Page 26 of Easton
“Fuck. This is why I didn’t tell you. Don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Archer—”
“Nope.” I definitely don’t want to talk about him. He texted me again this morning, something stupid about just letting me know he’s there when I’m ready. What the fuck even is that? And ready for what?
Dusty chuckles.
“Not sure what’s so funny.”
“I just like him…as your friend.”
“We’re not friends,” I grit out. “Stop talking.”
Dusty laughs as I pull my mask down and resume my work. I need to go back to spending my nights in the bar, drinking and doing my thing.
Luckily, Dusty leaves me alone, but as soon as I pull into the driveway at my house, I see Morgan’s car parked there.
Fuck my life.
“Did your boyfriend tell you to come over?” I say to Morgan as soon as I get out.
“No. Was he supposed to? I figured I’d stop by. I was at the bar today, and I haven’t seen you much since we returned.”
No, he hasn’t. Not that I can blame him because I haven’t even tried. It’s so strange having Morgan back. I was seventeen when he left, and before then he and Rhett had basically been my dads. And while I think they both still see it that way, the relationship is different now. The relationship we’re trying to build, I mean. We’re all men now, but we’re still trying to figure out how to be brothers.
I want to tell him to leave. I want to stop all this stuff that people keep trying to do that makes me…feel. But his pleading look tells me he wants to stay, wants to be here with me, and damned if a hidden part of me doesn’t cling to that. “Might as well stay for dinner. Your boyfriend can’t come. He was pissing me off.”
Morgan laughs. “He’ll be fine with it. Hey, it sounds like there are two dogs inside.”
“You don’t have to pretend Dusty didn’t tell you. I know that’s a thing couples do. Tell each other shit.” I unlock the door.
That earns me a second round of chuckles from my brother. “Well, yeah. That is a thing couples are supposed to do, but he didn’t tell me you got another dog, if that’s what’s going on here.”
I open the door and let that speak for itself. Pretty Girl comes running out first, Casanova right behind, skidding to a stopwhen he notices someone else there. “It’s my brother,” I tell the pup. “He’s like a cough that lingers after a cold, but he’s not too bad…just don’t ask him to take care of Pretty Girl. If you do, he’ll show up with a dad and brother who hate you and an…Archer.”
“Hey, Rhett doesn’t hate you.”
“I notice you didn’t say Gregory doesn’t.”
“Because he’s not worth our breath. I hate him and don’t care how he feels, but the truth is, he doesn’t like anyone but himself.”
I shrug. “That’s true, but he does hate me more than others.” It’s annoying how I say things like this to Morgan now, to Dusty too, and hell, even to Archer. Maybe even more to him. Before Morgan can reply, I say, “New topic.”
“Fine, but Rhett doesn’t hate you,” he reiterates. “He’s complicated. All of us are. He’s not perfect, and I still don’t know how to connect with him, but he loves you.”
He pushes to his feet from where he’d been kneeling to pet Pretty Girl. We stare at each other, I think both of us remembering the last time all three of us were in the same room—at the police station, where Rhett kicked Gregory out, the man he used to idolize, and walked away from him…for me. Gregory didn’t deserve Rhett’s loyalty, Rhett’s love, but I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that the final straw had been me. I both hate myself for that and feel luckier than I deserve. “Have you talked to him?” We head out with the dogs so they can go to the bathroom.
“No. I’ve tried, but he’s not having it. There’s so much anger and history between us. I can’t figure out how we get past it. I want to. I think we have a better chance now with Dad out of the picture.”
“Do you think it’ll stay that way? For Rhett?”
“Not talking to Dad, you mean?” He shrugs. “Hell, who knows. I hope so. He’s toxic. We’ve been through a lot of shit thatwas out of our control—Mom, Ella—but so much of the things that couldn’t be controlled were because of him.”
Ella was my fault. I told her where to hide.
East? Are you okay? You feel sad, my sister says.
I’m always sad, I remind her.