Page 26 of Rhett

“She’s at school. My mom picks her up most days because of work.”

“If you have to go, you can.”

The way he’s looking at me, the emotion in his gaze that I’m not sure he knows he’s letting out, makes me think Rhett expects me to go. Maybe he assumes everyone will always go. I worry that not enough people have stayed…have stuck around for him, even if only in friendship.

“I’m fine, Rhett. We have time. I want to be here helping you.” And the second I’m alone, I’ll be addingwoodworkingto my list of things about Rhett.

He gives me a simple nod, and then we get to work.

CHAPTER NINE

Rhett

My life ismade a lot harder by the fact that if I’m uncomfortable in a situation, it’s often difficult for me not to overthink every little thing. Most things weren’t like that before because my life was planned out for me and I was good at what I did, but now it’s like I’m free-falling. That means I obsess about decisions, worry about them, unsure I’m making the right one, stressing about what will happen if I don’t, and imagining all the ways something could go wrong.

It means my head is often a messy place to be, and I don’t have it in me to ever let anyone know or see these things about myself. That would overwhelm me even more.

All I’ve done since working with Tripp at my house yesterday is overthink the whole day. Should I have agreed to work with him? What if he didn’t really mean it? What if he was hoping I’d say no? What if hedidmean it but then regrets it later because I let him down? What if I’m not good enough?

What if, what if, what if.

It probably doesn’t help that tomorrow is my first day helping him on a real job, something I should probably find a way to tell my brothers about before he does. It’s a lot easier to pretend something isn’t a big deal if I tell them rather than keep it to myself.

My phone buzzes with a notification, and my thoughts immediately go to Tripp messaging to cancel for tomorrow. I stop pacing the room and grab my cell off the dining-room table, but it’s not him. It’s my dad.

He’s mostly stopped calling and turned to texting. He doesn’t like to be ignored, which is what I’ve done with all his calls. For a while, I would listen to his ranting voice mails telling me all the ways I’ve disappointed him, how he would have done anything for me. How he put his heart and soul into giving me all the best opportunities because he saw more in me than in Morgan and East, and how I betrayed him and that I’m a terrible son, a terrible person.

Now he texts those messages instead.

And I still read them. Still beat myself up over them. Still feel guilt even though part of me must know they aren’t true. He didn’t choose me because he believed in me. He chose me because I was the only son he could mold. The only one who would have done anything for the love and attention I see now that I never could have gotten anyway.

And just like every other time, I read his message and feel even more like shit afterward.

I’m about to set the phone down when it rings again, and I nearly throw the thing across the room before I see it’s Dusty calling. I miss hanging out with him, miss the times we had over the ten years that Morgan was gone, where I felt like I had someone in my corner. I’ve mostly kept my distance since Morgan came back and the two of them got together. At first because I was pissed—it’s been hard realizing I don’t hate Morgan, that really, I’ve always wished I could be more like him—and now because I don’t want to cause issues between Morgan and Dusty. They’re happy, and I want things to stay that way.

Still, I’ve learned I have to answer him sometimes, or Dusty will show up at my house like the knight in shining armor he’s always tried to be to all of us Swift brothers.

“What do you want?” I snap, taking my anger at my dad out on him.

“Well, it’s good to talk to you too, brother,” Dusty says with a chuckle. I’m not sure there’s a better, more patient man than him. Well, him and Archer too. It can’t be easy to love any of us, but Dusty loves all of us, even if in different ways.

I sigh. “What is it, Dust?” I ask, nicer this time.

“I have a little time today and wanted to see if you’d like to meet for lunch. We haven’t hung out in a while.”

I know why he’s doing this. Dusty’s always worrying about me, though he doesn’t need to. But I figure this might be the perfect opportunity to mention my new job with Tripp before it starts to spread around all the UP.

“Come over here. I’ll make us something.” The less I’m out around Birchbark, the less chance I have of seeing my father.

“Okay. I’ll be there in about ten.”

I end the call without replying, then go into the kitchen to figure out lunch.

There’s some bacon in the fridge, so I pull that out for BLTs. I have some leftover soup I made a couple of days ago that we can have with it.

I get a pan out and get the bacon going. Before I know it, there’s a knock at the door. I automatically grumble on my way there, but I don’t know why. I like Dusty. I enjoy spending time with him. Why is it that my default emotion is always surliness? I can’t imagine that’s pleasant to be around, and I’m sure Talia would have something to say about it if I told her.

Dusty gives me a big smile when I open the door. His jacket and beanie have flecks of snow on them. He steps inside and shakes it off.

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