Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Now you sound like Morgan. All about feelings and emotions. I thought you were better than that, Rhett. We all lost the same things, and none of us act like Easton. He’s been different from the start. There’s something wrong with him.”
Blood rushes through my ears, the world around me spinning. “No. There’s not.”
Dad just stands there staring at me, disappointment dripping from him. I almost take the words back. It’s not like Easton gives a shit about me anyway. Morgan either. Dad might not love me the way I wish he did, but he’s the only one who cares about me at all. And yet, I can’t let what he said stand. Nothing is wrong with East, and if there is, it’s because we failed him.
“Get out of my sight. I can’t look at you right now. You’re always disappointing me.”
You’d think that kind of thing would hurt less after I’ve heard it a million times, but it doesn’t. Just like East didn’t want me around, Dad doesn’t either, and I walk away from him, just as easily as I did Easton.
I spend the rest of the afternoon driving around, hands fisted on the steering wheel, not sure where to go or what to do.
It’s after dark when I make my way to Birchbark Lighthouse. It’s one of my favorite spots in town. I love looking out at the water stretching as far as the eye can see.
No one works the lighthouse anymore. It’s all run electronically, and no one hangs out here the way they did when I was a kid, except…
I frown when I see Dusty sitting at the base of the lighthouse. This is the last thing I need tonight. When Dusty’s around, Morgan typically is as well. Why don’t the two of them just get together already? Dusty loves my brother. There’s not a damn thing he wouldn’t do for him. The thought burns like a wildfire in my chest—not because I want Dusty, but because no one has ever cared for me as much as Dusty cares for Morgan. No one has ever loved me that way and probably never will.
“Aw, fuck. Please don’t tell me Morgan is here with you,” I say because my knee-jerk reaction is to be a dick.
“Nope,” Dusty replies, and I can tell he’s drunk. “What do you want?”
Jesus. First East and Dad didn’t want me around, and now Dusty. I should go, but fuck that, fuck them and everyone else. “Well, I sure as shit didn’t want to hang out with you tonight.”
“This is our spot, mine and Morgan’s.”
“Before I left for college, it used to be mine.”
“But you left.”
I didn’t want to. If it were up to me, I would have stayed. I wouldn’t have gone to law school, and I’d be…who knows, in construction? Even the thought of that sounds dumb. The one time I told my dad I like building things, he reminded me how much I would let him down, let Mom down. How much he depends on me to follow in his footsteps, and it’s not like I would be good at that kind of shit anyway.
“And now Morgan’s leaving.” It makes me an asshole to bring that up to Dusty. I know it kills him that he’s losing Morgan, who plans to move to California. “He doesn’t own everything, ya know?” Dusty rolls his eyes, and I sit down beside him. I’m just…so fucking tired. I feel tired all the time, but I can’t figure out how to let myself relax, how to change. “Maybe I have shit on my mind too.”
I notice the bottle of whiskey in Dusty’s hand, which he lifts, takes a long drink, then passes it to me. Why is he doing that? This isn’t what Dusty and I do. We don’t drink together or hang out together. Morgan hates me, which means Dusty hates me too.
I look at the bottle like he’s poisoned it, then take it from him and swallow deep gulps.
“You’re not going with Morgan? When he leaves?” I know he’s not, so I’m not sure why I’m asking—I guess because I’m surprised and want to know why.
“Nah. Why do you ask?”
“I always assumed the two of you are together.” Or that they would be.
Dusty turns away from me, looking out at the dark water. “Just friends.”
“My brother is a dick.”
“No, he’s not,” Dusty bites out.
“Yes, he is.” But then, I am too. I drink more of the whiskey.
“You don’t know him like I do.”
Those words are like a whip against my skin. I don’t know him. We don’t know each other, not really. I blame it on Morgan, accuse him of hating me, and while I know it’s true, I also know he’s not totally to blame. Everything about Morgan angers me. He’s everything I wish I knew how to be. And I treat him like shit because of it.