The kitchen was already alive with the scent of coffee and bacon as you moved around, setting the table for breakfast. You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see Rhett shuffle in, messy hair and bleary eyes. He looked like he’d been through the wringer, the faint smell of whiskey clinging to him from last night.

“Rough night?” you teased lightly, placing a cup of coffee in front of him as he collapsed into a chair.

“Rough ain’t the word,” Rhett muttered, rubbing his temples before reaching for the coffee, his eyes barely open. “I’m never drinkin’ like that again.”

You snorted, knowing full well this wasn’t the first time he'd made that promise. “Here.” You slid a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. “Eat something. You look like death warmed over.”

Rhett shot you a half-smile, the kind that told you he appreciated you even when he was too tired to say it out loud. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Just then, his mother, Cecilia, walked in from the back porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one look at Rhett and shook her head. “You oughta know better by now, Rhett,” she chided, her voice both stern and affectionate. “Can’t be runnin’ around like that every night.”

Rhett gave a noncommittal grunt, poking at his eggs as Perry walked in, looking much more put together than his younger brother. Perry raised an eyebrow at Rhett’s state, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Another rough night, huh?”

“Shut up, Perry,” Rhett mumbled, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic between the two brothers. Perry, always the responsible one, and Rhett, the wild one—forever trying to escape the weight of their family’s expectations.

As you sat down beside him, Rhett leaned back in his chair, his eyes still heavy with exhaustion. “Sorry ‘bout last night,” he said quietly, looking over at you. “Didn’t mean to leave you waitin’ up.”