Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I hate letting down Dusty more than anyone else in this world, but I don’t know how to be the person he needs me to be.
“I’m gonna say goodbye to East before I go.”
Dusty doesn’t go with me as I return to my brother. He’s lost to the job he’s doing and hasn’t noticed me, so I stand back and watch him for a moment. Sometimes I forget he’s a grown man now. Even when I left, when he was seventeen, Easton still felt like a kid to me. Time is a funny thing, and while you know it passes, you seem to forget that it passes at the same speed for those you don’t see daily, and then when you do, the shock makes it seem like even more time has gone by for them. He’s become a whole new person that I don’t know, and I can’t help wondering who Ella would be if she were alive. What would she be doing? How would Easton’s life be different? How would all of ours?
Easton turns off his machine, lifts his mask, and turns to look at me. Apparently, he’d known I was here all along.
“Am I interesting?”
I chuckle. “I’m about to head out. Just wanted to say goodbye.”
“Bye,” East replies, then lowers his mask again.
The last thing I want is to let this moment pass, so I add, “We should have dinner sometime.”
He moves the mask so he can speak again. “Okay.”
“You can come to the house too and—”
“No.”
Well, shit. I hadn’t expected the flat-out rejection. “Why?”
“Come on, Morg. You know he doesn’t care about me. He loves you because everyone loves you…looks up to you. He loves Rhett because it doesn’t ever matter what Rhett wants, he’ll live his whole life doing exactly what Dad did or wanted because he doesn’t know who he is without being Dad’s shadow. He gives Dad even more of an ego. He loved El because of Mom. He’s never cared about me, never needed me, especially now that I’m an embarrassment to him.”
I open my mouth, trying to make words come out, trying to find something, anything to say to him, but I can’t think around the throb of pain filling my veins, running through my body and choking me. “Do you really think that?” I manage to say.
“I know that. And you know it too.”
“He doesn’t love any of us. Not really. He loves what we can give him or how we make him look.”
“Okay.” He watches me, gaze cold and closed off. There’s no doubt in my mind he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m serious, Easton. It’s not you. He only cares about himself.”
“You don’t have to try and make me feel better. I’ve made peace with it a long time ago.” This time when he lowers the mask, I know he won’t lift it again, won’t reply.
Easton turns on the machine and gets back to work. For a moment, I continue to stand there watching him, hating my father while trying to ignore the way my hands flex and my lungs hurt, before I walk out of the building.
*
When I get back to the house, I head straight for Dad’s office. He spends all day working, just like he always has, even if it’s at a different pace. We haven’t spent any quality time together—not that I’ve pushed for that either, but after hearing what Easton had to say, his lack of being a real father cuts even deeper.
I push open the door without knocking. He’s sitting in his desk chair, his head snapping up like he’d fallen asleep. I’ve never in my life seen my father fall asleep while working, and it makes me mentally stumble for a moment. He’s never seemed real to me, never seemed human, but in this moment, he is. That doesn’t excuse the things he’s done, though, the hurt he inflicted on his children.
“What do you want, Morgan? I’m busy.” He straightens papers on his desk that don’t need straightening.
“You were sleeping.”
“Is that all you came in here to tell me? Because I’m aware of what I’m doing more than you.” He sounds annoyed.
My stomach flips over. “Jesus, why are you like this? Why are you so fucking angry? So resentful. We didn’t ask to be here. We didn’t ask to be born and ruin your perfect fucking life. You brought us here, and yet you’ve spent our whole lives punishing us for it.”
A weight lifts off my chest with those words. I don’t pretend that’s all my baggage. I’ve been carrying too much for too long for it to disappear so easily, but the load is lighter now.
Dad clears his throat, likely not having expected me to say that. No one talks to him that way. His sons certainly don’t. “I fail to see how anything I’ve done has made your life so difficult. You grew up with every opportunity at your fingertips. You had everything you could have wanted and needed. You didn’t lack for anything and—”