Page 1 of Rhett

PROLOGUE

Rhett

Nine years old

“Rhett, Morgan, I’dlike to speak to you for a moment,” Dad says. He doesn’t wait for a reply because he knows we’ll listen. At least, I always do. When he needs me for something or tells us to do something is the only time he really pays attention to me, and I soak up those moments.

It’s not his fault he doesn’t have a lot of time for me and my younger brother, Morgan. He’s super busy and important. He works in Congress and has so many people depending on him. That’s a whole lot more important than doing things like helping with homework, playing ball, or teaching me to build things. He makes other people’s lives better, and one day, I’m going to be just like him. We’ve already got it all planned out. It makes him proud when he talks to me about going to Harvard the way he did, becoming a lawyer, and then going into politics, and it makes me feel good to make him proud.

“Yes, sir,” I rush out, hurrying along behind him. He hates it when I dawdle, when I don’t show appreciation for all the things he does for me.

I throw a glance over my shoulder and see Morgan taking his time. I want to tell him to hurry so he doesn’t upset Dad, how much it means to Dad when we show him that we listen to the lessons he gives us. Plus, I hate it when he yells at us, and Dad’s likely to do that if Morgan annoys him. But Dad always tells me that I need to let Morgan sink or swim, that sometimes he’s too soft and I’m not doing him any favors by trying to help him out.

I hurry and sit down in one of the chairs in Dad’s home office. He’s on the other side of the desk, looking at paperwork and ignoring us. I slump at first, then realize what I’m doing and sit up straight the way he does. It always frustrates him when I slump.

“Sit down, Morgan,” Dad tells him, ignoring me. I try not to deflate. It’s stupid. Do I expect him to tell me good job for sitting up straight?

Morgan doesn’t even try to look interested as he slinks into the room and plops into the chair beside mine. I almost look at him, but instead focus on Dad the way he likes.

“Your mother is taking a nap, but we decided it’s time to tell you she’s pregnant. She’s twelve weeks along, but we wanted to wait before we said anything.”

My heartbeat jumps. A baby? I know how much Mom wants another one. It frustrates Dad when they speak about it. I know because he talks to me sometimes, tells me how he’s happy with us and doesn’t understand why Mom isn’t happy with me and Morgan too. I guess I get why she would want a girl so bad, and I want her to be happy. I want to think it’s not that Morgan and I aren’t enough, but then why would my dad say that if it wasn’t true?

“She’s going to have a baby?” Morgan asks, finding his voice before me. He’s better with people. Everyone likes him. I don’t know how he does that, and every time I try, it never works. I’m too boring, too serious, just not as good as he is.

“Two, actually. Your mother is having twins. I’m going to be honest with you because you’re the men of the house while I’m working.” Dad spends a lot of time in Detroit and Washington, DC, for his job. We stay home in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. “This is a high-risk pregnancy for her. I’ll be depending on you both to take care of her.”

Is she going to be okay? Is this safe? His statement sucks the breath out of me, but I do my best to ignore it, to pretend I’m not worried and can handle this. I won’t ever let anything happen to Mom. “I’ll take care of her! Whatever you need, Dad!” I say, just as Morgan asks, “Is she okay?”

My gaze immediately shoots to Dad, wondering if he’s going to give Morgan a hard time for asking. It makes Morgan cry when Dad gets mad at him, and I hate that, but at the same time, why can’t he just try and be the way Dad teaches us to be?

“Yes, she’s okay, and she’s going to be okay,” he says, and I breathe a little easier. Dad is the kind of man who always gets what he wants, who always knows what will happen, and if he says Mom will be okay, she will be.

“We’ll do whatever we have to do,” I tell him. “I’ll make sure of it. She won’t have to lift a finger for anything!” I promise while my brother is quiet beside me.

Dad gives me a simple nod before saying, “Morgan, I’d like you to stay a moment. Rhett, you can go.”

Everything inside me shrinks. I become small, insignificant. Why doesn’t he want to talk to me too? Why isn’t he proud that I’m taking control and will make sure Mom is okay?

I stall a moment, hoping he’ll change his mind, but when he just ignores me, I stand. “Yes, sir,” I tell him before slipping out of the office and closing the door behind me.

I don’t walk away, though. I can’t. Maybe Dad will say something to help me figure out what I did wrong.

As soon as I push my ear to the door, I hear, “I know you and your mom are extra close, Morgan. I want you to help her rest as much as possible. The two of you enjoy all your little adventures, but you need to keep those to a minimum. There’s a good chance she’ll be on bed rest soon.” Every word he speaks hollows me out more. He didn’t say Mom and I are close. He didn’t talk aboutadventures she enjoys with me. Does Mom have more fun with Morgan than me?

It’s not like this is news to me. It just hurts to hear. It’s part of why I stay busy with the things Dad likes me to do. Mom and Morgan don’t seem to care that much when I’m not around.

“I will,” Morgan says. “It’ll be my most important thing.”

It’ll be my most important thing too. Why doesn’t Dad care about that?

“I know it will. Your brother can get distracted by school and those sorts of responsibilities, but those aren’t your strengths. You’re a little…softer, like your mother, so there are certain situations where you’re more suited to help.”

Those words feel like a cheese grater against my heart. I get distracted with school for him, so I can be like him and show him how good I am, but really, what grinds me up more is what he’s really saying. Morgan is better at being with people than me, at taking care of them and being good to them. People want him around more than they do me.

“Can I go see her now?” Morgan asks, and as quietly as I can, I hurry back to the living room.

As soon as Morgan joins me, I ask, “What did he say?” as if I don’t know.

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