Page 85 of Respect

She leaned on the table, over the crumbled remains of the pie, and stared hard at him with eyes he’d inherited, vivid light green, like jade. Girls fell all over themselves squeeing about his eyes, but to him they were just the things he looked out of. He never thought about the color as pretty unless he was looking at his mom. Her eyes were beautiful.

“You don’t always know better,” she said, in a gentler version of the lecturing tone he knew so well. “And where someone else’s life is concerned, it doesn’t matter if you do know better, not unless you’ve been invited to help or give an opinion. No means no not just in sex but in life. You know this, honey.”

“I’m not trying to force anything on her. I just want her to know all the options she has, and I honestly don’t know if we can do anything to help. I had to ask. The whole reason I asked tonight is because she was here. I didn’t want to sneak about it.”

“Yep, king of the morons,” Hannah said. She’d been mostly quiet, avidly soaking up the conversation, but as usual, she was only there to troll.

Generally, Duncan’s feelings about his much younger sister were tolerant affection and a spectator’s enjoyment of her antics. He was older enough that they’d never squabbled over toys or attention, or whatever else siblings usually fought about. He’d thought of himself as a protector and sometimes a mentor for her. Not until Hannah had evidenced a sarcastic, jaded streak worthy of Johnny Rotten had they ever really argued, and even then, he enjoyed her watch-the-world-burn takes most of the time.

Not tonight, however. “Fuck off, you little alien freak.”

She tried to look like the insult had bounced off her, but Duncan saw where it had hit.

“Hey,” she threw back. “Don’t come for me because you’re too poisoned with testosterone to respect the woman you’re supposed to love.”

Love? Not yet. They were still getting to know each other; it was far too early to think of love. But when Duncan tried to say that aloud, the words wouldn’t come.

“I respect her,” he managed instead. “I’m in awe of her.”

Duncan’s head had become a jumble of obscure thoughts and half-formed ideas, like a mud-wrestling pit, with notions he only hoped he understood popping up randomly from the morass.

He hated all the attention on him now. He felt guilty, and also defensive, about bringing the ranch up at dinner. He felt guilty and anxious that he was just sitting here while Phoebe fled back to Checotah, their trouble unresolved.

Fuck, what if her leaving him tonight meant that she was leaving him period?

That thought set loose another volley of worries and thoughts he couldn’t quite get control of.

Of course he respected her. He was in awe of her. Phoebe had survived a whole lifetime of shit already, and despite it all she was strong and warm-hearted and really knew who she was and what she wanted. He couldn’t say the same about himself. For all his cocksure sense of his own toughness, for all the badassery that came with the Bull on his back, he’d never really been tested. California was the closest he’d come, but it didn’t feel nearly the same as what she’d overcome. Phoebe made him want to be more than he was.

Maybe he did love her. If not, maybe he could. If given the chance.

He looked to his mom. “How do I fix it?”

––––––––

~oOo~

––––––––

I was way out of line and I’m sorry. Can we talk?

More than an hour later, dinner was cleaned up, Kelsey and Dex had taken their kids home, Hannah was up in her room, and Mom and Dad were somewhere in the house together. Duncan sat on a sofa in the living room, Rowdy stretched out on his back beside him, snoring.

He stared at his phone, waiting for something to happen. Mom had advised him, with Kelsey’s agreement, that all he should do was send a short, clear text. No defense, no rationale, nothing but an apology. He’d followed their counsel, adding only the request to talk.

So far, more than an hour after she’d fled the house, his text remained the last in their thread.

“You okay, son?”

Duncan looked over his shoulder at his father. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

Dad came into the room and had a seat on the sofa facing the one Duncan and Rowdy were hogging. The dog lifted his head and wagged his tail, then dropped back into his hedonistic stupor.

“Seems like it. Also seems like Phoebe really means something to you.”

“I think she does.” He set his phone screen-down on the cushion beside him. “It’s kind of hit me like a truck. I didn’t see her coming at all, and now ... I don’t know. I feel ... scared right now.”

“Scared of loving her, or scared of losing her?”

---