23. Brenna
23
brENNA
Bright, glorious sunshine assaults me as I throw open the door, stepping out of the testing center, officially leaving the NAPLEX behind me. And damn, do I feel good.
Really, really good.
To say a weight has been lifted off me is an understatement. The most daunting task of my life is now complete and behind me. Assuming that I pass, which, in this moment, we’re going to. The self-doubt and worry about the potential of failing and having to do this all over again can be saved for later.
The only better feeling in the world is the one that washes over me as my eyes land on the tall, bearded, tattooed guy pacing along the busy Atlanta sidewalk, talking into his phone. I have no idea how long he’s been out here—certainly not all six hours of the test—but he’s here now. And that’s all that matters.
Swinging back around to redirect his pace, Milo looks up, his gaze catching mine. Then he stops. Right along with my heart.
Hell, it’s like the whole world stops as he looks me up and down, that smirk of his spreading across his lips. All his attention is on me, and the whole world fades away. I freeze, unable to do anything else, other than maybe swoon and bask in all the warm fuzzies and butterflies swarming inside me. We’re no longer on a busy city sidewalk, people rushing around us about their business. Nothing but him, me, and the look he’s giving me. Like I’m good enough to eat. Like I’m the only girl in the entire world.
Like I’m his wildest dream.
Oh fuuuuuck…
Milo ends his call, seemingly without even telling whomever it was goodbye, making a beeline for me. I’m all giggles and smiles as he approaches, ready to throw myself at him. I need to remain calm. Maintain a sense of decorum.
“All done?” he asks.
“All done!” I squeal, launching myself into his arms.
So much for decorum.
Milo catches me without a thought, pulling me into a kiss. The whole move feels easy and natural, making my heart soar. I let myself get lost in the kiss for a moment, in him holding me close—something that is not hard to do. Especially after the way he was just looking at me.
Like I’m his. And he’s mine.
Like the world isn’t watching.
Setting me back on my feet, he steals another kiss, then gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. Simple, easy, loving. And more than enough to launch another round of butterflies, making my cheeks heat up. I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was still that eleven-year-old girl, blushing and tittering at the Rhythm and Brews Festival because the cute older boy said hi to me.
“So, now what?”
I shrug. My heart might be weightless, but my brain is soup. “No idea. A nap? New adventures can start tomorrow. ”
“I meant as far as this evening.” He chuckles. Glancing at his watch, he purses his lips, the gears in his mind turning over something. “I have a surprise for you later, but we have a few hours. So, you hungry? Anything in particular you’re feeling like?”
Panic hits me. A surprise? Milo has a surprise?
I pull back from him, coolness rushing between us despite the hot summer temperatures. Confusion takes over his expression, and he reaches for me, hand landing on my hip. Add that to the list of things that feels like it belongs there—Milo’s hand on my hip. Still, it does little to ease the worry in me that I’m not as prepared for the rest of the day as I need to be.
“A surprise?” I choke. “Don’t you need to get back to Pour Decisions? What about Pints and Purls?”
“Hux is covering for me tonight.”
I raise one eyebrow in question. Milo must read my mind, because I don’t even have to say it out loud and he’s laughing.
“And yes, that might be against my better judgment, but he and Ben can handle it. Being here with you is more important.”
I melt. Seriously, how does he have the perfect answer locked and loaded like that?
“But what about an outfit? Am I dressed okay?” I look down at my jean capris, T-shirt, and sneakers. I opted for comfort over style today. The NAPLEX is a six-hour exam after all. Not exactly something one needs to bust out the fashion accessories for. “I thought we were headed home. I don’t have anything to change into.”
“Surprises are not your thing, noted,” Milo says, still laughing. Squeezing my hip, he kisses my forehead, reassuring me. My concern dissolves, trusting that he has a plan. “ We’re not meeting the Queen. We’re going to an Atlanta Rising game.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He nods. Slipping his hand into mine, we start walking down the sidewalk. He points to a sushi place, silently asking again if I’m hungry. I nod, realizing I never actually answered that question. “I know the owner. Sorta. The Sutherlands, who own the team, plus a bunch of other stuff in Atlanta, are old family friends.”
I nod. That does ring a bell. The Sutherlands, like the Hayeses, are one of the big old southern money families here in Georgia. It makes sense that they would run in the same circles, even if Milo isn’t the type that fits that mold.
“I forget you’re loaded,” I joke, nudging him with my shoulder.
“I am not loaded,” he defends, laughing off my comment.
I stop, giving him a look, reminding him that I know otherwise. Milo is a Hayes. The Hayes family is royalty in Hickory Hills. After all, Augustus and Llewellyn Hayes were the reason our town is even on the map—if it weren’t for them and their rifles back in the mid-1800s, Hickory Hills probably would have faded into oblivion like many other small, rural towns. Milo’s dad prefers to downplay the family history of supporting the confederate army during the civil war—understandably—but that was still the catalyst for the massive Fortune 500 company that Hayes Industries is today. A company that is held and controlled solely by the Hayes family.
Even ignoring the inheritance portion, Southern Brothers Brewing is a profitable and successful business all on its own. I don’t remember all the numbers Brandt spouted off the last time he was bragging about it, but I do know they were impressive. Like, really impressive. As in, the business carries no debt kind of impressive. That the new machines they put in were all bought and paid for out of their reserves, zero financing required. I might not be a business major, but even I know that means something.
“Maybe loaded isn’t the right word, but…”
Milo shrugs, almost as if he’s embarrassed by it. “I’m comfortable. Sure, I come from a family of money, but it doesn’t make me any better than anyone. Still had to work for everything I have. Auggie made sure of that.”
I weave my fingers through his and squeeze. “I know. I was there, watching you build Southern Brothers, remember? But, you do get to say things like ‘I know the owner of the Atlanta Rising…’”
“Touché.”
Nudging him with my shoulder, I press a kiss to his cheek, letting him know that I appreciate him. And all that he’s done for me.
Heading to the counter, we place our order, each of us opting for a couple of different rolls that we can share. Milo takes the number placard they give us and heads to a small table in the back, giving us some privacy, even though the small restaurant is mostly empty at this hour.
“Is Mell excited that you’re gonna have more free time now for your hot-girl summer?” Milo asks as a server appears, unveiling the small bowl of spicy edamame. Steam billows from the green veggies, stealing my attention for a split second, but it’s not enough to fully derail us.
“Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you. Jon called this weekend and he’s coming home early.”
“Early? They do that?”
“I guess? He’s been…wherever he is…for thirteen months, so it’s not like they just left. I don’t really know why he was deployed, to be honest, and Mell didn’t offer up a lot of information, so I took that as a sign not to ask. But, apparently they will be home in the next couple of weeks, so she’s pack ing up and heading back to Texas to be there when he arrives.”
“I’m sorry you two didn’t get to spend more time together this summer.”
“Are you though?”
Cause I’m not…
I grab an edamame pod and teasingly pull it through my teeth, releasing the beans, waggling my eyebrows. Milo hisses, his nostrils flaring. My pulse flutters at his reaction, liking that I have this effect on him.
It’s the exact response that I was going for too. Because no part of me is sad that the little bit of extra time I’ve had this summer between working and studying has been spent with Milo. I also know that Mell doesn’t regret it either. A true best friend, she’s just as excited about this fling as I am.
She also knows that I have more than fling feelings.
Something I haven’t shared with anyone else. Including Brandt. Which feels like a betrayal, in its own way. I can’t put my finger on why—maybe because I always thought that if I ever got to this point in a relationship, he’d be the one I’d be turning to for advice. Instead, I’m finding excuses not to tell him.
“I am not in the least bit sorry that I have monopolized your free time.” He grabs a piece of edamame and mirrors my move. It sends a shiver down my spine, making me tingle in places I have no business tingling while we’re in public. Forget Brandt. Milo has all my attention. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wish you didn’t get more time with her.”
From sexy to swoony. Seriously, I think Milo Hayes can do it all.
And I think I might love him for it. Words I’m really not going to say out loud.
“Guess I really need a hobby now. ”
“You could always come help in the brew house,” he offers.
“Err, no. Because I do believe we were also going to work on finding you a hobby.”
Milo groans, sitting back in his chair. “Men don’t have hobbies.”
“Sure they do. Rock climbing. Leatherworking. Woodworking. Wedding crashing.”
“Wedding crashing? In Hickory Hills?”
“Maybe not in Hickory Hills, but drive up here to Atlanta or down to Savannah for the weekend, sneak into a hotel, crash a wedding. Could be fun.”
He eyes me skeptically, reaching forward for more of the appetizer. I lift my shoulders, pretty proud of the random idea. Not that I think it could—or should—be done regularly, but it might be fun to try once. Might have to try to convince him to give it a whirl.
“Cooking.”
“Cooking is a necessity,” he replies.
“True, but you’re also really good at it. We could find different recipes on the Internet and try them out. Maybe create our own. Cooking is chemistry, after all.”
He tilts his head in agreement, as if it’s not the world’s worst suggestion. Sweet, one for the win column. That’s a good one too, since we?—
We.
I swallow hard, quickly grabbing a pod and shoving it in my mouth. We. I’ve been talking in plurals—we, not just me. Not that Milo has stopped me. Still, it’s a big assumption and one I need to stop making for a number of reasons.
“Look, I know how much you love the brewery and what you do. But, you also need a break. And so maybe that doesn’t mean taking up knitting and joining Holly every week for Pints and Purls, but…I dunno…” I trail off, trying to thin k of something easy. Something I know he loves and misses and simply doesn’t realize it. “When was the last time you went hunting or fishing with your brothers? And I don’t mean the Fourth of July thing that you do. I mean, when was the last time you spent a Saturday out on Silver Lake fishing?”
Milo gives me a blank stare, his lips pressed together.
“Or when was the last time you and Brandt went camping? The two of you used to go and get lost in the woods for days when you were teenagers. I was really young, but I remember the time Dad had to call the cops because you were gone for over a week and no one could find you, and our mothers were convinced you had been eaten by bears.”
Milo throws his head back, laughing. “You remember that? God, we were still in high school, so you had to be what, five?”
“Yeah. And I absolutely remember. I might have only been five, but it kinda becomes a core memory when your mama is hollering at your daddy ‘what if he’s been bear food, Patrick?’”
Milo sputters out another laugh, and I join in, unable to hold back. My impression of my mother is spot-on, the panic she was feeling all those years ago funny now that we know Milo and Brandt were not bear food. Instead, they were holed up in a secret hideaway, with an illegal still, drunk off their first ever batch of moonshine.
“Fair enough. It’s been…a long damn time since I’ve done any of that. Should probably start up again.”
“That’s all I’m saying.”
“Then again, I could just make you my hobby.”
Milo winks, shit-eating grin taking over his face, as if he thinks he just set my panties on fire. To be fair, he did. But I’m not going to let him know it.
“What? Just do me? ”
“Yup.”
Yes, please…
“I mean, you could…”
“I plan to.”
“But what if I don’t stay?”
The words are out of my mouth before I can think twice. And they aren’t near as flirty as I intend. If anything, they throw an ice-cold bucket of water on the whole conversation.
It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud. Really, truly said it. Acknowledging the elephant in the room.
Well, maybe it’s not an elephant. But an inconvenient end table.
“Things progressing with the Well Nest?”
I nod. “I had a video interview with them. They want me to come down and see the site, but from the sounds of it, as long as I pass, the job is mine.”
“That’s great.”
“I guess. I also heard from Big Box Store USA again yesterday,” I say, trying to be casual, yet mocking, of the retail giant I really don’t want to go work for.
“Yeah? What’d they say?” he asks, reaching across the table, taking my hand.
I shrug, running my fingertips along the callus on the underside of his knuckles, enjoying the roughness. It’s such a juxtaposition to the softness that I see in Milo, while still being a testament to all his hard work. Seeing both sides of him, getting to be this close, it’s hard not to fall for him.
Especially since I think I might already have.
“Once again reiterating that they are looking for pharmacists, so once I pass the boards, if I’m interested, they could place me in a store anywhere in the country.”
“Anywhere?”
I nod. “Anywhere. From the sounds of the email, I would give them my top three choices, and they would try to place me close to one of them. California, Texas, Maine, the Midwest, you name it.”
“You want to go to Maine?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Maine sounds cold. As does the Midwest. We know how I feel about the cold. And I’m pretty sure I would hate California.”
Milo laughs. He can’t really argue with my assessment, because we both know that I’m spot-on. I went to visit him and Brandt once while they were at Colorado State. It was during the winter, since my parents thought it would be fun for us to take a cold weather vacation and do some snow activities. I quickly learned, even at nine, that I am not a snow and cold kind of girl. I spent most of that vacation trying to find an excuse to go inside, and if I couldn’t, then I was glued to whichever family member was willing to share their body heat with me.
Coincidentally, it was often Milo. Even then, he was my person.
“But, Mell is in Texas, at least for now. And they have stores all over Georgia, so, there’s that,” I add.
Our server appears, placing a long board with our sushi between us, removing the empty appetizer bowl. My mouth waters as I take in the bright colors of the fish and toppings, undecided on where to start.
“Bren, I think it’s pretty clear you don’t want to work for Big Box USA.”
“I don’t,” I admit. I unsheathe some chopsticks, breaking them apart and grabbing a piece of Dragon roll. I pop it into my mouth, letting the flavors burst on my tongue, savoring each one. “I just…I dunno…”
“Why pharmacy?”
“What?”
I perk up, taken aback by the question. What does he mean why pharmacy? Milo has known me since I was born. Before I was born, technically, if we want to get weird about it. He was there as I went through this whole what I want to be when I grow up journey. Why the hell is he asking me this now?
“Why pharmacy? When you went through all the nonsense trying to land on a major, what made you finally settle on pharmacy?”
I sigh, thinking back. It wasn’t an easy choice. I took the long road—starting as a chemistry major and doing a full undergrad program before choosing to go the pharmacy school route. Had I chosen pre-pharmacy from the get-go, I could have cut two years off college. But I had been so unsure of what I wanted to do. Until I wasn’t.
“Because I want to help people. Which sounds weird as a reason to pick pharmacy rather than become a doctor, but what most people don’t realize is just how dangerous drug interaction can be. How when those little labels say not to drink while taking certain medications, they mean it, because the chemical interactions that alcohol has with the compounds in the medications can be really dangerous, and the number of people that die every year from accidental overdoses because they ignore those kinds of warnings?—”
I stop midsentence, mouth agape. Milo’s staring at me, massive grin on his face, eyes as bright as the sun, looking at me like he’s never been prouder. And I have no idea what I said.
“What?”
“I love how passionate you get about this.”
“It’s important.”
“It is,” he agrees, grabbing a piece of sushi and popping it in his mouth. “But so is you remembering why you’re so passionate about it and following your dream.”
“I want to help people,” I repeat, feeling that deep in my bones, knowing that’s what’s most important to me. “And I don’t think that’s a location thing to me. At least not geographically. But I do feel like I won’t do as much good with big box guy as I would someone smaller. I can’t explain why, but I do.”
“And the Well Nest?”
Blowing out another long breath, I think about the setup I was shown during the video walk-through earlier this week. It was impressive and certainly much more personal than the massive box store alternative. Yet, I’m not drawn to it either.
“There is a much higher likelihood of being a help to the community there than at Big Box. Moving to Somerset though…I know it sounds silly, but if I’m going to leave one town where everyone knows my name, why would I move to another town where inevitably, everyone is going to know my name?”
“So that you’re no longer the girl who shit in the camellias?” he quips.
I gasp, kicking up under the table. My foot makes direct contact with his shin, and he groans in the middle of laughing at his own joke.
“Bren, trust me, I get it. I grew up in Hickory Hills too, remember? Chief Myers hasn’t brought up the bear food incident you just mentioned in a while, thankfully, but Fire Chief Phillips doesn’t pass up an opportunity to remind either Brandt or me about the time he caught us playing with matches in the cemetery. And Jack Keller? He’ll tell pretty much anyone who’ll listen about the day I got my pants stuck in the tractor that one summer I was working at the nursery and the damn thing ripped them clean off, leaving me bare-assed in front of everyone, including Kristin Goodman, who I absolutely had a crush on at the time.”
I sputter out a laugh, thankful I wasn’t taking a drink at the moment. That’s a story I don’t think I’ve heard .
“All I’m sayin’ is that there are pros and cons to both. You just gotta figure out which column is heavier.”
“And how do I do that, hmmm?” I pick up a piece of sushi, wiggling it dramatically for effect.
“Trust your gut; it’s usually right.”
“Thanks, Dad!” I say, sarcasm dripping from my words. I don’t hold back, however, knowing that Milo knows exactly what I mean, and that it’s not a jab at his age.
“Patrick Rawlins has never steered us wrong with that one.”
Milo’s right. My father has told all of us that piece of advice since we were little, and it’s an adage we’ve always taken to heart. And it’s never steered us wrong. It’s what led the boys to Colorado and to start a brewery. It’s what led me to a chemistry degree and then pharmacy school. It’s what led Bryce to?—
Okay, maybe it has led someone astray. But there’s an outlier in every bunch.
“And Bren?”
“Hmmm?”
“My gut tells me that you and I’ll make it work no matter where you land.”
O…M…G…