Page 44 of Wasted Memories
“I’ve got an AirBnB for the time being, but thanks for the offer. You’ve always been so great at showing some good ol’ southern hospitality.”
If only he knew.
“It’s a good thing we aren’t in the south,” I muttered.
He casually cruised over to the kitchen island, picking up the book I had sitting on the counter. “I’m only here for a few weeks doing some work-related business. Thought I’d stop in and check on you given you were in the area.”
I stayed standing on the opposite side of the island from him. “What kind of work would that be?”
“Oh, now you’re interested in being friendly?” He set the book down and eyed me. I should offer him a drink, but if I did, he’d stay longer and I wanted him out of here before Emerson got home from work.
“If you’re referring to our conversation at the funeral, it seemed pretty clear you’re too busy with a life of your own to show any interest in ours.”
He scoffed. “Don’t assume shit, Wesley. We’ve all got our own battles we’re dealing with.”
“Yeah? Is yours so bad that you couldn’t be there when dad was sick? You left me and mom to handle all of it while you played house with your little family.” He sent cards in the mail, called our mom for ten minutes bi-weekly to check on things, and that was about it. He never visited. Never helped out. The last time he saw our dad was on that trip, before he got sick.
“I got a divorce.”
“You didn’t say shit about a divorce at the funeral. How do I know you’re not just telling me some sob story to make me feel bad for you?”
“Do you think I wanted to come to our dad’s funeral and boast about my recent divorce?”
I clenched my fists on the counter, trying to hide the rage building inside me. “You missed out on years of our lives for some marriage that didn’t even fucking last? You didn’t even see dad before he passed away. You’re too fucking late to try and mend some bridges, Easton.”
I don’t care if the woman tied him to the bedpost. He stayed away the entire time our father was sick. My mother needed her boys there and he was no where to be found besides a few fucking calls to check-in.
It felt like I was the only person in our family to really miss our dad. My mom moved on in the blink of an eye and my brother never came to say goodbye. Coming to his funeral wasn’t a goodbye. My dad needed him by his side when he was alive, not six feet in the fucking ground.
Easton changed the subject to my earlier question, dodging the topic at hand. “I’m here on a missing person’s case.”
A missing person in Oldport? I hadn’t heard of anyone going missing.
Before I could ask what he meant, the front door opened.
Glancing at the clock on the oven, I saw that Emerson had gotten off of work ten minutes ago. She had told me Stella would drive her home as she wanted to see her and catch up. I figured they would have grabbed a drink or something, but she came straight here.
She stopped in her tracks when she made it to the end of the entryway, her eyes widening slightly before she cleared her throat and walked into the kitchen, setting her purse on the island.
She looked between me and Easton, seemingly confused as she pursed her lips.
“Em, this is Easton, my brother.”
Her eyes were glued to me when Easton said, “We’ve already met.”
Chapter Twenty Four
Emerson
“Thefuckdoyoumean you’ve already met?”
I could see why he wouldn’t be too happy to hear that. I had no idea how I was going to explain without including my run-in with Luke.
Easton gestured to me as I stood there with my tongue stuck in my throat. “Saved her at the grocery store.”
I blinked rapidly, looking at him and shaking my head in a way-too-obvious manner. He didn’t mind diving straight in, but I did. I would never hear the end of this.
I’d already gone against what Wesley asked of me when I went to Jett’s house to grab my clothes, then when I went to the grocery store. He’ll know I had lied to him because, well, I did. Although, if we were getting technical, I did tell him the truth. I just didn’t tell him every detail.
