Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Dean

E cho doesn’t know it but that’s the most honest I’ve been with anyone in years. I’ve lost count of the number of people that have asked me that question, because beside my politically ambitious brother, I’ve got to look like an anomaly. The useless brother, the one without a job, no drive, no ambition.

“Hey.”

I jump at the tap on my arm and focus on Echo. “Huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about, but it didn’t look happy. Not everyone has to be the next governor. From what I hear, you volunteer with kids and old people.”

“Among other things,” I agree.

“Then you’re making a difference in our community.” He pauses. “I guess you don’t have to work?”

I lick my lips. It’s not easy to talk about. “No, I…uh…was in an accident that wasn’t my fault. I got a payout. A generous one. I couldn’t work for a long while, then someone suggested I volunteer as a way of getting back into the world. I ended up with lots of volunteer posts. I have the time, and I like working with the folk in town.”

Echo nods as if he understands, and I’m relieved he doesn’t judge me. We sit in silence for a while but it’s not uncomfortable. I don’t normally tell people about the accident or the payout. There’s something about this man that makes me want to beg him for a belly rub.

“I guess you have a lot of drunk people baring their soul to you at the bar.”

Echo chuckles. “Oh, man, you have no idea. But I kind of like the fact they have someone to talk to. Not everyone has someone they can go home to.”

“No,” I murmur.

“Do you?” Echo asks.

“You know I don’t.”

He gives me a wry smile. “I’m sorry, I was trying to be diplomatic.”

“No need.” But I like the fact he tried. Most people know me too well to bother.

“What about you? Is there anyone in your life?” I’m sure he’s gay from the comments about my eyes, but I don’t want to presume. That’s the quickest way to get a punch in the face from a straight man. Ask me how I know.

“Not so far. I work anti-social hours. It doesn’t give me time to hook-up.”

“You should go to Gilligan’s when you get the chance,” I suggest.

“I’ve heard of it but to be honest, I spend all my time in bars. I don’t want to spend my off time in another one, especially as I don’t drink alcohol. It’s not fun watching other people get liquored up.”

I nod. That made sense.

“Do you go there?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” It sounds more like a confession, and one that’s dragged out of me. Sometimes I just want to be around people like me, even if I don’t want to be that person. At least at Gilligan’s no one gives a crap who you are.

I look up to see Echo watching me. I get the feeling this man can see right through me, and it scares the crap out of me.

“Do you want to watch S.W.A.T?” he asks, and I appreciate the change of subject.

“Yeah, why not?”

I make nachos and bring them in, along with coffee and cookies and whatever else I can find in his kitchen to snack on. He says he needs comfort food. I can understand that. It’s been a long day for him.

Ariel sneaks back in and settles down in her daddy’s lap, contentedly purring. She sounds like a chainsaw on forty a day, but she’s happy. I put the snacks between us and if I sneak her the occasional nacho Echo doesn’t call me out on it.

At some point I look over to find Echo asleep, snoring in time to Ariel’s purrs. I’m tempted to take a photo, but I’m not quite brave enough. I stare at him for a long time, wishing I could be brave like him.

Eventually I have to go home. I clear away the snacks, then turn off the TV and shake Echo’s arm. “Time to wake up.”

He blinks sleepily at me. “Did I fall asleep?”

“You did. I thought about leaving you here, but you’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

“Thanks.” He sits up, massaging the small of his back. “This couch sucks ass after a few hours.” Then he looks at his leg. “How do I get up?”

“Wriggle to the edge of the seat,” I instruct. Then I guide him through getting off the seat.

“You’re a master,” he says when he’s balanced on his crutches.

“If I can get old Mr. Raleigh off his chair, I can manage you. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”

At a hundred and four, Mr. Raleigh is one of my favorite residents at the assisted living facility. Crotchety as heck, the old man loves me coming in because I give him the chance to talk for hours without “having to listen to the dang women.” I keep my mouth shut and let him talk. He’d had a fascinating life outside Collier’s Creek. I envy his freedom.

I stay by Echo’s side as he slowly walks to his bedroom and lowers himself onto the end of the bed. He grabs my hand as I go to leave.

“Thanks, Dean. I couldn’t have gotten through today without you.”

“No problem.”

“I mean it. I’ve never had anyone help me like that.”

I regard Echo a moment, thinking there’s a lot more to unpack than a simple thank you. But then he sighs and tugs his hoodie over his head. I get a view of a defined chest with a dark layer of hair that made my mouth water. He’s out of my league, and I need to run before I make a fool of myself.

“You’re welcome.”

I squeeze his hand, say goodbye, and leave him to sleep. Ariel wreathes around my feet as I walk down the hall, making me stumble.

“Don’t you make me fall, princess,” I warn her. “Your daddy is already injured.”

From her meows I take it she doesn’t care; she doesn’t want me to leave. I backtrack to the kitchen and feed her again, hoping she’ll let Echo sleep in. As she crunches on her food, I bend down and tickle her behind her ears. “Take care of your daddy,” I whisper. She ignores me, more interested in her food than scritches.

I crunch down the icy stoop, shivering in the cold night air. The temperature has dropped considerably since I brought Echo home. I hope he’s sensible and stays at home tomorrow. A few days with his foot up, and he’ll be fine. I hesitate when I reach the drive. Should I sand the stoop? I see a bucket by the garage and peer in. Sand. Just what I need! I spread it liberally over the stoop and to his car. Fingers crossed he’s not daft enough to move from the couch, but I’ve done what I can.

I’m woken by my phone vibrating across the nightstand. I fling out a hand and amazingly pick it up first attempt and don’t throw my phone across the room…this time.

“Hello?” I mumble as I connect the call.

“Dean.”

I squint at the clock. 7:32. I groan. Too early!

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Gloria coos in my ear.

“Whatever you want, Gloria, the answer is no.” I don’t bother to open my eyes. She’ll be gone soon.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I really do mean that.”

“But, Dean?—”

“But, Dean nothing. The answer is still no. I told you after the incident with Barky that you couldn’t call me again.”

“That was one time,” she protests.

“Did your nose just get bigger?”

One time out of many, and most of the time I’ve reluctantly gotten entangled in her plans, but not this time.

“Echo needs you.”

I flop onto my back. That’s just mean. Of all the things she could say to me…

“Echo is at home with a sprained ankle. Why does he need me?”

“Santa is due at the?—”

“Let me stop you right there. You asked Echo to do one afternoon at the assisted living facility. One. Nothing else.”

“I hadn’t gotten around to asking him yet.”

“So this isn’t about Echo.”

She huffs in my ear. “Santa makes several appearances during December. Randy thought Echo wouldn’t mind on his days off.”

I sigh. “Gloria, you’ve got to stop doing this to people. Just ask them outright. Quit with this blackmail routine.”

“So—”

“The answer is still no. I’m going back to sleep. Bye, Gloria.” I disconnect the call on her protest. Then turn off the phone, because I know her. She’ll call again. And again.

I feel bad. I do. But she knows me by now. I say yes to everything, but not to being Santa. I’ve never gotten involved in Christmas activities. Why couldn’t the sheriff be Santa or Arlo or Cam? Why me?

I snuggle under my sheets and close my eyes. I have nowhere to be this morning. It doesn’t take long to drift off to sleep.

Still dressed in my T-shirt and pajama bottoms, I drink my first coffee around noon. By now I’m severely decaffeinated and drink the pot in one go. I contemplate the pot. More coffee or bed? It’s 50/50, but bed is winning when there’s a thump on the door. The knock surprises me. I don’t get many visitors, except family. By choice I might add. I like my privacy and I’m just not good at making friends.

I shuffle to the door and open it a fraction. It’s lunchtime, and I am still in my sleep clothes. I open it wider when I see my brother standing there, the familiar furrow between his eyes as he stares at his phone.

“Danny, what are you doing here?”

“I was sent here.”

I step back to let him in. “What does JoBeth want now?”

I love Danny’s wife with all my heart, but she’s another one always involving me in her schemes.

The lines deepen. “Not JoBeth, not this time.”

I narrow my eyes. “Gloria?”

He sighs. “Can I come in? Is there coffee?”

“I’ll make another pot.”

I shut the door with a thud, and stomp into the kitchen. Danny slumps into the chair while I refill the water in the coffeemaker and put the coffee grounds in the top. The coffee is dripping as I sit and face my brother. I know to a lot of people he’s the mayor, but, to me, he’s still my annoying older brother.

“The answer is still no,” I state.

“Dean—”

“Why are you all bothering me? You know I’ll say no. You know the reason why. Why are you doing this to me?” My voice rises as I ask the last question.

Danny fixes me with an expression, part kindness, part exasperation. “It’s time to let him rest, Dean.”

“You mean it’s been over twenty years. He doesn’t matter anymore.”

He leans forward. “You know I don’t mean that. It will always matter. But you must start living again, Danny. You can’t keep living a half-life.”

“I’m not.”

“You are and you know it.”

“Marty was my life.”

He had been my first love, my only love.

“It doesn’t mean to say you can’t have fun again,” my brother insists.

I notice he doesn’t say I can love again. He knows better.

“Marty died, and you stopped living, Dean. But it’s been too long. You have to live in the real world again.”

I resist the urge to whine, “I don’ wanna,” because it won’t help.

My lack of response makes him huff.

I get up to pour the coffee, doctor it with the creamer I keep in the refrigerator just for him, and hand him a cup.

Danny sighs. “I’m tired of half the town thinking I’m homophobic, and the other half cheering me for it.”

“Collier’s Creek isn’t like that,” I mumble.

I have my grumbles about Collier’s Creek, but compared to other small towns, it’s a paradise.

“A few residents are. Thankfully in the minority.”

“There are a town full of men who could be Santa. Why hassle me?” I ask.

“Because there’s a town full of people wanting you to live again.”

That’s not the answer I expect, and I just stare at him. “What?”

He huffs out a breath. “Come on, little brother. Put on the suit and paste on a smile for four weeks. You volunteer everywhere. They all know you. If the Creekers want anyone to play Santa, it’s you.”

I doubt that, but he’s right about the volunteering.

“The suit is shredded,” I say. “At least the pants are. They didn’t survive the hospital.”

Like that was going to work as an excuse.

“I’ve got a new one in my car,” Danny says.

“Of course you have,” I say dryly.

“JoBeth located one. I have no idea where she got a hold of it, but it’s better than Randy’s suit.”

I stare at Danny. “Don’t make me do this.” But I know from a lifetime of living with my brother, when he wears that expression, it’s pointless to argue.

“Four visits. That’s all. The tree-lighting ceremony, the hospital, the school, and the Bash.”

“Not the mall out of town?”

“They have their own Santa.”

I bet that Santa isn’t being coerced into it.

“Can’t he do four more visits?”

“He’s an actor. We’d have to pay him.”

I keep my mouth shut.

“We were gonna ask Echo to cover all the events, but he’s out of action now,” Danny continues. “And Randy can’t get back in time.”

“I’d like to point out again, this is a town full of gays…guys…who can be Santa. You don’t have to pick the one man who will hate every second of being in the suit.”

“They work.”

I stare at him, betrayed. “And I don’t? It’s only volunteer work so it’s not important.”

Danny bangs his fist on the table, and everything jumps, including me. “I can’t keep tiptoeing on eggshells around you. Whatever I say will be wrong. Move on, Dean. It’s been twice your lifetime. Marty would have been furious at you for moping this long.”

I glare at him, but I know he’s right. He would have told me what an idiot I was for mourning a ghost.

Danny gives a curt nod as if he knows my thoughts. “We need a Santa, and you’ve been volunteered. Your first gig would normally be tonight, the Tree Lighting Ceremony, but I’ve got a local celebrity to light the tree. I expect you to be there to support me and wear the Santa hat.”

I stare into my cup. I’ll be there, like I am at every town event, supporting the mayor, hating every moment, wishing Marty was beside me. “I think you should go now,” I say as calmly as I can. I’m exhausted from not fighting with my brother, not breaking down into the screaming tantrum that I want to. There’s no point. He won’t listen.

“It’s over twenty years, Dean, why do you still care?”

Because the minute the semi plowed into us on Christmas Day, it took away my reason for living. For the millionth time I wish it had killed me too.