Page 4 of Restored By You

I wouldn’t exactly call one-word responses and shoulder shrugs on board, but clearly, I’m outnumbered here. I look back at my father, searching for any escape route, but his expression is set—not demanding, but expectant. He knows I’m going to say yes because that’s what I do.

I’m a people pleaser. I show up. I handle things.

Even when those things are a teenage stepbrother I met thirty seconds ago.

“Okay,” I sigh.

This ought to be fun.

Two.

Rhett

The slam of the front door tells me two things: Levi is home and he’s in a sour mood.

I focus on the bacon sizzling in the pan in front of me. “Hungry?” I call out, flipping the bacon and hissing when the grease pops, landing on my wrist. I swipe it away and drop the lid over the pan with a clang.

“Have you seen this shit?” my brother hollers from down the hall, grumbling something under his breath about the family group chat I set up at Ma’s request a few months ago when Beau returned home. It’s usually pictures of the grandkids, updates on Sunday dinner attendance, or weather-related, but every now and then, big news drops in the ol’ Montgomery text chain.

The side chats are where the real family drama lies.

“Yep,” I say, knowing he’s referring to the engagement announcement Beau shared—his second message ever sent in the chat. His first was, Who is this?

Beau told me a few weeks ago about his plan to propose to Callie when he used ‘helping Rhett’ as an excuse for why he was gone half the day. In reality, he was picking up the custom ring from a jewelry shop in Billings.

Levi comes around the corner from the living room, appearing in the archway connecting to the open concept kitchen we just finished last spring. He tosses his hoodie over the back of the couch and plops onto a bar stool at the end of the island.

His blond hair flops and he sighs, “I’m going to die alone.”

If it’s not one brother, it’s another.

I roll my eyes and return them to the stovetop. “Relax.”

“How can I relax? Brit won’t answer my calls.”

My jaw tightens and I spin a glare on my beloved, yet moronic, brother. “She’s going to put a restraining order on your ass if you don’t dial it back.”

He huffs dramatically. “You can’t restrain love, Rhett.”

“She’s not the one, man.” I shake my head, asking, “BLT?” I transfer the bacon onto a paper plate and set the pan to the side, turning off the stove before heading for the fridge.

“Sure,” he says, rising to grab the bread from the far counter.

I return with the lettuce and sliced tomato leftover from yesterday’s lunch. I even grab a few slices of cheese for Levi—knowing he’s sad and prefers a BLT with cheese, making it more of a BLT+C.

He’s a strange one when it comes to his dairy products.

“How the hell are you okay with all of this?”

I raise a brow and glance at him. “With what?”

“Butch, Duke.” He ticks off a finger with each name. “And now Beau. Fuckin’ Beau is getting hitched before me, or you. It’s bullshit.”

I shrug a shoulder and slide his plate to him, then pick up my sandwich and take an oversized bite. It’s after ten o’clock at night and this is the second thing I’ve eaten all day. Work has been crazy with everyone trying to fit in last-minute renovations before the trifecta of the holiday season hits.

“It is what it is,” I mumble around a mouthful.

He takes his plate to the island and sits. “I hate that saying.”