Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
brADEN
The drive away from Tessa’s townhouse blurred through my windshield like watercolor. The Gbr offer. Dr. Albright’s proof that Tessa Donovan was meant for somewhere bigger than Dove Key. Bigger than me.
My hands locked around the steering wheel. She’d been in shock, and that cut deepest. Not angry. Not even happy. Just shock, like she couldn’t believe this gift had fallen into her lap.
“I haven’t had a chance to even think about it.”
Her parents saw the email and reacted like it was absolute proof they were right. And she hadn’t corrected them. If she wanted to stay—if I were truly enough—she would have said no immediately. Instead, she stood there with that dumbfounded look on her face, and that moment told me everything.
The narrative crystallized as I drove. She wasn’t torn.
She was standing on the edge of the decision she’d made twelve years ago and about to jump again.
Only this time, I worried she’d ask me to wait while she figured out what she really wanted.
That she’d want me to be her safety net while she pursued her dream.
I’d told her three months ago I couldn’t be enough. She’d sworn she was different now, that she chose me. But the second something shiny appeared, she couldn’t hide her interest. The offer was barely minutes old, and already her parents were triumphant, vindicated.
The engine roared as I pressed harder on the accelerator. The island road stretched before me, lined with palmettos and the inevitable descent toward water. I made a choice somewhere between the causeway and the resort. A clean, cold choice.
I would end this on my terms.
I wouldn’t be second place. I would be the man who saw it coming and protected himself first.
It felt almost like relief.
The parking lot was half-full when I pulled in and I went straight through the pub’s kitchen entrance. The air hit me first—malt and hops, the scent of the fermentation tanks in back, the underlying brine of the ocean. Home. The only thing in this town that had never betrayed me.
Maria was organizing liquor bottles when I appeared, inventory clipboard in hand. Something in my face made her freeze mid-motion, her hand still reaching for a bottle of Maker’s Mark.
“Not now.” I snapped before she could speak.
She put the bottle down and didn’t approach me.
I headed for the back. The brewing area was dim in the late morning light, the fermentation tanks casting long shadows across the concrete floor.
I’d designed this space for efficiency. Every pipe and valve placed for optimal function.
No wasted motion, no wasted space. The way I’d designed my entire life.
I started on equipment that didn’t need cleaning.
Moving things. Checking equipment I’d checked yesterday and the day before.
The work was purposeful and mindless, my body moving through familiar motions while my brain cycled through justifications like a record stuck on a groove.
I built this from nothing. I can rebuild. I’ve done it before.
The first tank I sanitized had been part of the original setup, back when I’d started with nothing but an idea and a stubborn belief that success would prove her parents wrong. Prove her wrong. I scrubbed the inside until my forearms burned, the cleaning solution caustic and sharp against my skin.
The routine of the cleaning solution hitting steel was almost meditative. I’d known it was coming. Some part of me had always known. That’s what this three-month project had been—a reprieve. A brief moment where I’d let myself believe in the impossible.
I was a goddamn fool.
The email is proof. It was always coming. I was just delaying the inevitable.
I was checking the CO2 lines for the fourth time when the door to the brewing area opened.
Tessa stood silhouetted in the doorway, her chest heaving as if she’d run. She was wearing the same clothes—a simple sundress—but her hair was a mess. She looked like she’d been through a war.
Behind her shock was relief. She’d found me. Now she could do whatever she’d come to do. Explain. Convince me.
“Braden—”
“Don’t.” The word came out flat and final, stripped of any emotion I could afford to feel. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“You don’t.” She stepped forward, and I moved to the far side of the closest tank, putting the equipment between us. “That email came at the worst possible time, and I—”
“And nothing. You’re leaving. You got your proof today that you made the right choice all those years ago.”
“That’s not what’s—”
“I can see it on your face.” I kept my voice level. Controlled. “Relief. Like you knew this was coming and now you don’t have to feel guilty about it anymore. Your parents get to be right. You get to take the prestigious job. Everything works out exactly the way it was supposed to.”
“You’re wrong.” Her voice rose. “Braden, you don’t understand. When that email came, my first thought was—”
“Was what? That you could have both? That I’d be fine waiting for you while you went off to make yourself into something better?”
“No. My first thought was that you’d think I was lying about wanting to stay.”
Her words nearly worked.
For a second, looking at her face, I almost wanted to believe her. Almost wanted to think there was a world where she actually chose me. But I’d learned a long time ago not to trust almost. Almost was how you ended up abandoned.
I moved around the tank, closing the space between us.
She stepped back. I kept moving. “I told you this would happen three months ago, Tessa. Before we got into this, before we went public, I told you I didn’t think I could do this because you’re always going to have one foot out the door.
You swore you were different now, that you’d made your choice.
That you chose me. But the second something better came along—”
“Braden, I’m sorry. That’s not—”
“Just stop. It doesn’t matter.” My voice cut through her words like a blade. “This is over. Us. I’m ending it. Not you, not your parents, not that job offer to the Great Barrier Reef. Me. Right here, right now.”
She stared at me, her face going blank. Like she couldn’t process the words I was saying even though they were plain English. “Braden, you’re not thinking clearly. You heard about the email and you’re spiraling and—”
“I’m not insecure.” I crossed my arms in a solid wall of muscle and pride. “I’m making a choice. A rational one. You know what I realized after leaving your place? I’m a good man, Tessa. And I’m good enough to know that I won’t spend the rest of my life making you feel guilty for wanting more.”
“I don’t want more—”
“Don’t lie.” My voice was low, each word a carefully placed stone. “The fact that you’re standing here trying to explain it is all the proof I need. The right answer—the only answer—was to decline that offer. But you didn’t, did you? You hesitated. Because it’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“That’s not—”
“So let’s make this simple.” I dropped my arms and took a step toward her, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“If what’s standing in front of you—me, this place, this life we were building—isn’t enough to make you turn that offer down without a second thought, then you need to take it.
In fact, I’ll drive you to the airport myself. ”
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The tears finally spilled over, tracking paths down her cheeks.
“This isn’t a test, Tessa. Or an ultimatum.
You finally got what you wanted. So I’m making the choice this time.
We’re done. Because I refuse to be the guy you almost picked.
” I turned away from her then, gripping the cold steel of the nearest tank.
“Go have your brilliant life and get out of mine.”
The silence was absolute. I could hear the bar through the wall, the murmur of employees talking and the clink of glasses. My breathing was ragged and uneven. I couldn’t look at her. If I looked at her face, if I saw her tears, I might forget that I was the one who was finally in control.
“I love you,” she said quietly.
The words hit deep inside me and I gripped the edge of the tank harder. My chest cracked open. My throat tightened.
“Don’t.” My voice came out raw, desperate in a way I couldn’t afford. “Don’t use those words when your actions have already made the choice.”
“My choice is—”
“No. It’s over. Goodbye, Tessa.”
I didn’t watch her leave. I kept my back turned and my hands clenched around steel, keeping my eyes on the tanks that had never disappointed me. I heard her take a shaky breath and move toward the door. The brewing area door closed behind her with a soft click.
Then nothing. Just the hum of cooling systems. I stood alone in the cold industrial space, surrounded by the clean lines of my brewery, my accomplishment, my proof of worth. I’d finally learned how to let go.
The trouble was, I’d waited until there was nothing left to hold.