Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I hear the smile in Rhett’s voice when he says, “Me too. No one has ever been this good to me before. I didn’t know it was possible.”
“Jesus, baby. I wish you were here.” He could be here, and he would be if I told Meadow. I want that. Maybe need it.
“I told Dusty I would meet them all at Gracie’s next weekend. I’m bringing Morgan the stools, and we’ll hang out. I was thinking maybe you could come with me…and we could spend the night together afterward?”
“I’ll make it happen.” I don’t think there’s a damn thing I wouldn’t give Rhett Swift.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Rhett
I’m nervous about tonight, wondering if there was ever a time in my life when I didn’t overthink everything, while also keeping that fact about myself a secret. I’ve started sharing it with Talia, who’s helping me work through it, and with Tripp, of course.
I spent quite a bit of time at Tripp and Meadow’s again this week. Plus, Tripp and I started a new job where we’re adding custom cabinets and shelving to the homeowners’ bedroom-sized closet, so it’s been a busy but fun week. Every time I got up in my head about today—spending an evening with my brothers and their partners at the bar named after Ella—Tripp found interesting ways to keep me distracted. One day during lunch break, he literally edged me in his truck until I thought I would die with the need to come, then tucked me back in and made me wait until we got to my house after work. It definitely got my mind off all the other shit in my life.
I look up from where I’m sitting on the couch when I hear a knock at my door. I glance at the clock. It’s half an hour before Tripp is supposed to pick me up. Meadow is staying with her friend tonight, and after we go out, we’re staying at his place. I was going to have him over here, but I like being in his home, like how comfortable it feels there. It’s not lonely the way I’ve been noticing it is at my place.
Maybe he’s showing up early because I always do?
The thought makes me smile, but when I pull open the door, the grin slides off my face. My father’s standing there, and my heart punches against my chest, hand fisting on the knob. Still, the first words that come out of my mouth are, “Is everything okay?” After all he’s done, that’s what I ask him? After how he’s treated us, why the fuck do I care?
“Ignoring me…for months…after everything I’ve done for you…” His foot gets caught on the step leading into the house, but he catches his balance and pushes his way inside.
“Where’s your nurse?” I ask, but when I look out at the street, I see a car there running.
“Close. The damn. Door.” Ever since the stroke, his speech has been slower, choppy.
My first inclination is to tell him no, but he’s inside and it’s cold out, so I close the door. “I don’t want you here.”
“Those are your brothers’ words. Not yours. Turned you against me! Too soft. Too easy to manipulate.”
Fire burns through my chest, suffuses my whole body. “They didn’t turn me against you. You did that yourself.”
His jaw tightens, the anger clear on his face. He doesn’t like being talked back to, doesn’t like to be challenged.
“I made you!” he shouts.
I don’t know what it is about those three words, but they unlock something in me. For most of my life, I would have believed him. I would agree with him because who was I if I wasn’t trying to be just like him? If I wasn’t letting him mold me into his image, even if it made me hate myself. But I can’t do that anymore. I don’t want to do that anymore. “You ruined me!” I yell back. “You ruined me!” Or at least he tried to. But I don’t want to be ruined anymore. I don’t want to live in the world where his voice plays on repeat in my head.
Dad rolls his eyes. “You sound. Just like them. Weak. I tried to make you strong. I gave you everything. I believed in you.”
So many times in my life I longed to hear him say that. It would have been everything to me. It would have made me feel like he loved me, which would have made it okay for me to love myself, but I don’t need to hear anything from him anymore. I don’t want it. Nothing he does represents love. He wouldn’t fight for us the way Tripp does for Meadow. He wouldn’t keep being there for any of us, time and time again, even when he got nothing in return, the way Archer did with East. He wouldn’t spend his whole life loving us, the way Dusty has with Morgan. And while I’m not saying Tripp is in love with me, he fights for me the way he does for people he loves. He accepts me in ways my father never would.