Page 21 of The Long Way Home
He leaned closer. “I’m serious, Rhett. You get it. You know how she is. She acts like she’s fine even when she’s not. She’s so stubborn. And I’m not stupid, I know she cares about what other people think about her. She’s my only sibling, and I just need to know if I’m not around one day… someone I trust is watching her back.”
I sat my beer down next to us and met his gaze. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, man.”
He nodded once, eyes holding firm. “I know that. But still just promise me.”
I let the silence hang for a beat, then finally nodded. “Yeah. Of course, but can we stop talking about something so morbid?”
“Don’t worry, Rhett. If you die before me, I promise I’ll find your mom and tell her to fuck off,” he joked.
He always had my back, so what was the harm in promising him this? “Okay, seems like a fair trade.”
Anderson claps his hands together, pulling me from the memory. “Looks like we only have a couple more boxes. Hey, once we get the rest of these in, you owe me a celebratory beer. Or five.”
I shake my head, smiling. “Deal. But I swear, Anderson, next time either of us moves, I’m hiring movers.”
He laughs again, placing another box onto the pile. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how you feel after this one. Now lift, Rhett. Let’s pretend we’re young and spry.”
I groan, but lift. And somehow, even with all the boxes, the heat, and the tension I’m carrying about Rachel, it feels good to be back.
Once the last box thuds onto the floor, my arms feel like rubber bands about to snap. Sweat clings to the back of my neck, and every muscle in my shoulders screams, but it’s done. My stuff is here. My life is here.
I head over to the fridge, which is mostly empty except for a six-pack and a carton of eggs, and grab two beers. The caps clatter against the counter as I twist them off.
“Here,” I say, handing one to Anderson before dropping onto the couch. The cushions groan beneath me as I stretch out. “Feels real now,” I murmur, taking a long drink. The beer is cold and goes down smoothly. “I’m actually back.”
Anderson lifts his bottle in a quiet toast, the corner of his mouth turning up. “When do you start work?”
“Tomorrow. But I went up there yesterday and met the crew.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, brow furrowing as if remembering something. “My buddy Connor works at that station. He’s a good guy. You’d like him.”
I tilt my head. “Connor Westbrook?”
He nods. “That’s him.”
“Okay, yeah, I actually met him before I officially met him at the station. He was dancing with your sister at the wedding. Or more like begging your sister to dance with him.” I let out a laugh.
“I swear he has always been like that with Slone. At first, I thought he was doing it as a joke to get under my skin. But it’s been like five years, and he still acts like that. It’s really too bad Slone doesn’t do serious relationships.”
“You’d let Slone date Connor?”
He lets out a loud laugh. “You’ve met Slone, do you think I have any say in who she dates?”
“Fair.” I take another gulp. “So, when do you and Margo head out on your honeymoon?”
Anderson’s face shifts into something softer when I say her name. His mouth tips into a smile he doesn’t bother to rein in. “We leave on Friday for Lisbon for thirteen days. I can’t wait to have her all to myself.”
“Damn,” I say. “Why Lisbon?”
He smiles, twisting the cap between his fingers. “She’s always wanted to go.”
“And you?”
“Didn’t matter to me where we went,” he says. “As long as I’m with her.”
I watch the way his mouth curves into a smile when he talks about her. He seems content, and I can’t help but feel jealous that I can’t have that feeling for myself. I take a long pull from my bottle, letting the bubbles bite at my throat.
“That’s solid, man,” I say finally. “You two deserve it.”
