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CHAPTER NINETEEN
Morgan
We lie there, our bodies sticking together, my fingers exploring the expanse of Dusty’s strong, broad back.
There’s something wrong with him, I can tell. Nothing that has to do with us or the fucking or anything like that, but there’s a twinge of sadness to him I’ve sensed since I arrived tonight.
“I gotta get rid of this.” Dusty reaches down beneath him and removes the condom. There’s a can beside his bed, and he tosses it in there.
I pull him back to me, unwilling to let him go far. I need to be close to him, need to feel his skin against mine, and I think Dusty is the same. My legs tangle around him again, his head on my chest. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I have you. What could be wrong?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not that good, Dust. Your life would be easier without me, but even if that wasn’t true, something can still be wrong.”
He sighs, and I can’t help but frown because I can tell he’s not sure about telling me.
“Since when have you ever hesitated to tell me something?”
“I loved you my whole life and didn’t tell you until recently,” he says with a smile in his voice. My chest tingles. Man, I won’t ever get tired of hearing him say he loves me.
“Other than that.”
He doesn’t reply right away, finger circling my nipple. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
That makes me realize this has to be about Rhett. I fight my reflexes to tense up at the thought of my brother, wondering what Dusty could have to tell me. Maybe there really was more between them. Maybe that kiss wasn’t a one-time thing. Maybe a million things, but as much as those things hammer down my confidence, I try to push them away for Dusty. He’s always there for me. He loves me. If I want to deserve him, I need to be a better man for him too.
“I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me. You can always come to me. I don’t care who or what it’s about. If we’re gonna make this work, I have to get over my issues with Rhett, or at least put you first. You’re the most important thing. If you need something…come to me. If you want to talk, I want to be your person.”
He turns, his chin resting on my chest, his gaze on me. “I got into a fight with Rhett earlier. He kicked me out. It started when we were talking about East working at the shop when I leave. I gave him hell for not being a good brother to him…then told him he’s like your father and that I feel sorry for him.”
I automatically go rigid beneath him. I wouldn’t have wanted to hear that either. Dusty meant well, and he’s technically in the right, but I’m not surprised Rhett didn’t react well.
“You were just trying to be a good friend.” The words aren’t quite as sticky in my mouth as I thought they’d be. Do I love saying them? No, but I do love Dusty, and I want what’s best for him. He cares about Rhett, and if we’re going to be together, that’s something I need to get used to.
“Wow. Did you really just say that?”
“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t be supportive?”
He sighs. “That’s not it. I knew you would be. You want what’s best for me. You always have. I just…”
“You’re afraid,” I answer for him and hate myself because it’s true and my fault. Dusty is walking on eggshells not to upset me, afraid that if he does, he will risk what’s between us. “Don’t do that, Dust. Don’t ever worry about me leaving you again. Don’t hold back because you’re afraid I’m going to walk away from you. That’s like walking away from my own heart. I’m so fucking sorry I did that before, but I won’t again. Even if you can’t go.”
“I’m going,” he rushes out. “But I haven’t been a very good friend to Rhett, and I want to be a good boyfriend to you. I’m worried how my parents will react and…”
And was there ever anything more Dusty than what he just said? “You can’t be everything to everyone.” I brush his cheek with the back of my hand. “Not even me. We’re in this together. You want me to come to you with how I’m feeling, then you have to do the same.”
He nods, leans forward, and captures my mouth with his. We kiss until my jaw hurts. Until we’re both lost in the feel of each other again.
It’s Dusty who pulls away first, pressing his cheek against my chest. “We’ll have my parents over next weekend. I need to tell them.”
I nod, reach over, and turn out the light. Then hold Dusty all night.
*
Rhett has a porch swing like we have at home, only his isn’t the newer style Dad replaced the old one with. His looks just like the one we had growing up. The one we would sit on with Mom while she told us stories and read us books. If I didn’t know better, I’d think somehow, he found or kept the exact white swing, with the curved back and pillars on each end that looked like they matched the ones on the house.
Does he sit out here and think about her? Remember the sound of her laughter that was incredibly both boisterous and gentle at the same time? I can’t see my brother doing that. Sometimes I can’t imagine him doing anything other than work, but he has to have a life.
