Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“I’ll make you dinner now.” I step back.
Morgan gives me a sad smile, then follows me into the house.
Somehow, I feel like I let him down.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Archer
My eyes jerk open at the sound of my cell ringing. My heart climbs into my throat as I realize it’s one in the morning…and then I see Easton’s name on the screen. This is the first time he’s called me, and the fact that he’s doing it in the middle of the night can’t be a good sign. I skip hello and ask, “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t mean to ruin everything…but that’s what I do.” His voice is low, bleeding with sadness.
“You didn’t ruin anything. Where are you?” I sit up on the edge of the bed and turn on the light. My jeans from yesterday are on the floor, so I tug them on, forgoing underwear.
“I tried to fuck you. It was stupid. Just wanted to feel something good. You can still leave me if you fuck me, Archer. But maybe your moral compass doesn’t allow you to do that. Or hell, maybe you just don’t want to.”
I pull on the first T-shirt I find. “It’s not because I think sleeping with you ties you to me…and Jesus, East. I want you. I want you so bad, I ache with it. I just…” There are so many reasons to worry this is a bad idea. So many things I should say, but… “I don’t want to have this conversation on the phone. Where are you?” My hands are shaking. Please let him be okay. Please don’t let him have done anything stupid.
“I don’t know why I’m calling you. You’re fucking with me.”
“You can always call me. Where are you?”
He sighs. “Home. I didn’t screw up tonight.”
Guilt swims in my gut. I feel bad for having thought that, for worrying about it, but then, he doesn’t always make the best decisions.
“I’m gonna come over. Talk to me.” I hurry through putting on my socks and shoes, grab my shit, then head out.
“You shouldn’t have to do this.”
“I don’t. I want to.”
“I don’t understand you. You don’t even know me. I’m nothing.”
“East…” I climb into my car. “You’re not nothing. Not to me, not to Dusty, Rhett, or Morgan. Sure as shit not to Pretty Girl and Casanova. You saved their lives.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but I can hear him breathing, so I know he didn’t end the call. I drive too fast toward his place, glad he’s there, surprised he called and that he’s not arguing with me about coming over.
“I couldn’t save her.”
My heart splits down the middle, breaks off into little pieces. He is so goddamned traumatized by that day. Why didn’t Gregory Swift ever get his son help? Did anyone tell East it wasn’t his fault? “You were just a kid. It was a terrible accident.”
“Morgan is gonna name the bar Gracie’s. That was her middle name. Not Grace.”
Is that why he’s struggling tonight? “Yeah? Are you okay with that?”
“You shouldn’t have to ask me that. I told Morgan the same thing.”
“All that means is people care about you.”
Silence greets me again for too long, but then I pull down his driveway, and he finally speaks again. “She would like it. I like it. Good things fuck with my head more than bad ones. That’s not normal.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, don’t know that I’m dealing with any of this the way I’m supposed to, but I’m not going anywhere. I want to be here for him. It feels like the most important thing I’ll ever do.
My headlights shine on his white, two-story house, and I see him sitting on the porch steps, holding his cell to his ear.
I park, get out, but for some reason, don’t end the call even as I approach him, as I stop right in front of him. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” I say through the phone to the man sitting a foot away.
“I shouldn’t have called.”
I put my cell away and sit down beside him. “Yes, you should have.”
“I hate that I did.”
“That sounds more like it.”
He doesn’t laugh like I hoped he would. “I can’t figure out what you’re doing to me. Or why I can’t stop it. Or why you don’t shut this shit down and walk away before I fuck something up for you.”
“You’re not going to ruin my life. You’re my friend.” Which is the most important thing, even more so than how much I want him.
He huffs. “I’m shit at that.”
“No, you’re not.”
He looks away, spaces off, lost in his head the way he gets sometimes. It’s strange when it happens, like he’s stepped out of his body, like he’s in a place no one can reach him.
“No,” he says softly.
“No, what?”
East shakes his head. “Nothing.”