Page 58 of Forever Finds Us
“I did? I was pretty high then.”
“You did. I’m so sorry, Dix. Are you okay now? Are you… high now?”
“No,” he said. “Been sober almost five months now. Look, the reason I’m callin’ is to tell you I’m off the grid. You can’t track this phone, so don’t even try. It’s a cheap, piece-of-shit burner I borrowed from some junkie at NA.”
It wasn’t the only reason he’d called. Dixon, no matter how many times he told me he wanted to be left alone, still wanted and needed a connection to our family, and I was that connection. He and I had lived in hell together. I was his safest bet.
“I’m in California still, but I ain’t sayin’ where. I’ve got a place to stay while I get my head straight. I can’t do it with a bunch of assholes around me all the time. Sometimes, bein’ around people is too much.”
“Okay, I mean, that’s good, I guess. I’m glad you’re better. Can I let the family know now? Can I tell them you’re better?”
“No! You said you’d keep this shit to yourself.”
“You’re right,” I said, trying to calm him down. “I did. But I thought you just didn’t want them to know about rehab or Kel.”
“I don’t. Listen, how many times have I been through this? I don’t want them to know until I’m good.” The line went quiet. More than a minute passed, and I had begun to think he’d cut the call. “I-I’m not good right now, Brand. Not even close. I’m sober… for now. I wanna stay that way, and you have no fuckin’ idea how bad I wanna see my kid, but if I can’t keep this up, I can’t put that on him. I can’t hurt him like that. You understand?”
“I do,” I said, though I was sure the family wanted him home no matter the condition he showed up in. “How can I contact you?”
Guilt and panic ran through me like a runaway train. I needed to see my brother. I wanted to hug him and show him how proud I was of him. And selfishly, I wanted our family to see him sober and healthy, too, so they wouldn’t hate me for keeping his secrets.
“You can’t,” he said. “I’ll come home when I’m ready. But Brand?”
“Yeah, little brother, what do you need? Money? A car?”
“Naw, man. Thanks, but I just need you to do somethin’ for me.”
“What? Anything,” I offered, though, as I said it I winced. Maybe offering “anything” was going too far.
“Can you give my kid a hug from me? Squeeze him tight? Tell him his daddy loves him and misses him, but make sure no one hears you, okay?”
My eyes filled with tears, and the choke in my throat made it hard to respond, but I swallowed my guilt and pushed out the words. “I will, Dixon. I promise. You know he’s?—”
“No. Don’t you tell me nothin’ about him. I can’t handle that. I can’t… I just can’t be there right now. It’ll break me, Brand. All those precious things I’m missin’. I can’t. But it’s for the best. I promise. I’ll get better, and I’ll come home. I dunno when, but I’ll… be better.”
“I know you will, Dix?—”
But before I could even get his name out of my mouth, the line went dead.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Roxanne
“You look beautiful,” Brand said when he picked me up for dinner at Bax’s house with his family.
I’d had an easy shift at work. It was a long day, six to six, but we’d had no more reports of missing people, Teton Tom, or old ladies in a tither because someone parked too close to their mailbox. I was more tired than I could ever remember being, though.
Last night was exhausting in the best way. I’d never been so happy to be wrung out.
Figuring out I’d fallen in love took a lot out of me, too, and now, as I looked at the man in question walking up my porch stairs to take me on a date, it occurred to me that maybe I should tell him about my midnight revelation. But maybe waiting for another time would be better, when we weren’t both exhausted and about to out our relationship to the world.
Lifting my hand as we descended my porch steps, Brand placed a soft kiss across my knuckles and then guided me with his other hand low on my back. He held the truck door open for me as I admired his crisp, light blue button-down and tight jeans, then climbed up, trying not to flash him when my pink-and-purple floral sundress rode up my thighs. Static cling—the struggle was real.
Mr. Begley watched from his front stoop as he enjoyed his evening cigar, but when Brand shoved the fabric higher and smacked my bare ass because I’d worn a thong, Begley huffed and slammed his door shut when he went inside.
Brand leaned down and bit my ass cheek. I yelped and flopped onto the seat, and he leaned over me to adjust the dress and make me pious again, or at least appear that way.
Reaching for the seat belt next to my arm, he tugged it down and stretched the strap across my chest. When he clicked it into place, his eyes met mine, and I had to hold in a moan because all I could think about was how his body fit similarly inside mine, with a click. And now, I was imagining him using the seatbelt to bind my wrists and eating me out right here on the street curb, with Mr. Begley watching from his window.
