Page 69 of Easton
He chuckles. “God, I love you.” My heart does a skydive. It’s like a jump-start to my system every time he says that. Ella used to tell me all the time. I figure there were times Rhett and Morgan said it to me when we were younger, and Morgan maybe a couple of times now as we’re working through our relationship, but it’s not something I’m used to hearing. Other than El and the few times I heard it from my brothers, no one has ever said that to me before except Arch.
“I love you too,” sneaks past the fear and through my lips. My head snaps up to him, Archer’s eyes wide. I’m not sure which one of us is more shocked that I said it, which is likely a little sad.
Archer answers with his hands on my face and his mouth sealed to mine, the kiss claiming me deep down to the marrow of my bones.
The kiss is interrupted by a knock at the door and Pretty Girl and Casanova barking like crazy.
“Think it’s too late to cancel so I can take you upstairs and fuck you?” He presses his mouth to mine.
“Sounds good to me.”
He snickers. “Nope. You’re not getting out of this, but later tonight, I have plans for you. Do you want me to get the door, or do you have it?”
“I’ll do it, though I’m going on record that sex will be more fun and less emotionally draining.” But really, I want to do this. It’s time to do this.
Archer swats me on the ass, and I head to the door and open it. Rhett, Dusty, and Morgan are all there, two vehicles in the driveway since they didn’t come together.
Pretty Girl immediately gives them a love attack, while Casanova hides behind my legs, unsure about these new visitors.
“It’s okay, sweet boy.” I kneel beside him and pet his head. “They’re nice. They came over just to see you.”
As if Pretty Girl understands me, she turns around and looks at me like,What the fuck, Dad?
“And you too,” I tell her, then look up at them, still making sure Casanova knows it’s okay. “He’s skittish with new people. It’s probably good you’re here. It will help with socializing him. When me and Arch take them to the dog park, it’s usually when no one else is around.”
Dusty and Morgan come inside, Rhett lingering behind them with his hands in his pockets like he’s not sure what to do. Morgan kneels to pet them, and I remember the first time he met Pretty Girl and how good he was with her.
I feel Archer’s gaze on me as Morgan starts talking to Casanova. “Aren’t you a handsome boy. It’s okay. I know Rhett is scary, but we’ll protect you.”
Dusty laughs.
“Fuck off,” Rhett grumbles, and though that edge of past anger lingers between them, there’s the smallest hint of teasing too.
Morgan looks up at him. “I’m giving you shit…feels weird, but it just happened.”
“Did you get a lobotomy?” Rhett crosses his arms, and this moment feels like what being real brothers is supposed to be, but how the fuck would I know?
Morgan gives his attention to Casanova again. “I don’t want to rush you, but we’re here to love on you when you’re ready.”
I’m pretty sure Dusty swoons. “You’re so sweet.”
I roll my eyes and stand up. “You two are gross.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Rhett adds, and the three of us laugh together…then stop to stare as if we just realized what happened. Yeah, I’m pretty sure bits and pieces of this really is the way brothers are supposed to be.
Rhett clears his throat, the moment breaking. “Can I come inside, or are the two of you going to block the entryway all night?” he says to Morgan and Dusty.
They stand, and all three of them come farther into the living room, Rhett closing the door behind them.
“Have a seat…or whatever,” I tell them. Morgan and Dusty do, but I see Rhett looking around, and it takes me a moment to realize that Rhett has never been inside my house. He’s seen it, come over to give me shit or whatever, but usually I step outside and we argue and he leaves.
My place is nothing special. My things aren’t as nice as his—mine being a mishmash of stuff I like and comfortable furniture. The stairs are across from the front door, the open-concept living room is spacious enough, and the kitchen is behind it.
“It’s, um…it’s nice, East.”
I look toward Casanova and pet his head. “Thanks.”
“We are so bad at this,” Morgan says, his tone sad. I think we all share the sentiment.