“Work?” Rue raises an eyebrow, “You’re a teacher?”
“No,” I chuckle. “I’m a bartender.”
“Owner. He’s an owner.” Rhea is quick to correct me.
“Whatever he is, Reid’s gonna be pissed he didn’t know about it.” Rue looks me up and down and disappears into the other parts of the house.
“What does that mean?” I tug on her hand as she goes to follow her sister.
“Reid doesn’t trust very many men,” she answers. “He’ll be fine. She’s being dramatic.”
“You should have told me that,” I say.
“It doesn’t change anything,” Rhea says. “He’s going to be an ass either way, Brighton. You’re just going to have to eat it.”
“I would like tonight to go well.” I stop her from walking away from me again with a gentle squeeze.
“Why? Are you trying to impress someone?” She teases, her humor sinking into the cracks of the tense situation.
“Rhea.” I drop my tone. Her favorite form of deflection is when she’s uncomfortable. I open my mouth to offer some kind of encouragement, but Daisy starts laughing from the living room at the top of her lungs, and Rhea smiles.
“It’s already going well,” she says.
For now.
“Come meet Gabe.” She continues to tidy as we go, which is strange because I’ve never seen her clean a day in her life at the apartment. But she moves around the house silently, never disturbing anyone or causing a fuss. She exists between all her family members like a ghost.
As we enter the kitchen, I realize that they live the majority of their lives in this space. The round kitchen table is tucked into the corner booth style with a few spare chairs that don’t match the rest of the set. It’s covered in art, homework, and tools… everything is actually. The island, the chairs, there are piles of chaos in boxes here and there. It’s like everything is set down and forgotten about.
Rhea never stops moving, and it’s no wonder why. There’s a pile of crap everywhere I look. Gabe looks exactly like he does in the pictures — short, round, and smiling.
He cleans his hands on a towel and extends one to me, “Gabe, you must be Brighton.”
“Bright, and at least she told one of you I was coming.” I tease, and Gabe laughs.
“Oh no, Rue just stomped through here.” He laughs. “But that’s Rhea,” he nods, “little communication, lots of chaos. I hope you like vodka sauce!” He turns back to what he was focusing on.
“Sounds amazing,” I say, keeping one eye on Rhea as she stops, arms full of stuff, and points to something that her sister is showing her. Her brows furrow, and she shifts the laundry in her arms so she can take the paper and read it properly. “Can I help with anything?” I ask.
Gabe turns, clearly surprised by the question, and points to a loaf of bread. “Rhea’s favorite is garlic bread; if we forget about it, there will be hell to pay.” He laughs and hands me a bowl of what looks like butter, spices, and herbs. It smells amazing, and once I get around him in the small kitchen, I set to work without another word, content to watch Rhea in her natural habitat. It’s like she’s a totally different person, a well-oiled machine keeping the threads of her family securely together in any way she can.
After a little while, the front door opens and slams shut again. The whole house seems to go still around us, even the long-winded conversation about construction that Gabe is locked in on dies down. Rhea’s mother flies into the kitchen, throwing her purse on the floor by the island and instantly proving why I was warned.
“Amber,” Gabe says. “We have a guest.”
She spins on her heels, and I’m met with what I can only describe as a toxic ball of energy. It’s like she sucks out all the air in the room and consumes it for nefarious purposes. It’s instantly clear to me—this is the woman who makes Rhea feel small.I clean my hands andextend one to her, which she takes, but the shake is weak and quick before she crosses her arms.
“This is Bright,” Gabe introduces me. “Rhea has been renting his spare bedroom,” he explains. “He and his daughter Daisy came for dinner.”
Before she can say anything, someone clears their throat from behind us. A kid, no older than seventeen maybe, stands in the narrow archway with a dirty look on his very familiar face. I swallow tightly as Rhea slides back into the kitchen just in time for everything to go to shit.
“Reid,” she says, walking toward her brother. “This is—”
“Bright,” he cuts her off. “Dad spilled the beans.” His jaw tightens, but his eyes never leave mine.I recognize those eyes, I just can’t put my finger on why.He looks to Rhea quickly, and his hands flex at his side. “Can I talk to you?” he asks her.
“I’ll be right back,” she says to me and follows her brother up the stairs and out of sight.
“Reid is a tough nut to crack, don’t be offended,” Gabe offers reassurance, but it means nothing to me because of the nervous sadness that had filled Rhea’s face.
