Page 9 of Gone Away Home

All because Dustin, my long-lost brother—stepbrother—showed up at my door out of the blue and changed my life completely. I could see the sincerity in his eyes when he told me this was it, he was going to claim me and there’s no going back.

Learning about how he felt about me back in high school was bittersweet. We lost so much time, even if we couldn’t changeit and might not have been able to stop how everything went down. Still, it stung to know how he felt back then because there were times when I thought I was imagining things with the way I would catch him looking at me. It would have been nice to know I was seeing yearning in his gaze.

But then it would have made the situation even more difficult to live through if I had known.

Maybe it all worked out for the best. Our parents were happy, and we made choices to become the people we’ve become.

Now, I regret not continuing to write him letters. Did he feel like I abandoned him? All because I was hurt?

He left his home, and his dad, because he was trying to make everyone else’s life easier. He left because of how he felt about me. He sacrificed so much and what did I do? I stopped giving him a connection to his home through my letters.

Although I wonder if it would have been even harder on him if I had kept writing.

I groan, “Stop overthinking. Get out of bed and find the bacon.”

I stretch again before rolling out of bed, going through my morning routine, and throwing on some clothes. When I step into the kitchen, I find Dustin pulling a tray of bacon out of the oven while the eggs are almost done cooking on the stove.

He’s wearing sweatpants which hang far too low on his hips and they’re the only thing he’s wearing. He was wearing jeans yesterday and the realization has me narrowing my eyes while I take him in.

Dustin is sexy as hell and my mouth waters the longer I watch him. His body is muscular, but not like he spends way too muchtime at the gym. He’s lean, but solid. His hair is dirty blond and a little darker than I remember. It’s also much shorter and I find myself wondering if he’s going to let it grow out a little bit now.

He told me last night how he was discharged from the military and isn’t going back. I swear I felt my entire body sag with relief. It’s a strange feeling to relax, fully relax, after not being able to in so long that you don’t remember what it was like not to be tense. I hadn’t even realized my worry for him went soul deep until the moment he confirmed he was home for good.

There are a few tattoos on Dustin’s body, the largest one being writing on his ribs I haven’t been able to get a good enough look at yet. Last night I was a little bit preoccupied and then floating in a sea of pleasure. Cataloging his tattoos was the last thing on my mind.

Now though? While he’s cooking in my kitchen in only a pair of sweatpants? You better fucking believe I’m looking and taking him all in.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and sit down so I can feed you?” He flashes me a big grin when he looks over his shoulder at me, his question startling me a little bit.

“I don’t know,” I tease him, “I’m kind of enjoying the show.” He turns and takes the pan off the stove before grabbing some plates. “Wow,” my tone is filled with awe, “you seem to know where everything is.” I tilt my head to the side and ask him what I’ve been curious about since I saw him this morning, “Where did you get your clothes? You weren’t wearing them last night.”

Dustin looks over his shoulder at me and nods toward the living room where a duffel, one which can only belong to him, is sitting. He shrugs one shoulder. “This morning, I brought itin from my truck. There are a few more things out there, but nothing that can’t wait to be unloaded. I haven’t needed much while I’ve been gone and learned to live pretty minimally.”

I scoff, it wasn’t like he was materialistic before he left either. He was more than happy to have the things he needed and not much else. It’s something I admired about him and understood. I think with both of our parents being single the majority of the time we were growing up, we learned things weren’t as important as time with family and their support.

Or, at least, it’s what I learned growing up with Mom. She struggled when I was young and made sure I was taken care of with only one income. I can’t imagine it was much easier for Thad with Dustin, even though the circumstances around why our parents were single were different.

Wait. Did he just say there’s more in his truck to be unloaded? Unloaded where?

My eyebrows pull together and I step toward the small table in the breakfast nook. Do I place myself to ensure I can still watch him move around my kitchen like he’s been here forever? You better fucking believe it. For some reason, my eyes keep going to the script on his ribcage and I desperately want to get a closer look at what it says.

There’s a tentative note in my voice, “Are you staying with our parents?”

His gaze is sharp as he looks up from where he’s putting together two plates for us. Holy shit, if he keeps being all domestic in my kitchen then no one will be able to blame me when I blurt out wild shit. Like how he should move in with me.

“No,” his voice is calm, almost too calm, “I’m not staying there.”

“Okay?” I’m sure I look confused as fuck. Not only does this conversation not make any sense to me, but it’s early and I still haven’t had any coffee. I rub my forehead and mumble, more to myself than to him, “Maybe I’m not understanding something obvious because I need caffeine?”

Dustin chuckles and sets a plate down in front of me and the chair next to me before sweeping his sweatpants covered ass back to the counter where a pot of coffee is warm and inviting. And what an ass it is. It’s just begging to be bitten, which is not something I’ve ever thought about an ass before.

It’s clear from his body, which is all lean muscle and ripped abs along with those damn lines on his hips designed to make women stupid, the military kept him in shape. I take a closer look at him, suddenly afraid he was hurt while he was serving.

There are a few scars, but it’s not like I could tell you if they were there before or not. Whenever I was around him without a shirt, I forced myself not to pay too close attention to him. It would have been dangerous, and I knew, even then, I wouldn’t want to look away.

It still feels dangerous to take him in now, but no one is around. We’re in this little bubble of perceived safety where no one can judge us. What happens when we have to leave it? It’ll happen eventually, it’s unavoidable.

He sets a cup of coffee in front of me along with the creamer from my fridge and the sugar. The look he gives me is a little sheepish when I force myself to look up at him. “Sorry,” he flashes me a boyish grin which is disarming as hell, “I’m not sure how you take it. You didn’t drink coffee back then.”

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