Chapter Nineteen

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Morgan

We lie there, our bodies sticking together, my fingers exploring the expanse of Dusty’s strong, broad back.

There’s something wrong with him, I can tell. Nothing that has to do with us or the fucking or anything like that, but there’s a twinge of sadness to him I’ve sensed since I arrived tonight.

“I gotta get rid of this.” Dusty reaches down beneath him and removes the condom. There’s a can beside his bed, and he tosses it in there.

I pull him back to me, unwilling to let him go far. I need to be close to him, need to feel his skin against mine, and I think Dusty is the same. My legs tangle around him again, his head on my chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I have you. What could be wrong?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not that good, Dust. Your life would be easier without me, but even if that wasn’t true, something can still be wrong.”

He sighs, and I can’t help but frown because I can tell he’s not sure about telling me.

“Since when have you ever hesitated to tell me something?”

“I loved you my whole life and didn’t tell you until recently,” he says with a smile in his voice. My chest tingles. Man, I won’t ever get tired of hearing him say he loves me.

“Other than that.”

He doesn’t reply right away, finger circling my nipple. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

That makes me realize this has to be about Rhett. I fight my reflexes to tense up at the thought of my brother, wondering what Dusty could have to tell me. Maybe there really was more between them. Maybe that kiss wasn’t a one-time thing. Maybe a million things, but as much as those things hammer down my confidence, I try to push them away for Dusty. He’s always there for me. He loves me. If I want to deserve him, I need to be a better man for him too.

“I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. You can always come to me. I don’t care who or what it’s about. If we’re gonna make this work, I have to get over my issues with Rhett, or at least put you first. You’re the most important thing. If you need something…come to me. If you want to talk, I want to be your person.”

He turns, his chin resting on my chest, his gaze on me. “I got into a fight with Rhett earlier. He kicked me out. It started when we were talking about East working at the shop when I leave. I gave him hell for not being a good brother to him…then told him he’s like your father and that I feel sorry for him.”

I automatically go rigid beneath him. I wouldn’t have wanted to hear that either. Dusty meant well, and he’s technically in the right, but I’m not surprised Rhett didn’t react well.

“You were just trying to be a good friend.” The words aren’t quite as sticky in my mouth as I thought they’d be. Do I love saying them? No, but I do love Dusty, and I want what’s best for him. He cares about Rhett, and if we’re going to be together, that’s something I need to get used to.

“Wow. Did you really just say that?”

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t be supportive?”

He sighs. “That’s not it. I knew you would be. You want what’s best for me. You always have. I just…”

“You’re afraid,” I answer for him and hate myself because it’s true and my fault. Dusty is walking on eggshells not to upset me, afraid that if he does, he will risk what’s between us. “Don’t do that, Dust. Don’t ever worry about me leaving you again. Don’t hold back because you’re afraid I’m going to walk away from you. That’s like walking away from my own heart. I’m so fucking sorry I did that before, but I won’t again. Even if you can’t go.”

“I’m going,” he rushes out. “But I haven’t been a very good friend to Rhett, and I want to be a good boyfriend to you. I’m worried how my parents will react and…”

And was there ever anything more Dusty than what he just said? “You can’t be everything to everyone.” I brush his cheek with the back of my hand. “Not even me. We’re in this together. You want me to come to you with how I’m feeling, then you have to do the same.”

He nods, leans forward, and captures my mouth with his. We kiss until my jaw hurts. Until we’re both lost in the feel of each other again.

It’s Dusty who pulls away first, pressing his cheek against my chest. “We’ll have my parents over next weekend. I need to tell them.”

I nod, reach over, and turn out the light. Then hold Dusty all night.

*

Rhett has aporch swing like we have at home, only his isn’t the newer style Dad replaced the old one with. His looks just like the one we had growing up. The one we would sit on with Mom while she told us stories and read us books. If I didn’t know better, I’d think somehow, he found or kept the exact white swing, with the curved back and pillars on each end that looked like they matched the ones on the house.

Does he sit out here and think about her? Remember the sound of her laughter that was incredibly both boisterous and gentle at the same time? I can’t see my brother doing that. Sometimes I can’t imagine him doing anything other than work, but he has to have a life.

I’m hoping he doesn’t have one tonight, considering I’m sitting here waiting for him to come home and he’s obviously not expecting me. This is the last place I want to be, but then I think about Dusty. He cares about people more than anyone I know…he cares about us Swifts more than is good for him. I don’t want him to hurt. If there’s anything I can do so that won’t happen, I’m damn sure going to do it.

I only have to sit around for another ten minutes before Rhett’s car pulls into the driveway. I’m sure he noticed my car parked on the side of the street, and my assumption is confirmed when he gets out and looks around with wide eyes.

“Dad is fine,” I tell him, and he visibly relaxes. I push to my feet. “I organized it with the nurse. She’ll come in daily, though I don’t think he needs that.” Dad will take his medication on his own without us there harassing him about it. When we’re giving it to him, he just wants to be stubborn. “He also has one of those emergency buttons he can wear around his neck.”

“Like he’s going to wear it.” Rhett comes up the stairs, the top few buttons on his white shirt undone, his shirt pulled out of his slacks.

“That’s on him if he decides not to.”

“You left him to fuck your boyfriend.”

“I left him because he’s an asshole who treats us like shit,” I counter, exhaustion weighing my bones down. “He’s our blood, but that doesn’t mean we have to take abuse from him. We don’t have to spend our lives accepting bad behavior because we’re related to him.”

“He’s our father, Morgan.”

“That doesn’t change a damn thing.”

Rhett shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. He just goes to his front door and unlocks it.

“I like the swing,” I say, and he stops midstep. He knows it’s like our old one. He did do it on purpose, and now he knows I know too. I’m…not sure what to think about that. It twists up my thoughts because that’s not something I ever imagined Rhett doing. He’s not sentimental in that way…or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t show it to anyone else.

“Why are you here?” He goes into the house, and I follow.

“I want you to talk to Dusty. I don’t want you to be angry with him, and I want you to tell him you’re not.”

Rhett gives a humorless laugh. “Please. You wish we never spoke again.”

I go for honesty. “Well, I can’t pretend a part of me doesn’t. I can’t get it out of my head…but I’m in love with him…and he loves you as a friend. I don’t want Dusty hurt.”

Rhett sets his briefcase down and finally turns, giving me his attention. He looks older, his forehead scrunched up and his brows drawn together. “You really are in love with him.”

“I always have been.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

I groan, anger kicking up steam inside me. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t come here for me either. You came for Dusty. Any other time we’ve spoken, you don’t mind fighting with me, but now that you need me to do something for you, it’s different?”

“Jesus, Rhett.” I run a hand through my hair. “He’s your friend. He cares about you.”

“Does he, though?” he asks in a tender voice that shocks me to my core. It sounds like he doesn’t believe that about Dusty, but how can he not? Unless…

“You want him. You have feelings for him.” My hands shake.

Rhett rolls his eyes. “I’m not even fucking queer, Morgan. It was one drunken kiss. A mistake. I don’t have feelings for Dusty. I’ve always known he’s yours.”

“Then why would you ask that question?”

“Never mind. It’s not important. I’ll talk to Dusty—but for him, not you. I don’t want him to leave while things are difficult between us.”

A guilty twinge lands in my chest again. Dusty is leaving everything behind for me. “Thank you. I…that means a lot to me.” Rhett watches me but doesn’t respond. His head cocks slightly, gaze intense like he’s looking for something, trying to figure out who I am, or hell, for all I know, what Dusty sees in me. “I know I’m not good enough for him. I’m going to do everything in my power to make him happy.”

“Will you?” Rhett asks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

The need to snap at him bubbles up in me. All the tension that’s been simmering between us most of our lives is still there, but I do my best to bite it back down. I’m tired. So fucking tired of this being our lives. And I want to do better, if not for me, at least for Dusty. “I had dinner with East last night. We—”

“You and Easton had dinner together?”

“Yeah, I met his dog. She’s sweet. Maybe we can…I don’t know…the three of us…do that…spend some time together, I mean.”

Christ. Asking to hang out with your own brother isn’t supposed to be this difficult.

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “I need to take a shower. You can see yourself out.”

This is how it ends every time people in my family decide to spend time together—with one of us walking away.