Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
He sighs, and yeah, I feel the same. This isn’t what I wanted to happen by coming here, but I’m not surprised it has. This is just how we are.
“I don’t have the energy to fight with you.”
I nod. Me neither. I glance at the heavy wooden table that doesn’t look like something you’d buy in a chain store. It’s got detailed carvings and designs on the legs. “This is…nice.”
This is nice? That’s the best I can come up with? He’s my brother, and the only thing I know how to say to him is complimenting his furniture?
“Just a table.”
“I think she’d like it…Morgan naming the bar Gracie’s,” I say, at a loss for any other words, though talking about her always makes it difficult to breathe.
Rhett flinches. He must not have known. Goddamn it. I fucked up again.
“There’s no doubt in my mind Morgan was going to tell you.”
“Well, I doubt it.”
“You answer his calls? Come to the door when he knocks?”
The silence that greets me is response enough. He doesn’t, which I already knew.
“I think it’s real special,” Rhett finally replies. “The name. She loved being the center of attention, so she’d get a kick out of it.”
A surprise chuckle falls from my lips. How sad is that? I have never talked and laughed telling stories about my other half. “She did.”
“And you loved giving her that. You were a lot more vocal and fun-loving…before…but you would always step back and let her be in the spotlight. There’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for her.”
A whole world of pressure lands in my chest, squeezing my lungs. “Can’t talk about her,” is all I can say.
He nods, and both of us just stand there, neither having any idea what to say to the other. How is it this bad? This isn’t normal. None of it is.
I hate this…hate the way things are, East.
Me too, but I’m not sure how to change it.
“You should talk to him…Morgan,” I tell Rhett.
“I don’t know how to talk to anyone, not really.”
“None of us do. Gregory fucked us up. But I know Morgan would appreciate it if you tried.”
“The two of you…you’re getting close?” Rhett goes to the fridge and gets more water.
“No. Not really. I don’t make that easy.”
Rhett huffs out a humorless laugh. “You and me both, little brother.”
A lightness makes my chest flutter as I snicker in response. For a moment, one fleeting moment, we’re joking and talking the way brothers are supposed to. The spell is broken the second Rhett’s cell rings, like a stretched rubber band pulled too tight that splits and snaps back against my skin.
Dad flashes on the screen.
Rhett is talking to him again. Of course he is. And he has that right. Why should he give him up for me?
Rhett snatches the phone off the table and rejects the call.
“You can take it if you want.”
“I haven’t taken one call yet, but he won’t leave me alone.”
Ah, so he’s still trying to be in touch with Rhett, but not me or Morgan. That doesn’t surprise me. “You can, though…talk to him. It shouldn’t matter how he treats me.”
He cocks his head, a look in his brown eyes I can’t read. “It matters. It’s always mattered. I was just too weak to do anything about it.”
Silence weighs heavily on us again, two brothers who don’t really know each other, or hell, maybe even ourselves.
“I should go,” I say, then turn and head for the door. Rhett doesn’t follow me, and when I get there, I stop, back to him, hand on the knob. “Thank you.”
“I don’t deserve your thanks. I’m not a good brother.”
“None of us are good brothers. We were taught to be the opposite of that, but for the first time, we’re trying.” And then, with my body shaking so hard it’s difficult to move, I walk out the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Archer
A call for a car accident made my day run longer than it should have. Things like that are always difficult, but I do my best to check my emotions. I texted Easton to tell him, but he didn’t respond, and I can’t say I’m shocked. Still, I hurry home to change, grab everything I need, stop for hibachi takeout, then go to his house.
The second I knock, he pulls the door open and is on me. It takes me by surprise, and I almost drop the bags. Easton’s arms are around me, his hair dripping, skin slick from a shower as he slips his tongue into my mouth. I melt into it, let him inside to taste me because he’s East and he tastes so damn good, I can’t get enough of him. It only takes a minute for my brain to catch up and slow things down.
I tilt my head back, breaking the connection between our mouths. “Hey…why we in such a hurry here?” I try to kiss my way down his throat.