Chapter 21 #2
The shift was subtle, but I saw it. The way she gave him her full attention, remembering their conversation from the market. Ben straightened up slightly, pleased by her interest, and began to tell her about a particularly challenging pharmacology section he was working on.
As I watched them, a new and unfamiliar feeling settled in my chest. Pride. I was proud of her. Proud of the way she was navigating this gauntlet of my family with such easy grace and humor.
Braden chose that moment to lean toward me. “Hey, Austin.” His earlier teasing was gone, replaced by a more serious tone. “Come check out the new glycol setup for the keg lines in the back. I want your opinion on it.”
Eli, ever the opportunist, immediately chimed in. “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to see this too. Ben, you hold down the fort.”
It was a setup. The glycol lines had been working fine for months. But I also knew there was no getting out of whatever they wanted to say. With a sigh, I pushed back from the bar and followed my brothers into the back room. A cold sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach.
The back room of Tidal Hops was a cluttered space that smelled of yeast and cleaning solution. Stacks of kegs, some gleaming and new, some scarred and dented, lined one wall. Shelves overflowed with spare parts, coiled hoses, and boxes of pint glasses.
And right now, it was more like an interrogation chamber.
Braden pulled the door shut behind us. The cheerful noise of the brewpub instantly muffled, leaving us in a humming silence broken only by the low thrum of a cooling unit.
He didn’t head for the glycol lines. Instead, he leaned back against a stack of kegs.
The easygoing, charming bartender was gone.
Eli moved to stand beside him, his posture relaxed. But the playful light in his eyes had been extinguished, replaced by the same focused intensity he got when he was mapping out a deep wreck dive.
“Okay,” Eli’s voice was low but direct, leaving no room for bullshit. “What’s the real story, Austin? She seems great. Genuinely great. Are you serious about this?”
Even though I’d expected something like this, I bristled at the question, at the sudden shift from casual banter to intense scrutiny. I took a half step back to create some distance, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I like her,” I said, my voice flat. “We’re seeing what happens. It’s not a big deal.” The words were a practiced litany of deflection, words I’d been telling myself for weeks. They sounded hollow, even to me.
“Not a big deal?” Braden pushed off the kegs. “Austin, you haven’t brought a woman around us, around the family, in… ever. You don’t do ‘seeing what happens.’ You do ‘keep your distance.’ You do ‘don’t get involved.’ So don’t treat us like we’re idiots.”
“We’re happy for you, man,” Eli added, his voice softer but no less pointed. “Really. But don’t try to bullshit us that this isn’t a big deal for you.”
“Jesus, if I knew I was going to get the finger screws, I would have stayed away.”
“Austin, we couldn’t help but notice,” Eli added. “The blonde hair. The blue eyes. That sweet but stubborn way she has about her…”
Every muscle in my body went rigid. I knew where this was going. An icy dread, heavy and familiar, seeped into the room, chilling the air. I could almost smell the ozone of a coming storm.
“He’s right.” Braden stepped closer. He lowered his voice, making the words, when they came, hit even harder. “Iris is great, Austin. But she’s so much like… like her. We have to ask, man. Are you trying to create another Caitlin here?”
The name hit me like a fist to the gut. Knocked the air from my lungs and left me cold, the walls of the small room suddenly closing in.
Caitlin.
A name I hadn’t heard spoken aloud in this family for thirteen years.
Freezing, white-hot anger surged through me, a desperate, defensive fury. “What the hell did you just say?”
“Austin…” Eli raised a palm, his expression full of caution.
“Don’t say her name,” I warned, my voice tight, my hands clenched into fists. “This has nothing to do with her. Nothing to do with them. Do you understand me?”
The thought was ludicrous. Insulting.
I had never, not for one single second, compared the two women.
Iris, with her chaotic energy, her growing competence, her ridiculous G-rated curses, and her mostly irresistible baking…
she was nothing like Caitlin. She was her own unique, infuriating, wonderful person.
The idea that my brothers could think I was just…
what? Trying to fix the past? It was obscene.
But I saw it in their eyes. The quiet pity. The concern. The fact that they weren’t convinced. And that pissed me off more than anything. I pressed my trembling hands against my hips.
“This is about me and Iris.” My voice came out in a low growl. “That’s it. It’s not about… before. It’s not about anyone else. I’m not some damn charity case you all need to manage.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to get my emotions under control. “We’re done here. Drop it. Now.”
I didn’t wait for them to respond. I turned, yanked the door open, and strode back out into the noise and light of the brewpub.
The ghosts of the past swirled around me.
I walked back to the bar, my whole body tight with a cold, protective anger as my brothers followed.
The easy, cheerful atmosphere of the brewpub sounded abrasive.
I could feel Eli and Braden’s gazes on my back, but I refused to turn around.
Iris glanced up as I approached, her smile warm, then questioning. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly, her smile faltering as she took in my stony expression. “Is everything okay?”
The honest answer was no. Nothing was okay.
My brothers had just ripped open a thirteen-year-old wound and poured salt all over it. The old, familiar instinct screamed at me.
Push her away before it gets too deep, before the risk becomes too great. Before you have something you can’t bear to lose again.
But then I looked at her.
At the genuine concern in her eyes, the way her brow was furrowed with worry. For me. And something inside me stronger than the fear, something more stubborn than the pain, made a choice.
I would not let the specters of my past poison this. I would not let my brothers’ well-meaning but misguided fears dictate my future. I forced the tension from my shoulders and deliberately unclenched my jaw. I manufactured a smile. It probably looked pathetic, but it was the best I could do.
“Yeah.” My voice was a little rough. I cleared my throat and tried again, my smile feeling steadier. “Everything’s fine. Braden was just showing me his new collection of artisanal bottle caps.”
She knew I was lying. I could see it in the way her eyes searched mine. But she didn’t push. She just gave an accepting nod.
“Ready to get out of here?” I placed my hand between her shoulder blades to ground myself in her presence, pleased my tone was gentler now. “The sun’s starting to set, and the water should be like glass.”
“Absolutely,” she said, her smile returning.
We said our goodbyes, a chorus of “Nice to meet you, Iris!” and “See you later!” following us out the door. I could feel my brothers’ eyes on us the entire time. I didn’t care.
As we walked along the pier, the scent of salt and frangipani heavy in the evening air, she gently bumped her shoulder against mine. “So was everything really okay back there? You seemed, uh, tense.”
I looked down at her, at the line between her brows that hadn’t been there before. “Just stupid brother shit.” I caught the word as it left my mouth. “Uh, stuff. Stupid brother stuff.”
The unconscious correction, the automatic softening of my language for her, was both ridiculous and scarily significant.
She smiled. “I get it. Stupid sibling stuff is a universal language, even to an only child.”
The wooden planks were solid beneath our feet and soon the warm air with its gentle breeze worked its magic on me. The sky was beginning its nightly spectacle, streaks of orange and pink painting the western horizon.
She pointed toward the two boats bobbing gently in their slips. “Which is which?”
I nodded toward the larger, more functional-looking vessel.
“That’s Sunset Diver. Eli’s domain. It’s set up for a dozen divers, gear racks, a big platform to jump off.
” I gestured to my boat. “And that’s Line Dancer.
Smaller, faster. More agile. Built for finding and fighting fish, not for sightseeing.
But,” I added, turning to smile at her, “she cleans up nice for a sunset.”
We stopped next to the stern of my boat. The water lapped against the hull in its gentle, rhythmic song.
Iris shifted her gaze from the boat to me, her eyes sparkling in the golden light. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”
I stared at her, this beautiful, resilient woman who had turned my entire world upside down. I thought of my brothers back at the bar, watching through the windows and still dissecting my every move. I thought of their words, of Caitlin, of the past.
A surge of pure, defiant possessiveness washed through me.
Let them watch.
I leaned in, cupped her face in my hands, and lowered my mouth to hers.
It was a statement. A public, deliberate claiming. I kissed her deeply, possessively, right there on the dock in the golden light of the setting sun. A clear, unmistakable message to anyone who might be looking.
She was with me.
This was real.
This was happening.
She gasped into my mouth, then melted against me, her hands coming up to grip my arms, returning the kiss with an answering fire of her own.
When I pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breath faster. I darted a glance past her toward Tidal Hops, then dropped my gaze back to hers. “Permission very much granted. Let’s go.”
I took her hand and led her aboard.