Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“Just one?” the hostess asks when I enter the Italian restaurant. The lighting is muted but not too dim. Dark-wood tables are scattered across the room, with chandeliers above them. It’s been updated since I was here last, the hanging lights being new, and I’m sure they’re from someone local. That’s one of the things I do love about the area. They strive to shop local first and to build up the community around them.
“I’m meeting my brother, Rhett Swift, here.” There’s no doubt in my mind he has already arrived. I’m five minutes early, but Rhett will be even earlier.
“Oh, Mr. Swift is right this way.” The young woman with box braids leads me to Rhett’s table. I’m sure she’s one of the local college students.
The first thing I notice is how much older he looks. While Easton has blue eyes and honey-blond hair like our mom, both Rhett and I have brown eyes and dark hair, only unlike mine, his hair is peppered with gray along the sides. It’s freshly cut—of course—the top longer than the sides, which are buzzed into a slight fade. He has more stubble than I do—again, his with a little gray. All three of us have a golden tan to our skin, but Rhett is taller and broader than me and Easton.
He looks up from his phone, impassive gaze holding mine.
“Thank you,” I tell the hostess before pulling out the chair across from him and sitting down. Rhett managed to get a table in the back, one that’s a little more secluded, and I’m pretty sure that was done on purpose.
The second I sit down, he says, “Dad is retiring at the end of this year. It’s the last of his term anyway, so we’re going to have to get him through December, but that’s manageable. He’s not happy about leaving, but it’s for the best.”
“Nice to see you too,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.
“You don’t mean that, Morgan. You’re just trying to piss me off and look like you care more than I do.”
I shrug because the truth is, he’s right. Well, mostly right. No matter what happened, he’s still my brother, and there’s a part of me that can’t believe how much time has passed, that Rhett looks so much older. But instead of extending an olive branch, I say, “Of course Dad isn’t happy about it. Nothing has ever meant as much to him as his work and pretending he’s king of the world.”
“Mom did,” he says without missing a beat. I can’t believe he said it.
“But not us?”
“He loves us, Morgan. We were given an incredible life. Sorry he wasn’t perfect like you seem to think you are.”
Money and security. He gave us that, but he didn’t give us the things that really matter. I’m pretty sure that’s why Rhett’s marriage didn’t last—because he’s just like our dad, only he didn’t love Lori like Dad loved Mom.
Maybe he’s been secretly in love with my ex-best friend this whole time.
“I can’t do this with you.” I rub a hand over my face, already feeling the weight of frustration bearing down on me. “Just tell me what I need to know.”
The waiter arrives then, and I realize I haven’t even looked at the menu.
“Baked ziti,” we say at the same time. Goddamn him. Why can’t he like something else?
There’s already a glass of water for me, so I tell the waiter I don’t want anything else to drink.
The moment he walks away, Rhett gets back on track. “Things could’ve been a lot worse. Dad has a slight limp on his left side and lost some mobility in his arm. Miraculously, his speech is only a tad slower. But he’s…forgetful.”
I nod, trying to think of my father any way other than perfect. The reminder that he’s human like the rest of us will be eating away at him.
“I’d like you to stay with him and—”
“No,” I cut him off.
“Jesus Christ, then why the fuck are you here?”
“I don’t have to be.” I move to stand.
“Sit down.”
“You don’t get to do that. I’m not one of the people you can order around, Rhett.”
He sighs, his jaw tight when he forces out, “Please.”
I sit back down.
“I have a home here. East has his place, and I wouldn’t trust him to stay with Dad anyway. The two of them rarely speak. You agreed to give us the summer, and you’re in a hotel. The least you can do is stay with him. I’ll check on him during the day too, but I worry about him being alone at night. I’ve found him…wandering sometimes. Talking to himself.”
My chest aches, but I ignore it. “What about the end of the summer? Who will stay with him then?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I’ll…I don’t know, sell my house or rent it out and—”