Page 4 of Rhett (The Swift Brothers #3)
CHAPTER THREE
Rhett
I wish my shop were bigger. I live in town and don’t have the land or space for anything more, but I have it set up as best as I can. It’s temperature-controlled so none of my projects or supplies get ruined. I’ve been slowly buying things over the years—a saw here, a table there—for no reason at all, really, at least not in the beginning. It wasn’t as if I ever expected to be able to do anything with my passion. Not as Rhett Gregory Swift, the son who lived his life how his father demanded it.
But ever since last summer, I’ve been spending most of my time out here. I’ve made more things than I know what to do with. I’ve started taking tables, shelves, and other items to donate to shelters and programs for those in need. I’ve even listed some of it for free and just take it out to people when they want it. Not in Birchbark, of course, but in other towns in our county. If it were local, people would ask questions I don’t know how to answer. They would wonder what I was doing. Former attorney turned woodworker? Even the thought is ridiculous.
Outside what I’ve donated and given away, it’s all piled up out here, or furnishing my house and Morgan’s bar. He opened Gracie’s recently—which was our sister’s middle name—and I fucking sneaked barstools into his bar in the middle of the night like some creep. He doesn’t know whom they’re from, and I prefer it that way.
At some point, I need to figure out what in the hell I’m doing with my life, but today isn’t that day.
I lose myself in my current project. Working with my hands has always cleared my mind, grounded me. I used to sneak around to do it, find spare moments, before I stopped completely. Dad was right. It had been a waste of my time—at least, back then. Maybe it still is now, but I don’t care because I enjoy it. Building is probably the only thing in my life that brings me joy.
I stay out here for hours, trying not to let all the shit in my head pile up, but I keep thinking about Tripp and Meadow. What did Tripp mean when he said they would both like me there? It sounds self-explanatory, but…Tripp and I have never been friends. He’s never invited me anywhere before, and first we had the snowball fight, then dinner, and now this. Is it because he feels sorry for me? Does he know about my family’s problems from Archer? Is he sitting around pitying me because I’m my father’s son and I’ve spent my life being a shitty brother to Morgan and East?
The thought makes my nape prickle with heat. Fuck pity. I don’t want or deserve it from anyone.
Still, the party’s approaching. Meadow said the end of the month but didn’t tell me the date or time. How in the hell am I supposed to go if I don’t have the info? Did he not say because he doesn’t really want me to go? But then, why would he have mentioned it again, specifically said he wanted to extend the invite, after Meadow left to play games?
“Fuck.” I set down the piece of wood and rub a hand over my face before I realize I’m getting sawdust everywhere. I’m a fucking mess. I don’t know why I’m thinking about this so much, why it matters to me at all. Tripp probably forgot they even invited me.
But Meadow might not. I think about the kind girl with the butterflies on her pants. She probably doesn’t know that her dad only mentioned it because he feels sorry for me, and then what if I don’t show? I can look up Tripp’s carpentry business and call, but that feels weird.
Also, what the hell does one get a thirteen-year-old girl for her birthday?
It all makes my thoughts spin. I’m not the type who can just attend a get-together or skip out of a get-together without telling the host. What if he expects me and plans accordingly? What if he doesn’t think I’ll show, and I do?
No. That’s not how I work, so I have to get this sorted out or I’ll drive myself wild.
I put my project aside, clean up my mess because that’s another thing I don’t have it in me not to do—leave things out and unorganized—before I put on my jacket, coat, and beanie, lock up my shop, and head for the house.
It’s cold as hell outside, the ground covered in snow. I shoveled the walkway this morning, and luckily, it’s not snowing again right now, so the path is still clear.
I stress myself out the whole time I’m in the shower, trying to figure out if I want to talk to Tripp about the party or to East. Neither appeals, but if I ask my brother, I’ll still need to call Tripp to RSVP. Jesus, why in the fuck did they have to invite me to her party?
By the time I’m out, I’ve decided to get ahold of Tripp and made myself slightly nauseous thinking about it all.
“Christ, Rhett. Get a grip. Don’t embarrass me. If you’re going to get anywhere in life, you can’t do that by making yourself sick from worry.”
I try my best to shake my dad’s words out of my head, but they’re always there, always waiting for the right moment to pounce and remind me of all my inadequacies.
I tug on a pair of underwear, then jeans, pacing my bedroom while figuring out what to say to Tripp. Do you really want me to come to your daughter’s party? Does she?
Frustration gnaws at my nerves. I hate it when I get like this, so I force myself to slow my breathing, sit on the edge of my bed, and look up Tripp’s carpentry business.
“Cassidy’s Carpentry, how can I help you?” he says in his deep rumble of a voice.
“Tripp? This is Rhett.” Shit. I still don’t know if I should call him Tripp, or Cass like everyone else does. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Oh, hey, man. It’s good to hear from you. Not a bother at all. How ya been?”
“Fine. Good. Great.” Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me? “I was just calling about Meadow’s party. If the invitation still stands, I’d like to get the details.” Could I sound any more proper?
Tripp chuckles. “I guess that would help, huh? Sorry. I’m all over the place sometimes. It’s this coming Saturday, two o’clock, at the ice-skating rink. It’s mostly going to be family, but she’s got a couple of girlfriends coming too. She’ll be happy to have you there—we both will.”
My skin prickles with discomfort. From everything I’ve seen, Tripp Cassidy is a good man, but his claim feels off. Why would he care if I’m there? I guess it’s one of those things you say to be polite, but it makes me feel… I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe this is where I swing back to pity.
“You don’t have to say things like that to me.”
“Things like what?” The confusion in his voice is hard to miss, which makes me feel guilty.
“I don’t know. I just…we don’t know each other. I’m sure it’s awkward that she invited me. If it’s weird, I don’t have to come.” I immediately wish I could suck the words back in. I’ve said too much, let him see too much. I’ve gotten so good at only showing the world what I want them to see—the Rhett who’s strong, the Rhett who doesn’t care what people think—but I’ve been slipping lately.
“I’m trying to understand how you got that from what I said, and I might not know you, Rhett, but you’ve been around my whole life. We had fun at the Thorns’ place. We had a nice dinner together, and my best friend and the godfather of my child is in love with your brother. If we don’t know each other already, maybe it’s time we start.”
Shit. What I said was rude too, which isn’t like me—well, unless it had been to my brothers. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s been a strange day.” A strange year, a strange life. “I should let you get back to work,” I say, though I don’t even know if he’s working or not. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Okay…” Tripp says, sounding a bit puzzled.
Welcome to my world.
As soon as I end the call, I finish getting ready, then sit in my truck while it warms up, trying to figure out what to get Meadow for her birthday. I google gifts for teenage girls , but it’s not very helpful because there are a million options, and I’m not sure what she’s into or what she already has.
But then I remember the butterfly jeans, and the clothes she made for East’s dogs. Bits and pieces of random comments filter through my head—the mention of a sewing machine, her plans to go to New York to be a fashion designer.
And just like that, I know what I’m looking for. The store is two hours away, but it’s not as if I have anything else to do with my day. So I hit the button for directions and get on the road.