Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ECHO
“ I just don’t know what to think. So I’m trying not to. After Dax’s ceremony, I thought Dustin despised me.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the case at all,” Lynsie says, and it brings my eyes back to hers that are filled with such understanding. “I think that night was mixed with a lot of shock and anger. He was caught off guard, just like you were. I think he’s trained himself to use anger as his go-to emotion.”
“Yeah, but thinking he wanted nothing to do with me didn’t stop me from writing him while he was at war.”
“What? You didn’t tell me you wrote him,” Lynsie shrieks.
“Well, it felt borderline wrong, so I thought it was safer to keep to myself. It was only two letters. Because then the accident happened.”
“But all this anger everyone seems to reference to, even himself, I’ve yet to see.”
“It’s because you, and only you, can calm the storm that brews within him.”
I think about her words for a second, letting them sink in. “But why do I feel like I can cause the storm as well?” I cross my arms.
“Because you can.”
I swallow. “I don’t want to be responsible for that.”
Lynsie and I finish what Dustin and I had started in the kitchen before moving to the master bedroom.
“So you’re going to open your own salon? That’s exciting.” I wipe the beads of sweat off my forehead before dipping my brush into the paint.
“Yes, I’m crazy excited. The only thing that would make it better is if you stayed here to work it with me,” Lynsie offers, and it’s highly tempting.
“I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
“Please do.” She giggles.
“Has there been any wedding talk yet?”
“No,” she answers, disappointment evident.
“Well, we all know it’s going to happen,” I say reassuringly.
“I know. I’m just ready to fully be his. I don’t need to get all gussied up. I’d be more than okay with just walking to the courthouse and having it done.”
“Impatient much?” I tease.
“Very.” She snorts. “And don’t get me wrong, I’m very blessed with what I have. I know I sound like a spoiled brat.”
“No, you don’t. I get it. You have the man, and even though what you guys have is concrete, you want to make it official. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Thank you for that. I’m glad someone gets me. Not like I have anyone else to talk to about it, but still. I really wish you lived here.” There’s a longing in her voice.
“Who knows what the future holds.” I shrug, accepting the uncertainty of it all.
“Man, my arms feel like jello,” Lynsie says, flapping her arms up and down.
“Yeah,” I say tiredly. “Painting is for the birds.”
Lynsie and I walk out onto the porch to see the guys hammered and laughing.
“Glad to see you guys bonding,” Lynsie deadpans, walking up to Dax, and wraps her arm around his side.
“It’s the Bud that binds us,” Dax says, doubling over with laughter.
“I got nothing,” Dustin throws out, laughing.
Lynsie and I look at each other, shaking our heads and giggling at these two.
“I think it’s time to get you home,” she says, patting Dax on the back.
“Aw,” he whines.
I cover my mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Yeah, what he said,” Dustin chimes in. “Don’t be a fun hater, Lyns.”
“I’m just being a regret avoider,” she corrects him, smirking. “He needs to get to sleep. He’ll be thanking me tomorrow when he isn’t spending all day feeling like shit.”
“Hmm, good point,” Dustin replies thoughtfully before tilting his head back and finishing off his beer. “I never sleep.”
“Bye, guys,” Lynsie says, pulling Dax behind her.
“Bye, guys,” Dax says, mocking her.
“Bye, thanks for your help… Lynsie.”
“Hey! I helped!” Dax yells back.
I just shake my head as I sit down near Dustin. “Did y’all accomplish anything?” I smack his thigh with the back of my hand.
“Well, that depends on who you’re asking and what it’s pertaining to.”
I glance over at him to see him looking my way with one brow cocked. I hold his tired gaze for longer than I should. He wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t sleep. It makes me sad, and I wonder what he sees when he does close his eyes.
I glance down, looking at his arm that’s resting on his khaki shorts. I’ve wanted to ask him about his injury since first seeing him, but it seems wrong to do so. But I no longer care, and he’s drunk.
“Does it ever hurt?”
He doesn’t ask me what. He knows exactly what I’m referring to as he takes his right hand and rubs over the white cloth that’s covering part of his forearm. “Sometimes. Every now and then I’ll get these phantom pains.”
“Do you take meds for it?” I hate the idea of him being in pain, but I also don’t want him turning into a loose cannon like Brian.
“I did in the beginning. Now I’ll only take over-the-counter stuff.”
“Does it help?”
“For the most part. If not, I find something to busy myself with and get the focus off it.”
“Is that why you started this project?” I gesture to the fully finished porch swing that’s waiting to be rehung.
He looks out onto the street, deep in thought. “No, it’s pain related, but a different kind.”
“Why endure the pain if you have something that can subside it?”
Again, he’s silent, still for several long seconds. Like he’s trying to work out how much he wants to tell me. “Because I’m still trying to figure out if it’s my antidote or my kryptonite.”
Chills sweep through me, bad and good ones simultaneously. He’s referring to me, I know it. I can either heal him or destroy him. I hold the power. But I don’t want to be the one responsible for his potential downfall. He sighs and gives me the answer I was after. “Because I don’t want to become dependent on it.”
I force a smile, trying not to let him see the storm inside me, the sadness I feel for our lost future, the sadness from all the pain I’ve caused him over the years, and the euphoria to think that he still might love me. I have to clear my throat to get the words out. “Oh yes, I forgot how independent you are.” I stick my tongue out, trying to lighten the mood. But the way he’s staring at me makes me think I did anything but. He quickly glances from my eyes to my tongue, then back to my eyes. He gulps hard, then turns his head away from me. I do the same as I rest it back on the house. Today has been one hell of a day—emotionally and physically.