Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Dusty

It’s been a few days since I was at the Swifts’ and I haven’t seen or talked to Morgan again. I’m sure he’s busy dealing with his dad and other family stuff, but since we fell back into our friendship—even if it’s only temporary—it feels like old times. And before, Morgan and I didn’t go days without at least talking to each other. We were maybe a little codependent, but I could never find it in myself to care, and I still don’t.

This won’t turn out well for me. I know that going into it because I don’t have it in me not to want Morgan, but if he’s here and he’s offering friendship, I’m going to take him up on it…or stand here and obsess about him like a goddamned child.

I’ve already finished the paint job on the Honda, and now I’m helping Easton with the SUV and tinkering with my 1967 Mustang I got a few months back. She’s a fucking mess, doesn’t run, and is filled with rust and body damage. Everything needs to be rebuilt and redone, but it’s been my fantasy car all my life. It’s always been my dream to find an older one and rebuild her, so when I managed to find one and had a little extra money put back, I bought her. Still, I haven’t really done much work yet. For some reason, I can’t seem to make myself.

“Dusty,” Easton says with a sharpness to his voice that tells me it’s not the first time he said my name.

“Hmm?”

“You sure are daydreaming a lot. That’s usually my job.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, you’ve always lived in your own world. Do you have space there for another?”

His face hardens, eyes looking like they’re disconnecting, and it hits me what I said. He’s been in his own world since losing Ella, and before that, they were in it together. They’d been each other’s shadows, closer than any two kids I’d ever seen.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine.” He shakes it off, but I can tell it’s not fine at all. “You thinking about my brother?”

“No,” I lie, and one side of Easton’s mouth kicks up in a mischievous half-grin.

“Liar. You’ve spent your whole life thinking about Morgan.”

“Jesus.” I drop my head back and groan. “Does everyone know how I feel about Morgan except him?”

Easton shrugs. “I think he won’t let himself see it because he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. Maybe it doesn’t make sense, but sometimes it’s a whole lot easier to spend life hating yourself and not letting yourself have anything good than it is putting the work in for something better.”

I frown, my chest suddenly feeling weighted. “I’m not better than Morgan.”

“Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t. The truth doesn’t matter much, does it? What matters is how people feel and what they believe.”

I shake my head, unwilling to let myself entertain those thoughts. If I start thinking that way, that there’s a chance for us, it’s just going to fuck me up more. “Morgan doesn’t see me like that. And what would you know about it anyway? You were young. Hell, you were seventeen when Morgan left.”

“Being young doesn’t mean I didn’t know how to see the world. I think maybe that makes it easier to see clearly.” Easton grabs the buffer and turns toward the SUV.

“Is that what you do? Not let yourself have anything good? Punish yourself for things that aren’t your fault?”

“Aw, come on, Dusty. You’ve been around my family longer than me. You know it’s the Swift brothers’ way.” He nods toward the window. “Morgan’s been sitting in his car for ten minutes.” Then he lowers his mask and gets to work.

“Shit.” I spin around as if Morgan were behind me the whole time and heard everything we said.

I hear Easton chuckle before his machine turns on, a buzz between us now. I wipe my hands on a shop towel, then head outside. My feet take me straight to the passenger side of the car, and without giving it much thought, I tug the door open and plop down inside. “Why have you been sitting in my lot for ten minutes?”

“More like fifteen, to be honest. Why didn’t you come out if you knew?” He turns my way, cocking a dark brow.

“I just found out. Easton saw you.”

“Ah, so it’s him who left me sitting here. That makes more sense.”

“In his defense, you could have just come inside.”

“I was getting to that part. Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s not supposed to be this way between us.”

No, it’s not. We also weren’t supposed to go ten years without talking. “Then stop.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“It should be. It’s us.”

He pauses, stares at me, then nods. “Show me your dream, Dust.”

I’m assuming he doesn’t mean for me to hold up a mirror so he can see himself, so I say, “Let’s go.” Really, this is the next best thing. The pop and crackle of excitement and pride goes off beneath my skin as Morgan follows me toward Dusty’s Collision Repair. “This is the outside.” I point to the building, earning a chuckle from Morgan.

“Smart-ass.”

“There’s the door right there.”

“God, I hate you.” He chuckles again, then wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. “And I missed you.”

I try to play it off like his words don’t make my pulse race. “So you said. Geez, so clingy.”

We head inside, where Easton is working on the vehicle. He turns off his machine to say, “Look who’s slacking now.”

“You don’t slack when you’re here. You just don’t always show up on time. And who said you can talk to your boss that way?”

“Your best friend is mean,” Easton says to Morgan before the machine is turned on again and he’s back to ignoring us.

“He really only talks to people when he wants to, doesn’t he?”

“Yep.” I agree, sad that Morgan doesn’t know his own brother better. “Come on.”

I take him through the shop, showing him where body work is done, the lifts, and then the paint stall. Morgan studies everything, asks questions and listens. He’s always been good at that—making another person feel important. Like whatever I care about, he cares about too. It’s one of my favorite things about him.

We head down the hallway leading to a garage that’s separate from the others. Morgan stops dead in his tracks. I don’t expect it, so I run into him.

“Holy shit. You have your baby.” The awe in his voice fills me up in ways it shouldn’t.

“Yeah, just for a few months. I haven’t done anything with her yet. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s hard when you want something for so long, and then you get it and… I don’t know. I’m suddenly afraid or something—of messing up or not being able to do it. Does that make sense?”

It sounds fucking ridiculous, and I’m embarrassed I even said it until he says, “Yeah…yeah, I get it. But you can do this. This Mustang is your dream. She’ll be beautiful when you’re done.” Morgan walks over and rubs his hand reverently over the metal. He’s never been into cars as much as I am, but he does enjoy them. His brain is inclined to all things mechanical just like it is with numbers and business, and hell, just about anything. Morgan’s the kind of man who doesn’t have limits. “I always thought we’d do this together, even though it’s something that really is just yours.”

His words light a spark in my chest, making me glow. “We can…while you’re here, at least.”

Morgan turns and looks at me. “But this is yours. I show up after ten years and just fit myself right back in. Rhett was right about that.”

“Rhett isn’t us. I want your help. I’d love to work on her with you.”

He crosses his arms and smiles. “Even if I’m not as good as you? I mean, you’re a professional now.”

“And that’s different from the past how? I was always better than you.”

Morgan gives me a playful push. “Fuck off, asshole.”

“I just speak the truth.” When he doesn’t reply, I add, “Just when you have time. We don’t have to make a big thing of it. Hell, maybe it will get my ass in gear with her. And maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

It feels like an eternity stretches between us.

“I’ve learned that my best friend is even more of a cocky little shit than he used to be.”

I wink at him. “Baby, I get better with age.” I don’t really expect him to react to my teasingly flirting with him. I used to do it all the time. Morgan would do it with me too. It’s how we’ve always been.

What does feel new is how his eyes run the length of me, taking me in, like he’s appreciating me in a way he never had before. It’s a slow perusal, one I feel deep in my bones and makes my pulse speed up. Maybe it’s wishful thinking—it probably is wishful thinking—but it still makes my blood heat.

“I can see that,” Morgan says, his words melting over me like warm honey.

He can see that? Jesus, this man will be the death of me. “Work on my car with me. I want to do this with you while you’re here.”

Morgan doesn’t speak right away, holding my gaze with an iron grip. Not that I want him to let it go. I want his eyes on me all the time, because mine damn sure are on him whenever we’re in the same room.

“I’d like that,” Morgan finally says.

“Me too. Are you free tonight? We can grab dinner and work on the car.”

“I can do that.”

We keep watching each other, standing closer than we were a moment before. The weight of his stare feels heavier than it used to be, thick with years of separation, and pain, but still strong with the bond we’d always shared.

We both startle when a ringing breaks through the silence. Morgan chuckles, and I take a step back as he pulls his cell from the pocket of his jeans.

“It’s Rob. I should probably, um…take this.”

His words are like water thrown onto the flames of a moment ago. Morgan has a boyfriend. A man he lives with. And he’s leaving again. I’ll be smart to remember that.