Chapter 21
TATUM
Ibreathe in the scent of oak and wine. The Riverbank Vineyard is a nice change in atmosphere, and hopefully, exactly what I need to get out of my funk.
High wooden beams crisscross above us, strung with delicate fairy lights that cast a warm golden glow over everything in sight.
Large windows line the walls, reflecting our own images against the darkness outside.
“This place is gorgeous,” I murmur, taking it all in as we weave between tables toward the back of the room.
Liz points to an empty spot, large enough for all of us and already set up with easels and waves us over. “Here! I found one!”
The space is buzzing with feminine energy—laughter and conversation flowing as freely as the wine.
Women of all ages fill the tables, some already opening the paints and prepping their brushes while others ignore the setup altogether, instead, sipping wine and chatting animatedly.
At the front of the room, a sample painting of a moonlit lake sits on display—tonight’s project?beside an instructor who patiently waits to begin.
“I’ll grab us a bottle,” Brynn says, heading toward the bar along the far wall where a server in a burgundy apron pours generous samples.
“Make that two bottles,” Samantha calls after her, and we all laugh.
I slide onto one of the chairs at our table, ignoring the heaviness in my chest. Though I’ve kept myself busy these last couple weeks with the girls and Ethan, if I’m being honest with myself, something is missing.
And I know exactly what it is. Brandon’s absence feels like walking around with a giant hole in my heart, and a part of me wonders if I’ll ever adjust to the loss.
The girls mentioned the guys were hanging out tonight, and I can’t help but wonder what they’re doing. If Brandon misses me as much as I miss him.
Icy fingers grip the center of my chest at the thought, but I quickly shove them away.
Thinking about him hurts too much. Not to mention, it’s pointless.
As long as I’m with Ethan, Brandon and I are a thing of the past, and he made sure of that when he stormed out on me at Java, then drove an hour just to assault my boyfriend without even a conversation.
“I bought one red and one white,” Brynn says, interrupting my thoughts as she plunks them down on the table beside me. “Pick your poison, ladies.”
I smile, but pass on the wine, choosing water instead, knowing the alcohol will only exacerbate my melancholic mood. Not only am I dealing with my feelings in regard to Brandon, but Ethan’s upset with me, too. It seems lately I can’t win.
Frowning, I stare down at my blank canvas, paintbrush poised as I recall our argument earlier.
“You’re going out with them again? You sure have been hanging out with them a lot.”
“I thought this is what you wanted?”
“Shit, I’m sorry, Tatum. It’s just . . . I miss you. I guess I’m jealous. I wish it was me you were spending all your time with. I want to be your whole world.”
I swallow hard, his words catching in my chest like a burr.
Your whole world. It sounds romantic on the surface, but something about it doesn’t sit right with me.
I try to dissect it when a loud crash near the entrance of the vineyard breaks through my thoughts.
Several heads turn, and a collective murmur ripples through the room.
Beside me, Brynn makes the sign of the cross, then mutters, “Lord, give me patience.”
A laugh bubbles in my chest as I follow the sound of the commotion to the front of the winery where there appears to be a scuffle as a woman in a burgundy apron is trying unsuccessfully to usher several men out—
My laughter dies instantly, my heart dropping to my feet.
Brandon.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him in two weeks, and the sight of him hits me like a shot of espresso straight to my veins.
My senses heighten. I sit up straighter, heart pounding in my chest like a herd of buffalo.
But it’s not just Brandon—Chris, Jace, West, and Damon are all standing there, looking completely out of place among the sea of women, the Paint & Sip Ladies’ Night! sign in pieces at Jace’s feet.
“Gentlemen, this is a ladies’ event!” one of the winery employees hisses. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”
Chris points a finger at her, his expression indignant. “We’re paying customers, and this is discrimination. Men like to paint, too! Besides, look at all these empty spots.” He gestures wildly to the few vacant easels.
The woman crosses her arms, clearly not buying what he’s selling.
“If you don’t let us in, I’ll file a complaint with the uh . . .” He snaps his fingers and glances around him at the guys for help. “The um . . .”
“The Better Business Bureau,” West provides, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Yes!” Chris snaps his fingers. “What he said.”
The lady just rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Whatever. I don’t get paid enough for this,” she mumbles, then walks away.
The guys all high-five, clearly proud of themselves for crashing ladies’ night.
All of them except one—Brandon—who remains straight-faced, his bright-blue gaze homed in on me as if seeing the sunrise for the very first time.
Tension fills the space between us, electric and charged, like the calm before a storm.
My pulse pounds in my ears, so loud I’m certain everyone around me can hear it. I will myself to look away, frustrated when I can’t. Frustrated when his eyes stay fixed on mine?those same eyes that have witnessed both the smallest and most significant moments of my life.
He doesn’t waste any time as he heads for me, weaving between tables with determined strides. The other guys follow, but I barely notice them, my attention locked on Brandon as he approaches.
A trickle of panic shimmies up my spine, and I turn to the girls, wishing I could disappear. Wishing I had listened to Ethan and headed for MSU instead of opting to spend time with my friends, because I’m not equipped to handle this. I’m not supposed to even talk to him.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I whisper-hiss, glancing between them.
Samantha shrugs, looking completely puzzled while Brynn averts her eyes and tucks a golden lock of hair behind her ear, and Charlotte gnaws guiltily on her lip.
“Well, hello, ladies,” Chris says beside me. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Charlotte groans and palms her face while I stiffen.
Inhaling, I turn my attention to Chris, refusing to acknowledge Brandon despite his presence hovering beside me like a storm cloud waiting to break.
“Come here often?” I ask, my tone saccharine.
Chris scratches the back of his head, glancing between me and his girlfriend who looks like she wants to throttle him. “Um. Would you believe me if I said yes?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Chris?”
“Okay, fine. You got me. We might have”—he grimaces—“done some recon and found out where you were going tonight.” Then rushes to add, “But, you know how lovesick we are without our girls.”
“Hey, don’t bring me into this.” Damon raises his hands before he rounds the table and plants a soft kiss on Avery’s head.
I sigh, stomach churning when the instructor at the front of her room clears her throat. “If all the ladies would like to take their seats, we’d like to start our lesson.”
“Sure thing.” Chris nods, then motions for Jace to help him as he proceeds to drag a nearby table over to ours with a high-pitched screech.
Everyone at the other tables wince. The instructor covers her ears, and a group of angry women shoots daggers at them.
“Kill me now,” Samantha mutters beside me as the guys all sit down and help themselves to a glass of our wine while I pinch my lips together, trying not to laugh, because Chris is like a big golden retriever—a little dopey, but sweet and lovable even when he’s being a pain in the ass.
The chair beside me scrapes against the floor, and my smile fades as I’m hit by the familiar combination of soap and cologne I’d know anywhere.
“Is this seat taken?”
His voice is rough like gravel, and it takes everything in me to stifle my reaction to it.
I don’t answer, instead focusing intently on my blank canvas while I pray for the willpower to ignore him.
The weight of my promise to Ethan sits heavily on my chest as Brandon shifts beside me, his arm brushing mine in a subtle touch that nearly rockets me from my chair.
I dip my brush into the blue paint with more force than necessary, splattering tiny droplets across the pristine white canvas, and I remind myself of all the reasons I’m avoiding him.
I remember the look of betrayal on Ethan’s face when I explained about the massage. Then I picture Ethan’s busted nose, the bruising beneath his eyes, and his insistence I keep my distance.
Brandon clears his throat, but I keep my eyes forward, watching the instructor demonstrate how to create the misty backdrop for the lake.
“Are you going to talk to me or ignore me all night?”
His words grate on me, even as the sound of his voice sends a flood of warmth shooting through my chest.
“Funny. I don’t remember any of us inviting you,” I say, coming off far more unbothered than I feel.
“So, you’re going to stay mad at me forever?” he asks, and the hurt in his voice is almost enough to make me crack. “I was defending you, Tate. I saw the bruises. How long are you going to pretend that nothing happened or that it’s okay?”
I say nothing, and he shakes his head with a low growl that rumbles through his chest and into mine.
“You didn’t even let me explain,” I say.
“Because there’s no explanation good enough. Quite frankly, he’s lucky he’s still breathing.”
I swallow, forcing my gaze to his and instantly regretting it.
The familiarity of his eyes is like a punch to the gut, the genuine pain in his expression my undoing.
“I told you it was nothing. Just like I begged you not to do anything rash, so what do you do?” I laugh, the sound a bitter rasp in my throat.
“You drive all the way to his campus and assault him without warning.”