Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

Easton

Present day

I hate having to call Morgan and tell him I’ve been arrested. He just came back to Birchbark this summer because our dad had a stroke. He has enough on his plate dealing with a father who wants to control him and Rhett, but who wants nothing to do with me. And Morgan’s complicated relationship with Rhett isn’t much easier. Morgan’s finally starting to be happy—has admitted his feelings for his best friend, Dusty, whom he’s probably been in love with since before I was born, and they’re together.

The last thing he needs to deal with is me.

I’m the last thing anyone should have to deal with.

Still, I call because it’s not me I need him to take care of. It’s my dog, Pretty Girl.

“Hello?” Morgan answers, voice rough with sleep.

“I got arrested. I’m fine. I just need you to go take care of Pretty Girl in the morning. She’s gonna need out, and I don’t want her to be alone.”

“What about you?” Morgan asks. Since he’s been gone for ten years, he’s not tired of me yet. There’s no doubt in my mind that he will be at some point.

“Who cares? Take care of my dog, Morgan. I’m counting on you. I…” Don’t ask for things often…need to make sure she’s okay…don’t know how to reach out. I’m doing my best here.

Fortunately, Morgan doesn’t make me find words—something that’s not always easy for me to do. “We’ll make sure she’s taken care of, but I’m not just hanging you out to dry. What happened?”

Does it really matter? I’m always in the wrong, even when I’m not. But then, whose fault is it but mine? Yeah, the motherfucker I beat deserved it, but I could have found a better way to deal with it. My impulsivity is all on me. “Me.” I sigh. I happened. I always happen.

“I’ll call Archer,” I hear Dusty say in the background.

My heart rate spikes. I can’t figure out how Archer Thorn hasn’t gotten sick of me yet, why in the hell he wastes his time with me at all, other than him thinking it’s his job to fix the world. He thinks he let his cousin die when it wasn’t his fault, and now he’s trying to save me.

Why do I let him try?

Because it’s easier this way. Eventually, he’ll realize I’m not worth it and leave me alone.

I hate it when you talk about yourself like that , Ella says in my head, but I ignore her. I can’t handle talking to her right now.

“Fuck. I’m not even in Birchbark. I’m in Lilington. Just take care of Pretty Girl,” I tell them. “Promise me.”

“Yeah, of course we will.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Gotta go.” I end the call before my time is even up. “I’m done,” I tell the officer, who takes me back to my cell. My face fucking hurts, my swollen eye throbbing the worst. Maybe I should have let them bring a doctor to check me out.

Of course you should have.

I can’t do this right now, El.

I try and close my eyes, but my head aches too much for me to sleep. I’m not sure how much time has passed before I hear, “Get up, Swift.”

“No.” If he wants me up, someone is here. I should have known not to call Morgan, should have known to just leave it alone, but then what would I have done about Pretty Girl? She shouldn’t have to suffer because of my issues.

Archer. You could have called Archer.

But I’ve never been the one to call him. He doesn’t even know Pretty Girl. At least Morgan does.

“Your family got up in the middle of the night to try and help you. The least you can do is show some appreciation.”

He’s right, of course he is, so I stand up, ignoring the pain in my face. The officer handcuffs me, then leads me to a small room.

The second I walk in, the first person I see is my dad. I don’t even know why I call him that. He’s not a father to me. He doesn’t want me. Never has. Immediately, I feel myself shrinking.

“Jesus Christ. Has he seen a doctor?” Morgan snaps.

“He refused,” the officer replies.

“I don’t give a fuck if he refused. He’s seeing a doctor,” Morgan argues, voice sounding like he’s barely hanging on.

The officer walks me over and seats me.

Why? Why does it sound like Morgan cares?

Because he does, El tells me.

“Yes. He is,” Rhett orders, and he’s like my dad in that when he says something, people listen. I don’t have to look at the officer to know he’s going to make it happen, and all that does is piss me off. I didn’t need this.

The door shuts behind me, and I know the officer left.

I turn to my middle brother. “Fuck you, Morgan. I asked for your help with Pretty Girl, not this.” I’m so tired of them trying to fix me, to make me into exactly what they want me to be so I don’t make them look bad.

“I called Rhett. I didn’t know he was at Dad’s.” Morgan kneels in front of me. When he reaches out and tries to touch my face, I pull away. “Christ, East. What happened?”

“Are you going to see my dog tomorrow?”

“Yes. And if we can’t make it, Cass will. We’ll take care of her. I promise. Right now, I’m more worried about you.”

I’m not worth it. One day you’ll see.

Yes, you are.

Stop it, Ella.

“What happened?” Rhett asks, his tone making it clear he thinks it’s my fault. It makes my skin feel too tight.

“I attacked someone. That’s what they told you, right?” It doesn’t matter what I say. It never does.

Dusty says, “We’re not asking what they told us. We’re asking you what happened because we trust and believe in you.” And he does. I don’t get why, but Dusty loves all of us. He’s been put through a lot because of it, and the last thing I want is to make that worse. The sooner he realizes I’m beyond help, the better, so I don’t reply.

Rhett tries again. “Easton, you have to give me something to work with here. Tell me what happened.”

Ah, because he’s going to be my lawyer. Of course he is. Gotta try and fix this for Dad.

“Him,” our father interrupts my thoughts. “He’s what happened. He always happens.”

He’s right, I do. I hate him, but he sees me for who I am.

I don’t reply, wish I could keep getting smaller and smaller until I disappear.

“Dad…” Morgan says, but I can’t make myself look at him, look at any of them.

Don’t listen to him, East.

He’s right, El.

No, he’s not.

“Not…babying him…anymore. He’s a disgrace,” Dad spits out, his words coming out slower because of the stroke.

“Dad!” Rhett warns.

“He’ll ruin us, ruin you. You’re running for mayor. Distance yourself from him. He’s not a Swift.”

He’s right, he’s right, he’s right.

Morgan pushes to his feet, yelling at Dad, who tries to get him to quiet down. Dusty holds Morgan back as he sticks up for me, tries to kick our dad out, but I don’t deserve that. Why is he doing that?

When Dad speaks again, it’s directed at me. I feel the hate, so I look at him, see it too. He’s not even trying to hide it from Morgan, Rhett, and Dusty.

“She wanted you…gave her life for you…and this…is how you thank her?” He’s talking about Mom. She wanted her girl, wanted a daughter so much, but she got two of us—me and Ella. A few days after she had us, she had a postpartum hemorrhage and didn’t make it. Nine years later, we lost Ella. “You weren’t worth it. Wish it had been you…not Ella.”

Me too.

And none of them even know the truth. If they did, knew I told Ella where to hide, then Morgan and Rhett would hate me too.

No, East. Don’t listen to him , Ella says.

Morgan lunges at Dad. Dusty tries to hold him back, but then…then the last thing I expect to happen does.

“That. Is. Enough!” Rhett grabs Dad. Rhett, who has never done anything to anger our father. Rhett, whose dream is to be just like him. “My whole fucking life I’ve tried with you, tried to be who you want, and I’m fucking done. Don’t ever talk to my brother that way again.”

My brother. I try to soak in the words, the name I don’t deserve, a thank-you on my tongue that I can’t work through how to say.

They continue to argue around me, but I can’t look at them, can’t talk to them, just stare down, studying my bruised and battered hands as they kick Gregory Swift out of the room.

I turn to them, waiting to see the regret, trying to figure out why they’re here and why they did that.

“What happened tonight, East?” Rhett asks.

When I don’t reply, Morgan adds, “I know you. If you attacked that man, there’s a reason. Don’t sacrifice yourself because you don’t think you deserve it.”

I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.

A knock sounds from the door, and a heavy breath whooshes from my lungs. I don’t know how I know it’s him, why that feels better, like some of the pressure eases off me. That’s a dangerous way to think. I can’t get used to that, used to him. Why the fuck hasn’t he given up already?

“Thank fuck,” Dusty says as he lets Archer inside.

“I had to pull some strings to get in here.” He comes over to me and touches my face, the slightly rough pad of his finger brushing against my chin as he studies my injuries.

I pull away. “Why are you here? Why are any of you here?”

“Give me a minute with him,” Archer tells them. It takes a moment, but I’m surprised they listen to him, surprised I don’t argue. When we’re alone, he says, “I hope the other guy is worse. You’re a mess.”

“Fuck off.” But I actually almost smile.

“Tell me what happened.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, and you know me. I’m not leaving this room until you talk.”

“Jesus. Why are you so fucking obsessed with me?” I ask, and for the second time, Archer reaches out and touches my face.

This time, I don’t pull away. Why don’t I pull away? Why do I want to nuzzle in closer? It’s not him specifically, but just…to be closer to someone, to feel something soft, when everything in my life is always so hard.

“Talk to me. If you don’t, I’ll find out another way what happened. Make it a little easier on me, yeah?”

He brushes his finger against my cheek, my gaze holding firm on his.

I really think you can trust him, East.

Doesn’t she get that I can’t? That I’ve never completely trusted anyone in my life but her?

But I don’t want to make this harder on Archer. He’s right. I know him. He’s determined, and he’ll work himself to death trying to help me. The least I can do is make it a little easier on him.

“There was this fucking asshole there. I saw him through the window…he backhanded his girl in the parking lot. She left. He came back in, and I showed him what it feels like to be hit.”

“Jesus, Easton. So quietly fucking noble. Why wouldn’t you tell them that?”

I shrug and look away. He sighs.

On the back wall there’s a first aid kit. Archer grabs it, then starts cleaning the cut on my face.

“I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“What you said,” I reply.

His dark brows draw together, brown eyes studying me, like he has no idea what I’m talking about. His hair falls slightly into his face, over his forehead, and he just watches me through the strands.

I roll my eyes. “Noble.”

“Okay,” he replies simply, then keeps cleaning.

“I’m serious.”

“I said okay.”

“Yeah, but that was to placate me. You don’t agree with me.”

He winks. Fucking winks, whatever the hell that means. “I think you just want me to keep giving you compliments.”

I jerk back. “God no. I hate that.” I never know how to react on the rare occasion someone gives me a compliment—well, unless it’s about my looks.

“I think that’s a shame.”

I don’t move as he finishes with my face, then moves on to my hands. I’m not sure why I don’t stop him, but Archer always makes me do stuff I don’t expect.

When he finishes, he puts the kit away, then pulls out his phone. “Give me everything you can on the asshole…the woman, the vehicle. Where were you?”

I tell him the bar, what they both looked like, the make and model of his vehicle. “I have the license plate too.”

“No shit?” He cocks a brow and looks…proud? It makes my pulse throb, but I try to ignore it, push down anything that doesn’t feel bad.

“It’s nothing. He hit a woman, and I’m not an idiot. It made sense to memorize it.” I recite it for Archer.

“Okay. That’s good. Can I tell your brothers what you told me?”

I nod, silently thankful he asked. That he didn’t assume and gave me a choice. “I don’t…I can’t…I don’t want to see them tonight, though.”

He stares at me for a moment, an expression I can’t read, then says, “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” jumps out of my mouth, and before I can stop the words, I ask, “Why? Why do you do this for me? All of it.”

He sighs, hand on the knob, but turns to look at me.

“Never mind. I have no idea why I asked that. You’re Mr. Fucking Perfect. You want to fix everything for everyone.”

Sometimes words spill from my mouth, and I hate myself for saying them, but I still do it. It’s like I don’t have control over all the anger living inside me.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t agree about being perfect, but I am a fixer. I like to help people, but this…what I do with you? It’s not the same.”

I shift, unsure how to feel or what to think about that.

Oh God. He’s so sweet! Ella croons.

Too sweet for me. Stop it, Ella.

I shouldn’t ask. I don’t want to ask, but I can’t stop myself. “Then why?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. Just…feels right.”

He doesn’t expand, and I don’t ask him to. Archer Thorn slips out of the room, somehow gets my brothers to leave, then comes back in, not leaving me alone.