That smile is my kryptonite. And those hands. And that mouth, including the toe-curling things that come out of it. The dick, too. Big fan of Rhett Eaton’s dick.
Actually, it would seem I’m just a big fan of Rhett Eaton, and not the cocky cowboy everyone else gets to see. The man who kisses me sweetly, who makes me feel taken care of, like I’m not a burden—the one who’s just a little bit vulnerable and insecure.
The man that no one else really sees. I’m not sure why he’s opted to show me that side of himself, but I know I need to handle it with care. I know Rhett is far more sensitive than he lets on. His wounds run deep, and he’s patched them with a public persona and a cocky grin that doesn’t match the soulful man I’ve come to know.
“There he is.” His opposite hand raises up in a salute, and he holds my hand tight as he strides across the room toward the table where Jasper is already seated.
Hilariously, Jasper doesn’t look like he belongs here either. His scruffy beard covers most of his face, and his shaggy dark blond hair peeks out from under the team cap he’s wearing.
“Hey, guys.” Jasper’s eyes drop to our intertwined hands and his lips press together. “Rhett, don’t think I’ve ever seen you hold a girl’s hand before,” he continues as we pull out our chairs across from him.
I flush and pull my hand away, but the minute we’re seated in the clear Lucite chairs, Rhett reaches across the space between us and grabs it again, thumb rubbing in reassuring strokes.
“Didn’t know growing a playoff beard was a thing when you aren’t even close to making the playoffs,” Rhett deadpans.
Jasper smirks and dips his chin down to read the menu in front of him. “Vicious, little Eaton.” He pops his head up just long enough to add, “Lovely to see you, Summer.”
There’s something different about Jasper. Something quiet and introspective. Something sweet, but also something very removed. I can’t quite put my finger on him. The only thing I know is that I’ve heard my dad talk about goalies being a different type of athlete than your average hockey player.
“You too,” I tell him honestly.
“Thanks for meeting us today,” Rhett says. “I don’t love dinners out before I ride.”
Jasper grunts. “Yeah. I hear that. Playing on a full stomach makes me want to hurl.”
My mouth twists. I’m in for an interesting evening of trying to make conversation with Jasper. At least it will distract me from the gnawing anxiety over Rhett riding again this weekend.
My phone rings loudly in my purse, much too loud in the quiet restaurant.
“Shit. Sorry guys.” I rifle through my oversized purse, desperately hoping to find it and shut it up, silently chastising myself for dumping everything in here including receipts I’ll never need.
My hand closes on the vibrating block and I pull it out right as the server comes to fill our tall, slender water glasses.
The name Doctor Douche flashes across my screen as I silence the ringer. My eyes shoot up to Rhett, who is staring at the phone in my hand looking equal parts amused and murderous.
“When did you do that?” I whisper.
“You left your phone unlocked one day,” he mutters, peering just over my shoulder, looking like a scolded little boy who isn’t sorry at all.
My mouth drops open, and I try to keep from laughing. “Really mature,” I reply as I click the phone off and toss it back in my purse while shooting Jasper an apologetic glance. “Sorry about that. So, tell me, have you ever been to one of Rhett’s events?”
“Not in a long time. Our seasons overlap and my schedule is usually packed with—”
My phone blares again, and I grimace, cringing internally as I yank my phone out again. I don’t bother glancing at Rhett because I can tell by the set of his body next to mine that he’s ready to break something.
We haven’t talked much about what we are or where we’re going. I want so badly to not be needy or clingy that I’ve been too afraid to ask. He hasn’t told me anything, but his body says it all.
His body says I’m his.
When I pull out my phone this time, my sister’s name flashes across the screen, which has my brow furrowing. She rarely calls me.
I shoot a concerned look at Rhett, whose expression tells me he’s equally confused.
“Sorry, I’m just going to take this,” I announce to the two men who respond with murmurs telling me to go ahead.
I slip my thumb across the screen and lift the phone to my ear. “Winter?”
“Summer, where are you right now?” Her voice is arctic, like usual, but there’s also a thread of something else in there.
“I’m out for dinner.”
“In the city or away?”
She’s never taken an interest in where I am.
“I’m in the city. Winter, what’s wrong?”
Rhett peers at me, concern etched on his face.
“Our dad had a heart attack.”
My stomach plummets. “What?”
“It’s very mild.” She sniffs, and I can just imagine her inspecting her nails right now, like I’m some sort of simpleton because I didn’t become a doctor. “He’s going to be okay. But he’s here at the hospital if you’d like to see him.”
My heart thunders against my ribcage. “Of course, I want to see him!” The words come out more forcefully than I intend as panic seeps into my veins. “When did this happen?” I’m already standing, shoving my arms into my coat.
The guys are standing too, ready to follow, even though they don’t know what’s going on. A twinge pops up in my chest at knowing I have people who support me. It feels unusual, and despite the anxiety bubbling inside of me, their silent support soothes me.
“A few hours ago,” Winter replies.
“Winter. Are you fucking kidding me? Dad had a heart attack a few hours ago, and you’re just telling me now?”
“Don’t be dramatic, Summer. It’s not like there’s anything you could have done for him with a law degree,” she scoffs, and tears sting my eyes.
“I could have been there with him! He’s my dad too, Winter.”
She sighs like I’m the most inconvenient person in the world to her. And I guess it’s possible that I am. She didn’t ask for this fucked up family tie. But neither did I, and I’m tired of being treated like I did.
“Well, he’s here now. And he’s fine. Staying a couple of days for observation. You’re welcome to visit.” She hangs up on me.
Rhett is talking to me, but all I see is white. White hot rage. Rage that I could have missed last moments with the only person who’s ever really cared about me. Rage that Winter and my stepmother continue to treat me this way as an adult.
Rhett massages the back of my neck. “Let’s go, Summer. I’ll drive you.”
“I’m sorry, Jasper,” I say woodenly, trying to contain the anger bubbling beneath the surface.
He waves a hand at me. “Nothing to be sorry for. Go. Say hi to that nut for me.”
I nod before Rhett ushers me out the door, straight to my vehicle, where he opens the passenger door and puts me in like I’m in some sort of coma. His motions are quick and efficient, full of worry—full of so much care.
He leans in and kisses my hair before slamming the door and bounding around to the driver’s side. After he adjusts the seat and mirrors, he slings his hand over the back of my seat to reverse my car and says, “I’m against hitting women myself, but I fully support you decking your sister.”
A dark laugh escapes me, and then, he hits the gas.
We fly into the cardiology wing. I recognize the mint-colored walls so well.
“Where is he?” My eyes narrow at my sister. She looks like a porcelain doll—pale blonde hair and perfect skin—next to me with all my freckles.
“He’s speaking with the cardiologist. So, contain your tantrum.” She flicks her hand up and inspects her nails. This is a way she insults me. Acting like her cuticles are more interesting than I am.
My voice shakes when I say, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She sighs and glances over at the closed door to our dad’s room. “Winter, what if it had been more serious? What if I’d missed my chance to be with him? All because…what?” My voice cracks and Rhett steps close behind me, his body firm and his hand steady at the small of my back.
Her eyes drop to where he’s touching me, but she just blinks.
“Because you’re carrying some vendetta against me for how I was conceived?” I continue. “You know I wasn’t there for that, right? Didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Did they cover that in medical school? Because that man in that room”—I point at the closed door—“he’s all I’ve got. You and Marina have made sure of that. I’m not really certain what more you want from me.”
Everything is spilling out of me, like this opened the dam, and I can’t stop the water from gushing out. It’s embarrassing.
It’s cathartic.
Or it would be if Winter did anything other than stare at me blankly. She’s so robotic, and I almost feel bad for her. Almost.