Page 8 of Rhett (The Swift Brothers #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rhett

I drive to another session with Talia. I can’t decide if talking to a therapist once a week is really doing anything for me. I don’t understand the point of it, if I’m honest, but I’ve continued to go.

I did change my date and time, though. I don’t know if this is the office Meadow goes to, but I don’t want to risk running into her and Tripp.

I’m just about to sit in the waiting room when Talia comes out for me. I follow her to her office and take the same seat I choose every session.

“How was your week?” she asks.

“Not bad.” Okay, so there is a small possibility I’m never very chatty when I come here. It’s just hard to know what to say, hard to let the words out when I’ve always been told this is weak.

“You had the birthday party, right? How was that? You were a little nervous about it.”

“It was…good. I bought too many gifts.”

She smiles. “Is there such a thing?” she asks playfully, and I can’t help but grin. “Why do you think you did that?”

“Bought so many gifts?” I shrug. “Because I didn’t know what she had or what she would like.” Which is true, but also not. “I didn’t want to get the wrong thing.”

“Gifts are from the heart. Even if it’s something the person already has, I don’t know that it’s necessarily wrong, know what I mean? Sure, they might need to exchange it, but I don’t believe that wrong is what I would call it.”

“Pfft,” I huff in reply.

“You disagree?”

“I guess that’s just not how I work.”

“Do you feel like you put a lot of pressure on yourself?”

My skin prickles with unease. “Yes, but it’s important to me to do well…to succeed.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t understand the question. We just are who we are.”

“Yes. That’s true. And some things are taught to us, so I was curious if you thought that could be part of it.”

I think about the hundreds, the thousands of situations and comments from my father. I do like to succeed, and I do like to do well and make the right choices, but I must admit that while part of the desire comes from me, a lot of it comes from him. “I think it’s a combination. In some ways, yes, that’s the way I’m built, but it was also hammered into me by my father.” My heart bangs against my chest. “He…berated me if I wasn’t perfect. Kept any signs of love or positive affirmations for moments where I made him proud. And those never came from things like helping others or doing something nice. It was only when I did better than others or succeeded. He made me feel like mistakes meant I’m not good enough; that I could never be the son he needed me to be if I wasn’t perfect.”

I wait for her to tell me I’m wrong, that I’m being ridiculous or overreacting, but what she says is, “That must have been hard. I’m sorry you had to experience that,” validating me and my feelings. Trusting my word on my own life.

“Can’t change the past.” I swipe at my eyes, and…holy shit. Is that a tear?

“No, we can’t. But you can work on changing learned behaviors.”

I nod, hoping she’s right.

We talk more about the party, and she asks about my brothers. I share a lot with her about Meadow, which leads to Tripp.

“It sounds like the two of you are becoming friends.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Tripp…Cass—hell, I don’t even call him what everyone else does—he’s just a nice guy.”

“It seems so. I’d like you to work on cutting yourself some slack over the next week. Do something fun or something that’s just for you.”

“That’s my woodworking.”

“Good. Continue with that, but if you can find anything else to do just for you, something that makes you feel good, do that too.”

We wrap up the session, and then I head out. It’s still early in the day since I moved to a morning appointment. If I ever find a job, that might have to change. I think about that the whole way back to Birchbark. I have money saved, but it won’t last forever. Plus, I’m not the kind of man who can sit around all the time. I need to figure out what the hell to do with my life.

When I get back home, I go straight to my shop to work on my latest project. I’ve decided that one of my spare rooms needs built-in shelves. If I ever decide to sell my house, anything I can do like that will increase the value. I’ve already done all the measuring and picked up the wood, so today I’ll get started building the unit.

I put my goggles on, get the saw set up, and begin cutting the pieces. This is the only time where my brain turns off, where I can forget about everything else and just lose myself in it. Normally, my brain is always running—things I need to do, my brothers, my father. Even though I don’t talk to the motherfucker anymore, he still takes up too much space in my brain. The truth is, despite everything he’s done, I feel guilty for not talking to him, for not being there to take care of him. He had a stroke, and I’m his son, and—no.

I shake my head, trying not to let those thoughts interfere with my project. Usually it’s easier than this.

“Tag! You’re it!” I hear Morgan tell Mom. I look out the window and see them running around in the yard. The bottoms of my feet itch with the desire to run outside and join them, but then I look at the books on the table in front of me and immediately feel stupid for wanting to be out there when I have responsibilities to take care of.

I got a B… a B on my last test. I’m taking advanced classes, but I should still be able to do better than that. If Dad finds out, he’ll be so disappointed in me. That’s the worst feeling in the world. Making him proud makes me feel like I’m something, makes me feel invincible and like one day I could really be just like him.

I get back to my studying, but every few minutes, I can’t stop myself from looking up, staring at Mom and Morgan through the open window, hearing them laugh. Seeing them roll in the grass, having fun.

“You’re daydreaming when you should be studying.”

I immediately sit up straighter at the sound of Dad’s voice behind me, my spine stiff.

“I’m sorry. I was just…” Watching Morgan and Mom play. Wishing I could be out there with them. “I was daydreaming when I should be studying,” I say because it’s true. I’m the one Dad counts on. I’m the one who is going to follow in his footsteps. I’m going to be the one to make him proud, and using an excuse won’t help with that.

Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Good man,” he says, and I have to bite back my smile, but I feel it in my chest. Feel…important. Feel wanted.

“I’m doing my best to make you proud. I promise!”

“Get back to studying. If you want to make me proud, you have to work hard. It won’t be easy. Do you think you can do it?”

Does that mean he doesn’t think I can do it? “I can,” I tell him.

“I’m counting on you, Rhett. You want to be the one I can count on, don’t you? Morgan can do it if—”

“I can do it,” I cut him off.

I expect him to call me on it, but he doesn’t. “That’s what I want to hear.”

Without another word, he leaves.

Ignoring Mom and Morgan outside, I get to work. I don’t know how much time passes before the door opens and Mom comes in.

“Rhett, it’s the weekend. Put your books away and come out to play with us. We’re going to have a picnic. We should enjoy the weather before it gets too cold.”

“I don’t want to. I’m busy.”

“Come on.” She leans over and kisses my temple. “It’ll be fun. You can choose one of your favorite games.”

“I don’t want to play.” Really, I do want to play, just know I shouldn’t. I’m sure Mom would have more fun with just Morgan anyway.

“Okay. Maybe in a little while,” she says, sadly, which makes me feel like a terrible son. If I stay in here and study, I’m letting her down, but if I go outside, I’m letting Dad down.

I’m always hurting someone, but Mom has Morgan, and that means Dad has me to depend on.

Mom makes sandwiches and puts those along with chips and drinks in a basket. She asks one more time if I want to join them, and I tell her no, but I can’t stop myself from watching her and Morgan outside, eating by the lake. Would it really be so bad if I took a break? Just to do something fun for me? But then I remember studying is for me. This is how I grow up to be just like Dad.

But why does Morgan get to play? Why does he get to have fun while I work, and then sometimes, Dad still acts like he’s better than me? Sometimes, Dad still prefers him to me. He always tells me when Morgan is better than me at something.

The door opens again, but this time, it’s not Mom’s voice, it’s my brother’s. “Do you want to come play catch? Mom can’t throw a football right.” He chuckles.

Yes. I want to play. Do you really want me to? Or are you only asking because Mom made you?

“No. God. How many times do I have to say I don’t want to go outside! It’s a stupid waste of time! Can’t you ever just leave me alone!”

I hate every single word I just said. Hate the anger in them…the sadness…the jealousy…the meanness. I hate that last part the most.

“Fine. Whatever. I was just trying to be nice!”

The door slams, and I give my attention to my books. Being alone is what I’m good at.

“Rhett?” A loud, deep voice pulls me out of the memory. I don’t know what that was about. I haven’t thought about something like that in a long time. Maybe it was my conversation with Talia today?

When another, softer, “Rhett?” calls out to me, I realize someone is talking to me…in my shop.

I switch off the saw and turn around to see Tripp Cassidy standing in the doorway.

I rip off the goggles. “What are you doing here?” The harshness in my voice makes me wince. “Shit. Sorry.”

“There you go apologizing again. We’re gonna have to find a way to stop that.” He grins. His cheeks are pink, I assume from the cold.

“What are you doing here?” I ask again, this time without the bite. My stomach flips uncomfortably. He’s in my space…seeing my things. Tripp is a fucking carpenter, for Christ’s sake. He’s probably wondering why I’m wasting my time. My work can’t be nearly as good as his.

“I came by to thank you for coming to Meadow’s party. You disappeared like Cinderella. I even looked for a glass slipper afterward and everything.” He gives me a playful smile. “Anyway, I went to the door like a normal person. I promise. But you didn’t answer and, well, I’m a carpenter. I’d recognize the sounds I heard from a mile away. I was curious.”

“It’s just for fun,” I say, not sure why I’m excusing myself.

“Holy shit. These are great. Did you make all this stuff?” he asks, walking around the shop, studying each piece.

Nerves attack my gut. “They’re not very good. It’s just something I do for fun. I’m not a professional.” I follow him, unsure how I feel about Tripp touching everything, and wondering what he’s thinking as he scrutinizes every piece.

“They’re incredibly good. I would know.” He winks.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play games with me.”

Tripp frowns. “I’m not. I didn’t know you like woodworking.” He runs a finger along one of the shelves. “What experience do you have?”

“None other than messing around out here. It’s something I’ve always enjoyed doing, though.” The admission comes as a surprise, and I do my best to ignore it.

“What else can you make?”

Why is he asking me this? “I made the swing on my porch, my dining-room table, some cabinetry. It keeps me busy since I left my job.”

“You should work with me.” Tripp shrugs as if he didn’t just… Did he offer me a job?

“Wait. What? Why would you want to hire me?”

“Honestly, it would only be part-time at the moment. My employee quit. He and his family moved down South. Wanted warmer weather, and since things are slower this time of year, I haven’t hired anyone else. If you’re interested, you could help me out a couple of days a week until you decide what you want to do. No obligation or anything.”

I feel like I missed a step in this conversation. “You’re offering me a job?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I need the help, you’re possibly available, and you’re good with wood.”

My stomach flip-flops for some reason.

“Wow. I just realized how that sounds. I didn’t mean it that way.”

The innuendo clicks into place. “I wouldn’t have even considered that’s what you meant.” Is Tripp into men? I’ve never heard anything about him being with guys, but then, I don’t typically pay attention to those kinds of rumors anyway. I’ve never seen him in a relationship with a man, but I haven’t seen him with anyone since his ex-wife left.

Regardless, now isn’t the time to focus on that because he just offered me a job.

In carpentry.

My skin tingles, and my pulse picks up.

“I do mostly indoor stuff when the weather is bad—cabinetry, shelving, wainscoting, indoor remodels and so on.”

My initial impulse is to say no. I’m not a carpenter. I don’t know the first thing about that kind of work. Plus, it’s not me. I might work with my hands for fun, but doing that for a career has never been a possibility.

But…that was then. I’m not that same Rhett I was before. I’m not under my father’s thumb. I’ve abandoned him, and…can I really agree to work with Tripp? Do I want to?

I do. I really fucking do.

“Like I said, it’s okay if you’re not interested.”

The memory I’d had when Tripp arrived flashes through my head. How I’d wanted to be outside with Mom and Morgan, but I’d denied myself for him. I’d made myself believe it wasn’t what I wanted because things were easier that way.

Talia’s words from earlier come back to me.

Do something fun or something that’s just for you.

Something that makes you feel good.

I don’t let myself think anymore, try not to let myself worry about anything other than having this one fucking thing for me, even if it’s temporary.

“Yes,” I say, and Tripp Cassidy smiles.

Maybe I’m not only doing this therapy thing for my brothers. Maybe it’s partly for me too.