Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Easton

I should just go home.

No! Easton Gordon Swift, you have to go!

Ella Gracie Swift, no I don’t! I sigh, then say out loud, “It’s stupid,” into the truck with my dogs and my imaginary dead sister.

It’s not stupid to have friends. You deserve friends. I want that for you. Don’t you see that more than anything in this world, I want you to be happy?

I do see that. I wish she didn’t. Wish she would just let it go and give up on me. I wish Archer would too. He’s hanging on to this hero complex of his longer than I thought. “I’ll go,” I say.

Even more confusing than why I’m talking myself into it with a sister who’s no longer here is the fact that Archer wants me to go. I don’t understand him. I’ve spent my whole life knowing I’m a burden, feeling unwanted, knowing life would be easier for so many people without me around, especially my brothers. They had way too much responsibility because of me, and now here’s Archer, taking my shit on himself.

I follow the navigation to Archer’s house. Because I left before him, I get there first. He lives in town, while my house is on the outskirts of Birchbark. He’s in an older neighborhood with sidewalks and fenced-in backyards, houses down the block.

It doesn’t have the space my place does, not secluded where a person can just breathe. I think I’ll always need space like that, to feel like I have my own world to go to, and for the first time I wonder if that’s weird. If it’s one of those things that makes me different.

I should have asked him to my house instead, but I don’t ever have anyone there. Well, Rhett has been, and Morgan and Dusty, but that’s it.

A moment later Archer pulls into the driveway.

“We still have time to run,” I tell Pretty Girl and Casanova, but then Pretty Girl licks my face, and I know she’s telling me it will be okay.

I get out and release the dogs from the seat belts.

“You came,” Archer says.

“Did I?”

“Always so damn grumpy. I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”

But the thing is, I do. I don’t allow myself to like many people, to think about them or get close, but I like Archer…can’t stop thinking about him. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, and that truth makes me want to get back in the truck, pull away, and never stop driving. “They might jump on the furniture. I’ll try to keep them from it if you want me to, but Pretty Girl is allowed at home.”

“I don’t mind if your dogs get on my couch, East. I’m a lot more laid-back than you think I am.”

The dogs come with me as I follow him down the driveway to the front door. He unlocks it and motions for me to go inside. It looks like…well, an older house. It’s clean and decorated homey, nothing too fancy or loud. Lots of greens and blues. I walk over to his fireplace, photos of his family and Cass and Meadow on the mantel.

“Why don’t you have with Tripp Cassidy that family you told me you wanted?” My stomach is twisty for a reason I don’t understand. Hell, I don’t even know if Cass is queer, but my gut tells me he is.

“Because I’m not in love with him. I don’t see him that way. He’s a brother to me, and that’s how he sees me as well.”

“Never?”

“Nope. Haven’t even kissed him. You can let the dogs off the leash. And it’s late. Are burgers okay with you?”

I unhook the leashes, nervous they’ll do something Archer doesn’t like and it will make him not like me…or me not like him… Though it’s not like he truly likes me anyway.

“East?”

“It’s food, so they’re fine.”

He chuckles. “Man after my own heart.”

I follow him into the kitchen while the dogs sniff around. He washes his hands, puts a bowl of water down for the dogs, then pulls ground beef from the fridge.

I’m in Archer Thorn’s house, and I can’t figure out how I feel about that.

“Do you like to cook?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m good at it too.”

“Hmm. Next time you’ll have to make me dinner, then.”

I shake my head. He keeps talking like he’s going to keep wanting to be friends with me. “You say that like there will be a next time.”

“Damn. I’m lucky I don’t get my feelings hurt too easily.”

Fuck. “I didn’t… I’m not good at this.” Whatever this is.

“You’re fine, East. I’m bustin’ your balls.”

Yes, why can’t we do that? Not the busting part, but playing with balls. That’s a whole lot easier. Sex I understand. We can fuck and be done with it. He can get his enjoyment out of my body, and I’ll get mine out of his.

“Have a seat.” Archer nods toward the chairs at the bar.

“No.” I walk to the sink and wash my hands. If I’m going to be here, I should at least help.

We stand there together in his kitchen, making hamburger patties. I’ve never done this with anyone. Archer seems used to it, though. His heart probably isn’t beating too fast. He’s probably not sweating, his mind not racing as he tries not to talk in his head to someone who isn’t there.

Once we’re finished, he puts them on the stove, and then we wash again before we begin cutting vegetables for a salad.

He talks about his sister, Cora, whom he’s close with, and he mentions her wife. I figure most people know she’s married to a woman, but I didn’t. I don’t pay attention to people around town. I wonder how many other things I missed.

That reminds me that Archer sleeps with men and I haven’t fucked anyone in so damn long.

I’ve never fucked someone I’m…this with either.

“What?” he asks.

“What, what?”

“You made a weird sound.”

“No I didn’t.” I probably did, but I’m not going to tell him that.

Archer lets it go. He talks and I listen while we finish with dinner and then sit down and eat together.

Pretty Girl and Casanova stay at my feet while we eat, and I must admit, I’m glad Casanova seems to know I’m his person. Maybe he’s just by me because Pretty Girl is, but then earlier, with Cass, Casanova had taken comfort in me.

“Why do people call Tripp Cass ?” It’s something I do because everyone does.

“Actually, I started that when we were in high school. We were doing the last name thing because we thought we were little badasses. He called me Thorn, and I called him Cassidy, but then ended up shortening it to Cass, and it stuck.” My stomach gets that unfamiliar tight and twisty feeling again. “His family calls him Tripp, but most everyone else calls him Cass.”

I nod, wishing I hadn’t asked. I’ve been asking him a lot of questions today. It’s annoying as shit.

“What’s Rhett been up to?” he asks.

“Don’t know.”

“You guys don’t talk much?” He sounds like that’s unfathomable to him. But then, my family does a good job pretending we’re a normal, healthy family when we’re anything but.

“We’re not like most people.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” I snap.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m just making conversation.”

There’s been one person in my life I could never stay mad at, hardly be mad at, and that was Ella, but for some reason, it’s difficult with Archer too. He makes me want to apologize, when that’s something I’ve rarely cared to do with anyone else. “It’s fine. Just not good at this.” Which I’ve said before, but it bears repeating. If he didn’t keep trying to do this with me, to talk to me and be friends with me, we wouldn’t have this problem.

“You’re doing fine. Cut yourself some slack. We all snap at people sometimes.”

But I do it more than most…and I want to make it up to him, want to show him that I appreciate the fact that I’m here, even if I know it won’t last. “I’m younger than Rhett and Morgan…which you know. Not sure why I said that. And they had to take care of me a lot. My dad—Gregory. He’s not like other people’s dads. I’m the reason Morgan didn’t leave for college and the source of fights he and Rhett get into. I don’t stop getting into trouble. I’m sure both of them think their lives would be better off if I wasn’t…me.”

“Jesus, East. Do you really think that? I don’t believe that for a second. They—”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m not trying to be a dick, but if you can’t respect that, I’m gonna have to leave.” If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have even given them that warning. Hell, I wouldn’t have said what I did. My skin feels itchy, his gaze like it’s trying to dissect me, trying to see beneath the surface, but once he does, there’s no doubt in my mind that he won’t like what he finds. “Burgers are good.” I take a bite, hoping to change the subject.

“Yeah…yeah they are.”

He wants to say more. I can feel it, and I’m glad he doesn’t. When we’re done eating, I help him with the dishes.

“Bathroom?” I ask, and he tells me where it is. I take a piss, wash my hands, then splash water on my face, before looking at myself in the mirror.

I should go home. He said dinner, and we’ve done that. There’s no reason to stay.

El? She’s been quiet since we got here.

I’m here. He’s nice, East.

I know. That makes it worse, makes me feel worse because he’s nice and I can’t figure out how to accept nice, or how to deserve it.

I like that you’re making friends with him.

I’m a glutton for punishment. Because I know it will hurt when he walks away, and that is something I deserve.

I finish up, then head back into the living room. As soon as I step out of the hallway, I see Archer sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, with both of my dogs around him.

“Daddy will be back soon. He just went to the bathroom. He’s not leaving you. I promise.”

My throat clogs up, my feet rooted to the floor. I don’t know why seeing him love on them, hearing him talk about me, gets inside my head, but I can’t stop watching.

“You’re lucky he found you, Casanova. I’m sure Pretty Girl already told you that.” He bends down, nuzzles Casanova’s neck, and the dog lets him. My heart starts going crazy for reasons I don’t understand. “Be good to him. He deserves it.”

I don’t. I really fucking don’t, but in this moment…I want to believe I do. Want to make Archer feel as good as he’s made me feel, which isn’t something I ever experience.

My brain shuts off, all good sense, if I ever had any, scattering to the wind. I walk over, and Archer looks up at me and smiles. It’s a nice smile, all full lips and kindness.

The dogs scoot out of the way, and I kneel, straddle his lap, take his face in my hands, and drop my mouth to his. I might be a shitty friend, might be terrible with words, but this I can give him. This I want to give him.

He’s stiff for just a moment before his lips soften against mine. I tease his seam with my tongue, and Archer opens for me, lets me inside, hands grabbing my hips, allowing me to explore him. His tongue is tasting me next, and I moan into him, go for his shirt to try and pull it over his head, but the second I reach under it, touch him warm skin to warm skin, Archer pulls back.

He makes a strange sound before his forehead drops to my chest. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

And there it is, what I was expecting to happen all along. Archer realizing he doesn’t want me, that this is too much. I guess I didn’t expect it to happen when I was trying to have sex with him.

“Yeah. You’re right. Don’t know what I was thinking.” I try to climb off him, but his hold on my hips tightens.

“It’s just, we’re friends, and you’re…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, but then, he doesn’t have to. I’m me. Why the hell would Archer Thorn want to fuck me?

“Whatever. It’s fine. Just bored and hard up. I thought we could blow off some steam together.” I try to get off him again, but he keeps holding me.

My head spins. I’m embarrassed and angry, though not at him. At myself.

“Let me go, Archer.”

“Listen to me for a second and—”

“Let. Me. Go.” I punctuate each word, and his hold on me loosens. He doesn’t fight me as I stand up, and then he does the same. “Pretty Girl, Casanova. Come on. Let’s go.” I head for the door and grab their leashes.

“Easton, will you listen to me for a second?” he asks while I hook the dogs. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea on what this is about.”

This is about me being a fuckup and him trying to fix me. I shouldn’t have forgotten that. The worst part is, I get it. I understand why he wouldn’t want to fuck someone like me. I’m a mess, and all he did was not want to kiss me. He has that right.

But I wanted him…tonight I wanted him , wanted more good feelings, wanted to give him the same thing, and I’m not sure how to process what happened.

I open the door.

“East.”

“I’m fine, Archer.”

I walk down the steps with my dogs.

“Hey, promise me you’re okay. That you’re not going to do anything to get yourself into any trouble.”

And there it is again: I’m a project to Archer, someone he feels he has to take care of, and nothing more. The even more fucked-up part is that I want to let him be there for me, want to be able to lean on him. That’s clear because I’ve let him be there for me so many times now, but somehow, I’ve let that get all crisscrossed in my head. I won’t make that mistake again.