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“You should go now,” he cuts me off, voice hard, face even harder.
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I stand up and reach for him, but Rhett pulls back. I feel sorry for him… I couldn’t have chosen worse words to say.
“You should go now,” he says again.
“Shit.” I rub my hand over my face. “I care about you, Rhett. You know that. I’m always here for you, and…you’re worth more than you think you are.”
When he doesn’t reply, just turns away, I have no other option but to leave.
I really fucked that up, didn’t I?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Morgan
Easton: Since you won’t leave me alone, you might as well come over. My dog wants to meet you.
I smile at the text from my brother, which came out of the blue. It’s Sunday, and I know Dusty was going to go to the shop and take care of some work, so I’ve just been hanging out at the house, with a dad who isn’t talking to me.
Me: I can do that.
Easton: Thank fuck because I’m not going there.
I chuckle.
Me: Honestly? There’s nowhere I want to be less than here with him. I’ll be right there.
Still, after I grab my things, I go to Dad’s office, knock, and stick my head inside. “I’m going to see East.”
“At least he makes time for you. I never see him unless he’s in trouble.”
“Can you blame him? And when do you make time for him?”
“You’ve always done this. You always make me the bad guy. Rhett is the only child I have who gives a damn about me.”
The thing is, he really believes what he’s saying. He’s good at being the victim and never sees what he does wrong in any situation. But then, he also just told Rhett he needs a break from him. Dad’s love hurts more than when he’s not showing it.
“And yet, how often do you tell Rhett that? Why do you make him feel like shit too?” We hurt the ones we love the most, or in Dad and Rhett’s situation, he knows he can do anything to Rhett, and my brother will never stop trying with him. He likes having that control.
“Rhett can stick up for himself if he has a problem.”
I wait to see if I’ll get anything else out of him. When I don’t, I head out for East’s place. He’s outside when I get there, a cinnamon-colored dog running lopsided. It’s clear something’s wrong with its leg. The limp is pronounced, the limb looking slightly shorter than the others. It turns my way, tongue hanging out, looking like it’s smiling while it runs straight for me. At one point it trips but gets right back up, not caring about its imperfections, just happy to be alive.
I bend down, the dog jumping on me and lapping at my face. “Well, aren’t you friendly. Definitely not a guard dog, are you?”
East chuckles, walking over to us. “That she’s not.”
When I pet her head, I realize there’s also an old injury to her ear. It looks like someone took a chunk out of it.
“What happened to her?”
“She’s a rescue. She’d been badly abused when they found her. People moved and left her crated in the house. For a while they weren’t sure if she was gonna make it.” East kneels too, and the dog leaves me to bounce all over him. He wraps his arms around her, the dog licking him. East puts his hands over her ears as if she won’t be able to hear. “Then of course no one wanted her, but shh. We don’t tell her that.”
“But you wanted her.”
“Yup. Pretty Girl and I get each other, don’t we?” Easton gives her loves, and I realize I’ve never seen my brother with a dog before this moment. How is that even possible? Until I got back to Birchbark, I didn’t even know he had a dog. I didn’t know how much he loved them. The thought makes a pit open up in my gut. That’s not how it should be.
“That’s her name? Pretty Girl?”
