Joke's on You (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 6) Page 5

“It means that I’m done waiting,” he answered. “You and me? We’re going to happen. It might not be the most conventional. It’s going to be tough and confusing as hell… but we’re going to happen.”

  I started to breathe faster. “What’s that mean?”

  Was that all I knew how to say?

  “It means that Saturday night, I’d love to go out to dinner with you,” he said. “My mom’s gonna watch Asa for me.”

  My heart was pounding away in my chest.

  I opened my mouth, and then closed it, unsure what to say.

  “Goodnight, Dillan,” he whispered.

  I licked my lips and practically ran to my car after that.

  When I got home, there was a text message on my phone.

  I grinned when I saw it was from Kerrie.

  Kerrie was my childhood best friend. Or, at least, he was at one point. Our text messaging and hanging out had come to a rather abrupt halt when he’d started to be a little friendlier than I’d wanted. When I’d explained that we were never going to be that kind of friends, our hanging out had definitely slowed down.

  I still texted him quite a bit, there just wasn’t as much ‘hanging out’ in our future.

  Opening the text up, I read it.

  Kerrie: Dinner Saturday night?

  My reply?

  Dillan: Can’t. I have a date with Booth!

  Kerrie’s reply was almost instant.

  Kerrie: You’re joking.

  Dillan: Not at all.

  Kerrie: I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  I sent him the smiley face then the shrugging emoticon and plugged my phone into the charger.

  After finishing up my nightly routine, I crawled into bed, then picked my phone up one last time.

  This time, there were multiple text messages.

  But only one held my attention.

  Booth Pena: Saturday night. I’ll pick you up. Wear those jeans that have the hole in the left butt cheek pocket.

  I felt my face flush.

  I knew the jeans that he was talking about instantly, and it practically burned me alive to know that Booth noticed them on me.

  I’d actually torn those jeans in his presence.

  He’d been picking Asa up from me for the weekend, and I’d been helping him get Asa’s new cot Booth had bought at the Army Navy Store into his truck. His place hadn’t been completely furnished yet, so Booth had purchased it for his place. Only, Asa loved it so much that he’d taken it with him back and forth for almost a year before Booth had finally broken down and gotten him another one.

  I’d been climbing into the back of Booth’s truck when my pants had caught on the side of his truck bed.

  The denim, already stressed by my use since high school, and possibly straining already due to them being just a bit too small, had parted like warm butter.

  I’d patched them to the best of my ability because I loved them so much, but still wore them.

  Apparently, Booth had noticed.

  I texted the number back.

  Dillan: Sure thing. Do you know where I live? :P

  I then went to bed and ignored all the other text messages from Kerrie.

  He could just wait until the morning.

  I had way more exciting things to think about that night. Kerrie’s cautionary words would only make me worry.

  And I didn’t want to worry about Booth.

  Not anymore.

  I wanted to embrace what he threw at me.

  Because Booth was nearly taken from me today, and I had no idea until right then that I was suppressing my feelings for him so hard.

  Well, that ended tonight.

  Finally slipping into sleep, I did it with an excited smile on my face.

  Chapter 4

  More money. More puppies.

  -T-shirt

  Dillan

  I blinked in surprise at seeing the kennels being cleaned out by Bourne.

  “Umm,” I said as I stared at the man. “What are you doing here?”

  My day had been long, and awful.

  Not only had I started the day out with very little sleep—I’d stayed awake and daydreamed about a certain bruised up man—but my day had gotten worse from there.

  The first person to get their donuts had complained that they weren’t ‘as cute’ as she thought they were going to be. Of course, she’d posted this to the Donut Place’s company page, meaning everyone who followed me saw them.

  When I got a look at the picture she posted, it’d been obvious to me that they’d been dropped at some point, smashing the cute little flag—the theme was American flags due to it being so close to the Fourth of July—and making it appear to be just a rather large, mushy mess.

  Another customer had written on my wall saying that my calendar that I had hanging on the wall—the SWAT calendar that Booth just so happened to be on the cover of that month—was ‘inappropriate’ in a family environment.

  Thankfully, in both instances, my customers had come to my aid, protecting me with their words.

  One lady had called the SWAT calendar complainer out, stating that it was for charity and if she didn’t like it, she didn’t have to actually go in to buy the donuts. She could go through the drive-through, and from there you couldn’t see the calendar.

  Needless to say, there’d been a war from there, and I’d had to delete the post due to all the negative words that had been said on it.

  Kerrie had then stopped by, pissed off that I’d been ignoring him.

  I hadn’t seen him in weeks, since his last impromptu visit, and the first thing out of his mouth was that I should ‘really rethink going on a date with Booth.’

  In front of my customers.

  He also had to point out that ‘Booth had a baby with my sister,’ making it sound like I was a homewrecker or something in front of about half of my customers.

  The customers hadn’t actually left, but they’d definitely been curious.

  After getting rid of Kerrie—thankfully he had to go to work—I’d explained to my customers that I was seeing a man that I’d always had a crush on, and that it was complicated.

  They’d known the story, though.

  Everyone in Kilgore knew the damn story.

  Booth was a town hero, having deployed four times, and coming home from his last deployment wounded.

  They’d thrown him a freakin’ parade when he’d arrived in town.

  So yes, they knew his story well.

  Needless to say, when I arrived at my place to find Bourne there, I wasn’t really as nice as I probably should have been since I now didn’t have to deal with poop.

  “Why do you hate me?” I finally got the courage to ask, blurting out the words before I could think better of them.

  Bourne’s eyes flicked to me, then went back to the poop he was spraying off the concrete. During the day, when I couldn’t be here with them, I had no other choice but to put the dogs outside in their kennels.

  Their air-conditioned kennels, but kennels nonetheless.

  I hated that they had to be cooped up, but it usually wasn’t for long seeing as normally Delanie or I were able to be home during the day and they were let out in the runs built alongside the kennels.

  “I don’t hate you,” he said, his voice much more different from Booth’s. I wasn’t sure how anybody ever got them confused. “I just highly dislike you.”

  My mouth fell open, and at first, I wasn’t sure what to say.

  Then I started to laugh, because Bourne wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He’d always told it like it was.

  “You what?” I snickered. “How is that any better?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. But hate requires a certain level of feeling that I just don’t have for you. You’ve never done anything to me that instilled that level of emotion.”

  Well, that was true.

  “Why do you ‘highly dislike’ me then?” I pu
shed.

  I wasn’t really sure what I was expecting out of him.

  But after Booth’s words last night, I’d done a whole lot of soul searching myself.

  I was tired of living my life to my father’s specifications.

  Both Delanie and I had wonderful jobs.

  He finished off the last of the kennels, then went to filling up the water bowls.

  Even though it was Friday, and I wouldn’t be needing them filled tomorrow since I’d be home the entire day.

  I took both Saturday and Sunday off, no matter what.

  Even though they were the busiest days, I needed some me time.

  And those were my days.

  Meaning, I wouldn’t be putting the dogs in the kennels unless I left home.

  And if that happened, I always gave them fresh water.

  Only when he was finished did he turn around, pull the hose out of the kennel, then stop to stare at me.

  “I don’t like the way that you’ve dicked my brother around,” he said. “I don’t like that he has to deal with Delanie when it should’ve been you. He’s only ever liked you, and I feel like I’m missing something when it comes to that night. I was with y’all most of the night. Does it not strike you as odd that they would choose to do that? Because, in my opinion, it does. Yet, I’ve only heard you verbalize being mad at him for what happened, when I’m not sure that anyone really knows what actually happened.”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it.

  Was he right?

  I thought back to that night, and again, like always, the anger threatened to take over.

  Sure, I liked to tell myself that I was over it—over the fact that my sister had slept with the man that I really, really wanted—but I would be lying. Deep down, under layers and layers of carefully constructed walls, I was still really upset.

  I hadn’t been dating him. I’d wanted to, but my dad was a complete and utter dick.

  “Did you know that the night that happened, Dad had announced that Delanie was going to enter into an arranged marriage?” I asked quietly.

  Bourne stilled, turned, and looked at me with shock on his face.

  “What?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I kind of thought that was why. I mean, why else would she have done that?”

  I honestly thought, once we found out that she was pregnant, that she’d done it with the first available man.

  Only, in her inebriated state, she’d slept with my man and not the one she really wanted.

  And, honestly, I couldn’t blame her.

  Dad had said that there was a man back home, one that would ‘serve her well as a husband’ and was ‘within the recommended age range.’

  See, back home in Iceland, my father had been more important than he was here.

  Back home, he, as an ex-prime minister’s son. He was important. A somebody.

  Here, he was just another man—a decorated war veteran, yes—but still just an average person nonetheless.

  Hence the arranged marriage.

  Dad had explained that this was his way back in, whatever that meant.

  “Arranged marriages just aren’t done anymore,” Bourne said, dropping the hose and turning to face me.

  I shrugged.

  “I know,” I said. “But back home? I mean, they’re not exactly standard, but they’re not exactly uncommon, either. It’s acceptable.”

  He sighed. “I just… there’s more to that night, Dillan. Way more. Don’t you find it odd that Delanie and Booth can’t remember a thing?”

  “I just remember Kerrie giving us both beers,” Delanie said softly. “After that, I don’t remember anything.”

  I did, honestly. Always had.

  The only thing was, talking about it was painful. And I knew that my sister felt badly about what had happened. I didn’t like to rub salt in the wound, because my sister was my best friend. She would never, not ever, do anything that would cause me any pain.

  We were like two peas in a pod.

  We needed each other.

  Delving into that meant that I had to put my feelings aside… and I hated to say it, but sometimes I was selfish. Sometimes I just wanted to be fucking pissed about it.

  “So you’re saying I shouldn’t have put my feelings aside and should have questioned this years ago when it happened?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I can admit to being pissed myself. My brother? He’s a stubborn fool, though. Despite my trying to get him to talk about it, he’s been pretty clammed up about the whole thing. I guess, maybe, I just expected you to push it a little bit more. Girls are able to get away with more shit than men.”

  I snickered and kicked a rock with my toe.

  It stung, but I chose not to show it.

  I was an ol’ pro at hiding my pain.

  “You don’t think that it’ll be dumb as hell?” I wondered. “To bring something up that’ll just hurt both of them?”

  He blew out a frustrated breath.

  “When Booth went down yesterday? He was… fucked up. He kept talking about you. And Asa. And goddamn, I thought he was going to die.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, looking thoughtful. “If you and him are going to happen? I think you need to figure this out. I think you need to push it. Because a relationship can’t be built on a lie.”

  He was right, of course.

  Which was how I ended up back at Booth’s place just hours later after having thought about what Bourne had said. Well, more like obsessed.

  Things weren’t right.

  I’d always thought that, of course. But giving myself the permission to dwell on it? Yeah, needless to say, I needed to talk to Booth.

  It was well past eight when I left the house.

  Almost nine when I got there with food—I’d stopped by the store to get some of my favorite comfort food. A deli rotisserie chicken, some gooey macaroni and cheese, and a twelve pack of King’s Hawaiian rolls. I finished up my feast with a gallon of sweet tea, then headed for Booth’s.

  Grabbing my spoils, I ran for the door. I didn’t even get the chance to knock before he was opening it for me.

  “What’s the rush, Dillan?” he asked, grinning wickedly.

  I once again arrived at his place, unscheduled, and found him shirtless.

  I eyed the bruises, seeing that they were a much more putrid color of purple, and shook my head.

  “They look bad,” I said softly, not answering his question.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked softly. “Don’t you need your sleep?”

  I did.

  But I also didn’t have to work in the morning, so it was okay that I wasn’t in bed yet… or anywhere near planning to go to bed.

  “I have to ask you a question,” I said. “I have a really bad feeling, and I need you to talk me through it.”

  He frowned but stepped back, allowing me into his sanctum again.

  “Come on in,” he said. “Asa’s already asleep. Can we go out to the back porch?”

  I nodded, allowing him to lead the way.

  He made a pit stop in the kitchen, and picked up two cups, two forks, some paper plates, and a roll of paper towels.

  I warmed inside.

  He pulled the table that he’d rested his feet on the night before closer, and together we started to divvy up the food.

  “This is a feast,” he said. “I had a sandwich, but damn if I’m not hungry all over again.”

  I snorted. “It’s kind of hard to pass this up.”

  I didn’t bother bringing up my problems until both of us were done eating.

  My phone, which was in the Walmart sack that I’d brought inside, started to light up, indicating a call.

  I grimaced and ignored it.

  “Who’s that?” he asked, seeing the grimace.

  I sighed. “Kerrie.”

  His brows rose. “Kerrie? I haven’t seen him in years. How’s he doing?”

 
I took a big bite of my Hawaiian roll and shrugged. “He’s good. I don’t talk to him all that much anymore, seeing as he likes to push the boundaries of our friendship.”

  He grinned.

  “Did you know that the night that you and my sister…” I hesitated, roll halfway to my mouth. “That my father had decided to arrange a marriage between her and Kerrie?”

  He halted, roll halfway to his mouth.

  “Umm, no,” he said. “Was that why y’all were there? I was honestly surprised that the night happened the way it did. I mean, you never came to parties. For you both to be there? That was a miracle in my eyes.”

  I huffed out a laugh.

  “Our father is controlling,” I admitted. “Did you know that he used to track us? I swear to God. We even tried to sneak out, and he’d somehow know. He literally controlled every aspect of our lives. We didn’t eat, sleep, or even start our periods without him knowing.”

  “Your dad is something else,” he admitted. “An arranged marriage? What the hell? What country are we in?”

  I snorted. “You know that we’re originally from Iceland, right?”

  He nodded once. “The accent.”

  That was true.

  Every once in a while, my accent would make its appearance.

  I hadn’t been there in years and consciously made the effort to suppress it. Yet, under extreme emotions, or when I just wasn’t paying attention, it would come out.

  “My dad is the son of an ex-prime minister,” I said softly.

  His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “No shit?”

  “No shit,” I said. “Something happened, though. Something with my mom, him, and his dad. I’m not sure what. He moved here when he was young. And since he was a dual-citizen, he joined the Army, became all that he could be, and controlled our lives all the way from here. When my mom died, he moved us from Iceland here, and things haven’t been the same since. Honestly, he left that place and never looked back. Our family over there, our Grams and papa, my mother’s parents, stayed behind. And we missed them like crazy. Yet he didn’t care. He wouldn’t let us go home, ever. And now they’ve both since passed away.”

  “Sounds like a real quality guy. I hate to say that I don’t know him all that well,” he murmured sarcastically.

  I sat back, appetite gone. I did find Booth’s sarcastic words amusing, though.