No Good Mitchell - Riley Hart Page 0,90
I wished was that I’d had more of that. And now, here we are, all these years later, and here I was, running around in secret, stealing time here and there for the only thing that has made me feel alive in I couldn’t even tell you how long, and if it hadn’t been for your dumbass feud, I would have been over there every day. I would have been bringing him over here to talk to my family, who loves me and supports me. I would have been able to take him out on a date in town, not hiding him like he’s something I should be ashamed of.”
Now it was really quiet, my siblings’ gazes downturned, Big Daddy’s mouth agape. But there was no holding anything back anymore. “I fell in love, Big Daddy.”
Hearing myself say it shocked the fuck out of me, but it was true. The moment I said it, it felt like the truest thing I’d ever said. I loved that no-good Mitchell.
“And you weren’t there,” I went on. “Your stupid, stubborn attitude toward him stole time and memories I can’t get back. And I shouldn’t even be yelling at you about it because I should have been the one to stand up and say screw it to it all, but I was a coward. I’m not hiding from the truth anymore. Excuse me.”
I threw my napkin onto the table and stormed into the house. No one tried to stop me, which was for the best, since I needed a moment to collect my thoughts.
I found my way back into the basement, like when I’d pulled out all those old pictures, but this time, I pulled out the corkboard Big Momma had encouraged me to make. It was tucked behind a bunch of old furniture, which meant it was one of the oldest things down here. I pulled it into the light, settled on a crate, and glanced it over: all the places I’d wanted to see, all the places she would talk to me about, that she wanted me to take pictures of on my travels.
I heard the door open at the top of the stairs and then footsteps. I’d been in this house long enough to recognize the sound of Dwain’s footsteps, the pace, the way they hit my ear. I fought back my tears before he came down and saw me.
His expression was hard to read, and I was curious what he would say.
“Can you just go? I’m still not talking to you.”
He found a nearby crate and plopped down on it.
“Dwain, I need some fucking space right now.”
“Well, I’m about the only member of this family who isn’t going to be butthurt over you not liking me, so I figured I’d take one for the team.” He winked, but I didn’t so much as crack the sort of smile I might have, had I been in less of a mood. “Any rate, your little stunt at the table really did a number on Big Daddy. But hell, you made Walker’s and my life easier. We went ahead and outed ourselves, so there’s that.”
As disoriented as I was from my own confession, I was relieved to hear that. “I’m glad, Dwain. You deserve that. We all deserve to be able to be who the hell we are and love who we love, even if we have all these dumb family rules around shit. But now you guys can all be happy. Cohen’s gone. It’s what you and everyone else wanted—you practically wanted to get out a rifle and chase him out of town as soon as he got here—and now you got your wish. Hating on him for no goddamn reason other than this stupid feud that don’t mean nothing. What is the point of all this fucking hate when you only have people in your life for a short time anyway?”
“If you coulda seen the way Big Daddy looked after you left, I don’t think you’d feel this way.”
“How’s that?”
“Sad. Whether you believe it or not, the last thing in the world he wants is to hurt us. And that shit you said about Big Momma, damn…I think that fucked with all our heads. I knew you were crushing on that Mitchell, but if I’d thought it was that serious, I wouldn’t have been so pissy about it. You might not know it, but I want you to be happy too, Brodes.”
“Since when?”
He grabbed the side of the corkboard, stroking his