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I’m hoping he doesn’t have one tonight, considering I’m sitting here waiting for him to come home and he’s obviously not expecting me. This is the last place I want to be, but then I think about Dusty. He cares about people more than anyone I know…he cares about us Swifts more than is good for him. I don’t want him to hurt. If there’s anything I can do so that won’t happen, I’m damn sure going to do it.
I only have to sit around for another ten minutes before Rhett’s car pulls into the driveway. I’m sure he noticed my car parked on the side of the street, and my assumption is confirmed when he gets out and looks around with wide eyes.
“Dad is fine,” I tell him, and he visibly relaxes. I push to my feet. “I organized it with the nurse. She’ll come in daily, though I don’t think he needs that.” Dad will take his medication on his own without us there harassing him about it. When we’re giving it to him, he just wants to be stubborn. “He also has one of those emergency buttons he can wear around his neck.”
“Like he’s going to wear it.” Rhett comes up the stairs, the top few buttons on his white shirt undone, his shirt pulled out of his slacks.
“That’s on him if he decides not to.”
“You left him to fuck your boyfriend.”
“I left him because he’s an asshole who treats us like shit,” I counter, exhaustion weighing my bones down. “He’s our blood, but that doesn’t mean we have to take abuse from him. We don’t have to spend our lives accepting bad behavior because we’re related to him.”
“He’s our father, Morgan.”
“That doesn’t change a damn thing.”
Rhett shakes his head but doesn’t say anything else. He just goes to his front door and unlocks it.
“I like the swing,” I say, and he stops midstep. He knows it’s like our old one. He did do it on purpose, and now he knows I know too. I’m…not sure what to think about that. It twists up my thoughts because that’s not something I ever imagined Rhett doing. He’s not sentimental in that way…or maybe he is, and he just doesn’t show it to anyone else.
“Why are you here?” He goes into the house, and I follow.
“I want you to talk to Dusty. I don’t want you to be angry with him, and I want you to tell him you’re not.”
Rhett gives a humorless laugh. “Please. You wish we never spoke again.”
I go for honesty. “Well, I can’t pretend a part of me doesn’t. I can’t get it out of my head…but I’m in love with him…and he loves you as a friend. I don’t want Dusty hurt.”
Rhett sets his briefcase down and finally turns, giving me his attention. He looks older, his forehead scrunched up and his brows drawn together. “You really are in love with him.”
“I always have been.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
I groan, anger kicking up steam inside me. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t come here for me either. You came for Dusty. Any other time we’ve spoken, you don’t mind fighting with me, but now that you need me to do something for you, it’s different?”
“Jesus, Rhett.” I run a hand through my hair. “He’s your friend. He cares about you.”
“Does he, though?” he asks in a tender voice that shocks me to my core. It sounds like he doesn’t believe that about Dusty, but how can he not? Unless…
“You want him. You have feelings for him.” My hands shake.
Rhett rolls his eyes. “I’m not even fucking queer, Morgan. It was one drunken kiss. A mistake. I don’t have feelings for Dusty. I’ve always known he’s yours.”
“Then why would you ask that question?”
“Never mind. It’s not important. I’ll talk to Dusty—but for him, not you. I don’t want him to leave while things are difficult between us.”
A guilty twinge lands in my chest again. Dusty is leaving everything behind for me. “Thank you. I…that means a lot to me.” Rhett watches me but doesn’t respond. His head cocks slightly, gaze intense like he’s looking for something, trying to figure out who I am, or hell, for all I know, what Dusty sees in me. “I know I’m not good enough for him. I’m going to do everything in my power to make him happy.”
“Will you?” Rhett asks.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
