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Dean lifted the short sleeves of his t-shirt and flexed his lanky arms into surprising baby muscles. “Wanna try it?”
“Ugh.” She stood beside the bed and stretched for a minute before crossing the room to her walk-in closet and rummaging around for clothes. “I don’t have the energy to fight you. You’re lucky this time. Casual, I presume, since that’s all your wardrobe consists of.”
He stopped playing with the bottles lining her vanity and whipped his head toward her. “Hey, I resemble that remark.”
Jillian grabbed her clothes and headed to theen suite. “Give me fifteen. You can feel free to give yourself a makeover if you’re that interested in my makeup.”
She closed the door with a soft click…and flicked the lock. Their easy friendship sometimes didn’t feel quite as easy as it used to before they became teenagers. She raced through her shower, sprayed unhealthy amounts of detangler in her hair and wrangled her wavy locks into something resembling a ponytail, though not the sleek one she wished she could pull off, and managed to emerge from the bathroom with thirty seconds to spare.
“I’m kinda disappointed you aren’t rocking that cotton candy lip gloss.”
Dean rolled his eyes and stood from the small stool that sat in front of her vanity. “If her highness is ready, our chariot is waiting. And by chariot, I mean truck. Driven by Wyatt, so there is a high likelihood that the smell of horses and hay and I don’t even want to imagine what else could very well become imbedded in your clothes.”
She looked down at her romper and sandals then back at him and shrugged. “Risk I’m willing to take, I guess. Lead on, Sir Sparky.”
The ride was exactly how Jillian knew it would be. She sat on the bench seat, scrunched between Dean and Wyatt, not only physically but verbally as the two sparred the entire drive. Lost in the headache-inducing bickering that was so common to the brothers, she paid zero attention to their destination until Dean pulled her out of the car, barking at his brother over his shoulder to come back in a few hours.
“Dean…” Even she could hear all the caution that was twining her stomach into knots pour into her tone.
He gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You aren’t her. You have more compassion and empathy in your little finger than she has in her whole body.”
A small jolt ran through her. “Wow, Dean…that’s deep. Especially for you.”
He dipped his head, crimson staining his cheeks. “I heard Mom say something like that to my aunt once and it seemed to really make her happy.”
Naturally, Dean hadn’t thought of that himself. Her gaze found its way back to the weathered sign on the front of the building showing minor signs of aging, Harrold Memorial Homeless Shelter. But he had thought of this, thought of her, and that meant the world.
In a rare moment of foresight she would have never believed Dean capable of, he had apparently called ahead and spoken with someone about their arrival because two staff members greeted them as soon as they pushed through the glass front door. They both spent the next several hours working side-by-side to fill backpacks with water bottles, crackers, beef jerky, tissues, and hygiene supplies.
The statistics the workers easily rattled off about the number of men, women, and most heartbreaking to her, children that lived on the streets gnawed a hole in her gut at the same time as it reaffirmed her desire to work to make even a tiny difference in the world. Even if that meant only one person.
Dean hadn’t said much as they worked together, but as they sat beside each other on the cement steps that led into the building waiting for Wyatt’s return, he tilted his head a little and looked at her. “She would never have done anything even remotely like that.”
Jillian laid her head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Sparky. For…for everything.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dean
Present Day
Dean slid his hand in the one the younger man had stuck out at the end of their session and gave it a firm shake as well as offering an encouraging smile. “You’re doing great, Chase. Even before Mat shared your progress with me, I could tell you were making a positive change. You should be proud of yourself.”
His cousin appeared on his left and leaned against the railing that kept the horses corralled in the paddock. “Me too,” his cousin agreed with a nod.
Chase dropped his head and released his grip, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. I…feel better. Clearer. I have a focus that I don’t remember ever having before.” He looked off into the cloudless crystal sky for a moment then turned his gaze on Mat. “It still isn’t easy though.”
“And it may never be. It should get easier as time goes on and you develop new skills and techniques, but it may never be easy.” Mat shook his head. “But you’re gaining ways to cope with cravings or triggers to get through the harder spots.”
Chase turned back to the chestnut horse he’d been working with that day who was trotting along the far perimeter of the enclosure and a grin spread across his face. “Yeah, I am.” A burgundy sedan slowly appeared on the crest of the driveway, headed toward where the three men stood. “That’s my ride. Gotta go. See you guys in a couple of days.”
With that, the younger man ducked between two of the wooden rails and jogged off to meet the vehicle just as it pulled to a stop.
Dean stared at Chase’s retreating back for several moments before facing his cousin again. “Witnessing that kind of turnaround never gets old.”
Mat pressed his lips together in a thin line, the five years and copious amounts of additional experience he had on Dean deepening the fine lines around his eyes. “Not every story is a success story.”
Just as Dean opened his mouth to respond, Wyatt emerged from the barn, an obnoxious swagger to his step that he’d always possessed, but somehow seemed to worsen with each passing day. Either that or Dean was just annoyed at being confronted with it so often.
