“No. He’s a cardiothoracic surgeon. He performed the corrective heart procedures I had done as a teenager.”
His head flops back on the rest behind him. “Jesus Christ. So . . . did you just say teenager?”
“Nothing happened until I was legal. Whatever we did mostly consisted of sneaking around,” I add quickly, glancing over at him, because I can tell what he’s thinking.
“Summer.” He groans and throws a hand over his face. “That doesn’t make it any better.”
“I know,” I reply, quietly.
“Someone should report him. Doctors can’t go around dating their teenaged patients.” His tone is biting.
My eyes go wide. I don’t want to make this a thing. I want to leave it all in the past where it belongs. I don’t hate Rob; I just want to move on from him. “Please, please don’t say anything. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I was just . . . explaining myself, I guess.”
Rhett sighs raggedly. “You don’t owe me an explanation. It’s him who should be explaining himself.” He gazes out the window, shaking his head before muttering, “Saw you on TV, my ass.”
I glance over again, almost nervously this time. My hands twist on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. People pleaser, I guess. Things with Rob and I were complicated. I guess they still are. It’s like, logically, I know that our relationship was fucked up. But he saved my life. Before him I was very sick, and he fixed me. And it’s impossible to reconcile those two things.”
Rhett grunts. I bet to him a lot of my family relationships seem awfully complicated.
“You deserve so much better, Summer. It’s like you’re so busy forcing yourself to smile and be happy all the time that you don’t even realize when you’re entitled to be pissed off.”
His statement strikes me silent while I desperately search for something adequate to reply with. “Thank you for standing up for me today. To my sister. And with the . . .” I remove one hand from the wheel and wave it around almost spastically.
“Kiss?” he supplies.
“Yeah, that. I’m so glad we can go back to a professional working relationship after that.”
Rhett quirks a brow in my direction, watching me lick my lips and swallow while avoiding his gaze.
“And thank you for keeping my secret about Rob.”
Rhett’s only reply is to grind his teeth.
17
Rhett
Summer: Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m at the staff meeting. I trust you to hold it together for one afternoon.
Rhett: Shit, Princess. I don’t know. I might go crazy without you.
Summer: For ducks’ sake.
Summer: Duck
Summer: *Duck
Summer: FUCK. Ugh. Why can’t my phone learn that word? I’ll be back around dinnertime.
Rhett: Quack.
“This is a bad fuckin’ idea.” Cade looks downright murderous on the back of his red mare as we ride through the pasture.
“No way.” Beau, on the other hand, looks giddy. “This is fun. Like old times.”
“Old times when we were, what? Teenagers?”
“Yeah. Exactly.” Beau points back at him. “Our family is founded on fighting with the Jansens. We’re like the Hatfields and McCoys.”
Cade snorts. “We are not like the Hatfields and McCoys.”
“It’s more like Ebenezer Scrooge, Captain America, and I’m the cool guy from Tombstone who can twirl his guns really well,” I reply.
“More like Fabio with all that fuckin’ hair,” Beau snorts. “And I’m Captain Canada thank you very much. Oh!” Beau slaps his thigh in the saddle. “No, no, no, I’m Maverick from Top Gun.”
“Why the hell am I Ebenezer Scrooge?” Cade grumbles from under the brim of his hat.
Beau and I only need to glance at each other for a moment before we burst out laughing.
“Seriously?” Cade bites out, shaking his head. “If you spent your entire life being responsible for you two yahoos, and now a kid who takes after the likes of his fuckin’ uncles, you’d be grumpy too.”
That sobers me a bit. I know Cade has the weight of the world on his shoulders. In recent years, I’ve come to understand him better. I’m a split down the middle of my two brothers. At times, I can be quiet and grumbly like Cade, but I can also be playful and reckless like Beau.
The problem is Beau’s lack of self-awareness. He’s all about danger, and fun, and living life to the fullest. He’s the happy-go-lucky middle child, who all the shit just seems to roll off. Like some sort of Teflon pan. Or at least that’s the way it seems.