Page 2 of Rhett (The Swift Brothers #3)
CHAPTER ONE
Rhett
Present day
I have no idea what I’m doing here.
I sit in the driver’s seat of the new truck I recently purchased and stare out at the snow coming down. It’s January, one of the coldest months of the year in the UP, but we haven’t yet received the amount of snow typical for this area. It’s cloudy and gray, and I’m sitting here thinking about the weather rather than doing what I came here to do.
I don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t see how talking to someone can help. It’s giving power to another person, and that’s something I promised myself I would never do again. I’ve always needed to be in control—except when it came to my father—but ever since last summer, when he was so hateful to East the last time he was arrested, I haven’t had anything to do with him. I’ve sworn to be my own man and not let anyone have power over me again.
And it’s freeing in some ways, but in others, I can’t seem to get myself out of the chains that come along with being Rhett Swift—that come with being a Swift, really.
I force myself to get out of the truck, the cold air biting at my skin as I make my way toward the building. After pulling open the first door, I shake the snow off my jacket and continue inside. There’s a pit in my stomach that grows by the second, but I do my best to ignore it the way I’ve ignored too many things in my life.
Once inside, I see a white woman behind the main desk. A couple of people are sitting in the waiting room, but I don’t recognize any of them from Birchbark, where I live. I specifically came to Lillington in the hopes of keeping my business to myself. Funny how everyone knows everything about everyone, but no one ever figured out that my dad is a manipulative, emotionally abusive motherfucker. Or if they did figure it out, they didn’t care enough to do anything about it.
“Can I help you?” The woman smiles at me in a way that says she can tell I’m nervous, so I school my features, stand up straight, and put on the mask I’ve worn my whole life.
“I’m Rhett Swift. I’m here to see Talia,” I say with a confidence that has probably never been real.
“It looks like you filled out all your paperwork online, so we just need to get a copy of your ID and insurance card.”
I pull out my wallet and hand them over. After she’s done, I make my copayment, then find a chair away from the others and wait. It’s probably less than two minutes later when a woman with twists in her hair and pretty brown skin peeks out a door. I immediately recognize her from the photo online and know she’s here for me. I searched through every therapist profile from numerous offices until I decided on Talia. She specializes in family trauma.
“Rhett?” she asks, and I push to my feet. I figure I should feel something right now, but I’ve gotten good at turning off my emotions when I need to. I’m sure my therapist will have a field day with that, but where Morgan and East seem to feel everything, I worry I’ve trained myself not to feel enough.
“That’s me.”
She leads me through the back of the office to a room with a couch, two comfortable-looking armchairs, and self-help quotes on the wall. It’s exactly how I figured a therapist’s office would look.
“I’m Talia. Nice to meet you.” She holds out her hand and we shake. “You can hang your jacket up on the rack if you’d like.”
I do as she says, removing it, my gloves, and my beanie, then take a seat in the chair farthest from where I assume she will sit, and my assumption proves right.
“I thought we could start by you telling me a little about why you’re here today.”
I frown. “Didn’t you read that in the paperwork I filled out?” What was the point in doing it if she didn’t read it? Maybe she wasn’t the best choice. Maybe she’s not thorough in her job. I could leave. Find someone else. I could—
“I did, but I’d like to also hear it from you in person so I can ask questions.”
I guess that makes sense. “I’m here for my brothers,” I admit.
“Not for you?”
“For them,” I reply. I don’t really know what I expect to get out of this for myself, if anything. Sometimes I worry I’m a lost cause like Dad.
“Did they ask you to come?”
“Not specifically. My youngest brother, East, just got out of an inpatient program. When he went in a few months ago, our middle brother, Morgan, agreed to start seeing a therapist as well. We have a lot of family trauma. They’re working through it and to build a relationship with each other and me. I don’t want to do the wrong thing. I don’t want to do something that can hurt them or hold them back. I just want to be the kind of brother they deserve. It’s not something I’ve ever been good at.”
I have a feeling, that to her, this must sound all wrong, so I appreciate that she says, “Okay. We can start there.”
It’s the only reason I make myself stay.
*
That felt like the longest hour of my life. I’d let it all out, though, telling Talia about Dad, the way he was with us, that he’d only ever loved Mom, and how she tried to make up for him. About East and Ella, how she was East’s whole world and how we practically lost him too when she drowned. About Morgan and Dusty, my complicated relationship with my brother, how he moved and never returned until this last summer, and how he and Dusty are starting over. She had questions too, and I couldn’t be more thankful this first session is over.
I make my next appointment and then get out of the building as fast as I can while still smiling and being polite and holding the door open for a couple walking in. That’s what I do—pretend everything is okay. Don’t show my hand. Try to be in control.
It stopped snowing, and I sit in my truck for a few minutes, waiting for it to warm. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten all day. There’s a diner up the road, so I head there, not wanting to wait until I get home, and also not wanting to stop somewhere in Birchbark. I can’t go anywhere there without getting approached by people. Ever since dropping out of the race for mayor and leaving my job as an attorney last year when I walked away from Dad, I do my best to avoid everyone.
The diner is quiet, which I’m thankful for, and has a very UP feel to it. There’s a general store attached, which is busier than the diner.
“Just one?” a young guy with rosy cheeks asks. I’m used to it by now—being just a one. Even when I was married, Lori and I often did things on our own. I’m not even sure she liked me that much, or maybe she thought she could turn me into someone she would like, but that never happened, so she left. Can’t blame her. She isn’t a bad person, and I put work over her, my father over her. The marriage only lasted a few years, but she probably hung in longer than she should have.
“Yes,” I reply.
He grabs a menu and leads me to a booth by a window. I sit on the far side, facing the store and the open doorway between it and the diner, when I see Tripp, whom most people call Cass, and his daughter, Meadow. She’s wearing pants with patches all over them that I can’t make out and carrying a clear bag filled with candy.
It was a week ago that I last saw them. We were all at Archer Thorn’s parents’ house, celebrating East coming home. Archer is East’s boyfriend, and I’m glad they found each other. East…I feared both of us would end up alone. Archer is good for my brother and gives him the family East has always deserved. Tripp is Archer’s best friend, the two having been close most of their lives.
“Can I get you something to drink?” the waiter asks.
“Just water, please,” I reply without taking my gaze off Tripp and Meadow. I think he’s a year younger than my thirty-seven. Tripp is tall and broad like me, though where I have golden skin, black hair, and dark eyes, Tripp is a burly ginger with blue eyes and fair skin. He always has a smile on his face—in a way I don’t understand but can’t look away from. The man got me to have a snowball fight, for crying out loud. I still can’t wrap my head around that.
Meadow looks up, and I whip my head the other direction—which doesn’t look strange at all. I have no idea what’s wrong with me, but I don’t like it. She’s maybe the kindest, most bighearted, mature kid I’ve ever known, and here I am, hoping she doesn’t see me so they don’t come over to talk.
“Dad, look. It’s Mr. Rhett,” Meadow says loud enough for me to hear, and she’s already walking toward me, Tripp following with a sorry sort of look, like he worries I might want to be alone. I usually do. It’s something I’ve adjusted to over the years, something I’ve trained myself to want because it makes my life easier. “Hi. Are you eating by yourself?” she asks.
“Meadow,” Tripp says.
“It’s fine,” I tell him, then turn my attention to her. She’s got long, strawberry-blond hair, freckles, and a wide smile. “I am. I’ve never been here before,” I say, not wanting to be rude. I should try and make conversation, at least.
“My dad brings me to therapy right up the road from here. We just finished, and we always stop by the general store so we can get candy before driving back to Birchbark.”
My brain stumbles over her admission, how this twelve-year-old girl easily blurts out that she sees a therapist, when I made my appointment all the way over here just to prevent people from knowing. Though maybe that’s what Tripp had been thinking when he signed her up too.
“What are you doing in Lillington?” she asks.
“Hey, nosy.” Tripp playfully tugs a strand of her hair.
“Sorry. I’m a curious girl.”
I chuckle. She’s a ball of pure joy is what she is. I can’t help wondering if Ella would have been like Meadow. I think so. She was full of life and shared her passion with East. His world dimmed when she left it.
“It’s fine,” I assure them, but I don’t offer any more information. This twelve-year-old girl is braver than I am.
“Are the three of you going to eat together?” the waiter asks.
“Can we, Dad? I’m hungry.”
My chest tightens. I won’t even know what to talk about. I can’t imagine I’ll be great company.
While hoping Tripp says no to joining me for dinner, my gaze snags on Meadow’s jeans, and then I see them…the patches…the butterflies all over her jeans, and my breath catches in my throat.
Ella loved butterflies. Before East went into his program, we found him in the woods, surrounded by hundreds of paper butterflies he’d folded. Is it strange that Meadow has them on her jeans, or is it simply coincidence? She’s a young girl, like Ella was, so it would make sense she’d like them.
“Well, it’s not nice for us to just make assumptions and interrupt Rhett’s dinner,” Tripp says.
“No, no. It’s fine,” I tell them, forcing my attention away from the jeans, and working to shove thoughts about Ella away. Saying they can sit with me is the polite thing to do, after all. That’s a lesson my dad instilled in me. He might have treated us like shit, but part of our role—especially mine—was always to look like the perfect family on the outside, the perfect Birchbark citizens. He was good at making people believe we were something other than what we were.
Tripp shrugs. “Sounds good to me, then.”
Meadow slides into a seat, and Tripp sits down beside her. It takes me a moment to realize I’ve never talked with Tripp one-on-one this way. I’ve known who he is most of my life. We went to high school together and played football together. I saw him at the Thorns’ and around town, but we’ve never hung out unless it was because a group of people were hanging out. But then, it’s not as if I’ve ever spent much time with people outside of work relationships—going out with other lawyers and things like that. When I was away for college, it was the only time I made any real friends, but I lost contact with them when I moved back home.
The waiter returns with two more menus. Meadow asks for pink lemonade while Tripp gets tea.
“The baby is so cute,” she says, bringing up Archer’s new niece, Hazel. “I think Easton really likes her.”
“I think you’re right,” I reply. I’ve never seen my brother with a baby until that day, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her, held her until she needed to go back to her mama to be fed.
“I wonder if Easton and Uncle Archer will have kids,” she muses just as I take a drink of my water, and I nearly choke on it. I cough, and Meadow frowns.
“Wrong pipe.” Holy shit. Do East and Archer plan to have a family? Why haven’t I ever considered that? I got a vasectomy when I was in law school. I’ve always known having children wasn’t something I wanted to do. I don’t want to pass the Swift legacy to another child. I don’t think Morgan and Dusty want kids either, but thinking back to Easton and Archer with Hazel, I can almost see it. With East’s history, that thought should blow my mind, but somehow, it feels right.
“Easton is good with dogs. He likes to take care of them. I bet he would be a good dad,” Meadow continues.
“Give them some time to figure that out. They just got together.” Tripp chuckles.
All I can think is that she’s right, though. In this strange, almost poetic way, Easton would make an incredible dad.
“I always wish Dad had remarried and had another baby. I want a little sister.”
“Could be a brother,” I tell her.
“I could make do with that,” Meadow replies, and the three of us laugh. It startles me, how easy this feels.
“Anyway, no more kids for me. I already have my favorite one,” Tripp says.
“Oh my God, Dad. Whatever.” Meadow rolls her eyes.
“I’m serious. This is my best friend right here.” He puts an arm around her, and I just stare at them, can’t take my eyes off them. What would it have felt like to have my dad put his arm around me and call me his best friend? Hell, not just me, any of us. What would it have been like to see from my own father the pride and love Tripp feels for Meadow? I can’t even comprehend it.
“Dad says he’ll follow me to New York when I move there after high school. I’m going to work in fashion.” Meadow beams.
“She didn’t get her good fashion sense from me.” Tripp pulls his arm off Meadow, and we share another chuckle. Again, I’m struck at the easiness of their relationship, of this whole conversation. That Tripp doesn’t push Meadow to a career he wants and lets her be her own person, and I wonder how different my brothers and I would have been without Gregory Swift as our father.