lick his collarbone. “I have no idea why you do it, but I’m so fucking thankful that you do.”

“Jesus, East.” He grabs my face and crushes our mouths together. My words were so simple, it makes me realize I don’t give him enough. I feel how much he appreciates them, how much he wants them in the sweep of his tongue and the eager, possessive way he kisses me. I vow to try and do better, to be the kind of person Archer deserves, and maybe he’ll want to keep me.

He nibbles my lip, then takes over my mouth again. I push closer, wishing there was a way I could sink inside him because Archer feels like the only safe place I’ve ever had.

I groan needily when his hands slide down my body, holding my ass. I want him to push inside me, fill me in the way he does that makes me feel less alone, like I’m connected to someone or something when my whole life has been spent untethered.

“You hungry for it? Your hole needy for me, good boy?”

“Yes. God yes.”

“Me too.” He unbuttons and unzips my jeans right there in the driveway, sucks his finger, then shoves his hand down the back of my pants. I spread my legs for him, Archer’s finger slipping between my cheeks to rub my rim. “This is what you need, isn’t it? I need it too.”

“Fuck,” escapes my lips when the tip of his finger pushes in. “Don’t know why having you inside me makes me feel this way.”

He slides it in and out. There’s not a whole lot of lubricant, and it’s a little rough, but damned if I don’t need it anyway, if it doesn’t make me feel good.

Archer cups my cheek with his other hand, angling my face so I’m looking at him. “You deserve to feel good. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel that way.”

I nod. He will. I don’t doubt that, and right now, it doesn’t matter if I understand why. I just need it and want to find a way to earn it.

“My results came through,” Archer says. “Negative.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Deeper. And me too. Negative.”

He pushes his finger in more, making me melt against him again. I wish we had lube. I’d let him take me right here. I could take him without it, but I know Archer won’t.

“So I get to fill you up with my cum? Get to know it’s leaking out of you all fucking night? Gonna mark up your insides, sweetheart, over and over again, so you always have a part of me with you.”

“Christ, Archer. Fuck me.”

“I will. I’m dying to take you raw.”

He pulls his finger out, the emptiness hitting me deep. I take his hand and pull him toward the house. The second I open the door, Pretty Girl and Casanova come running, jumping all over us and then heading straight for the yard.

“I don’t want to wait. I can’t,” I tell him, not even embarrassed by the neediness in my voice.

“Shit. Me neither. Can I fuck you right here? Take you on your porch hard and fast to take the edge off? You called me, East, and that means something to me. Once isn’t going to be enough tonight.”

The truth is, it’s not enough for me either. It never is with him.

“Fuck yes.” I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the wood below. The porch runs the length of the front of the house, covered, but otherwise open.

Archer steps forward, swatting my hands away when I try to take off my jeans. When I drop my arms to my sides, he says, “Good boy,” and damned if I don’t feel like preening. He makes me feel good, makes me want to be good for him.

Archer takes my shoes off, then tugs my jeans and underwear down. He walks me over to the railing, taking my hands and placing them on top.

“Don’t move.”

There’s still lube in the living room, which I’m sure is what he’s going for. My cock aches while I wait for him, leaking and throbbing for the feeling that only Archer can give me.

When I hear a sound, I look over my shoulder, and he’s coming out of the house naked with a bottle in his hand.

“Look at you, staying right where I told you, ass out and waiting for me.”

“Hurry up,” I say breathlessly. The pressure is building inside me, this constant ache that eases when Archer is within me.

“I got you, East.” He steps up behind me, pumping lube onto his fingers while he kisses my shoulder.

Archer sets the bottle on the railing, then slips his fingers into my crease. The second he takes the first sweep over my hole, a lungful of air escapes me, like it’s been trapped and only Archer can set it free.

“I love how much you need it. Makes me feel like a fucking king.” He pushes his finger inside me, sliding it in and out.

“Two. I need two.”

He kisses my shoulder again, sucks on the skin there, then moves to the other side, where the butterfly tattoo is, and presses his lips there too, just before the second finger eases into me.

It makes my eyes sting, all this emotion I’ve spent a lifetime burying as deep as I could get it, coming to the surface.

“Again.”

He kisses it a second time, pushing his fingers in deep. They brush over my prostate, sending a wave of pleasure rushing down my spine.

He pulls out, then pushes back in, and there’s more pressure and stretching, what I assume is three fingers filling me. “You’re so good for me. You’re in my head all the time. I can’t stop thinking about you, wanting to be with you. I spent my whole life not realizing there was something always missing, but now I know it was you, sweetheart.”

A tear slips out of my eye, rolling down my cheek and landing on the wood between my hands. I’ve never in my life felt important, worthy of shit—at least not since Ella died—and while those feelings are still there, Archer is working some kind of magic on them. Making me feel and want things I never thought I could. Making me hope that maybe I can be better if I make someone like him feel this way.

“Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

When he pulls his fingers out, the emptiness is like an echo in my chest. He pumps lube onto his hand and slicks his cock, and then…then he pushes inside and the echo is silenced.

“So good. Love the feel of your tight hole around my cock.”

My hands fist on the railing as Archer slowly pushes inside. Why does this feel so good? So right?

The fullness somehow eases something inside me. It’s temporary. I get that. Archer can’t fix me, but for the first time in my life, I’m wondering if I can fix myself, want to find a way to do it.

When he’s all the way in, his groin against my ass, his arms wrap around me, mouth close to my ear. “Never felt anything like it. It’s like your ass was made for me.”

Maybe it shouldn’t, but hearing that makes me soar. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling worthless, but I was made for him, or at least part of me was.

“Want that,” I admit.

I swear a blast of heat radiates off him. “Fuck.” Archer pulls back, then snaps his hips forward again. He fucks into me hard and fast just like he promised. His cock hits my prostate over and over again, each time shooting me higher.

His arms encircle my waist, right hand wrapping around my cock. Archer strokes me as he thrusts into me, telling me how good I am, how good for him I am. The sounds of our fucking, bodies slapping and heavy breathing, mix with the outside noises, the dogs exploring the yard, the wind through the trees. Everything is brighter, hopeful. The moment feels like a kind of magic I never knew existed.

“You feel so good, East. Wanna always be inside you.”

“Me too.” I push back against him, pleasure filling me so much, it’s oozing out of my pores. The feel of his breath on my neck, his dick pounding my ass and his hand stroking my cock, is almost too much to handle, and maybe it is because a second later my orgasm slams into me, and there’s nothing I can do to hold it off. My dick jerks in his hand, balls rising as I spurt cum all over the porch.

“Fuck,” Archer grits out behind me, still fucking me through an orgasm like there’s a never-ending supply of cum. His teeth bite down on the spot where my shoulder meets my neck, as his cock twitches, his cum filling me with each spasm, Archer’s load right where it belongs.

We don’t move for a moment, the two of us just breathing together, while his dick begins softening inside me. I close my eyes when he pulls out, not wanting the emptiness to return, but then he’s pushing what feels like two fingers inside me. My hole is tender, but I don’t care. I want it, need it, Archer keeping his cum and another part of himself inside me.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one saying that to you.” He uses his other hand to grab my face and turn my head to the side. “Thank you. I would stand here doing this all fucking night, and not because I think you need me, but because it’s where I want to be. I can’t wait until you see that, sweetheart.”

I’m starting to.

I want to.

He kisses me, silencing those voices that rarely leave my head, the ones that question everything and fear everything. It’s hard to feel anything except good when I’m with Archer Thorn.