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“You’re not,” he says, his tone steady and reasoning. “Think of it this way—be his backup.”
“His backup?”
He nods. “He’ll call on you when he’s ready—when he needs your support. Be there for him but at a distance. Like my father always says,you have to learn to wipe your own ass some time.”
A burst of laughter explodes from my chest. “What does that even mean?”
Butch chuckles. “Itmeans, he’s a big boy and he can handle himself. And when he’s ready, you’ll be there waiting without the added hurt between the two of ya.”
My laughter turns to smiling tears as I reach over and touch his arm. He pulls his arm back to take my hand instead. I give it a little squeeze. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For showing up and, well, just being you.”
A wide grin spreads across his face. “Think that’s the first time anyone’s ever thanked me for being myself. You’d be surprised to know, it’s usually the opposite.”
That’s the least bit surprising. I smile while still holding his hand over the center console when my phone pings a few times with new text messages. Reluctantly, I let go of his steady, comforting hold to check who it is.
Alison:OMG! Yes, of course, you can stay here tonight.
Alison:Oh, wait… Frankie, too? I’m sorry, Cass. My apartment is no dogs allowed.
Alison:We can try to sneak him in?
Crap.I forgot I texted her when I got out to Butch’s truck, asking if Frankie and I could come crash with her for the weekend. Or at least until things blow over with Garrett.He just needs space, I reinforce to myself,like Butch said.
Suddenly, I start to worry about what Iamgoing to do. Butch never said Frankie could come with us, or stay at his house—if he was even offering we gotohis house. I assumed. And now…could I even go back home with Garrett and all those people watching us interact like some sort of live reality TV show? No. Absolutely not.
“Who is it?”
“I asked Alison if I could stay with her, but, um, I guess I can’t.”
Butch tenses with a heavy hold on the steering wheel. “I told you; you can stay with me.”
“You never actually said—”
“Then I’m saying it now,” he deadpans. “You’re staying with me until your brother can get his head on straight. I’m not letting you go back there. And besides, the place was fucking trashed.”
I blow out a calming breath, not wanting to cry again since it seems to bother him so much. Last night was like a frat party in the living room, and what Butch caught a glimpse of, was the placeafterI attempted to clean up and kick people out. Which is about when the fighting began and Butch showed up. “And Frankie?”
“What about him?”
“Is it okay if he comes, too?” The thought of Butch potentially telling me he can’t sets me into a sudden panic. “I can’t leave him, Butch. He’s diabetic and a diva. He needs me. He—”
Butch stops me before I can rattle off all the reasons why I need my food-obsessed, klepto of a sausage to be with me wherever I go. He chuckles. “A diva?”
Frankie wiggles around in Butch’s lap, turning toward the steering wheel and putting his front paws on the center so he can gaze out the windshield.
“Yes.” I laugh, distracted as I quickly snap a few pictures. “Oh my god, Frankie. Look at you driving a big truck.”
Butch slows, having to hold Frankie’s chest as he takes the next right. I take a short video to send to Alison as we head up the road another few miles before finally turning down a gravel drive.We’re here.
The driveway is practically invisible—no mailbox, no reflectors, no signs of residence beyond this point. We headstraight through the trees around a slight curve upward as it opens to the cleared landscape.
I hold back a gasp from the most beautiful, picturesque hillside log cabin I’ve ever seen.He built this, I remember the comment Janice made not too long ago.
The stunning two-story cabin is lined with tall bay windows, a large cobblestone chimney, and an amazing overhang porch—to name a few—all overlooking the town in the valley and distant mountains. Even seeing it from where I’m sitting in the truck is giving me chills. I can’t imagine the view on that porch at night when the sky is clear and all the stars are shining bright.
Butch parks the truck out front of the massive, two-bay garage that has a similar tone to the cabin. When he opens his door, I say, “Is he okay to wander, or should I put the leash on him?”
“He won’t run, will he?” he asks, getting out and holding Frankie in his arms.
