Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Easton

Rhett: Hey. Just checking in to see how you’re doing.

My gaze keeps finding its way to the message. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him since all the shit went down at the police station. Most of what I know is what I’ve gotten from Morgan and Dusty—that Rhett won’t speak to them. He’s quit his job and is living his own life, something he should have always done. I don’t think Rhett has ever really wanted the things he told himself he wanted, but I do believe that for whatever reason, he needs Gregory’s approval to feel worthy. Rhett has spent his life fighting to become whom he thought he was supposed to be, and that day in the police station, in his spur-of-the-moment decision to stand up to Gregory, Rhett lost part of himself, part of his identity.

Who is he if he’s not Gregory Swift’s greatest hope? Even if in reality, Gregory would have never been happy with Rhett anyway.

Who is Rhett if he’s not trying to feel worthy by doing what Gregory wants? If he’s not the lawyer everyone looks up to?

He lost that because of me, and I’m sure he regrets it. The thought makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Why wouldn’t he regret it? It’s not as if I’m not going to fuck up again.

Me: Not getting into trouble if that’s what you’re asking.

As soon as I hit Send, I want the moment back. Wish I hadn’t replied the way I did because Rhett walked away from the man he thought he admired, for my sake, and this is how I repay him? Why is lashing out such a knee-jerk reaction for me?

You should go see him , Ella tells me.

I doubt he wants to see me.

How would you know if you don’t try?

I sigh and don’t respond right away. Having her in my head isn’t convenient, but at the same time, I don’t ever want her to go away. What the fuck would I ever do without her?

You should be closer to our brother, East. You have that chance, and I don’t.

She’s right. I know she’s right, and that truth makes me feel even more like shit. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Hmm?” Dusty asks, making me realize I spoke out loud.

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

I continue working, but Rhett isn’t far from my mind the whole time. It’s my promise to my sister, to myself, that has me driving to Rhett’s house at the end of my workday.

He lives in the most perfect postcard house, with a porch swing and perfectly mowed grass and pruned hedges. Is there anything Rhett isn’t good at? That he doesn’t excel at?

I climb out of the truck and head to his porch. Just before I take the stairs, Rhett walks around the side of the house. He’s in shorts and a T-shirt, all sweaty, and with what looks like sawdust all over him.

He startles when he sees me, making it clear he hadn’t come over because he saw me pull up. “East, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Despite his shitty relationship with Morgan, it’s not a response he would have had to our middle brother. It just goes to show how bad I am at trying, at being there for people, that he forgets to be angry and forgets he doesn’t want to talk to us—all because he’s so surprised that I would set foot in his yard.

Why am I like this?

“Everything is okay. Just checking in to see how you’re doing,” I say, using the same reason he did when he texted this morning.

“Oh.” He frowns. “I’m fine.”

He heads past me to the front door, without looking me in the eyes. I’m not sure if he means for me to follow. Part of me wants to turn around and leave because it’s a whole lot easier than navigating our relationship, but instead I go after him.

“What were you doing?” While all three of us are capable of working with our hands, it’s not something I’ve ever seen Rhett do just for fun. It’s not something I’ve seen him do much of, if at all.

“Nothing.” He goes into the kitchen. I stop at the table and see his phone sitting there. Has it been there all day? Maybe he doesn’t even know that I replied to him like an asshole earlier.

Rhett grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and downs it. He’s bigger than both me and Morgan, taller and broader. Rhett’s only thirty-six, but he’s already got some gray in his hair.

“You been staying out of trouble?” he asks when he finishes drinking.

The question immediately sets me on edge. “Yeah. I doubt it will last, though.”

“No one can control your actions but you, East.”

“Fuck off, Rhett. Sorry not all of us are as perfect as you.”

He sighs, and yeah, I feel the same. This isn’t what I wanted to happen by coming here, but I’m not surprised it has. This is just how we are.

“I don’t have the energy to fight with you.”

I nod. Me neither. I glance at the heavy wooden table that doesn’t look like something you’d buy in a chain store. It’s got detailed carvings and designs on the legs. “This is…nice.”

This is nice? That’s the best I can come up with? He’s my brother, and the only thing I know how to say to him is complimenting his furniture?

“Just a table.”

“I think she’d like it…Morgan naming the bar Gracie’s,” I say, at a loss for any other words, though talking about her always makes it difficult to breathe.

Rhett flinches. He must not have known. Goddamn it. I fucked up again.

“There’s no doubt in my mind Morgan was going to tell you.”

“Well, I doubt it.”

“You answer his calls? Come to the door when he knocks?”

The silence that greets me is response enough. He doesn’t, which I already knew.

“I think it’s real special,” Rhett finally replies. “The name. She loved being the center of attention, so she’d get a kick out of it.”

A surprise chuckle falls from my lips. How sad is that? I have never talked and laughed telling stories about my other half. “She did.”

“And you loved giving her that. You were a lot more vocal and fun-loving…before…but you would always step back and let her be in the spotlight. There’s nothing you wouldn’t have done for her.”

A whole world of pressure lands in my chest, squeezing my lungs. “Can’t talk about her,” is all I can say.

He nods, and both of us just stand there, neither having any idea what to say to the other. How is it this bad? This isn’t normal. None of it is.

I hate this…hate the way things are, East.

Me too, but I’m not sure how to change it.

“You should talk to him…Morgan,” I tell Rhett.

“I don’t know how to talk to anyone, not really.”

“None of us do. Gregory fucked us up. But I know Morgan would appreciate it if you tried.”

“The two of you…you’re getting close?” Rhett goes to the fridge and gets more water.

“No. Not really. I don’t make that easy.”

Rhett huffs out a humorless laugh. “You and me both, little brother.”

A lightness makes my chest flutter as I snicker in response. For a moment, one fleeting moment, we’re joking and talking the way brothers are supposed to. The spell is broken the second Rhett’s cell rings, like a stretched rubber band pulled too tight that splits and snaps back against my skin.

Dad flashes on the screen.

Rhett is talking to him again. Of course he is. And he has that right. Why should he give him up for me?

Rhett snatches the phone off the table and rejects the call.

“You can take it if you want.”

“I haven’t taken one call yet, but he won’t leave me alone.”

Ah, so he’s still trying to be in touch with Rhett, but not me or Morgan. That doesn’t surprise me. “You can, though…talk to him. It shouldn’t matter how he treats me.”

He cocks his head, a look in his brown eyes I can’t read. “It matters. It’s always mattered. I was just too weak to do anything about it.”

Silence weighs heavily on us again, two brothers who don’t really know each other, or hell, maybe even ourselves.

“I should go,” I say, then turn and head for the door. Rhett doesn’t follow me, and when I get there, I stop, back to him, hand on the knob. “Thank you.”

“I don’t deserve your thanks. I’m not a good brother.”

“None of us are good brothers. We were taught to be the opposite of that, but for the first time, we’re trying.” And then, with my body shaking so hard it’s difficult to move, I walk out the door.