“I’m sorry, Rhett.”
“I was not quite two, so I don’t remember her. Actually, I think that’s the worst part. I missed out on this whole facet of life. I’ll never get to experience having a mom. And my dad never moved on.”
Nodding, I say, “I can relate to that. But you know, at least your mom wanted you.” I sound terribly tragic saying that, but I blurt it out before I can think better of it. “My dad has spent his entire life proving to me he loves me, and I think a lot of that is to make up for the clusterfuck that is everyone else around me.”
“Kip pisses me off sometimes.” I snort because Kip Hamilton does have a knack for pissing people off. “But I can see him being a good dad. A funny one. A protective one. Obviously. Can we not tell him about this bed-sharing thing?”
We both laugh. Thinking of his threats. The rules he set out for us.
“Yeah. It took me a while to reconcile, you know”—my hands flap in front of me—“the circumstances of my birth. That my dad can be a flawed but good man, all at once. When I was sick, he stayed with me every day. He literally worked from my hospital room and slept in the chair in the corner until some nurse took pity on him and snuck him a cot.”
My voice breaks. This always gets me. That kind of love, well, it’s scarce. Someone who doesn’t leave your side, no matter what. Unlike my mother or stepmother.
This time, Rhett reaches down and tentatively threads his fingers through mine, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. His callouses rasp against my skin just like I knew they would, and against my better judgment, I don’t pull away.
“I didn’t know,” is all he says, and somehow, that simple sentence and the feel of his warm hand brings me comfort.
“Yeah, lots of health issues growing up. Turned out to be an undiagnosed congenital heart defect. Fixable with surgery, except surgery went wrong, and there were complications. Big scary ones. Plus, a nice lingering infection. Kind of killed my teenaged years. Just really had to go all out on making myself an extra burden and all that.”
He squeezes my hand. “I doubt he sees it that way.”
I smile into the dark because I know my dad doesn’t see me that way. Not at all. And it’s nice to hear someone else notice that too. Notice that I have just as much right to that connection, that I don’t need to feel guilty about loving my dad—no matter how complicated he might be.
So, I squeeze Rhett’s hand back and turn toward him, feet crossing over to his side of the bed. Seeking warmth.
“Jesus, Summer.” He startles but doesn’t move away. “Your feet are freezing.”
I pull them back instantly, grateful that he can’t see me blushing in the dark. “Sorry!” I wince, sorrier that I took the freedom of touching him like that when things are already so tenuous between us tonight.
“The only thing you should be sorry for is not telling me you were an ice cube. I should have knocked on your door earlier,” he grumps, right as his long legs stretch across the bed and he tangles them with mine, capturing my frozen feet between his calves.
“Okay,” my voice comes out breathy as the warmth from his body seeps into mine. Heating me from the outside in.
And we fall quiet together. I hear the even rhythm of his breaths and feel his exhale across my chest. I fall asleep like that, lulled by the gentle steady sounds of him, by the solid comfort of him. My hand held tight in his, my feet cradled against his skin, and my heart warm wrapped up in his words.
15
Rhett
Kip: Saw the interviews. You did well. You being good to my girl?
Rhett: Thanks. I laid awake all night, hoping I’d get your stamp of approval. And of course, I am.
Kip: But not too good, right?
Rhett: Is that what I’m aiming for? Good, but not too good? It’s a wonder you raised an adult as functional as Summer.
Kip: Why aren’t you complaining about her?
Rhett: Because she isn’t so bad.
I’m so fucked. I’m super fucked. I’m so super-mega fucked.
Summer was also right. I’m a massive prick. Because I’ve been awake for the better part of an hour, letting her cuddle me. Staring at her, trying to memorize every little freckle. Watching her sleep like a lovesick Ted Bundy or something.
I woke up when I felt her nuzzle against my bicep, and when I slowly opened my eyes, I was as close to her mouth as I had been the night before. When I’d done everything I could to not lick that hot sauce off her lips like a goddamn savage.
But now she’s on me. Thigh slung over my legs, just below where my morning wood is saluting the world—Summer specifically.