Page 38 of The Rebel

His expression told me I’d guessed right. He was hungover as hell.

He’d at least attempted to throw himself together by combing his black hair flat and putting on a suit. As I walked around him toward the other side of the table, I could smell the booze.

“Call you?” he uttered.

I took a seat next to Ridge, the scent of his cologne masking the waft of Rhett’s alcohol. “Yeah. Call me. Because when our assistant called you this morning, you told her you were going to tell me about this meeting.”

His icy-blue eyes widened. “Shit.”

“You’re lucky I’m always early, or I would have missed this.” I leaned my arms on the table, feeling the pull of my blazer. “Did you leave any liquor at the bar last night?”

“Barely.” He took a sip and set the cup down. “But I did find myself a nice piece of ass?—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I told him, knowing he was about to describe that piece of ass in great detail.

My brothers often forgot that I was a woman. My whole life, they treated me like I was one of the guys. Which was fine—I didn’t hate it; I actually loved it—but that didn’t mean I needed a play-by-play of their sex life.

“Fair enough.” Rhett laughed and then held the side of his head, instantly regretting the chuckle. “Jesus, I wish I were in bed right now. Do any of you know what this is about? And how long it’s going to take? I need to get the fuck out of here and sleep this off.”

“I know nothing,” Ridge replied. He looked at me. “You?”

When it came to women, my brothers were the same person.

When it came to anything else, they couldn’t be more different.

That was because Ridge was a single dad to the most perfect, beautiful, playful, sweet little girl who owned my entire heart.

Daisy was about to be five, going on twenty-five.

“Dad said nothing to me,” I responded. I took in his eyes, a foolproof way to know how either of my siblings was always feeling, their emotions coming straight through the blue of their irises. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “I’m exhausted.”

“Is it because of Daisy?”

He folded his fingers together, the metal of his cuff links scratching against the wooden table. “The past few weeks, she’s been having issues with the dark. It doesn’t matter what I try—Christmas lights, per her request, a night-light, a glowingunicorn, nothing works. She wakes up, she’s scared, she comes into my room. And then throughout the night, we go back and forth between my bedroom and hers. Over and over until it’s morning.”

“Why don’t you let her sleep with you?” Rhett asked. “Brother, you look like a walking fucking zombie.”

“If I open that door, it’ll never close.” Ridge rubbed the sides of his face, his scruff thicker than normal. “But something’s gotta give, man. I need sleep.”

I circled my hand around the center of his back. “She’ll get there. Don’t worry. I know this is tough.”

He slowly turned his face toward me, the light catching the dark circles under his eyes. “She was gutted you weren’t at Christmas.”

“Gutted?” Rhett hollered. “It was all she fucking talked about.Where’s Auntie Row? When is Auntie Row coming? Why hasn’t Auntie Row arrived yet? What do you mean Auntie Row isn’t going to be here for Christmas?”

“Awww,” I sang, “that’s cute.”

“She told Dad she was taking his plane to go pick you up,” Ridge said. “She made a whole production about it, she even tried to go pack her suitcase.”

I laughed. “My girl has my back. I love her for that.”

“What the fuck did you do for the three nights you were stranded in Canada?” Rhett asked, running his hand over the sides of his beard, the color and thickness the same as the dark locks on his head.

I sighed, buying myself some time.

Even though I’d spoken to my family while I was there and we texted frequently, we hadn’t really discussed the three nights thoroughly or how I’d occupied my time.

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