Gone Away Home (Bringing Home Trouble)

CHAPTER 4

ZAYLA

Bacon? How in the world am I smelling bacon right now? I take a deep breath and spread my limbs like a starfish. The warmth coming from the other side of my bed has me freezing in place just as everything that happened yesterday comes rushing back to me.

And I do mean everything.

My memories are punctuated by the ache in my body that is not normal for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not an unwelcome feeling, but definitely not what I’m used to. Muscles are screaming at me which do not normally get the workout they had last night.

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 change it 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 much time 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 it in 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.”

Being able to see a little bit of nervousness after he’s been so confident with a take-charge attitude is endearing. My heart is swooning all over the place. Just like that Dustin steals another little piece of my soul. I wasn’t even aware there were more pieces left for him to snag as his own.

While I dump a healthy—okay, overly healthy—amount of sugar into my coffee and top it off with a splash of creamer, Dustin watches me with an intense amusement which has me wanting to squirm in my chair. Only when I take a sip and let out a sigh of contentment does he seem to relax, his moss green eyes twinkling with something I’m not ready to analyze. Not yet anyway.

“Zayla,” his voice is low and soothing, making me want to close my eyes and soak up the promises on the tip of his tongue, “I’m not staying with our parents. I came here for you. If I’m moving too fast, then you can say it, and I’ll find somewhere to stay. I will warn you though, it won’t stop me from coming at you with everything I have. I’ve waited too damn long to make you mine.” He arches an eyebrow, the challenge written all over his face, “And you are mine. You let me inside your body. I might not have been sure before, but now I know you let me into your heart a long time ago.”

I swallow hard as tears sting the backs of my eyes. It’s not easy for all the feelings I’ve tried to bury in the shadows for so long to now be yanked out into the light. When the warmth of his hand covers mine, my eyes snap open and I meet his gaze. He’s looking at me with so much concern and love. It would be so easy to forget all my fears.

I nibble on my lip, so many questions rolling around in my head. What are people going to think? What are they going to say about us? Where do we go from here? How do we navigate this when it’s so new and not at the same time?

“What are our parents going to say?” The most important question, the one I fear the most, spills from me.

Dustin’s eyes soften as he picks up my hand to unfurl my fingers from the fist that I wasn’t even aware I was making. He kisses the center of my palm before his lips meet each finger one at a time.

“This is going to sound harsh, and maybe it is,” he doesn’t look away, he forces me to see his sincerity and his heart, “but I don’t care. I know, logically, I should. But I just don’t. They can have a problem with us being together or they can get over it and accept the fact that they got in our way.” I open my mouth to defend them, but he shakes his head, and my jaw snaps shut. “It might not sound fair, and they had no idea, but they did get in our way. They put their happiness first without really thinking about ours. No, I don’t begrudge them that since they weren’t operating with all the intel, and they do deserve to be happy. But we deserve to be happy too, Zayla.”

“I want to be happy,” I whisper. I swallow past the lump in my throat and feel a tear slide down my cheek. Dustin reaches up and brushes it away with his thumb. It’s such a simple thing, but at the same time it’s everything. “I’m sorry I stopped writing to you. I shouldn’t have stopped.”

His hand moves toward his ribs and his fingers rub the words there reverently as he graces me with a small smile. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I understood, and I don’t blame you. You have no idea how much your letters helped me, but it was difficult for me every time I got one too. It’s why I didn’t write back right away when you sent the first one, but then I knew it wasn’t fair to ignore you. Almost every time I got a letter, I would tell myself it would be the last time I’d respond, but then another letter would come.”

“Until they didn’t,” my voice sounds pained.

“It’s okay, Zayla,” there’s no resentment in his voice, no anger, not even hurt. “I understood and I still do.” I swear a blush colors the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. “I never stopped writing you.”

My mouth falls open and I sputter, “Wh-what do you mean? I didn’t get any letters.”

“I never sent them,” he murmurs. “I wrote to you in a journal, one I always kept with me. I would sit down and write to you on my worst and best days.”

I blink at him a few times, my voice small, “You did?”

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips. “I did. You helped me keep going and you had no idea. You were always what I was fighting for, training for, my entire reason to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Then, one day, I was writing you a letter and realized I needed to stop using you to keep fighting and start fighting for you. Because I never forgot, and my feelings never changed. I denied what I wanted most in this entire universe because of fear and it was time to stop.”

“No more fear,” it feels like a vow as I speak the words. One I won’t break. One I can’t break.

“No more fear,” he echoes. His eyes snag mine and hold. “I love you so much, Zayla. I’ve loved you for so long that it feels like forever and no time at all. I’m not giving up on us and I fully intend to move in here with you when you’re ready. I’m all in.”

My mouth is bone dry as I absorb his words. I squeak, “You love me?”

Dustin’s smile is so big that one dimple pops out. Fuck, I always loved that dimple. “I’ve always loved you and it isn’t going to stop anytime soon. No more fear,” he reminds me almost like he’s throwing down the gauntlet.

“I love you too, Dustin,” I breathe out, “I always have.”

“I know,” he cheekily responds and winks.

The laughter that bubbles out of me is just on this side of unhinged, but it feels so damn good I can’t find it in me to care. Is this really happening? It feels so surreal, but if it’s not real then I’d rather stay here than go back to the sad, lonely reality I was experiencing.

“Now,” his voice drops an octave, “eat your food before it gets even colder.”

I nod, a smile on my face I don’t think will ever fade. As we tuck into our food, the conversation is lighter. We fill each other in on what we’ve been up to, and it feels normal, comfortable. He doesn’t bring up moving in again and I let the thought roll around in the back of my mind.

Do I want him to leave, even just to sleep somewhere else? No. I don’t think I do.

If he’s all in, then I am too.