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)
“That’s good for tonight. We should get you home to get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”
Dusty stretches, arms in the air and his shirt lifting enough to show me a sliver of his golden-skinned belly. My eyes dart away before taking it in too much. Dusty has always been fucking gorgeous. I remember looking at him when we were young, before I had my sexuality figured out, and the tingle that always swam around in my gut…the way my skin would flush sometimes, and I didn’t understand why. The older I got, I realized I was attracted to my best friend in ways Rhett and other guys talked about being into girls. We were so damn close, almost inseparable, so how could he not have been part of my sexual awakening?
Eventually, we both came out, having told each other first, and I learned to tame my attraction to him because Dusty was my whole damn world and what if I was like my dad? What if I loved him as strongly as he loved Mom? Plus, we had the twins, of course, and I was too busy to worry about boyfriends and shit like that. I’d hooked up and nothing more, but I would never have risked that with Dusty.
Something about him now feels different to me, makes my gaze want to linger, to soak him in more, like I have to retrain myself to stifle my attraction to him. Wanting him would be dangerous. As much as I wanted to leave when I was younger, as much as I needed it, I don’t know if I could have left him if I hadn’t seen him kissing Rhett.
And I fear I would have resented him for it, which probably isn’t fair. It wouldn’t have been his fault, but sometimes those feelings don’t care about fair or not.
A shop towel hits me in the face. “Why are you staring at me?”
I shake it off. “Sorry. Spacing out, I guess.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to get some rest.”
We put everything away, Dusty turns on the shop’s alarm, and then we lock up and leave.
“You want to follow me to my place, or should I give you my address?” He heads toward what I assume is his Jeep Wrangler.
Shit. I don’t even know where Dusty lives. The thought hits me out of the blue. How did I let it get so bad that I don’t even know where Dusty lives?
The image of him with his lips on Rhett’s fills my head, makes my damn skin crawl.
“Why do you look pissed?”
“I’m not.” He cocks a brow, and I roll my eyes. “Pissed isn’t the right word. More like…sad. Let’s just go home, Dust. I’ll follow you.”
He watches me, wheels clearly spinning in his head, then nods. “Okay. Let’s go home.”
I climb into my rental and follow Dusty through downtown Birchbark, then down Waterfall Road, which leads out of town. About ten minutes later, he’s pulling down a driveway on a rural, secluded road, to a white house with a detached, three-car garage, which I have no doubt is where Dusty works on cars at home.
I don’t know why, but Rob flashes into my head. He would hate a place like this and would have chosen a hotel over staying here with Dusty, but damn, does it look perfect to me. And I know it’s perfect for Dust.
I park beside him and get out. It’s about ten. The sun only went down about half an hour ago, so it’s not pitch-black out yet. My feet move in a circle as I take in Dusty’s property, the army of trees around us, the sugar maples he always smells like.
“This is yours?” I ask.
“That’s what they say, but I’m not sure the bank would agree.” Dusty chuckles. “I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s perfect for me. This is home. It’ll always be home.”
Yeah, I know that, but… “Do you think I’ve changed so much that I wouldn’t love a place like this over where my dad lives?” The sting in my chest leaves no denying how that thought makes me feel.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t think so, but you never know. I’m not trying to be a dick. We’re just navigating a tough situation here.”
I nod because he’s right. I can’t deny that. “You know me, Dust. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed or where our lives have taken us, you know me better than anyone, better than I know myself. The only reason I’m halfway sane is because I had you.” I’ve never been the type to get embarrassed, and for the first time, I feel heat travel up my face. I look away, toward the trees, unable to make eye contact.
Jesus. What the fuck is wrong with me?