Page 22 of Rhett (The Swift Brothers #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Rhett

“Y ou’re good at this,” I tell Meadow, who is absolutely kicking my ass in chess.

I’ve been spending a lot of time here since the night I stayed over. Tripp invites me to dinner or just to hang out—each time Tripp and I sneaking into the shop to touch and kiss and make each other come…

Before that we’d play games with Meadow, watch movies, and even built a snowman. I haven’t done that since I was a kid, and back then, I hadn’t allowed myself to enjoy it. It was one of those few times when Mom didn’t let me or Dad make our usual excuses. Dad hadn’t been happy and had refused to go out with us. It was rare for him to tell her no about anything, but I think he did it because he was upset he’d lost control over me. So I’d felt like I had to pretend I would rather be inside with him. That I was above such childish things, though I’d been a child myself, at least in age. I don’t think I’ve ever been one in spirit.

Today, Tripp invited me over for breakfast. I was here late last night, left, and came back early this morning. Later today they’re spending time with his family. He invited me, but I don’t feel it’s my place to be there. Wouldn’t his family wonder why he brought a random friend?

“My dad taught me. He’s really good too,” Meadow replies.

Tripp’s in the kitchen, making breakfast. He banished us from the room, so we continued the game we started a couple of days ago. “Don’t play Tripp in chess. Got it.”

Meadow chuckles, while I study the board to figure out what the hell to do next. She’s going to beat me, and I really hate losing. Strangely, I’m not sure I’ll hate it as much this time. Partly because it’s to her, but also because I’m enjoying the moments of playing.

“You’re different,” Meadow says, studying me with those blue eyes that look older than thirteen.

“What do you mean?” But really, I know what she means because I am different. Talia mentioned something similar. I’ve felt the transformation in the last few weeks—longer than that, really—but it’s been even more prominent lately, and it seems I needed to hear it from Meadow.

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain. You feel more like Rhett. Like the one you were always supposed to be.”

“The one I was always supposed to be?”

“Yeah. You said you were figuring yourself out, and I could see that. It’s like you started to find what you’ve been looking for. I talk like that sometimes, and it’s probably dumb, but—”

“It’s not dumb,” I interrupt. “You pay attention to people and take the time to see what others don’t because you care about them. It’s…special.” It’s the only word I can think to use.

“Thanks.” Meadow gives me a soft smile.

I don’t think she realizes how much she’s given me. Maybe it’s silly to feel this way—me, a grown man, getting confirmation from a thirteen-year-old that I’m on the right track—but that’s how I feel. “My mom used to try and sew. Did I ever tell you that?”

“No! Why do you say try ?”

“Because she wasn’t very good.” The memory makes the corners of my lips turn up. “But one time, she insisted on making my and Morgan’s Halloween costumes. It was the year before East and Ella were born. When she was trying to fit us, she accidentally poked me a few too many times with the pins. I remember gritting my teeth so I wouldn’t tell her. She was having so much fun, I didn’t want to ruin it for her. When it was Morgan’s turn, I noticed him doing the same thing.” I’d grinned at him, and Morgan had returned it. It was one of those rare times we shared and held a good secret, where we were on the same page, while most of our life we felt like adversaries.

“What was your costume?”

“I was going through a Wizard of Oz phase. It’s an older movie, so I don’t know if you’ve seen it.”

“I haven’t. I know about it, but I’ve never watched it.”

“Well, I was the Tin Man. He was going to the wizard to get a heart. Of course, he really had one all along, and…” I frown. Why was I the Tin Man? At eight years old, why was it him I’d chosen, the character who didn’t think he had a heart?

Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it was simply because I’d been fascinated with the movie, but I don’t think so. Even back then I’d felt like I didn’t love people the way I should. The thought weighs heavily on me.

“Well, that doesn’t fit you at all,” Meadow says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“You don’t think so?”

“Nope.”

And maybe…maybe I don’t think so either. “We should watch the movie. If you want. I mean, me, you, and your dad, of course.”

Meadow gives me a wide, toothy smile. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like it too.” I get back on topic. “So like I said, the costumes weren’t great, but I remember sitting at the table with Morgan, and we looked at each other and said, ‘we should wear them,’ at the same time. And we did because it was nice to make her happy.”

“You and Morgan were good sons.”

My first inclination is to say that’s debatable about myself, but then, why do I always have to tear myself down? I wasn’t perfect, but what I did that Halloween was kind. “Thanks. Anyway, Mom liked Halloween. She loved all holidays. She really got into that stuff. Morgan and I would always get East and Ella matching costumes after she passed. When they were toddlers, the nanny took us all shopping. Ella cried and cried for a butterfly costume, so I have photos of Ella and East as matching butterflies.” It’s not something I thought about in a long time, the way she was pulled toward the costume, just as she was drawn to butterflies later.

“What were you and Morgan that year?”

“He was a Power Ranger. I didn’t dress up.” By then I’d felt even more that I had to be the grown-up.

“We should dress up next Halloween!” She practically bounces in her chair. I almost say no way in hell. Rhett Swift isn’t the type of adult to dress up like that, but then, maybe I can be. Maybe that’s just another transformation. What really makes the decision for me, though, is the fact that Meadow still expects me to be in their life, two whole seasons away.

“Okay, but only if you make our costumes.”

She chuckles. “Deal.”

I look at the chess board, again trying to figure out my next move, when Meadow says, “You’re a good friend to Dad. You make him happy. He deserves that.”

I try to respond, but the words are trapped in my throat. What she said settles in my chest, seeps into me, comforting yet another part of me. I want to be that for Tripp. There are a lot of things I want to be for Tripp, all the things he is for me. I’m careful not to say the wrong thing. I also don’t want her to think something more is going on between us until Tripp is ready, but I can’t help giving her part of the truth. “He makes me happy too.”

Meadow beams, but before either of us can say anything else, the moment is broken by Tripp coming into the room. “Come on, you two. Breakfast is served, and it’s incredible, if I do say so myself. You should both shower me with thanks.”

Meadow rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, Dad. You’re such a dork.” She stands up, and he wraps an arm around her.

“Being a dork is awesome,” he tells her and winks at me.

“Eh, I guess you’re right. I have to agree with you on that one.”

The two of them start walking to the kitchen together, and I linger behind, simply watching. I feel so fucking lucky to be here with them, that they’re sharing this, themselves , with me…like we’re family.

Tripp drops his arm from Meadow, who continues into the kitchen. He stops and looks back at me, just staring at me for a moment, before saying, “Come have breakfast with us, Rhett. Your place at the table is already set.”

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the way he says it makes me think I’ll always have a place there.

*

My house feels emptier when I get home after breakfast. Tripp asked again if I wanted to go with them to spend the day with his family, but I’d been an idiot and said no. So many things are happening so damn fast, though. I’m still trying to figure out how to accept them.

I go out to the shop and work on Morgan’s stools. Between my job and spending so much time with Tripp and Meadow, I’m just now finishing them up, which is maybe partly a lie. I’d finished a couple, but they weren’t good enough, so I’d started over. But now I’m almost done…again, and I really want to give them to him so he doesn’t think I forgot. Once the last one is ready, I wrap them so they don’t get damaged, and then…then I’m kind of stumped.

I could call Morgan to come get them, or I could bring them to him myself…but because I’m me, what I do instead is unwrap them and look at them again. What if they’re not as good as the first set? What if I missed some imperfection? Morgan asked me to make these for him, so they have to be perfect.

If Tripp wasn’t busy, I would have him come over and look at them, but I can’t interrupt his time with his family for something like this.

I pull out my cell phone and scroll through my contacts. It’s sad how few people I actually talk to.

When I get to Dusty, I hesitate. Even though we’d become closer after Morgan left, I hadn’t opened up to him much, but I did talk to him more than anyone else. We had a good conversation when he stopped by last time, so we could do it again, right?

“You’re different.” That’s what Meadow said to me, and I’m trying to be. I want to be. I need to be.

I call Dusty, who answers immediately. “Hey! What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

I can’t blame him for assuming something’s wrong. It’s not like I call him—or anyone, really—enough.

“Yeah. Fine. Good, actually. I was wondering if you could stop by when you get a chance? If you’re busy, no problem. It’s not a big deal.” Jesus. I sound like a fucking idiot.

“Of course. I’m free right now. I’ll head your way.”

That’s so Dusty. He’s the kind of guy who would do anything for anyone, no questions asked. He reminds me of Tripp that way. Archer too. Somehow, the three of us got lucky to have some great people in our lives. “Thanks, Dust. I’m in the shop out back.”

“You’re going to let me come in?”

Which I’m now remembering is a big deal. No one has been in here except Tripp. “Yes,” I reply.

He seems to hesitate for a moment, then says, “See you in a few minutes, Rhett.”

I end the call, then do one of the things I do best—freak out, pace, and get sick to my stomach. Time goes by much faster than it should, and before I know it, there’s a loud knock on the shop door. I hurry over to it because I know Dusty must be cold outside. I tug it open, and a big, burly Dusty is there, bundled up in his winter gear. I motion for him to come in, then close the door behind him.

“Shit. It’s freezing out there. Feels good in here, and damn…this is amazing, Rhett. I can’t believe you’ve been building all these things.”

The familiar discomfort I get about things that really matter is there, but this time, it’s overshadowed by the pride I feel in my work.

“Thanks.” I run a nervous hand through my hair while he takes his coat off. “That’s why I wanted you to come over. I finished Morgan’s stools. I know it’s ridiculous, but I wanted you to look at them before I give them to him. I know how much he likes the other ones, and I want to make sure these are just as good.”

Dusty turns around slowly, looks at me with a studying expression—the one that says I’ve done something surprising.

“What? It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he replies. “That’s…nice of you. That it matters so much. Morgan will love them no matter what.”

“Does that mean they aren’t as good?”

He smiles. “I haven’t even looked at them yet.”

“Well, do it,” I snap, then frown. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s obvious it matters to you.” Dusty walks over to where I’d unwrapped the stools. He runs his hand over the back of one of them, looking at it, taking his time examining it. He gives each one a slow inspection, and while I wish he would hurry, I’m also thankful he’s taking it seriously. “They’re incredible, Rhett. Just like the others.”

It’s wild, the sense of pride that fills me. He could just be saying that, but it doesn’t feel like it, and I am proud of them myself. I was before I called him over, I just didn’t want to let Morgan down again. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime. Can I look around?”

I nod, and Dusty does, looking at the random pieces in my shop, studying them the same way he did the stools.

“How are things going working with Tripp?”

“Great. I honestly think it’s the best thing to ever happen to me.” Tripp is the best thing to ever happen to me in every way that matters.

A smile splits Dusty’s face.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. “I can make us something to eat. It’s fine if you have plans, but—”

“I can stay.”

“Okay.” I’ve tried so hard to keep my distance from people, to not let anyone or anything matter except my career and being the best at everything. Dusty’s friendship found its way into my life, and then for months, I’ve done everything I could to sever it… But just like last time he was here, it feels good to talk to my friend again.

We go into the house, and I make us fish fillets. Dusty rambles about work and the bar, which leads to him asking, “When are you going to go hang out at Gracie’s? You said you would, but you haven’t yet.”

I don’t want to be like that, don’t want to make promises I won’t keep or not show up for my family the way we were taught by our dad. “Maybe we can all meet up there next weekend? If you and Morgan don’t have plans, I mean. If you do, that’s okay. We’ll invite East and Archer too.” And Tripp. I’d really like Tripp to come, but would that be strange since they’re couples and no one knows about us? But I want them to, I want people to know, and I want someone to talk to about it.

“I think that will be great. I know Morgan will make it happen, and I have no doubt East and Archer will too.” He seems to hesitate for a moment, then adds, “You should invite Cass. The two of you are getting close.”

Closer than he knows.

Would it be all right to share with him? I can trust Dusty. He won’t tell anyone.

I plate the fillets, then add rice. Dusty pushes off the counter and takes them to the table while I get us water.

“We are,” I say, without looking at him. “Getting close.”

“That’s good. You deserve a friend like Cass.”

My heart beats so hard that it can’t be healthy. Still, I close the fridge and say, “What if it’s more than friendship?”

Without much more than a beat of time between us, Dusty says, “Then you would deserve that too, and I would be happy for you. Everyone who matters would be.”

I shed some of the weight from my chest like a snake losing its skin. I don’t know why I was so afraid for him to know—for anyone to know.

“I’ve never…with a guy…other than my one kiss with you. It’s surprising.” We sit at the table together.

“You’re letting yourself figure out who you really are, what you really want. The whole fucking world is open to you, man. It’s okay if you’re confused, but your sexuality is yours and yours alone. You don’t owe anyone any explanations.”

No, I don’t, do I? I spent my life making excuses and explaining everything I did to my dad, and I don’t have to do that anymore. Still, some things are confusing. “It’s…different. Tripp feels different. Even the…um…” Christ. Am I really going to fucking do this? What’s happened to me? “Even the sex.”

“Because he’s a guy?”

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, maybe? Maybe I wasn’t into women and didn’t realize it, but that seems unlikely. It just wasn’t as good with anyone else. It didn’t make me feel the way it does with him. I really wasn’t into sex at all until Tripp.” As soon as the words come out, it hits me how true they are. I’d had little wonderings before, considered little pieces of that truth, but didn’t think on it much. I don’t look at him as I continue. “Sex was just something I felt I was supposed to do, and now it’s something I want to do.”

“You could be demisexual.”

My gaze snaps to Dusty’s. “What’s that?”

“It’s a person who doesn’t feel sexual attraction to another person unless there’s a strong emotional bond there. I might be wrong, of course, but what you’re saying kinda sounds like that.”

My head feels slightly echoey. Demisexual. I didn’t know that was a thing, but it would make sense. The more time I spent with Tripp, talking to him, working with him, the more I noticed him, watched him, and started to feel things change between us that had me wanting to try something physical with him. And then when we’d finally given in, it felt more right than any sexual encounter I’d ever had. I crave sex with him more than I have with anyone, but I also just crave him. Everything about him.

“I think that sounds like me. Like it could fit. Before Tripp, the best kiss I’d ever had was with you.” I chuckle before realizing how that sounds. “Not that I wanted you. I don’t and haven’t ever had emotional or sexual feelings for you, but I enjoyed it. I thought that was just me being an asshole and feeling like I finally had something Morgan wanted, but maybe it’s because I’d known you my whole damn life. And even if we hadn’t been good friends, we’d been close, if for no other reason than your friendship with Morgan. There was an emotional connection between us because of that and…” I close my eyes. “I shouldn’t be saying this. I’m not trying to… You’re with Morgan and—”

“Hey. I know what you mean. I don’t think you’re hitting on me or have feelings for me. What you’re saying makes sense. I think we kissed that night because we were both feeling a lot of things and there has always been a bond between us because of my friendship with Morgan.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I appreciate that. But back to Tripp, I’ve never felt this way before…about anyone. It’s scary as shit.”

He chuckles. “Love always is. Welcome to the club, brother.” Dusty reaches over and squeezes my shoulder.

“Thank you,” I tell him again, so glad we had this talk. “Please don’t mention Tripp and me to anyone. He isn’t ready to tell Meadow. We don’t want to risk her getting hurt.”

Dusty gives me a simple nod. “I won’t say a word.”

For the first time in my life, it feels like I’m on the right track.

It’s not until later, after Dusty leaves, that I realize he said, “Love always is. Welcome to the club, brother,” and I didn’t have to think twice about the possibility of being in love with Tripp Cassidy.