Page 6 of Rhett (The Swift Brothers #3)

CHAPTER FIVE

Rhett

W hen we get to the doors, Tripp pulls one open and signals for me to go inside. Carrying the three packages, my arms are fuller than his. I try not to second-guess myself with the gifts but can’t stop myself from wondering if I should have listened to him and only brought two inside. I’d done so well at quieting the constant self-doubt, but this past year, it’s been more and more difficult. Maybe that’s a side effect of getting out from under my father’s thumb.

I follow Tripp over to where I see my brother filling up balloons that Archer hangs up. He and Meadow laugh at something Archer says, making an unfamiliar lightness flitter through my chest. I love seeing East this way, love that he’s finding his way through the pain that has been the story of our lives.

There’s an obvious connection between him and Meadow, and while I figure part of it is because of Ella, I don’t want to take away from the fact that Meadow just attracts people to her. The short amount of time I’ve spent with her makes me feel the same. But I also can’t deny that seeing East with her makes my heart hurt for what we lost, makes me feel even guiltier for not being there when Ella died.

Meadow looks up and sees us first, and a wide smile takes over her whole face. I wish I could bottle her happiness so I’ll have some too. “Mr. Rhett is here!”

East’s head snaps in my direction, and then he too is smiling, and there are no words for how that feels.

“If it’s okay with your dad, call me Rhett,” I tell her. I understand it’s a sign of respect, but it makes me feel like my father.

“Is it weird for you too?” she asks.

“What?”

“I asked her to drop the mister as well.” My brother walks over to me, and we just stand there, looking at each other, as if neither of us knows how to approach the other.

“Here, I’ll take these. Help me, Meadow-bug.” Tripp takes two of the packages from my arms, Meadow grabbing the other. They take them to the table, and I push my hands into the pockets of my coat, unsure what to do with them.

“I’m glad you’re here,” East says. Six months ago, he wouldn’t have spoken those words first, which means they wouldn’t have been said at all, not from either of us. I’m so proud of him, of the changes he’s made and the ways he’s trying to get healthy, and even if I don’t know how to do that for myself, I’m reminded that I’m supposed to be trying for him and Morgan. That’s why I’m still seeing Talia.

“Thanks. It’s good to see you.”

I freeze, surprised when East steps closer and pulls me into a hug. Like our initial reaction, it’s awkward and stilted, but I maneuver my arms so I can hug him too. How sad is it that we don’t know how to do this? That we’ve never had this sort of connection as brothers?

Why didn’t I do something about that sooner?

East pulls back. “Thought I’d try that.”

Again, it’s something I should have done first. “Thoughts?” I ask, unsure what else to say.

“A little weird, but not bad. I can acknowledge that it shouldn’t be weird.”

I don’t expect the soft chuckle that slips past my lips. “Yeah, I feel the same.”

“Oh, Grandma and Grandpa are here!” Meadow says, reminding me we aren’t alone. I clear my throat and take a step away from my brother.

They set their gifts on the table and hug Meadow, then Tripp and Archer.

“Rhett Swift, good to see you.” Tripp’s dad, Mark, holds out his hand to me. I square my shoulders, giving him the smile I’ve perfected.

“Good to see you too.” I can’t even say what conversations we’ve possibly shared over the years, but it’s not unexpected for everyone in Birchbark to know who I am.

“So nice of you to come,” Tripp’s mom says next. I can’t remember her name…Debbie, maybe? Debra, I think, and when she turns to introduce herself to East, I realize my second guess was correct. It also doesn’t escape my attention that even though I’m not sure how many times we may have met over the years, she feels like she knows me in a way she doesn’t with East. I doubt Tripp’s parents mean anything by it or even notice they’re doing it, but because of the trouble East’s been in, everyone in Birchbark has looked at him differently or not acknowledged him at all. That’s not something Morgan and I have ever experienced. And though I know Archer wasn’t happy in his career as a police officer, it’s not hard to see that part of the reason he walked away from it is because of his love for my brother.

As East says hello, I see him slinking into himself. He’s never been a fan of being around a lot of people, of talking and letting people in, and I figure he’ll find a way to keep to himself as much as he can at this party. And while I wish I could do the same, I have years of experience playing the game. “You own the florist shop on Main Street, right?” I ask Debra.

She beams in response and proceeds to talk to me about her business. I ask questions, nodding and listening the way everyone would expect of me.

More guests arrive. Tripp’s brother, Bruce, and his wife, Robin. They have two daughters, but I can’t remember their names, and I feel a moment of shame before I remind myself that I can’t know everything about everyone in Birchbark the way my father always told me I should.

Meadow’s friends arrive next. I hear her call one of them Jasmine, but I miss the other girl’s name. Debra is telling me about a bad batch of flowers, when my gaze connects with Morgan’s. On reflex, my body tenses. I’m not proud of the response, but there is so much baggage between us.

“Does that happen often?” I ask Debra smoothly, not showing any of the discomfort I feel.

She answers while Dusty and Morgan say hello to others, but he keeps his gaze on me, and mine lingers on him.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Debra says, which gives Morgan the chance to make his way over.

“You’re here,” he says.

“Am I?” falls out automatically, and I wince. “Sorry.”

“Old habits die hard. At least we’re trying. I’m a lot more forgiving ever since you broke into our dad’s house.” Morgan grins.

Before East went into his program, I sneaked into our dad’s house for some photos and personal items. Dad tried to blame East, had called the cops on him, but when they found out it was me, the charges disappeared, and somehow, it was kept quiet so the rest of Birchbark didn’t find out—something that wouldn’t have happened had it been East.

“So that’s all it took? A little breaking and entering?” I say softly, trying to be normal, to keep the mood light the way Morgan is.

“None of what you’ve done lately has been easy, Rhett. I see that.”

My voice gets caught in my throat. Even if the words could come out, I’m not sure what they would be. Would I tell him that even after everything that’s happened, this really is fucking hard for me?

Ever since Easton’s last arrest, when I finally walked away from Dad, none of us have spoken to him. There was one incident where he gave East a hard time, but other than that, everyone has stood their ground.

But I’m the only one Dad still tries to call, the only one he tries to manipulate, because he knows I’m an easy target.

Because he sees me as weak.

Because I am.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, just as Dusty approaches. That whole situation is still awkward. I never wanted Dusty, but we’d kissed. When Morgan had left for ten years, Dusty and I had become friends, and it took Morgan a while to get used to that.

“I’m going to…go. Over there,” I say, not having another excuse. It’s not like I have a partner to go talk to, not as if anyone here is really my friend.

I make my way over to the table with the cake and appetizers, pretending to be interested in the selection of food. There’s chatter all around me, everyone talking and catching up. This is typically the kind of environment I can thrive in. I’ve worked hard to make myself sociable, to be the kind of man people look up to and want to be around. The kind of man people can count on. Where East hides behind anger and indifference, I hide behind the persona of a man who has all the answers, but it’s just something else that’s been exhausting to keep up with the last few months.

I feel the warmth of a body moving close to mine. The soft scent of freshly cut wood, mixed with what I swear is cinnamon, invades my senses, and I know without looking that it’s Tripp.

“Not sure what you want?” he asks.

“I’m deciding between something sweet like a chocolate-chip cookie or savory like potato chips,” I lie. There’s a good chance I won’t eat anything.

“What’s your favorite kind of chips?”

I frown, not having expected the question, but then I remember what he said about asking me something every time he sees me. Was he serious? I didn’t figure he was, but Tripp doesn’t seem the type to say something he doesn’t mean. “Ruffles,” I reply.

“Boring.”

“What do you mean? They’re perfect. Nice and salty. They go with anything. My favorite is ranch dip.”

He grins, and it takes me a moment to realize how real what I just said to him was. I hadn’t thought about it first or said it to play a part. It was honest and automatic.

“Ranch dip, huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

“Are you going to make a list of all my answers?”

“It’s already in my Notes app.” Tripp chuckles, and I find myself doing the same. It’s a unique feeling.

“I doubt that.” This little game he’s playing about being interested in me must be a joke. Plus, it’s not as if I want him to be interested in my answers to his random questions. It has no effect on my life at all.

“You don’t believe me?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, goes into the app, and right there I see: Rhett Swift . The only thing in his list is apple crisp with vanilla ice cream and caramel sauce, but then, I’m not sure what else I expect him to have on it. “I’ll add enjoys buying gifts and likes Ruffles with ranch dip . And now that I’m thinking about it, I feel like an important fact to add is that I’m not a stalker and this isn’t creepy at all. Shit. I’m coming off really weird right now, aren’t I?”

“A little bit,” I reply, ignoring the fluttering feeling in my gut that’s so fucking foreign to me.

“Okay, so Meadow keeps a ton of lists in her phone: places she wants to travel to, restaurants she wants to try, lists of her favorite things, reminders of special moments and things like that. She got me to start doing the same thing, though I don’t have nearly as many lists as she does, but it’s something I’ve tried to do.”

“So that’s what prompted you to make a Rhett Swift list?”

He rubs his large hand over his face. “I’m not helping my situation, am I? I’ll understand if you never want to talk to me again.”

Strangely, it feels good that I made it to a list on Tripp’s phone. I’m not sure what that says about me, and I’m not entirely comfortable with this feeling, but in a way I don’t understand, I think I’m honored.

I shift slightly away from him. “She’s amazing. Your daughter. To think about doing something like that at her age. To care enough to want to hold those memories and make those plans.” At thirteen, the only thing I wanted or cared about was being exactly who my father wanted me to be.

“I can’t take any credit for that. It’s all her.”

I look around, notice everyone else at the party is in their own world, talking and laughing. “Can’t you, though? A lot of who she is comes from herself, I agree. But you provide an environment where she feels comfortable exploring who she is, and making her own dreams. You give her moments she wants to remember. If you weren’t a safe place for her…” Maybe she would be more like me. And if my father had created one for me, maybe I would be more like Meadow and Tripp.

“Thank you. I’m speechless, and that doesn’t happen often. That might be one of the coolest things anyone has ever said to me.”

I shake my head, unable to imagine that’s true.

“I’m serious,” Tripp adds.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something to me.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. The fluttering feeling in my stomach is back, spreading up into my chest and tickling down the skin of my arms. I’ve never felt that way before, and I can’t say what’s making me experience it now.

The silence stretches between us, making me shift uncomfortably again. Is he expecting me to have a response? Why don’t I?

Before I can pluck any words from my thoughts, Meadow approaches us. “Me, Jasmine, and Kaylee are ready to go skating now. Uncle Archer said he’s dragging East out there too. You and Rhett should come as well.”

I feel Tripp’s gaze on me. When I look at him, he cocks an eyebrow.

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” I cross my arms.

“Please, Rhett. It’ll be fun,” Meadow begs.

“Yeah, please, Rhett. It’ll be fun.” And given Tripp’s annoying smirk, I have a feeling he knows he has me cornered and there’s no way I’ll say no.

“I haven’t skated since I was a kid,” I confess.

“If I have to do this, you do too,” East grumbles.

“You’re pretending to be grumpy, but you’re not,” Meadow tells him.

Not many people speak to East that way, but he doesn’t get frustrated and simply replies, “I am not.”

Archer laughs. “That sounds a little fake-pouty to me.” But then he takes East’s hand and threads their fingers together, my brother looking at him in a way that steals my breath. They are to each other what Morgan and Dusty are. They might not have a lifetime of love behind them, but it’s just as true. I smile at the thought of both of my brothers having that, at finding their way.

“Fine,” East tells Archer, who laughs along with Meadow.

They head to the counter for skates, Meadow meeting up with her friends.

“Are you coming?”

I think about Meadow’s lists and all the things she wants to do. I think about Tripp’s list for me in his phone. Do I want him to be able to add Rhett ice-skating ? Is that something he would even care to put down, and why does it matter if he doesn’t? But a part of me wants to give him things to write down, wants him to have options, if for no other reason than it strangely feels like a success, and I’ve been chasing so many of those throughout my life, I don’t know how to be any other way.

“Let’s go,” I say, determination fueling me.

Tripp grins.

The back of my neck tingles.

What have I gotten myself into?