Page 112 of Rhet

“I didn’t know you were such a great swimmer.” I mean, he’s really good.

“I swam on the team at Lakeshore back in the day.” He reaches down to the white pool chair next to me and grabs a towel.

“Figures. Did you win anything?”

He looks at me as if I’m asking the most stupid question. “We were champions until I graduated.”

I shake my head and smirk. “Why are you swimming so early? You fighting with your demons?” I sit on one of the pool lounge chairs.

He rubs his head with a towel, his hair falls into his face. “The truth is they are fighting me this time.”

“What’s bothering you?” I ask.

“Nothing, and everything? What’s bugging you?” He hangs the towel loosely around his neck.

His black board shorts clings to his legs, I shouldn’t look at his print, but it’s in my face. I feel like it’s calling my name.

“Continue to look at me like that. I will throw your rules out and blow your back out on this pool chair.” He looks me dead in my face with zero expression.

I want him so bad, but I have a lot on my plate. I don’t even know where the hell to start.

“I need to talk to you.” There I said it.

He trains his blue eyes on me. My words get stuck in my throat.

“What do you need?” He picks up his phone and begins to look through it.

“Do you always ask people that?” I ask

“What do you mean?” he stops and looks at me again.

“You are always taking care of everything for everyone. What do you need?” I ask

His jaw rocks as the question sinks in.

“Don’t say pussy? I’m being serious, what do you need?”

He shakes the phone in his hand “I have a brother.”

My eyes feel like they are about to pop out of my head “A what?”

He chuckles as he sits on the lounge chair next to me and looks out at the pool “A brother, who looks like a younger version of me only he is covered in tats.”

“So he is hot?” I tease knowing that will irritate him.

“He is too young for you? Wait so you think I’m hot?” He smirks the reflection from the pool is making his blue eyes even more alive.

“Focus. What’s his name? How did you meet? How old is he?” I asked.

Rhet laughs and he passes his hands through his wet hair “Draven, he looks about 21, he is one of my dad mistresses’ kids.”

“Where is his mom?” I can tell that Rhet had a full but heavy week. The way his shoulders curve in like he is tired.

“Dead,” he replies.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

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