Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
He chuckles deeply, rolls his eyes, and lies down beside me. We used to do this a lot before Ella. Afterward, none of the Swifts came out here for years, but I figure since Morgan was already here when I arrived, he’s okay with it.
“I’m the CEO of a beverage company back home.”
I try not to twitch at hearing him call Santa Monica home. And I already know about his job. The Swift brothers aren’t close, but there are certain things Rhett or Easton have shared with me about Morgan over the years. Still, I want to hear it from him.
“Do you like it?”
“I don’t dislike it.” He laughs. “Do most people like their jobs? I make good money, and I’m good at it. I don’t hate it, so I consider that a win.”
“I like my job,” I admit. It might not be as fancy as what he’s doing, but Morgan was always the one who was more into shit like that. It’s partly why seeing Rhett leave for Harvard had hurt him so much. There are certain ways where they’re like their dad, and Morgan wouldn’t have been happy with putting cars back together.
“Not all of us are as lucky as you.”
I nod because he’s right. I grew up with parents who didn’t love what they did either, but worked their asses off to makes ends meet. “Do you own a house back there?” I can’t call it his home. In my mind, Birchbark will always be his home.
Morgan sits up and scoots closer to the edge of the dock so his feet are hanging over the side again. “Um…no. I live with my boyfriend—Rob.”
The air is ripped from my lungs hearing that, making them burn, though it shouldn’t. We’re thirty-five, after all. Of course Morgan would have someone in his life. I’ve had boyfriends too, but I’ve never lived with anyone. I’ve never taken things to that next level, and I don’t know why I thought Morgan wouldn’t either. Or maybe I’d just wished it, which makes me an asshole. Who hopes for someone to be alone?
I clear my throat. “What does he do?”
“He’s in marketing. But I don’t want to talk about Rob.”
That makes two of us. I don’t want to talk about Rob either. I hate Rob, and I don’t even know the guy. But I do wonder why Morgan doesn’t want to speak about him. Shouldn’t that be something you want to do about someone you love?
“You did it,” he says. “Started your business.”
My chest puffs out. I can’t lie, I’m proud of what I’ve done. That I built my business from nothing. It’s my greatest accomplishment. “I did.”
“I’m so fucking happy for you, Dust. Really. I always knew you’d do it. You’re one of those annoying people who can accomplish anything you set your mind to.”
I roll my eyes, though yeah, hearing that from him feels good. “Let’s not pretend you’re not incredibly successful.”
He shrugs. “Depends on how you see success.” He turns my way, and I see it then. It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t know Morgan the way I do. There’s always been a little bit of a sadness to him—to all the Swift brothers. Rhett’s I’ve learned since Morgan left, and Easton’s since he started to work for me, but Morgan’s I know like my own, feel like my own. He’s not happy. Not in the ways that matter. I see it in his eyes. Most people wouldn’t see much in them at all, but I do—how he doesn’t smile, yes, but also in how he does. It’s more the smile he gave around his family than the ones I’d see when it was just us.
Morgan is lonely, and fuck if I don’t want to find a way to fix it. To make it better for him the way I tried to do when we were kids—and how he didn’t know he did for me. While I didn’t have the same struggles Morgan did, he still always made things better.
In elementary school I didn’t have friends except him. In middle school I was teased until he let people know that we wouldn’t take it, and if you gave me shit, you were giving Morgan Swift shit. No one wanted to fuck with his family. They still don’t.
He would buy me things he knew I wanted but my family couldn’t afford. In high school, he picked me up and dropped me off for work every day—sometimes with Easton and Ella in the back seat—until I could afford a vehicle myself. And when I got my old piece-of-shit Toyota at seventeen, Morgan spent any free time he could find helping me fix it up.
Morgan says I’m his person, that I was his, but he doesn’t see that he’s always been my person too.