“I’m here!” he says from behind me, and I whip around to see him come in through the back door. “Everything all right?”
“Why did you invite everyone over to babysit?” I ask. “You’re the only one with the experience I need—I’ve got a sick little boy, Beau.”
He turns on the sink and washes his hands. “More the merrier. Also, we’re here to stage a mini-intervention.”
“We heard you’re taking the extension,” Samuel says, finally closing the fridge.
“We also heard you broke up with Amelia,” Milly adds. “Two wrongs don’t make a right, Rhett.”
I just stare at them. I’m touched. I’m also annoyed.
“What’s that face about?” Samuel asks. “Did we get it wrong?”
I shake my head. “Yes. And no. I was going to accept the extension, but I changed my mind.”
“Good,” Beau says swiftly. “We were prepared to tie you to a chair and pull out your fingernails one by one until you agreed to turn it down.”
Samuel retrieves a pair of pliers from his pocket. “For real, though.”
My eyes bulge. “Stop.”
“Yeah, I may have grabbed these pliers to work out an electrical issue in the cellar earlier. But they would’ve worked real nice as a torture device too.”
“Y’all are sick,” Milly says. “And well prepared.”
“Thank you.” Samuel turns to me. “What about Amelia?”
I swallow. Look away. “I gotta get her back, guys.”
“You fucked up pretty good, didn’t you?” Beau asks.
“Yeah.”
“Lord save us,” he mutters. “You got a plan?”
“Not yet. Although I do know I gotta stop drinking.”
Beau’s eyebrows jump. “That’s a big commitment.”
“It’s one I’m going to make. I’m sick of feeling like shit all the time.”
“Hangovers are horrible,” Samuel says.
“It’s not just the hangovers, although they are awful these days. It’s also making epically bad choices when I’m drunk. I’m always apologizing, you know?”
Beau nods, a small smile on his lips. “I think you’re making the right call. Cold turkey?”
“I’m gonna try, yeah.”
“You’ll need help,” Milly says.
My turn to nod. “I know. I’ll do my research. Talk to my old therapist, see if he has any resources to recommend.”
“I’m proud of you, brother,” Samuel says.
“Thank you,” I reply, eyes welling.
I glance at my siblings. They've gathered on the other side of the kitchen island, the concern on their faces making my throat tighten. They all have important jobs, but they’ve taken time out of their days to stage a freaking intervention. Makes me think of Mama’s words because she was right: I may not have had a daddy for very long, but I did have a loving mother and these idiots for much, much longer.
This right here—this is what I want for my son. For my girl too.
This is the kind of love and support they deserve. It can be smothering, don’t get me wrong. But it’s also what’ll get us through the hard times. Times like this.
Milly rounds the island and curls an arm around my shoulders, dropping her head into the crook of my neck. “As far as getting Amelia back is concerned—romance is my bread and butter. We’ll figure out something appropriately extravagant. Then again, Amelia’s not into the fancy stuff, is she? Let’s go subtle, then. Subtle but meaningful.” She grins. “Am I good, or am I good?”
Samuel whistles. “That’s a slice of humble pie right there.”
“Was your wedding not the best party ever?” she replies, and that shuts him up.
I take my sister’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I appreciate that. Gimme some time to think, all right? In the meantime, I’m gonna hop on this call. Monitor’s right there on the counter—charger is in the drawer.”
“Good luck,” Beau says. “You got this, brother.”
“I’m trying.”
“What’d I miss?” Hank appears just as I’m exiting the kitchen, a green plastic tractor tucked underneath his arm. “Sorry I’m late, y’all. Stevie’s still in town.”
“Say no more.” Beau holds up a hand. “I’ve heard your quickies before. I don’t need to hear about them.”
“Same,” Milly says.
“You don’t need to worry about being late because you weren’t even invited,” I say, pausing at the threshold to the hallway. “But sure, stay a while. Bring more toys while you’re at it. At this rate, I’m gonna need a bigger house just for all the stuff y’all give Liam.”
“You’re welcome,” Hank says, smiling broadly before turning to Beau. “So, are we pulling out his fingernails or what? Rhett’s, not Liam’s, obviously.”
“No need,” Beau replies proudly. “Our little brother here made the right choice all on his own.”
Hank turns back to me. “Well, would you look at that? We raised you right.”
“Mom and Dad raised me right. Y’all just gave me hell for being the favorite.” I hold up my phone. “I can’t turn down the contract if I can’t make the damn call. Can I go now?”
“Go!” everyone says at once.
“I’ll get some groceries delivered and make some breakfast,” Samuel calls after me.