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)
“What?”
“I want to buy the bar,” I say again, as Jeb’s smile grows.
*
Two hours later, I’m heading into Dusty’s Collision Repair, heart still racing, blood still rushing through me too quickly.
“Dust!” I call out.
Easton pulls back from a car he’s working on. “He’s painting. Is everything okay?”
“Yes! It’s fucking great!” I grab my brother’s face and plant a kiss to his cheek. He jerks away, probably wondering what in the fuck I’m doing. Have I ever done that to him before? Maybe when he was four and I had to kiss a boo-boo away.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asks just as Dusty comes into the room, wearing the jumpsuit he puts on over his clothes when he’s painting.
“What’s going on?” He frowns.
“I bought the bar!” I move toward him. “Well, I’m buying the bar. We still have to finalize everything. I know it seems crazy. I’ve never owned a bar in my life, but I want this, Dust. I know it’s the right thing. I went to see Mom and Ella and—”
There’s a clanking sound behind me, and I turn to see East dropped a tool to the cement floor. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Say it like what?”
His jaw is tight, eyes darting anywhere but at me. “That you went to see them. They’re not fucking there, Morgan. They’re dead.”
My thoughts twist up, not having expected this reaction and unsure what to say. “You think I don’t know that? I live it every day, East. Just like you.”
He turns away, rubs a hand over his short hair. “I’m sorry. I fucked this up. You’re excited, and I—”
“You didn’t fuck anything up. We’re good, East. You and I are good.” I glance at Dusty, who nods toward my brother. I walk over to him and pull him into a hug. East returns it, but not with the same strength I’m holding him. “We’re good,” I say again. It takes a moment, but his stiff body begins to loosen up against mine.
East sniffs, then pulls away, taking one swipe at his eyes. “Don’t know why I said that. Finish with your news.”
“That’s not important,” I try to tell him, but he shakes his head.
“It is. Finish your news, or I walk out. I can’t do this, Morgan.”
I know down to the marrow of my bones that he’s telling the truth, that if I try to talk about what he said, about Mom or Ella, that Easton will walk out. It kills me not to, not to find a way to reach him, not to be able to fix the pain that’s going on inside him. “Okay…but I’m always here to talk if you need to.”
And then I tell them about the bar, Dusty and East asking questions. I stay there with them until the end of their workday, East seeming to be past how upset he’d been earlier. When it’s time to close up, Dusty says to East, “You should come over for dinner tonight,” and I let out a sigh of relief. He’s so good at seeing what people need and trying to help.
“I’m fine, Dusty. You don’t have to babysit me,” Easton replies, and shit, there goes that.
“I’m not babysitting you.”
“Yes. You are. I got stuff to do. See you guys tomorrow.”
He nods at us both and walks out.
“Do you think he’s okay?” I ask.
“He’s as okay as he ever is. In the grand scheme of things, I don’t think today is different from any other day with him.” Dusty turns to me, tugs me into his arms. “But it is different for my man. You went to see your mom and your sister…and you’re buying a bar. You’ve had quite the day.”
I chuckle, nuzzle his throat, suck at the skin there. “I’ve had an incredible day…a few of them since I’ve been here, and I’ve had them because of you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Dusty
We drive home, then make spaghetti for dinner. We go to the back deck to eat, enjoying the summer night and the sounds of nature around us.
I can’t pretend I’m not thrilled with the way things have been going—Morgan offering to stay, and now looking into buying the bar. It all feels too good to be true, and part of me is waiting for it all to fall apart.
But he seems happy, different from the Morgan he’d been when he’d first come home. Though I can tell the conversation with Easton earlier is weighing on him.
“You okay?” I ask when we’re done eating. We’re still sitting outside, string lights above us and nothing but the dark woods in the distance.
“Yeah.” He reaches over, squeezes my hand, and doesn’t let go. I love how he seems to always want to be touching me, how sometimes it’s like Morgan needs to be as entwined with me as he can get, as if he would live in my skin if it were possible.