Nash Brothers Box Set - Carrie Aarons Page 0,59

checked his punch card online,” Forrest tells us.

“I’m not going to ask how you did that.” I stare at him.

But hearing that Fletcher showed up for work at the grocery store he took shifts at was encouraging. Maybe he was finally going to get his act together this time.

Forrest, however, was going to land himself in jail. My brother was too smart for his own good, and there were rumblings that he was attracting attention from the wrong kind of people. The cops were one thing, but Forrest stuck his nose everywhere it shouldn’t be just for the sheer fact that he could. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get caught in a place he really shouldn’t be one of these days.

“Hasn’t been at the Goat, either. I checked with Gerry.” Bowen leans back on the couch, checking his phone.

Who the hell is he waiting for? I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother remember his cell phone from the drawer he kept it in, in his bedside table, much less check it.

While I’d been buried up to my eyeballs in my infatuation with Presley, my brothers and our world had continued turning. I’d missed things, and annoyance begins to simmer in my chest. I was supposed to be the leader of this family … I’d always known what everyone was up to and how everyone was doing.

I’d actively chosen, in the last couple of months, to take a back seat from my responsibilities. Something I’d never done before. And now that I’d confessed my feelings to Presley and she was shying away, maybe I’d temporarily walked away from my duties for nothing.

“Well … that’s good.” There is nothing else I can say because, clearly, they have our brother handled. Without me.

“Listen, brother, can you see your life being any different if Presley up and leaves town? Like, you got by without her. Sure, you’ll be butthurt for a while, but then you can get over it. And on top of someone else.”

Forrest’s question hits me right between the eyes. My life would be different if she left. Honestly, the idea of her leaving makes me want to punch something … and I am not a guy who’s ever resorted to physical violence. Hell, I’m even a wimp when it comes to using Bowen’s punching bag he keeps in his basement.

“You haven’t been in love, man. You just don’t get it.” I smile at him in that sad, know-it-all way.

Because someday, the love he felt for some girl was going to slap him upside the head and shake all of those superior ideas out of that big brain of his.

“If that isn’t the fucking truth.” Bowen’s eyes go stormy.

And it isn’t until right now that I realize there are two breaking hearts in the room.

32

Presley

Two huge duffels lay open on my bed, their bodies are full of clothes as I meander through the disaster that is my bedroom.

I’m a coward. I admit it. The past week, I’d felt like I was living in someone else’s life. My body didn’t feel my own, I couldn’t process things. My anxiety was maxed out at the highest level, and nothing—not work, or yoga, or walking through Fawn Hill—made me feel any better.

And so, I knew it was time to leave. I could go back to the city, get some waitressing job, crash on Ryan’s couch. I’d be safe in that bubble, the fast, desperate lifestyle where no one could get too close and nothing was really tying you down. Everything was replaceable there; if you got fired, there were thousands of bars or restaurants who would pick you back up. Dates and men were a dime a dozen, nothing special could fill the void for a short period. There was no one who relied on you, no adult decisions that had to be made.

I needed that. Because I couldn’t hack this. Sure, right now I was doing great. I had a steady job and the promise of a future in Fawn Hill. I had a man who loved me. But eventually, I’d screw those things up. Everyone around me would realize just how big of a fuck up I was, and it would all go south. So instead of sticking around for that, I was packing.

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts and attempting not to burst into tears at any second that I didn’t hear Grandma when she propped herself against my doorframe.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out