Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
DUSTIN
T aking my morning walk, I stop dead in my tracks. She’s here.
“Echo,” I whisper in disbelief.
She slowly lifts her head, and her eyes go wide with realization.
“Dustin.” She all but runs to the end of the walkway, stopping herself from embracing me—like something’s holding her back from doing so. I can think of one thing in particular. With mere inches between us, she looks up, entrancing me with her brown eyes. “You’re here.”
“I’m here,” I repeat, unsure of how to react with her so close.
“You’re alive.” She steps back and begins assessing the damage.
“Yes, I’m alive.” I might be alive on the outside, but I’m just a shell. Her hand brushes across my face. I shiver at her touch. She begins tracing the new scars, working her hand down my neck. The first tear falls as her hand begins to tremble down my arm, reaching where it now ends. Instinct sets in and I begin to pull away.
“No,” she says, throwing her arms around me. I do the same, cradling her head to my chest. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
I want to argue, to disagree that it’s not all that matters, but I also want to keep her in my arms for as long as possible. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s here for a reason and I plan to be whatever she needs. Because standing here, holding her, is the most alive I’ve felt in years. But all too soon, it ends as she begins pulling away. No matter the duration, it’d always be too soon.
“Did you just come to hang out on the porch?” I tease.
She laughs and it’s the most glorious sound in the world.
“No, I’m waiting for my mom to remind me what the code to the lockbox is so I can get in.”
“Oh, well, you don’t need that. I can get you in.” I jog off to the side and make quick work of the pesky gate door. I slide her bedroom window open and crawl in. It’s always been my way into this house.
“Tada,” I say, opening the door. “It’s magic.”
She laughs, walking past me. “Thanks, Houdini.”
I want to reply that she’s the one who disappeared, but I sense now isn’t the time to joke about our past.
“I’m just going to go back here for a bit.” She points toward the hall. “I’ll be back out soon.”
I count to ten and push off the wall as soon as I hear the door shut. More than anything, I want to rush to her side and hold her while she sorts through her emotions. But the bare minimum, I’m going to sit on the porch and be here when she comes back out. I lean my head back and daydream about when times were simpler. Times when I only had to navigate her controlling father, not a husband. Maybe I should have just saved myself instead of making it my mission to keep him alive. I’d still have my career, my hand, and probably could’ve won back the girl. Now the odds are more heavily stacked against me.
As long as she’s happy. That’s all that matters. But is she?
Lynsie pulls up, slams her car door, and jogs my way.
“Where is she?”
“Hi to you, too,” I say, pointing at the house.
“Please tell me you didn’t leave her in there alone.” She runs up the steps.
“The house isn’t haunted, Lyns.”
“It might as well be with everything going on.”
I jump to my feet and put my hand on the screen door, keeping it closed. “What’s going on?”
“It’s not my business to tell.”
“Lynsie, please. I need to know she’s okay,” I beg.
“Fine. For the record, I hate being the middleman.” She walks the length of the porch a couple times before stopping right in front of me. “It’s Brian.”
“What about him?”
She huffs. “He seems to be having some anger issues.”
Heat rises within me, and I see red. I grab the door handle and pull. It doesn’t open. I glance down and see Lynsie’s foot propped up against it.
“What are you going to do, huh? Go in there and cause a scene being all mad. The last thing she needs is another angry man.”
My body relaxes, submitting to her words. Going in and hulking out was never my intention, but that’s exactly what it’d look like.
“Sit back down, Romeo. I got this.” Lynsie pats my shoulder before walking inside, and I sit back down for what feels like an eternity.
THE SCREEN DOOR creaks open, and I jump to my feet, turning to face Lynsie. I glance inside, hoping Echo isn’t following behind. I’m not ready for her to leave. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.
“Is she okay?”
She stares out toward the street, contemplating her response.
“Yeah, yeah. Of course,” Lynsie says, shaking her head before making complete eye contact with me. She smiles, trying to reassure me, but her eyes are filled with worry.
I cock a brow, calling her out on her bullshit.
“I just wish there were more I could do.” Lynsie begins pacing back and forth. “I wish I were closer so I could be there for her and help like she was for me when Lincoln died.” She sobs, and I pull her in for a hug.
“Is there anything I can do for her?” I ask, wishing I were the remedy.
“No.” She sniffles, pulling away. “Just be whatever she needs without expectations. Like your brother was for me.”
I watch as Lynsie leaves before making my way in to the end of the hall. I knock on the closed door before slowly pushing it open. She’s lying back against her old broken bed, looking up at the ceiling, and my heart cracks a bit.
“Are you up for some company?”
“Only if you’re the company,” she replies, keeping her gaze above.
I walk over and sit down next to her. I stretch my legs out before me, crossing them at the ankles as I lean back with her.
“I took it,” I say, twiddling my thumbs.
“I knew it.” She smiles and relief washes over me. “You were the only logical explanation.” Echo turns her head sideways, facing me, and so many feelings hit me all at once.
“But why? Why’d you take it?”
“It made me feel close to you. I put it up everywhere I went. Instead of feeling like I was worlds away, it made me feel like I was lying right here next to you.” I wipe away at the runaway tear, not wanting to put my emotions on display. Echo reaches over and catches the rest that spill over, wiping them away with the pad of her thumb. She then grabs my hand and weaves our fingers together. We sit in silence, holding hands, and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my day.
“Did you know that Brian was injured?”
“Yes.” I pause. “I was there when it happened.”
“Oh.”
“But I didn’t know the extent of everyone’s injuries. I was the last one to leave the hospital and was sent straight home.”
Her hand tightens around mine.
“Do you suffer from PTSD?”
Normally, these questions would make me feel as if I’m being interrogated and I wouldn’t answer them, but with Echo, I’d talk about the weight of animal poop if it meant I was privileged enough to have a conversation with her.
“No, I don’t. Mine’s all natural.”
She snorts. I begin rubbing my thumb in circles against the delicate skin of her hand.
“Something happened to Brian over there. It’s damn near like he’s been possessed.”
Dropping her hand, I turn and face her. “Did he hurt you?”
She looks down and shakes her head.
“You’re going to have to do better than that.” I lightly grab her face, directing her to look at me.
“He didn’t hurt me. He’s just mean.” She sniffles. Her eyes meet my stare as tears begin to spill down her face.
I open my arms and, without hesitation, she’s in them again. I hold her tight against my chest as she cries. I begin talking once her body starts to still against me.
“The mind can be a scary place. While I’m not excusing his behavior and really want to hurt his feelings or face for the way he’s made you feel, I believe Brian left a physical war to now be trapped in a mental one.”
“And how does one win that war?”
“They first have to realize they’re in it,” I say, brushing the hair off the side of her face.
She sits up and wipes her face of all evidence and then stands.
“Okay. I came here to get away and get my mind off things.” She holds a hand out to me, pulling me up. “Help me get my mind off things.”
THIS WASN’T WHAT I was expecting when I agreed to help get her mind off things. I believe I was tricked by a pretty girl. I roll the paint roller through the pool of white as Echo does the same from the other side of the kitchen.
“I thought you finished this back in August.”
“No, I only managed to get the front part of the house done. So just the back part minus my old room, and the porch are all that’s left.” She stretches her body skyward, trying to reach as much of the wall as she can.
“You okay over there?” Lynsie walks in, eyeing me with one brow raised, completely amused by catching me watch Echo.
“Did someone call for beer and pizza?” Dax announces, carrying two boxes of pizza in one hand and a twelve pack in another. Lynsie’s empty-handed as she should be.
Echo turns around, giving Lynsie a big smile. “So glad y’all could come over.”
“What? You had to call for backup? I wasn’t good enough company for you?” I tease her.
“Oh hush.” Echo waves me and my bruised ego off. “I merely called in reinforcements.”
“It’s good to see you, Dax.” She walks up to my brother and playfully smacks his cheek. “I see that peach fuzz is finally thickening up,” she jokes as she rubs his facial hair.
I run my fingers along my wooly beard, jealous. I have facial hair. Why isn’t she touching mine? Lynsie glances over, catching me in the act, and she snickers. I drop my hand before Echo catches me, too.
I really like the idea of my brother and his wife being here because it’ll keep any other awkward moments from happening. But I don’t like the idea of this project being cut in half. The four of us will knock this out in no time. Then what will I do to justify staying near her?
“So, Dax. Do you plan on starting your own woodcarving business?” Echo asks, striking up conversation as we all sit around the pizza, eating.
“Actually.” Dax takes a gulp of beer, rinsing down his food. “I do plan on it. But it’ll happen slowly. Once this instructor job starts at the end of the month, I’m not sure how much time I’ll have for it. Plus, we’re going to convert the garage into a studio for Lynsie before I figure out how to go about mine.”
“What’s this woodcarving business you guys speak of?” I ask with a frown. Then it hits me. My mind was such a haze that night, but I remember Dax mentioning a memorial he had made. “Wait, like the wing that was on display at your award ceremony?”
Dax nods. “Yep.” He takes a big bite of pizza, talking as he chews. Some things never change. “It’s something I kind of took an interest in after you left.” He says it so nonchalantly like it’s no big deal and I wonder if he’s trained himself to feel that way.
Shit, maybe that’s because he doesn’t know what all happened. Echo has to have told Lynsie. That’s what girls do, right? And Lynsie has to have told Dax. That’s what wives do, right? Maybe I just need to quit assuming shit. Especially since Lynsie isn't Dax's wife yet.
Good ole oblivious Dax breaks the silence he doesn’t even realize took place. “But I don’t want my business just to be carvings. I’d really like to get into distressing furniture and even making signs and such.”
I want to tease him and ask where his balls went. Maybe call him Martha Stewart. But the fact is, he has his shit together. He has his woman, his daughter, and he has plans. He knows what he wants in life and he’s going after it. Why should I tease or belittle him when he has everything going for him and I have nothing? He’s my brother, and even though I’m jealous as hell, I’m happy for him.
“Sounds like a great idea, man. I really hope it works out for you.”
Dax looks up, and all the goofiness his face usually holds is gone. It’s almost as if he’s been waiting for my recognition all these years. That knowledge twists knots in my gut. It’s something I should’ve given him long ago, but instead, I ran and stayed away—keeping the one person I should have held on to at arm’s length.
“Thanks, bro. That really means a lot.”
I just nod. No need to get any mushier than we already have.
“All right.” I stand. “We got some work to do. Ladies, resume your posts on the inside. Us men got this out here.” I smirk, and Echo doesn’t even bat an eye. She instantly fires back, showing me that spitfire of mine still exists.
“Yeah, I’m sure since you boys ,” she drags out, “have a third to do compared to us.”
“Don’t y’all worry your sweet little asses,” Dax chimes in, smacking Lynsie on hers, causing her to yelp. I wish I had the right to do the same to Echo. My hand practically itches wondering what her ‘sweet little ass’ would feel like in my palm. He finishes with, “It’s not like we won’t be in there to pick up the slack once we finish.”
“Yeah, yeah. I give y’all two hours, and then we’ll see who’s slacking,” Echo challenges and all I can do is eye her and her delicious curves.
I’m in trouble if I can’t keep my thoughts on the straight and narrow. And I don’t know how I’ll do that being in her vicinity.