Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
AVERY
T he taproom was slow—not unusual for early Sunday afternoon, even during leaf season.
But was it slower than normal? Or was I just paranoid?
Hard to tell. I couldn’t gauge how much damage Matthew’s gossip had been doing to my relationships with other brewers.
Clearly, some damage considering what had happened with the Christmas fundraiser.
But to our popularity as a local spot to grab a good beer?
That was harder to gauge, especially this time of year, when there were so many outsiders around.
I wanted to pretend my crap mood was because I wasn’t selling as much beer as usual.
But that was a lie. My crap mood was because I hadn’t spoken to West in four days.
I wanted to say that this was his fault.
That he was an overbearing, domineering asshole who wanted to control me.
And who was he to tell me what to do? If he really cared about me, really knew me, he’d understand that asking me to walk away from my investigation was ridiculous and unfair .
The problem was, I had a sinking feeling in my gut that all of my justifications were bullshit, and that, in this scenario, West was not the one who was wrong.
I’d looked at his number on my phone probably twenty times since our fight, and stopped myself from calling every time. What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry, you were right? Was I willing to go that far? Was he right—all the way right?
I didn’t know, because I was still fucking pissed off, and underneath that, maybe more than a little terrified.
I’d read the article that a local journalist had written about the murder.
West hadn’t mentioned all the details. Anna Novak could have been stabbed as many as forty times.
I couldn’t wrap my head around that kind of brutality.
Who would do that? Did I want to be in the crosshairs of someone who could stab an innocent woman forty times?
Why would I be that reckless?
Ford’s face flashed in my mind. My older brother, who’d been awful to Griffen, but was also the reason I had Sawyers Bend Brewing.
He’d looked out for me, run interference with Prentice, and helped give me time to figure out my life rather than let Prentice mold me into the daughter he’d wanted.
I wouldn’t be who I was or where I was without Ford.
And he’d spent a year in prison for our father’s murder.
Whoever killed Prentice had set Ford up to take that fall and was probably also Anna Novak’s murderer.
I didn’t know what prison was like—I hoped I’d never find out—but I knew the brother who had gone in was not the same man who came out.
And if I turned my back on this quest for answers, I turned my back on Ford and the possibility of him having a future free and clear of Prentice’s murder.
Unless we found the killer, for the rest of his life, everyone he met would assume he’d killed our father.
Ford wasn’t a perfect man, but did he deserve that? My heart said no.
I could decide to leave this in West’s hands, I knew. But that felt like giving up. He couldn’t possibly care as much about this as I did, care about Ford as much as I did.
So, what the fuck did I do?
What I did was pull some beers for a few tourists who trickled in.
I gave them my best version of the cheerful bartender smile and made my way down to the other end of the bar, where it was quiet and I didn’t have to talk to people.
Dave wasn’t coming in for a few hours. Until he got here, I’d have to deal with customers, whether I liked it or not.
My phone chimed with a text. Sterling.
Did you call him yet?
I’d been shocked to discover that my baby sister was firmly on West’s side. She’d looked a little green when I told her about Anna Novak. Her face had drained of blood, and she’d shaken her head.
“We’re in too deep,” she’d said. “I need to think about this. Make some calls.” I’d left her in her room, her phone to her ear. The next time I saw her, she’d given me a heavy look. “I talked to some people who looked into what happened, and they said to keep our heads down and stay far away.”
“So, it’s over?” I’d asked, feeling off balance. “We’re just going to let it go?”
Sterling had tossed her hair back over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, duh. I don’t want to get stabbed forty times.”
“Don’t we want to find out who?—”
Sterling was shaking her head before I could finish.
“Not that much, Avery. Seriously, not that much. I have a lot to live for, you know.” Her face shifted, the levity draining away.
She’d reached out to pull me into a hug—awkward because I was so much taller—but I wrapped my arms around her and we rocked side to side for a minute, my cheek resting on her soft hair.
“Ave,” she’d said into my shoulder, “I know you want to solve this. I know you want this to be over.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, tears pricking behind my lids. God, did I want this to be over.
“But now’s not the time,” she’d continued. “At the least, we need to step back and take a break. As a friend told me, it’s too hot right now. Let things cool down, and then we can reassess.”
When did my sister start sounding so much like Hawk?
“Yeah,” I’d said, giving her a squeeze. Sterling had guts.
She and Forrest had embarked on a wild scavenger hunt to solve a riddle left behind by his father.
They’d made some questionable decisions, put themselves in real danger, and Sterling had been unapologetic about every bit of it.
So, if she was saying things were too hot and we needed to back off, maybe my sense of danger was completely out of whack.
I’d been in a holding pattern—too stubborn and mad to talk to West, heartsick at the divide between us, and angry that this was an issue at all.
The door opened, and I pasted a fake smile across my face, letting it fall as I saw Ford walk in. A shadow of shame swept over me as I realized I was disappointed. Somewhere deep inside, I’d secretly been hoping to see West.
Why? My snotty inner voice asked. So he can apologize for not being wrong?
Fuck. I shook off the thought and went to greet Ford as he slid onto a barstool.
“Hey, what brings you in here? Need to get out of the house?”
“This is one of the few places it’s recommended I go, given the level of security.” His eyes flicked up to a camera discreetly installed above the bar, new since the break-in and courtesy of Hawk’s team. You’d have to know it was there to spot it, but it had a wide-angle view of the whole taproom.
“What can I get you?” I asked.
“Bartender’s choice,” Ford said.
I pulled him our stout. A hint of coffee, a hint of chocolate. Perfect for early on Sunday afternoon. He raised an eyebrow as he watched me build his pint, and I smiled, this one genuine.
“Mocha stout,” I said. “It’s almost a breakfast beer.”
“Sounds perfect.” Ford nodded, the faintest hint of a smile curving the side of his mouth. “Quiet this morning.”
“Yeah. It could be leaf season starting to taper off. And it’s still early.”
“Any more trouble from Matthew?” he asked, following my train of thought.
I shrugged. “Not that I know of.” I slid the stout across the bar to him.
“You work things out with West?”
Grabbing a damp rag, I wiped the already clean bar in front of me, not meeting Ford’s eyes. I jerked a shoulder up in a shrug. I hated this sticky, dark hole in my chest. Guilt. I didn’t want to admit I was wrong because I didn’t want to be wrong. But I couldn’t change what I couldn’t change.
“No,” I finally said.
Ford nodded again.
“Nothing to say?” I asked, wishing I could just leave well enough alone.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly one to advise on romance.”
“True,” I agreed. Ford had married Vanessa, Griffen’s fiancée, and soon regretted it. They’d stuck it out a few years, but he’d ended up divorcing her, and she’d been as miserable an ex-wife as she’d been a wife. He hadn’t dated much that I knew of since then. No serious relationships.
“But,” I prompted, “since you brought it up.”
Ford let out a sigh. “West is a good man.”
“He threw you in jail,” I said, my voice rising with a sharp edge. Heads turned at the other end of the bar, and I wished I’d kept my voice down. I was usually better with this whole customer service thing.
“He was doing his job,” Ford said, as if it should be obvious.
“I respect him. When I was playing things Dad’s way, he annoyed the shit out of me.
Everything always had to be black and white, by the book.
He believes in what he does, Ave. He cares about this town and the people in it.
And yeah, he threw me in jail, but he didn’t have a choice.
Trust me, if I’d had any evidence to clear my name, I would have given it to him.
And he would have used it to get me back out.
He’s never stopped looking. He doesn’t even like me, which is fair enough, given that I royally screwed over his best friend.
But I know if he had the slightest shred of evidence to clear my name, he’d use it. Because that’s the kind of man he is.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. What else was I going to say? Ford was right. He was fucking right about everything. “I’m an asshole,” I muttered.
Ford tipped his chin up. “You’re a Sawyer. We don’t like to admit when we’re wrong.”
I didn’t like the way that landed. “I don’t want to be Dad,” I said.
Ford barked out a laugh, his amusement rusty but there. “Ave, you’re nothing like Dad. None of us is like Dad, and thank God for that.”