Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LIAM
I try to sleep, but I keep seeing Briar’s face. The way she looked at me when I was inside of her, warm and trusting—and the way she looked at me before I walked out of her door last night, like I’d stabbed her in the heart.
Yeah, I messed up good. But in my defense, I didn’t know what to do. I’d given her what she said she wanted. I’m not capable of giving her more.
It’s obvious sleep isn’t coming, so I decide to do the smart thing and stop trying. I head to the brewery and test the gravity of the pale ale.
And I’ll be damned. It’s coming through like a real slugger. After everything we’ve been through, it’s actually going to be ready in time.
Maybe I have Dottie’s crystals to thank for that, or it’s possible the singing did it. Whatever fucked-up miracle won the day, I’m going to pull this off after all.
My first thought is that I need to call Briar, but I can’t casually call her after what happened last night.
Guilt sinks its teeth into me. I’m no better than Briar’s asshole parents and that insufferable bitch from her boarding school.
I hurt her.
I should have stayed away, but I was weak, and now I’ve screwed up everything.
At least I haven’t broken her heart. Not yet. That’s what Hannah was really afraid of, and it’s one thing I can still prevent myself from doing.
I spend the rest of the morning pacing between the vats, my mind lurking in the dark places it has mostly stayed out of during the uneventful years I spent at Big Catch under the not-so-watchful eyes of Frodo.
I have no idea what time it is when I head into the tasting room and take a seat at one of the tables, nesting my head between my hands. All I know is that the sun is out—good enough for me. After a few minutes of sitting there, feeling like shit, I pour myself some of the tropical IPA.
I need a drink, and right now, I don’t feel like I deserve a good one.
I’m still sitting there, nursing the crappy beer, when the door creaks open. I don’t turn to look, because I want it to be her…and I also don’t. I still don’t know what to say. No waves of brilliance have lapped over me.
We’re in an impossible situation, Briar and I. I like her. I like her a lot. I’m a little obsessed with her, to be honest. But I haven’t forgotten my sister’s warning.
If I mess this up badly enough, I could lose my sister, my job, and the woman I want. In other words: I could lose everything, and so could Briar.
I don’t place great odds on me not messing up.
“Oh, dear. Did I leave too much moldavite here last night?”
It’s Dottie Hendrickson.
I need to have a conversation with Dottie, but I don’t have a single clue what she’s talking about, nor do I have the patience to find out.
She sits down beside me, giving me a sidelong look as she pulls off a crocheted hat and fluffs her dyed purple hair. “Something very interesting happened to you last night.”
I bark a laugh, barely holding back the no shit. “I suppose you could say that.”
I glance at the clock mounted on the wall. It has somehow slipped from early morning to ten. Still a couple of hours before opening, which means Dottie’s here earlier than she should be.
I shift to get a better look at her. “Why are you here so early?”
She gives me a prim look. “My intuition told me I was needed.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say the web of crystals spoke to you.”
“Would that be more believable?”
“No.”
“Someone dear to me saw you sitting in the window, looking mournful.”
“Mournful, huh?” I throw back the rest of the beer. “I’m feeling just fine. Couldn’t sleep is all. There’s something I was hoping to talk to you about, though.”
She pats my hand. “Good. Let’s go do that, dear.”
“Go?” I repeat, my mind working slowly. Barely working at all, to be honest.
But the idea of going doesn’t seem so good. Briar will be here soon, probably. I shouldn’t miss Briar. Maybe when I see her, the words that will make it all better will magically come to me.
“Oh, indeed,” Dottie says, with another hand pat. “You don’t want her to see you looking like this.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Your boss, dear. No one wants their boss to see them while they’re red-eyed and smelling of beer at ten in the morning.”
I manage a half-ass smile. “You think she’d fire me?”
“We’ll never know, because we’ll be at my tea shop enjoying a nice cup of tea and some deep conversation.”
You know what? Dottie’s a sweet little old lady who’s doing a shitload of free work to help Silver Star pick itself up and dust off its boots. She’s also been good to Briar and Hannah. I won’t deny her the joy of getting her own way.
Half an hour later, I’m sitting across from Dottie at one of the little tables in her tea shop, a white metal chair groaning beneath my weight.
The server, who seemed a little in awe to be waiting on the Dottie Hendrickson, has already filled our cups with tea.
Dottie, who usually has a lot to say, has been surprisingly quiet.
“So, you’re probably wondering what I wanted to talk to you about,” I start, but she’s already shaking her head, throwing me off.
“Oh no, I know you want advice about Briar. That much is obvious.”
I consider her words. “What kind of advice?”
She points to the steaming teacup waiting in front of me. “Drink up, dear boy. The caffeine will do you good. Green tea only has about a fourth as much caffeine as coffee, so you’ll need plenty of it.”
I eye the spindly handle. When you’re a big man, you get used to breaking things without meaning to. But breaking this cup in my big mitt would be a pretty shitty cherry on top of my bad day.
“No, thanks. I didn’t come for advice. I was hoping you might be willing to include Briar in your Christmas plans.”
“She asked you to make plans for her?” she questions. “How extraordinary.” Her expression is full of an innocence I’m starting to question.
“Not exactly, but I didn’t think she would. She’d probably spend the day alone or go to her parents’ house out of duty.”
Her gaze drills into me. “And how will you be spending the day, my dear?”
“I’ll be at the brewery, where I need to be. Doing my job.”
“Everyone needs a day off.”
“And yet, here you are, two days before Christmas.”
She smiles at me. “I’m mostly retired, dear. I’m here because it’s where I choose to be.”
“And the brewery is where I choose to be. But Briar needs to be around people.”
“We all need to be around people.”
“Christ, I hope not.”
I expect her to act offended, but she laughs.
“Oh, you do remind me of Beau.”
“Beau Buchanan?” I ask.
Because, yeah, I’m a brewer who grew up in Asheville. I know all about Beau Buchanan.
He started Buchanan Brewery back when Asheville was a place that didn’t show up on travel websites’ top ten lists. Back in his day, there weren’t breweries around every corner, a new one every day. There was just Buchanan Brewery. Beau Buchanan paved the road we’re all walking along now.
My dad knew and admired Beau, and his legacy means something to me.
Hannah told me that Beau and Dottie were a thing for decades. He passed away several years back, though, and Dottie’s now seeing the guy who runs the bakery next door, a man who always has a smile on his face yet is surprisingly not obnoxious.
“The very same,” she says. “He was a god-awful grump too.”
A laugh bursts out of me. “Thank you. I think.”
“It’s a compliment. You know, Beau and I worked together for years. It’s a beautiful collaboration, working with someone you care about. Building something together.”
“I see where you’re going with this.” So does the ache brewing in my chest. “But it’s not like that with me and Briar.”
It feels like that, though.
Which is exactly why I need to back off.
I always failed group projects at school. The only collaboration I didn’t totally screw up was helping my dad and sister raise my little brother—and that was done out of necessity. We’d been thrown into the deep end and needed to learn to swim or drown.
Dottie hums through her teeth. “No, of course not. You’re not at all her kind of man. I was thinking she might be a better match for Otis.”
“The kid?” I ask in disbelief.
“He is a sweet boy, but don’t let his age fool you. He’s matured in all the ways that matter over the last few months. We’re all so proud of him. Why, he staffed the whole tasting room!”
“He’s a child,” I practically growl, my blood starting to simmer. “Briar needs—”
“Yes, Briar needs a man,” Dottie says firmly. “Are you a man, Liam, or are you a child? I’m afraid the passing of years is not the deciding factor there.”
I stare at her, dumbfounded. “Come on. You’re close with Hannah…”
“I am.” She smiles beatifically. “She’s such a lovely girl.”
“Yeah, she’s a peach, all right. You’ll excuse my language when I ask if you’re also aware that she’ll cut my balls off if she finds out—if she thinks anything is going on between Briar and me.”
She lifts a finger. “She did say she would do that, yes.”
“Hannah doesn’t make idle threats.” It fucking sucks that my sister doesn’t trust me with her friends—and the worst part is that she’s right to doubt me. Sighing, I add, “Look, I’m not going to lie and say I don’t…admire Briar. Anyone would. But Hannah has good reasons for thinking I’m not worthy.”
Dottie sighs as if she’s almost all out of patience. Leave it to me to be the man who breaks her legendary calm. She pulls a hunk of stone out of her pocket and clunks it down in front of me.
“That’s not much to look at,” I comment. “Is it supposed to mean something?”
“It’s more moldavite. It’ll help you see things as they truly are, my dear. You need a lot of it, I’m afraid.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I thought you said you left too much at the brewery.”
“I was wrong. I should have stuffed it into your pockets.” She takes a ladylike sip of tea. “Do you truly believe your sister asked you to stay away because she thinks you’re unworthy?”