Page 1 of Rhett (The Swift Brothers #3)

PROLOGUE

Rhett

Nine years old

“R hett, Morgan, I’d like to speak to you for a moment,” Dad says. He doesn’t wait for a reply because he knows we’ll listen. At least, I always do. When he needs me for something or tells us to do something is the only time he really pays attention to me, and I soak up those moments.

It’s not his fault he doesn’t have a lot of time for me and my younger brother, Morgan. He’s super busy and important. He works in Congress and has so many people depending on him. That’s a whole lot more important than doing things like helping with homework, playing ball, or teaching me to build things. He makes other people’s lives better, and one day, I’m going to be just like him. We’ve already got it all planned out. It makes him proud when he talks to me about going to Harvard the way he did, becoming a lawyer, and then going into politics, and it makes me feel good to make him proud.

“Yes, sir,” I rush out, hurrying along behind him. He hates it when I dawdle, when I don’t show appreciation for all the things he does for me.

I throw a glance over my shoulder and see Morgan taking his time. I want to tell him to hurry so he doesn’t upset Dad, how much it means to Dad when we show him that we listen to the lessons he gives us. Plus, I hate it when he yells at us, and Dad’s likely to do that if Morgan annoys him. But Dad always tells me that I need to let Morgan sink or swim, that sometimes he’s too soft and I’m not doing him any favors by trying to help him out.

I hurry and sit down in one of the chairs in Dad’s home office. He’s on the other side of the desk, looking at paperwork and ignoring us. I slump at first, then realize what I’m doing and sit up straight the way he does. It always frustrates him when I slump.

“Sit down, Morgan,” Dad tells him, ignoring me. I try not to deflate. It’s stupid. Do I expect him to tell me good job for sitting up straight?

Morgan doesn’t even try to look interested as he slinks into the room and plops into the chair beside mine. I almost look at him, but instead focus on Dad the way he likes.

“Your mother is taking a nap, but we decided it’s time to tell you she’s pregnant. She’s twelve weeks along, but we wanted to wait before we said anything.”

My heartbeat jumps. A baby? I know how much Mom wants another one. It frustrates Dad when they speak about it. I know because he talks to me sometimes, tells me how he’s happy with us and doesn’t understand why Mom isn’t happy with me and Morgan too. I guess I get why she would want a girl so bad, and I want her to be happy. I want to think it’s not that Morgan and I aren’t enough, but then why would my dad say that if it wasn’t true?

“She’s going to have a baby?” Morgan asks, finding his voice before me. He’s better with people. Everyone likes him. I don’t know how he does that, and every time I try, it never works. I’m too boring, too serious, just not as good as he is.

“Two, actually. Your mother is having twins. I’m going to be honest with you because you’re the men of the house while I’m working.” Dad spends a lot of time in Detroit and Washington, DC, for his job. We stay home in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. “This is a high-risk pregnancy for her. I’ll be depending on you both to take care of her.”

Is she going to be okay? Is this safe? His statement sucks the breath out of me, but I do my best to ignore it, to pretend I’m not worried and can handle this. I won’t ever let anything happen to Mom. “I’ll take care of her! Whatever you need, Dad!” I say, just as Morgan asks, “Is she okay?”

My gaze immediately shoots to Dad, wondering if he’s going to give Morgan a hard time for asking. It makes Morgan cry when Dad gets mad at him, and I hate that, but at the same time, why can’t he just try and be the way Dad teaches us to be?

“Yes, she’s okay, and she’s going to be okay,” he says, and I breathe a little easier. Dad is the kind of man who always gets what he wants, who always knows what will happen, and if he says Mom will be okay, she will be.

“We’ll do whatever we have to do,” I tell him. “I’ll make sure of it. She won’t have to lift a finger for anything!” I promise while my brother is quiet beside me.

Dad gives me a simple nod before saying, “Morgan, I’d like you to stay a moment. Rhett, you can go.”

Everything inside me shrinks. I become small, insignificant. Why doesn’t he want to talk to me too? Why isn’t he proud that I’m taking control and will make sure Mom is okay?

I stall a moment, hoping he’ll change his mind, but when he just ignores me, I stand. “Yes, sir,” I tell him before slipping out of the office and closing the door behind me.

I don’t walk away, though. I can’t. Maybe Dad will say something to help me figure out what I did wrong.

As soon as I push my ear to the door, I hear, “I know you and your mom are extra close, Morgan. I want you to help her rest as much as possible. The two of you enjoy all your little adventures, but you need to keep those to a minimum. There’s a good chance she’ll be on bed rest soon.” Every word he speaks hollows me out more. He didn’t say Mom and I are close. He didn’t talk about adventures she enjoys with me. Does Mom have more fun with Morgan than me?

It’s not like this is news to me. It just hurts to hear. It’s part of why I stay busy with the things Dad likes me to do. Mom and Morgan don’t seem to care that much when I’m not around.

“I will,” Morgan says. “It’ll be my most important thing.”

It’ll be my most important thing too. Why doesn’t Dad care about that?

“I know it will. Your brother can get distracted by school and those sorts of responsibilities, but those aren’t your strengths. You’re a little…softer, like your mother, so there are certain situations where you’re more suited to help.”

Those words feel like a cheese grater against my heart. I get distracted with school for him, so I can be like him and show him how good I am, but really, what grinds me up more is what he’s really saying. Morgan is better at being with people than me, at taking care of them and being good to them. People want him around more than they do me.

“Can I go see her now?” Morgan asks, and as quietly as I can, I hurry back to the living room.

As soon as Morgan joins me, I ask, “What did he say?” as if I don’t know.

“None of your business,” he snaps.

“You’re so annoying. Dad can’t even count on you like he can me.” Maybe he can with stuff like helping with Mom, but not other stuff. I’m the one Dad chose to follow in his footsteps. I’m the one he said has the most chance of being just like him.

“You kiss his butt all the time!” Morgan shouts, then slams the door, leaving me standing there alone. I have no doubt he’s going to his best friend Dusty’s house. They act more like brothers than Morgan and I do. Morgan likes him more than me, but more than that, sometimes I can’t help wondering why I don’t have a Dusty. A friend who is like my brother and whom I always spend time with. What is it about me that pushes people away?

I start cleaning the kitchen even though it doesn’t really need it, scrubbing counters and scouring the floors. Then I sit at the table with the books Dad bought me about law and government, and I study all the things I already know, hoping to find something new to learn. I must study to get better. If I get better, people will like me, respect me, and maybe, just maybe, it’ll make my dad love me.

*

Twenty-six years old

I can’t believe East got into trouble at school again. I’m just glad they got ahold of me instead of Dad. When it comes to East, our youngest brother, the more we can keep from our dad the better. He’s not fair with any of us, but it’s worse when it comes to Easton. I do my best to fix it, to keep the peace, but it feels like most of the time, all I do is make things worse.

If I can just make Dad happy, do the things he wants me to do, I keep hoping he’ll change, that he’ll be happy and somehow it will fix his relationship with us, because no matter what, he’s our dad, the only parent we have left, since Mom died after the twins were born. He’s far from perfect, but Mom loved him. She wanted us to be a real family, though I can’t seem to make that happen.

I look around the house for East but can’t find him, so I go out the back door to the woods behind our property. I just got back from law school, and I must admit, it’s difficult being in Birchbark again. As soon as I have that thought, I hate myself for it. What kind of brother, what kind of son am I when I don’t even want to be around my family? I just don’t know how to relate to them, don’t know how to fit in.

I was dealing with college stuff when our sister, Ella, East’s twin, drowned, and back then, all I’d wanted was to be here. I hadn’t wanted to leave for college. Hadn’t wanted to be alone after everything we’d been through, but that had been Dad’s plan for me my whole life. He forced me to go, and in his defense, I pretended to be glad for it.

I make my way through the woods, when I hear East’s voice. Who in the hell is he talking to? All I need is for him to have gotten in trouble for fighting at school and then come out here to hook up with some random girl. Dad will freak out.

He says something, but all I catch is, “Can’t figure out how to make it stop.”

Huh? Can’t figure out how to make what stop?

I see him sitting on a log, but he’s alone. “East? Who are you talking to?”

“Go away.”

He always bites my head off.

But I don’t go. How can I? “Easton, who were you talking to?” I ask again, not stopping until we’re close. His blue eyes are so damn dim, like there is no light left in them. He looks so much like Mom, except he’s missing the joy that clung to her like a second skin, and I wish like hell I could find a way to give it to him.

I want to reach out to him, to hug him, but that’s not what Swifts do. Dad already gives me shit for being too soft on both Morgan and East.

“Nobody! Myself. Jesus Christ. Leave me alone.” East pushes angrily to his feet. “Did you come here to tell me how big of a fuckup I am? Because I already know. I don’t need you to tell me. I don’t need you to be Dad’s fucking errand boy. Stop trying to fix me.”

East turns to walk away, but I reach out and take his wrist. I’m not surprised he thinks I’m only here for Dad. I don’t ever give him or Morgan a reason to believe otherwise. I know they look at me and see him. And part of me wants to be Dad, even as I hate myself for it.

“I’m not here for Dad,” I admit. “I was worried about you. In fact, I was thinking we don’t even have to tell Dad about this. I took care of it, so the school won’t call him.” Our lives are a whole lot easier if we do our best not to anger our father.

“Fuck you, Rhett,” Easton seethes before jerking away.

“Hey. Chill out. Why are you so pissed at me? I’m trying to help you.” When he doesn’t answer and walks away, I follow. “I’m worried about you, East. I know I’ve been gone for a while, with college and law school, but I’m back for good now. I want to fix things with us, to help you.”

Despite the distance between us, I see his body go rigid. I know I said something wrong, but I’m not sure what it could be. “Where’s Morgan?” he asks.

I try to hold back my flinch, but I’m not able to. Of course he’d rather have Morgan. I’m sure they got closer when I was away. “I was just trying to help.”

“How many times do I have to say I don’t need your help?” he growls.

I get it because what the hell can I do anyway? We both know that when push comes to shove, Dad treats East like shit, and I always do whatever Dad tells me to do.

I sigh, look down, hating myself even more for being the way I am…and then, like I’m so good at doing, I walk away.

Unfortunately, I don’t get much of a reprieve. Dad comes home, and all it takes is one look from him to know he heard about East.

“What happened?” he grits out.

“Nothing. It’s fine. I dealt with it.”

“Let me guess, you coddled him the way you used to do? The way Morgan does? I expect that of him but not you. I’m supposed to be able to count on you, Rhett, but you’re always letting me down too.”

I am. I know I am. The hard part is I know I let Mom down too. I didn’t spend time with her like Morgan did. I wasn’t the one she wanted, and most of the time, I don’t know if I’m the one Dad wants either, or if it’s just that I’m easier to deal with than Morgan or East.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I lie, though I know it will piss him off and I have no clue if it was really East’s fault.

“He’s a loser! I’m done with that kid. I should have sent him away a long time ago. He’s a disgrace to the family name.”

I straighten my back, knowing my words are likely to make things worse, but needing to say them. “He’s hurting. Maybe we should try and get him some help.”

“Now you sound like Morgan. All about feelings and emotions. I thought you were better than that, Rhett. We all lost the same things, and none of us act like Easton. He’s been different from the start. There’s something wrong with him.”

Blood rushes through my ears, the world around me spinning. “No. There’s not.”

Dad just stands there staring at me, disappointment dripping from him. I almost take the words back. It’s not like Easton gives a shit about me anyway. Morgan either. Dad might not love me the way I wish he did, but he’s the only one who cares about me at all. And yet, I can’t let what he said stand. Nothing is wrong with East, and if there is, it’s because we failed him.

“Get out of my sight. I can’t look at you right now. You’re always disappointing me.”

You’d think that kind of thing would hurt less after I’ve heard it a million times, but it doesn’t. Just like East didn’t want me around, Dad doesn’t either, and I walk away from him, just as easily as I did Easton.

I spend the rest of the afternoon driving around, hands fisted on the steering wheel, not sure where to go or what to do.

It’s after dark when I make my way to Birchbark Lighthouse. It’s one of my favorite spots in town. I love looking out at the water stretching as far as the eye can see.

No one works the lighthouse anymore. It’s all run electronically, and no one hangs out here the way they did when I was a kid, except…

I frown when I see Dusty sitting at the base of the lighthouse. This is the last thing I need tonight. When Dusty’s around, Morgan typically is as well. Why don’t the two of them just get together already? Dusty loves my brother. There’s not a damn thing he wouldn’t do for him. The thought burns like a wildfire in my chest—not because I want Dusty, but because no one has ever cared for me as much as Dusty cares for Morgan. No one has ever loved me that way and probably never will.

“Aw, fuck. Please don’t tell me Morgan is here with you,” I say because my knee-jerk reaction is to be a dick.

“Nope,” Dusty replies, and I can tell he’s drunk. “What do you want?”

Jesus. First East and Dad didn’t want me around, and now Dusty. I should go, but fuck that, fuck them and everyone else. “Well, I sure as shit didn’t want to hang out with you tonight.”

“This is our spot, mine and Morgan’s.”

“Before I left for college, it used to be mine.”

“But you left.”

I didn’t want to. If it were up to me, I would have stayed . I wouldn’t have gone to law school, and I’d be…who knows, in construction? Even the thought of that sounds dumb. The one time I told my dad I like building things, he reminded me how much I would let him down, let Mom down. How much he depends on me to follow in his footsteps, and it’s not like I would be good at that kind of shit anyway.

“And now Morgan’s leaving.” It makes me an asshole to bring that up to Dusty. I know it kills him that he’s losing Morgan, who plans to move to California. “He doesn’t own everything, ya know?” Dusty rolls his eyes, and I sit down beside him. I’m just…so fucking tired. I feel tired all the time, but I can’t figure out how to let myself relax, how to change. “Maybe I have shit on my mind too.”

I notice the bottle of whiskey in Dusty’s hand, which he lifts, takes a long drink, then passes it to me. Why is he doing that? This isn’t what Dusty and I do. We don’t drink together or hang out together. Morgan hates me, which means Dusty hates me too.

I look at the bottle like he’s poisoned it, then take it from him and swallow deep gulps.

“You’re not going with Morgan? When he leaves?” I know he’s not, so I’m not sure why I’m asking—I guess because I’m surprised and want to know why.

“Nah. Why do you ask?”

“I always assumed the two of you are together.” Or that they would be.

Dusty turns away from me, looking out at the dark water. “Just friends.”

“My brother is a dick.”

“No, he’s not,” Dusty bites out.

“Yes, he is.” But then, I am too. I drink more of the whiskey.

“You don’t know him like I do.”

Those words are like a whip against my skin. I don’t know him. We don’t know each other, not really. I blame it on Morgan, accuse him of hating me, and while I know it’s true, I also know he’s not totally to blame. Everything about Morgan angers me. He’s everything I wish I knew how to be. And I treat him like shit because of it.

So I take the easy way out and change the subject. I ask Dusty about his work at the autobody shop, and then we just talk…about dumb things. Nothing big or important, while continuing to pass the whiskey bottle back and forth. Dots dance in my vision. My skin tingles. The alcohol is doing its job in getting me drunk and making me chattier than I would normally be.

In this moment, drinking and talking with Dusty helps me forget how angry Dad is at me. Helps me forget that I went out of my way to help East today, but all he wished was that I were Morgan. And maybe Dusty wishes that too right now, but it doesn’t feel like it. It’s almost like we’re friends.

“This is nice,” I say, immediately wishing I could take the words back. I don’t get a response, so I ask, “Dusty?” And damn, I sound drunk.

He’s got his head against the lighthouse. He turns slightly in my direction, putting us so close, I feel his warm breath against my lips.

“Hmm?” he asks, and he’s looking at me…like he doesn’t hate me. Like he doesn’t think I’m the worst brother in the world. Not at all like he wants nothing to do with me because Morgan is so much better than me.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” he replies.

My whole body buzzes. I’m not sure what’s happening, but for one moment I just want to forget all the negative shit in my life. I want to see what it’s like to be Morgan—the one Mom loved more, and the one East prefers. The son who doesn’t do as Dad says and makes his own way in life. The one who’s leaving for California in a few weeks, even though our dad doesn’t want him to.

And then our mouths are touching. When his tongue lashes at my lips, I register that I’m kissing a man, and I’m not into dudes. At least, I never have been, but it feels so damn good. I feel wanted, though I know Dusty doesn’t want me. He wants Morgan, wishes I were Morgan, is probably trying to hide from the pain of loving Morgan. And I…want to feel some of the things my brother does. Or maybe I really am the biggest asshole who ever lived and I’m only doing this to hurt my brother. I don’t want to believe that of myself, but my thoughts are foggy. There is so much weight bearing down on me every day of my life, and for whatever reason, in this moment, kissing Dusty, I’m able to forget that.

“What the fuck!” Morgan shouts.

Hearing my brother’s voice electrocutes my heart, fries it. Dusty and I rip apart and hurry to our feet. Shit. Why did I do that? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Before I can get my bearings, Morgan’s body slams into mine, tackling me to the ground. Pain explodes in my face when he punches me.

“What are you doing? You don’t get to touch him! He’s mine!” A second hit makes contact with my already aching face.

Fire in Morgan’s eyes blazes down at me, hatred in my brother’s piercing glare. It makes all my insecurities bubble to the surface, and not just that, but my rage too. Fuck him for always being better than me.

“Morgan, get off him. It’s not what it looked like!” Dusty shouts.

Morgan turns to look at Dusty, and I take advantage, shoving him off me and to the ground. My arms act of their own accord, fists slamming into Morgan the way his had just done to me.

We fight, battling for dominance, swinging and letting out a lifetime of anger. Every moment of our lives has been leading up to this, all Dad’s words to me about Morgan making me see red. I feel like I’m not even in my own body anymore.

I don’t notice Dusty coming until he’s knocked me off Morgan, my head hitting the ground bringing me back to myself.

“What the hell is wrong with the two of you?” Dusty shouts.

Morgan stands up. I’m still on my back, breathing heavily, Dusty beside me.

Morgan spits blood onto the ground. “Fuck you, Rhett. You did that on purpose. You kissed him because you knew it would hurt me.”

The thing is, he’s partly right. I can hate myself for it and know it’s wrong, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. But none of this is easy. Morgan isn’t innocent either. How many times has he hurt me? “Or maybe I just want him and he wants me,” I lie. “It was a hot fucking kiss.”

Why did I say that?

It’s mean, angry.

I always told myself I would be just like Dad, and it looks like I am.

Morgan lunges at me again, but Dusty manages to scramble between us before he can hit me again, and Morgan immediately stops. He would never lay a hand on Dusty.

“Get out of the way, Dust,” Morgan seethes.

“No.” He tries to put a hand on Morgan, but Morgan jerks away.

“Don’t touch me. I can’t believe you…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what happened.”

“Fuck you, Dusty. And fuck you too, Rhett. The two of you can have each other,” Morgan spits while that darkness inside me, the parts of me that are like my dad grow.

Dusty tries to stop him, but Morgan says, “I can’t do this with you. Don’t talk to me. Don’t follow me. You chose him.”

And then, my brother is gone.

“Fuck!” Dusty shouts. “Why the hell did you kiss me?”

Because of course it’s my fault. Everything always is. I stand, wiping the blood off my face. “You kissed me.” The night spins through my head, making me dizzy. “I’m not… I haven’t… I’m not into guys.”

The pain on Dusty’s face damn near breaks my heart. He’s crumbling right before me, knowing he just lost the most important person in the world to him…and that’s what this was about. I knew it then, but it hits me like another punch, this one to the gut. I don’t want Dusty…but for once it would be nice to be the one someone wanted. “I’m not him.” I turn away.

“I know. We’re not like that. He’s my best friend.” Now, it seems, it’s Dusty’s turn to lie.

“So that’s me you wanted to kiss just now?”

The look he refuses to give me says it all. “Why did you kiss me back? You said you’re not even queer.”

I’m still wrapping my head around all the reasons, but there’s no denying part of the truth. “We both know why.” To get back at Morgan. At least…I think. What kind of person does that make me?

Dad, Dad, Dad.

“What’s wrong with me?” I ask. “I can’t… I gotta go.”

“Rhett!” Dusty calls after me, but I keep going, walking away, to be anywhere but here.

I stumble around most of the night, wishing I could be like Morgan—independent, leave for good.

When I get back to the house, East is heading inside while Morgan’s walking down the porch steps.

“Don’t go,” I say.

“Fuck you. Like you care. You just wanted to hurt me.”

“Yes,” I admit. Lying won’t change the truth.

“I fucking hate you!” he says, and then we’re yelling at each other again, always yelling.

When he shoves me away and heads to the car, I say, “Don’t leave him. Don’t throw everything away because of me.”

But Morgan doesn’t reply…and then he’s gone.

I stand in the middle of the yard, watching the sunrise, looking out at the water where we lost Ella when she and East were nine.

It’s early morning when I make my way into the house. East is in the kitchen, and he looks like shit, beat up and clearly drunk.

“What did you do?” he asks, knowing where the fault lies.

“Morgan was always going to leave.”

“You did the same.”

But I came back. I didn’t want to go. I would have stayed if I could.

The second I hear Dad’s footsteps, I drop my head back, banging it against the cabinet.

“Go,” I tell East, hoping he has time to sneak out the back door before Dad can see him. I can deal with Dad’s shit, but I don’t want East to have to. When he doesn’t move, I push around him, heading off Dad in the living room before he can get to the kitchen and see East. A moment later, I hear the door click closed behind East.

He yells at me for thirty minutes, like I’m a child, reminding me how much I disappoint him, how bad it will look for the family if people see me beat up like this. Tells me how I’ll never be as good as him, then makes me feel guilty by telling me how much he counts on me, how he can’t depend on Morgan or East, but he can depend on me. I shouldn’t like to hear it, but I do.

“Morgan is smart,” I tell him. “People love him. And East, if you’d just give him a chance, he—”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t understand you, Rhett. Why you’re so weak. Neither of them would defend you the way you do them. They hate you because you’re like me.”

I hate me for the same thing…and he’s right. There’s no doubt in my mind that my brothers hate me.

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “It’s just the two of us who’ll carry on the family name the way it deserves…the way your mom wanted. She wished for that for you, Rhett, for you and me to be successful together.”

I’m not proud to admit that my heart swells at those words. “Yes, sir.”

“Go get cleaned up,” he orders. “I’ll not have you walking around the house and looking a mess all day.”

I nod. He leaves for work. East is gone. I go upstairs, shower, and get dressed. When Dusty arrives, I’m sitting on the porch swing Mom loved so much—well, not the same one. Dad got rid of that, and now we have one that looks different.

“He’s gone,” I tell Dusty.

“Where did he go?”

“He left for California early.”

Dusty goes down, collapsing into a heap on the porch. He loves Morgan so damn much, and I hate that my brother hurt him, hate that he left him all because of one moment in time.

I walk over and sit beside him. “We fucked up.”

“You can say that again.”

“You’re in love with him?” I ask, but don’t wait for him to reply. “He’ll get over it. He’ll stop being a big fucking baby and get everything he wants because that’s how life works for him.” Morgan will follow his dreams, not Dad’s. He’ll get Dusty, and I’ll always be alone.