Page 59 of Body Check
“I won’t be alone,” I tell him. “I’ll have Dutton.” My words aren’t sharp or accusatory, but I’m not surprised they make him wince. I have to be honest, though. That’s really how this whole mess started in the first place. I was so scared of the potential fallout that I lied by omission and snuck around. That wasn’t fair to any of us, and I can’t backslide. Bran doesn’t have to like that I’m dating Dutton, but he does have to deal with it.
“I know you do,” he says, a slight edge to his voice. “I just didn’t know if he was aware of the shit show that is our family.”
“He is. And he’s got my back the same way you always have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want your support. You’re my brother, Bran. My twin. My first friend and my best friend. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I’m sorry, too.”
“I just don’t get it,” he says, frustration seeping through his every movement. “I know I don’t have to. I know it’s none of my fucking business. But part of me worries that you got so used to being treated like shit by the terrible trio that you’re with a guy who’s gonna do the same thing.”
I’m so stunned that it takes me a minute to find my words. “Bran, I need you to believe me when I tell you that Dutton Wagner is the kindest man I’ve ever met. He’s so good to me. He treats me like I’m the only person in his universe. He’s ready to throw down with any relative who dares to look at me funny or make a snide comment.”
Bran looks like he wants to call bullshit, but he holds himself back. “If you say so, but I need you to promise me that if he ever doesn’t treat you right, if he doesn’t treat you like a fuckingqueen, you leave. You deserve the best, Birdie. Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt that.”
The fierceness in Bran’s voice softens my heart a little. It’s obvious that he wants the best for me, and that he doesn’t think Dutton measures up. “I’ll make that promise,” I assure him. “But I want you to promise me that you’ll give him a chance to prove himself. I know you have your reasons for doubting him, and I’m not excusing any of the shit he pulled with you, but will you try to see him for the man he really is?”
Silence stretches between us, but when I see my brother nod, my whole body relaxes.
“I’ll try,” he says, “But I swear, if he?—”
I cut Bran off before he gets too worked up. “Thank you,” I say, wrapping him in a hug. “Now, what’s first? Am I helping you to finish packing or am I trimming your hair? Because you have four shirts in that suitcase, and no pants, but you also have a hairstyle that’s rivaling Blue’s.”
Bran smirks at me. “Pack first and then I’ll take you up on that offer of a haircut. Unless you think we should start with?—”
“You called it. First we pack, then we shape up this mop,” I tease. Things aren’t totally back to normal, but I think we might be getting somewhere. If we can make it through the weekend without a fistfight or a shouting match, I’ll call it a win.
We’ve been on the road for an hour and I’ve been trying to get some sleep while Dutton’s behind the wheel, but it’s no use. After working all morning at the salon and cheering my ass off at the game this afternoon, I’m exhausted. And since I know I'll be out late at the rehearsal dinner tonight, I really could use a napright now. My brain and body know this, but anxiety just isn’t having it.
“You doing okay over there?” Dutton asks, giving my thigh a squeeze.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “It’ll be fine. And in a little over twenty-four hours, we’ll be back in Bainbridge.” That's what I keep telling myself. We’re only going for a day. I can survive my family for just a day. Besides, it’s not some random day. It’s a wedding. They’ll all be busy and distracted.
“It will be fine,” he agrees. “And if it isn’t, we’ll leave.”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement even though I know he’s not joking. “We won’t leave until the reception is over,” I say for the four hundredth time.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, chuckling for a second before going silent. “Wait, is that your brother?” Dutton asks, pulling over to the side of the road before I can even answer his question.
We’re both out of Dutton’s SUV a few seconds later, watching as Mickey pops the hood of his car and sticks his head under it. My brother knows as much about cars as I do, so I know he’s staring at the inner workings of his engine right now with no clue about what’s gone wrong.
“You need a hand?” Dutton asks, striding up next to Mickey. I watch as my brother turns, ready to accept any offer of help.
Until he recognizes the source.
“Nah, it’s fine,” my brother says, despite the fact that he’s got his hazard lights on and his car’s not running.
Dutton raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that? Can you drive it?”
“It just needs some motor oil,” Mickey says with way more confidence than he has any right to. “Or a battery. Or something.”
“Jesus,” Dutton mutters, but there’s no heat behind his tone. “Why don’t you get behind the wheel and try to turn it over. I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.”
My brother looks like he’s about to argue, but then he looks at me and keeps his mouth shut.
That’s progress.
He gets into the vehicle, and that’s when I notice he’s not alone.
Sitting in the passenger seat of my brother’s car is Viv MacDonald.
But there’s no time to interrogate Bran about why he’s headed to our cousin’s wedding with Viv. That fun little game will have to wait until later. For now, I'm watching as Bran attempts to turn the car on, but instead of roaring to life, it just wheezes and whines. After a few tries, Dutton holds up his hand and shakes his head before reaching into his pocket for his phone.
