Page 50 of Rhett

I grind beans, then get them going in the pot. When I turn toward the dining room, they’re both sitting at the table. My table.

“I’d like to order more stools for the bar if you have time. I know you’re busy working with Cass and—”

“I have time,” I cut Morgan off. I’ll find time. I owe him that.

“Okay. That’d be great. Six more? And let me know how much I owe you.”

I wave off his offer. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“It’s your business. It’s what you do. You should be paid for your work, and you have supplies to buy and—”

“I want to do it.” Again, my voice comes out with more edge than I mean it to. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head.

“Wow…and everyone thought I was the surly one,” East says, and my gaze snaps to him. He has a small smile on his face, and then Morgan starts laughing, which makes East chuckle, and before I realize what’s happening, I’m doing the same. Laughing with my brothers at Easton teasing me and calling me on my shit.

It’s…incredible.

“I think we all knew Rhett was grouchy too,” Morgan says when we stop laughing.

“I’m the oldest. That’s my job.” I take out three mugs and pour the coffee. I carry two over and set one in front of each of them, before going to the fridge for creamer.

There were a lot of things that were my responsibility that I didn’t do, things I want to make up to them now.

“You shouldn’t have had to always be serious, if that’s what you mean. You should have been able to be a kid,” Morgan tells me when I bring over the cream, sugar, and spoons.

“We all should have been able to,” East adds, softer, sadder than Morgan.

I get my own drink and join my brothers. “But that wasn’t the hand we were dealt.”

“No, it wasn’t. But we’re trying to make a difference now. That’s part of why East and I are here. We’ve, um, had a session together with his therapist.”

“She wants to know if all three of us could come in. Together.” East clears his throat. “You don’t have to, but I’d like you to. I think it’s important, not only for my healing, but for all of us.”

I’m at a loss for words.

They’re going to therapy, but they don’t know I am.

They’re trying to work together, for the three of us to build the relationship that was stolen from us. And they want me to be involved. They could move on by themselves, but they’re not. They’re here.

“Yes. I’ll go.” I pick up the creamer and pour a bit into my cup. “I’ve been going. To see a therapist. On my own.”

“That’s good…real good,” Morgan says in unison with East’s, “Isn’t it torture?”

“East!” Morgan admonishes.

“What? It’s true. It helps, and I’m glad I’m doing it, but it’s not easy.” East crosses his arms, pouting, as I figure would be typical of a younger sibling.

I offer a small chuckle in return. “It’s not easy, but it does help,” I confirm.

“Wow. Look at us. Moving forward and everything.” Morgan begins to doctor his coffee. “Does Dad still try to call or text you?”

“About once a week. I don’t answer.” I take a drink.

“Well, we all know he doesn’t call me,” Easton adds.

We’re quiet for a moment, all three of us probably trying to figure out what to say, until East lands on, “How’s work with Cass going?”

I grin. “I love it.”

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