Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Morgan

Easton: Since you won’t leave me alone, you might as well come over. My dog wants to meet you.

I smile at the text from my brother, which came out of the blue. It’s Sunday, and I know Dusty was going to go to the shop and take care of some work, so I’ve just been hanging out at the house, with a dad who isn’t talking to me.

Me: I can do that.

Easton: Thank fuck because I’m not going there.

I chuckle.

Me: Honestly? There’s nowhere I want to be less than here with him. I’ll be right there.

Still, after I grab my things, I go to Dad’s office, knock, and stick my head inside. “I’m going to see East.”

“At least he makes time for you. I never see him unless he’s in trouble.”

“Can you blame him? And when do you make time for him?”

“You’ve always done this. You always make me the bad guy. Rhett is the only child I have who gives a damn about me.”

The thing is, he really believes what he’s saying. He’s good at being the victim and never sees what he does wrong in any situation. But then, he also just told Rhett he needs a break from him. Dad’s love hurts more than when he’s not showing it.

“And yet, how often do you tell Rhett that? Why do you make him feel like shit too?” We hurt the ones we love the most, or in Dad and Rhett’s situation, he knows he can do anything to Rhett, and my brother will never stop trying with him. He likes having that control.

“Rhett can stick up for himself if he has a problem.”

I wait to see if I’ll get anything else out of him. When I don’t, I head out for East’s place. He’s outside when I get there, a cinnamon-colored dog running lopsided. It’s clear something’s wrong with its leg. The limp is pronounced, the limb looking slightly shorter than the others. It turns my way, tongue hanging out, looking like it’s smiling while it runs straight for me. At one point it trips but gets right back up, not caring about its imperfections, just happy to be alive.

I bend down, the dog jumping on me and lapping at my face. “Well, aren’t you friendly. Definitely not a guard dog, are you?”

East chuckles, walking over to us. “That she’s not.”

When I pet her head, I realize there’s also an old injury to her ear. It looks like someone took a chunk out of it.

“What happened to her?”

“She’s a rescue. She’d been badly abused when they found her. People moved and left her crated in the house. For a while they weren’t sure if she was gonna make it.” East kneels too, and the dog leaves me to bounce all over him. He wraps his arms around her, the dog licking him. East puts his hands over her ears as if she won’t be able to hear. “Then of course no one wanted her, but shh. We don’t tell her that.”

“But you wanted her.”

“Yup. Pretty Girl and I get each other, don’t we?” Easton gives her loves, and I realize I’ve never seen my brother with a dog before this moment. How is that even possible? Until I got back to Birchbark, I didn’t even know he had a dog. I didn’t know how much he loved them. The thought makes a pit open up in my gut. That’s not how it should be.

“That’s her name? Pretty Girl?”

“It is. Because she’s a pretty girl, aren’t you?” East tells the dog, and she starts running around in a circle. She trips once over her injured leg again.

“Pretty Girl. I like it.” And I like that it’s the name Easton chose for her. It shows me another side of East I’ve never seen and want to learn more about. There’s so much about him I don’t know. Being a teenager when I left, East didn’t even know who he was at the time. I don’t know all the other jobs he’s had before working with Dusty because it’s not something we spoke about. I’ve never heard if he’s had a serious boyfriend or girlfriend. I’ve heard of him being seen with women, but were they ever serious? Is he straight? What kinds of things does he like to do? “I’m glad you messaged.”

“Thank your boyfriend,” East replies. Maybe I should take offense that he didn’t call on his own, but I don’t, and I know he doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want to talk to me. It’s just how we all are…and how Dusty is. “He’s got a way about him, doesn’t he?”

I chuckle. “He really fucking does. I lose my balance just thinking about him sometimes.”

“That’s a good thing?” Easton questions.

I nudge him. “Yeah, idiot. It is.” We both stand up. “What about you? You have anyone? Ever had anyone?”

He gives a grin. “I’ve had a lot of people.”

“Cocky little bastard,” I tease him. “Really, though.”

“Nah. It’s not really my way.” I can tell by how he says it that the conversation is over—at least the part about him and dating. “Wanna stay for dinner?”

I grin, feeling it deep in my chest. Jesus, I didn’t know how much I needed this until right now. I want a relationship with East. I want to know my brother in ways I’ve never really been able to know him. “Sure do. I’d like that.”

“Good thing for you, I can cook.”

“Really?” Something else I don’t know about my brother. I hear when he loses a job or gets fired. I hear when he gets arrested or passes out half naked in a park. I don’t hear that Easton is a good cook.

“Fuck yes,” East replies, and damn, I can’t wait to learn even more secrets about him.

“Let’s do it, then.”

He heads for the house, Pretty Girl right on his heels.

*

I spend acouple of hours with Easton, and it’s really great. Sometimes he’s more talkative than others. He seems to be adrift at moments, like he’s lost inside his head, and I decide to wait it out when he gets like that, let Easton come out of it on his own. After we finish eating the pasta he made for dinner, we hang out for another half hour or so, when he says, “I think you should head out.”

At first, I’m startled by his words, wondering if I’ve done something wrong, but East looks down at Pretty Girl, petting her head with an expression that almost looks like he’s ashamed of them. It’s all I need to see that it’s nothing I did to upset him, but that East just likes his peace and solitude. Being around me for a few hours in his space is enough for him.

“Okay.” I stand up, walk over, and give Pretty Girl some love. “Thank you for today. I had fun. I hope we do it again.”

“Yup,” he says but leaves it there. I nod and turn to walk away, but Easton’s hand wraps around my wrist, holding me there. Before I know what’s happening, he’s shoving to his feet and wrapping his arms around me. It’s a quick hug, but while he’s there, East squeezes tightly. And then just like that, he lets go and walks into the kitchen.

I stand there a moment, words on my tongue. Wanting to talk to him, to really talk to him, about our fucked-up lives and what the way we grew up did to us. Want to ask him what’s wrong and tell him he can hug me anytime he wants, but my gut is telling me to hold that in. That voicing it will push East away. So even though it’s not what I want, I call out, “See ya later,” and head out. My chest is tight, too many thoughts swimming in my head. The second I get out to my car, I text Dusty.

Hey…you free? I was just with Easton. I want to tell you about it.

And hell, I just want to be with him. I always want to be with him. I’m never vulnerable with anyone other than Dusty—at least I haven’t been in the past. Part of it is my own hang-ups, and part of it is just fucking society and the way it is with men. We’re not supposed to be vulnerable. We’re supposed to hold it in, and I can’t help wondering, if we’d felt more comfortable expressing our feelings, if me, East, and Rhett wouldn’t be so fucked up now. But I can always show Dusty all the parts of me, and being around him makes me want to learn to let others in too…like East…like Spencer.

Dusty: I always have time for you. Need me to meet you at your dad’s? We can stay there again.

And the thing is, I know he would. Dusty would do it even though my dad would be a dick about it, but I don’t want to be there tonight.

Me: No. I’ll make sure he eats and takes his pills, and then I’ll come to you. He can be alone. I think me staying there is mostly just Rhett being Rhett.

Dusty: Okay, baby. See you soon.

A stupid, goofy, childish smile tugs at my lips. The effect he has on me is so damn strong that sometimes it’s hard to believe it’s real. Part of me wants to run from it because all that feeling, I’m scared it’ll ruin me, but then in other ways, I know all it does is build me up.

I drive to Dad’s. He’s in the living room but doesn’t speak to me, and I can’t say I want to speak to him either. I make a quick stir-fry and bring it to him along with his medications.

“Take the pills first.”

“Don’t tell me…what to do.”

I don’t know what it is about those words, but they unleash something inside me. Maybe it makes me a bad person, maybe I’ve always been one, but I’m fucking done. “Take them or don’t. I’m not Rhett. I’m not going to spend my life putting you first—not the person who’s never done the same for us.”

Doubt and guilt stumble around in my head, but I force myself to ignore them as I go upstairs and grab my things…all of it. I can’t do this, can’t stay in this house with all these fucking ghosts, with the man who is supposed to love us more than anything but who never has and never will.

It doesn’t take me long to throw my shit into suitcases, to pack up my toiletries and haul it all downstairs.

Dad’s eyes widen when he sees me, gaze darting between my luggage and me. “You’re leaving?” he asks, with what almost sounds like hurt in his voice, maybe tinged with a little regret.

“I’m staying with Dusty. I think that will be easier. I can still come over and check on you and—”

“Don’t need you to,” he snaps, because of course he does. Why do I keep trying? Why do any of us?

“Okay, Dad.”

I take my things to the porch and close the door behind me. In the grand scheme of things, I’m not here for him. I’m here for East, for Dusty, even Rhett. But as I drive to Dusty’s house, thinking about being with him and dinner with East, about our hike and swim and what it was like to be back at a place I used to love and have good memories of, I think maybe I’m here for me too.

Dusty is sitting on the front porch when I arrive at his place. He’s got his arms on his thighs, looking down, but his head tilts up when I stop my car, and he smiles at me. It makes my damn insides feel like they’re melting, all from a fucking smile.

After getting out, I ask, “Wanna practice living together now?”

Dusty frowns and stands. He walks over and wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t need to tell him anything, don’t need to say a word really, and he knows. “Me too, but I’m not surprised. He’s never been good to us. For as long as I can remember, I’ve known who he is, but it’s worse now…it got worse after Mom, and then he didn’t even play pretend after Ella.” I don’t have a lot of happy memories with my father, but there are some. In the back of my head, I know they were all orchestrated by Mom…movie nights, taking the boat out, family trips. But I didn’t feel he hated us the way I do now.

“He doesn’t deserve you.” Dusty rubs his stubbled cheek against mine, lets his lips trail soft kisses down my neck. “None of you.”

“No. He doesn’t. Still, I’ll spend my morning tomorrow seeing if we can get the nurse in more often, and Rhett will likely rearrange his whole schedule to be there for Dad.” That’s just how the Swift brothers work.

“Speaking of Rhett.” Dusty moves me with his body so my back is against the car. He puts one hand on each side of me, boxing me in, pressing himself against me.

My stomach automatically rolls, knowing I won’t like whatever he has to say. “What about him?”

“I went to his house today.” An inferno twists in my chest, my whole body stiffening. It doesn’t matter if it’s illogical, if I trust Dusty, because I do, but the thought of him being with Rhett will always fuck with my head.

Dusty leans closer and sucks my earlobe. “I went to see my friend, baby. Nothing more. I wanted to tell you because I don’t want to hide anything from you.”

It takes me a moment to gather myself, but then my hands find Dusty’s hips. I drop my forehead to his shoulder and breathe him in. “I hate that I’m like this with him. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be, but I can’t help that I want you to fuck me right now just to remind me that you’re mine. That I don’t want you around him unless you smell of me.”

He tilts my head up, offering a small grin. “That can be arranged—both things. But please tell me you know that it’s you for me. That it’s always been you for me, and it always will be. I never even tried to stop loving you because I know I can’t and don’t want to.”

My heart punches against my chest, his words sinking into me, penetrating even more of my armor. I feel what he said against my skin, like the way his fingertips dance all over my body.

“Damn…you really love me.” I kiss his cheek, rub my face against his, the way he did to me.

“I do.”

Sobering, I pull us apart, just enough so I can look in his sea-blue eyes. “I love you more than anything in this whole fucking world, Dusty James, even though I haven’t always been good at showing it. You deserve better than that, but now that you’re mine, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“Just don’t ever walk away from me again. That’s all I need.”

“I won’t,” I promise. “Wanna help me take my stuff into your house now?”

He nods. “Our house. It’ll be our place here when we come back to visit.”

Because Dusty is leaving…for me. Leaving his home and what he loves. Jesus, I really don’t deserve him. “I like that.”

We grab the bags and head inside, both of us taking our shoes off in the entryway.

“Ugh. I smell like Pretty Girl,” I say.

Dusty frowns, before it hits him what I’m talking about. “I’ve never seen East share how freely he loves anything the way he does that dog. Well, except…”

“Except Ella. You can say it.”

“Except Ella,” he says, then swats my ass. “Go shower. Then we’ll get to that fucking you were talking about. I can’t wait to have you in my bed every night.” His hand goes to my hip, pushing up under my shirt and tickling the skin there.

“I can’t wait either. You got stuff for me?”

“Anything you might need is under the sink. I plan to fuck you pretty thoroughly, so be ready.”

“Christ, Dust. I can’t believe this bossy sex god has been hiding inside you.”

He winks. “Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

There’s not a part of me that doubts him.