Chapter 12 #2
So, he waved a quick goodbye to his cousin, determined to seek out someone who could help. Ordinarily, he would have made a beeline for Maverick, who, in addition to being his wine-making partner and brother, was also his best friend.
However, it would be an understatement to say Maverick had been distracted himself of late. Head over heels in love, his brother’s brain was currently riding on one track. The Elle Express. The one that was going to lead him and his fiancée to the altar in a couple of months.
So instead of heading back to the vineyard to find Maverick, he walked in the opposite direction toward the brewhouse.
Jace had been his confidant in all things Lark-related, so Grayson wouldn’t have to backtrack or retell much.
Plus, Jace had a better working knowledge of Lark, the two of them traveling in the same circle of friends.
Or at least, they had when she’d been with Tommy.
Grayson paused when he entered the brewhouse, standing just outside Jace’s open door. His brother was working on his computer, his fingers flying across the keys.
“Knock knock,” Grayson said, as he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.
Jace looked up and gave him a tired smile.
Grayson recognized that weariness from the image in the mirror that greeted him every morning.
At harvest time, it wasn’t unusual for everyone in his family to burn the candle at both ends, trying to do their own jobs while also helping in the vineyard, picking the grapes.
Long hours were a way of life on a farm, but in the fall, they stretched even longer.
“Did you take a wrong turn?” Jace asked, reminding Grayson that it had been a while since he’d been in his brother’s office.
Or even in the brewhouse. Glancing around, he saw that Jace had rearranged the office furniture so he could add a bookshelf that was overloaded with notebooks and books about brewing beer.
There were even a few textbooks, which Grayson assumed Sam had loaned him.
Sam and Everett were the only brothers who’d attended college, the rest of them going straight to work on the farm after high school, employing the hands-on and apprenticeship methods when learning how to do their jobs.
“Nora kicked me out of the tasting room. For good reason. I was breaking and spilling a lot of shit,” Grayson confessed, walking in and plopping into the chair across from Jace’s desk.
Jace frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you. What’s going on?” he asked, before sighing softly. “Lark?”
While Grayson had confided in Jace about Lark right after returning from the festival, he hadn’t mentioned his struggles since, hadn’t confided that things felt wrong.
“Had a bit of trouble earlier, but it was handled.”
“Trouble?” Jace tapped a pen on his desk absentmindedly. “With Tommy again?”
“He came by to talk to Lark. Still trying to plead his case.”
Jace leaned back, his head resting against his chair as he placed the end of the pen in his mouth. “Didn’t realize he was quite this relentless. Of course, in the past, he’s never needed to be.”
“Yeah, well, Lark’s not having it. And I don’t blame her. He grabbed her arm, tried to force her to listen to him by manhandling her when she tried to go back to work.”
Jace’s scowl was downright black as he leaned forward. “He grabbed her? Did he hurt her?”
Grayson shook his head. “She said she was fine, but there were marks on her arm.”
Jace dropped the pen, glancing around his desk. Reaching for his phone, he said, “Maybe I need to have a talk with my buddy about how to treat a woman.”
The pure malice in Jace’s tone was something Grayson didn’t hear often from his kid brother.
The Storm boys pretty much resided in two camps.
Jace, Theo, and Maverick were the fun-loving, easygoing brothers, the ones who laughed often and knew how to have a good time.
Grayson, Levi, and Sam were the more stoic of the Storms, serious, steady homebodies.
Everett straddled the line between the two, with a foot in both camps.
Which tracked, because he was also the only one of the Storms who was positively allergic to farmwork or hard physical labor.
Everett preferred to spend the majority of his time behind a desk, working on his computer.
They’d affectionately nicknamed him the nerd of the group, and Everett—crazy guy—loved living up to that title.
“I know you said she always goes back to him, Jace, but I don’t see that happening this time.”
Jace’s expression cleared as he considered that, but only for a moment. “Then why aren’t you happier? Because right now, you look like someone who just had to put their dog down.”
Grayson snorted, humorlessly. “That feels about right.”
“What’s going on, Gray? If Lark’s not going back to Tommy, doesn’t that clear the way for you to pursue her?”
Grayson raked a hand through his hair. “I think I made a mistake.”
“About what?”
Grayson wasn’t sure how to even begin explaining the tornado that was currently ripping through his head.
Finally, he said quietly, “About Lark. She isn’t the one.”
Jace stared at him blankly, silence his only response.
Complete silence.
After an uncomfortable minute, he finally replied, “You seemed pretty damn sure a few weeks ago.”
“That’s the problem.” Grayson rose and began pacing. “What I felt at the festival knocked me on my ass. One touch and everything changed. I swear to God, Jace, every part of that weekend felt right. Perfect. Just like Dad said.”
“But?”
“But none of that was true before or after that damn festival.”
Jace’s brows furrowed.
“I keep waiting for it to come back. That certainty. The connection I felt, but every day since we’ve been home, it’s grown weaker.”
“And now?” Jace prodded.
“Now, there’s nothing.”
Jace rubbed his chin, considering that. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Grayson shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “Tell me about it.”
“Maybe you’re just freaking out?” Jace suggested. “Because it’s Lark. I mean, you and she are very different, so the two of you being together would require,” Jace waved his hand around, searching for the next word, “adjusting to each other.”
Grayson stopped pacing. “I know the difference between nerves and whatever the hell this is.”
Jace fell quiet, giving him time to sort out his thoughts, to find his words. Problem was, he’d already given this situation too much time—every single day since the festival—and it wasn’t helping.
Maybe it was a crazy thing to believe in, but the truth was, the Storms didn’t question the legend, didn’t doubt it was true.
But now, for the first time, Grayson found himself wondering.
“What if Dad was wrong?” he asked quietly.
Jace slowly shook his head. “No.”
“I’m serious, Jace.”
“Our parents are disgustingly in love,” he retorted.
“And so are a shit ton of other people in the world who fell in love the old-fashioned way. Over time. No legend required.”
“I get that, but we’re not just talking about Dad. You’ve seen the same thing happen to Levi, Theo, and Mila. Hell, Maverick was taken down by this thing when he was just seventeen, and that love didn’t just survive some rough patches, it weathered years apart.”
Grayson sank back down in the chair. “Tommy grabbed Lark. When I told him to let her go, she stumbled into my arms. Then, when I touched the marks he left her and asked if she was okay…”
Jace tilted his head. “Nothing?”
“Not a damn thing. No lightning. No thunder. No shaking earth or crumbling foundation.”
“That’s what you felt at the festival?”
Grayson sighed. “Jesus, yes. All of that and more.”
“There’s got be something you’re missing.”
Grayson chuckled bitterly. “Yeah? Like what?”
Even as he asked the question, his gaze drifted toward the window behind his brother. One of the best things about this farm was the view. From their height on the mountain, they could see out across the horizon for miles. Hell, on a clear day, they could see all the way to D.C.
Right now, Grayson didn’t need to look that far. Instead, his eyes took in the valley below them, trying to pinpoint just where the library was.
Where Wren was.
In that moment, Grayson knew two things with certainty.
One, whatever happened at the festival with Lark hadn’t been real.
And second, he was in serious trouble. This was the part he hadn’t shared with his brother, even though it was the real reason he’d sought out Jace. Because Wren was the part of this equation he couldn’t wrap his head around.
“Honestly,” Grayson confessed, “right now, I feel more attracted to Lark’s sister.”
The admission fired a whole heaping helping of guilt and disgust in his gut.
“Which is problematic, considering I shared a hotel bed and a kiss with Lark that I definitely wanted to take a hell of a lot further at the time.”
Jace frowned. “Wait. You’re attracted to Wren?”
Grayson nodded miserably.
“Jesus,” his brother muttered.
“Yeah. That’s pretty much where I’m at too.”
Jace stared at him for another long moment. “You said Lark was different at the festival, right? Not herself?”
“Yeah.” Grayson tried to put into words something that had bothered him for weeks. “I mean, there were shades of her personality, but mostly she was quieter, sweeter, less in-your-face than…” He sighed, pointing in the direction of the tasting room. “This Lark.”
Jace rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with in-your-face, Gray.”
“Says the guy who’s frequently in everyone’s faces.”
Jace gave him a shit-eating grin. “You’re just jealous because you’re not as fun and cool as me.”
“We have very different definitions of cool, bro,” he tossed back easily.
Trash-talking was basically baked into the Storm brothers’ biology, all of them experts at giving the others a hard time.
Mercifully, their sarcasm and teasing were tempered by the fact none of them was sensitive, all of them possessing the same wicked sense of humor, so feelings were never hurt.