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My hand fists into his shirt, and somehow…I believe him. Where I didn’t with Dad, I do with Dusty. He’s never lied to me before, and I know he never will.
*
Dusty
Seventeen years old
“Hey, Mr. Martin. I’m here to pick up my mom’s car.” It went into the shop with almost a thousand dollars of work that needed to be done—money my family doesn’t have just sitting around. Our saving grace is that Mr. Martin, the mechanic, knows my family well and is willing to accept payment arrangements. I hate doing that, know my folks do too. We don’t want to need help from other people, but Dad had fallen off a ladder at home and had been out of work for a month. That really set us back.
“Here you go, young man. It’s all ready for you.” He hands over the keys, and I pull my wallet out.
“We can still make three-hundred-dollar payments?” I ask, and he frowns.
“Oh, the bill has been taken care of. I thought you knew.”
Goddamn Morgan. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s the one who did the paying. It’s just the kind of thing Morgan would do, and he wouldn’t have told me ahead of time because he knows I wouldn’t let him. But I’m also not the type to make a big deal about it now. If I cause a fuss, it will just draw more attention to the fact that we need the help. “Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Thank you again.”
I get in the car, but instead of going home, I turn straight for Morgan’s. In some ways, we’re an odd match to people when it comes to our friendship—the kid who has everything and the one who has nothing, but in the ways that matter, I have more than Morgan. Money isn’t everything, and I know he feels like that’s all he has to give, but it’s not. He’s never made me feel less than for the things we don’t have. He would rather be in my tiny house than his any day. Morgan is down-to-earth and kind, and I know there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for me.
I’m also crazy in love with him.
And even though he’s gay, he doesn’t see me like that. I’m his brother, more than his real one is. Rhett, at least. Easton is just a kid. He’s only nine—quiet, lost, ever since his twin sister Ella drowned a few months back.
And Morgan…Jesus, I hate that he’s suffered another loss. First losing his mom to a postpartum hemorrhage when the twins were six days old, and now Ella.
And through all that, he is still thinking of me.
I pull up on the side of the Swift house and park my car. As soon as I head for the door, Morgan bursts through it, eyes frantic as he runs down the stairs. “We can’t find East. I don’t know where he is. Dusty…”
My name is a plea on his lips, soft and urgent, one he would only share with me. “We’ll find him. He’s okay. We’ll find him.”
Rhett runs out of the house a moment later. “I can’t believe you fucking lost him!” he shouts.
“I didn’t lose him! In case you didn’t notice, you’re here too.”
“Yeah, but I’m getting my shit ready for college. You knew I was busy.”
“Stop fighting,” I shout at them. “We need to find Easton. Nothing else matters right now.”
But what does matter is it’s not either of their faults. Their dad should be here. He should have been here for years, but he’s always working, flying to DC, continuing his job with the United States House of Representatives, leaving the mess their family has become to his older sons, just like he did when Morgan’s mom died.
“Come on. Let’s go find him.” I take Morgan’s hand and drag him with me. Rhett goes toward the woods, while Morgan and I head straight for the water, toward the Birchbark Lake access on their property.
“Easton!” I call out.
“East! Where are you?” Morgan shouts. We comb the length of the water and don’t see anything. “What if he…”
Ella drowned right here at home, and what if East went into the water too.
“He’s not. He’s fine.” He has to be. I don’t know if Morgan could survive it if he wasn’t.
“You don’t know that. It was my fault before. It’s my fault now. I…”
“I found him!” Rhett says, coming toward us with a blond kid who’s all arms and legs. “I’ll watch him this time since you can’t be bothered with it.” He steers Easton toward the house, the youngest Swift with his head down, not speaking. He hasn’t spoken much since they lost Ella. Before he was a jokester, always laughing and being silly. It’s hard to believe he’s the same kid.
“God, I fucking hate him so much.” Morgan’s hands ball into fists.
I can see where he’s coming from. Rhett is a dick, but also…hell, I think he’s suffering in his own ways too. “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault,” I tell him, because that’s what I think he needs to hear the most, and it’s true.
