29. Milo
29
MILO
Exhibitionism has never been on my to-do list. Performing for an audience of any kind has never been my thing.
Especially an audience of my best friend. With his sister.
I drag my hand along the back of my neck, already feeling the tension building under the skin. Of all the ways this could have gone down, that was probably the worst. Meaning the conversation going on upstairs is more than a little tense.
Fuck.
I flip over one of the chairs from a four top table, looking over toward the swinging door that leads to the storeroom and our loft. For the umpteenth time since they headed up there, I consider joining them, torn on if that would make things better or worse. On the one hand, I want to support Brenna—we’re both involved in this. We’re in this together. On the other, she’s a grown woman who can fight her own battles, and I don’t want her to think I think otherwise.
Then again, I don’t want her to think I am throwing her to the wolves, either.
Fuck …
“Hey!” Gus calls out, walking into the warehouse.
“Hey,” I answer back absentmindedly, my brain still focused on how pissed my best friend was.
In all the years we’ve been friends, I’ve never seen that look on his face. And I do mean never. Not when Paul Russell beat him in the seventh grade science fair. Not when Sarah Dugan dumped him for Ryan Fox two weeks before junior prom. Not even when we accidentally backed his car into the wood pile with the passenger door open, causing said door to fold the wrong way and fall off shortly after college graduation. Hell, if you had asked me yesterday, I would have told you it wasn’t possible.
Shows you what I know.
“Bronwyn said the first mockups are ready for the new beer label.”
“Yeah.”
Maybe Brenna’s calmed him down…
Gus points to the folder still on the bar, the artwork peeking out.
“That it?”
“Yeah.”
Although he looked ready to kick my ass…
“Dude.” He smacks my arm with the back of his hand, bringing me back down to earth. “What’s with you?”
I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. If only it were that easy.
Following him over to the bar, I hand him the folder, slumping against one of the stools.
“Brandt’s back.”
There. Nice simple answer.
My brother looks at me quizzically. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Didn’t realize he was coming back early. ”
“He was due back this weekend. So what’s a couple of days? And where is he?”
I swallow hard. “Upstairs. With Brenna.”
“Okay, so—” The realization hits him before he says it. “Y’all never got around to telling him, did you?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
Gus’s eyes go wide as the color drains from his face. I nod, letting him come to his own conclusions. It’s really best if I don’t have to say anything here.
“What’s up!” Hux’s voice carries, echoing off the walls. I don’t know if it feels more intense because of the moment, or if he’s somehow honed a new technique, but whatever it is, I can feel it in my bones.
“Your timing is horrible, Hux,” Gus comments.
“Better than Brandt’s,” I quip, unable to help myself.
It’s the truth. Maybe I should be glad that I was only tongue fucking her on our bar rather than actually fucking her in my bed, but right now, I’m not sure that splitting those hairs makes much of a difference. That’s not a position any brother wants to find his sister in.
Certainly not one I would want to find Willa in.
Especially not with someone I was unaware she was seeing.
Who was supposed to be looking out for her. Taking care of her.
If he only knew how I feel about her…
“Huh?” Hux questions.
I suck in a long, hard breath. Time to come clean. At least it’s only these two.
“Brandt came back early and walked in on Brenna and me.”
“Doin’ what?” Hux asks, waggling his eyebrows.
Gus and I both shoot him a look. Gus’s is more condemning than mine, but both of us are asking the same silent question. Really?!
“I had her up on the bar.”
“Doin’ what?” he asks again, same instigating tone.
For fuck’s sake…
“Let’s just assume they weren’t sayin’ their prayers, shall we?” Gus retorts.
I snicker. “I mean, God’s name was evoked…”
“Thatta boy!” Hux gives me a high five, his muscular tattooed bicep flexing.
Gus rolls his eyes, as if he can’t believe the two of us would resort to such behavior. To be fair, these two are probably the only people in the world I’d make such a comment to. Well, them and Brandt. If such a comment wasn’t being made about his sister.
Shit…
Hux starts to ask another question, presumably about Brandt’s reaction to the whole thing, but the sound of the swinging door from the back storeroom slamming against the wall startles us. All three of us turn in unison toward the sound.
Brenna marches across the taproom, anger radiating off her in waves. Her fists are balled at her side, moving back and forth in time with her legs launching her across the room. If she were a cartoon, there would be steam pouring out of her ears and nostrils, the train whistle sound following her.
My heart lurches, stomach churning as I watch. I’m paralyzed for a second, unable to move from the heartache of her being in this pain. Knowing that in some way I caused it. Even if it is from a fight with her brother, that fight was because of me.
Or I assume it was.
“Brenna! ”
Adrenaline rushes through me, helping me break through the paralysis. I stumble, my first few steps a lot more awkward than they should be.
“Bren!”
I call out again, finding my footing and picking up the pace. I angle toward her, trying to cut her off, but she zags, ignoring my pleas. I can’t see her face—she’s turned away and letting her hair hang in front of it—but I don’t need to see it to know that she’s crying. I can tell by the hunch of her shoulders.
And my heart breaks even more.
“Brenna, what happened?”
Beating me to the door, she lets it slam behind her, not bothering to acknowledge me at all. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
My insides clench, a gnawing ache settling in my chest. But there’s no time to register that. To understand the what or why.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and whips me around. My head spins, giving me no time to register anything before a fist connects with my jaw, pain radiating through it.
Crack!
Fuuuuuuck…
I don’t think. I just react.
I hit back.
Here’s the thing about being from a family whose business includes an entire branch on personal safety—you know how to fight. You might never use it. You might hate it. But you know it. The basics anyway. You have them filed away, just in case. Because personal safety includes self-defense.
So yeah, I can throw a punch.
My right hook lands perfectly, connecting exactly where I want it to—my attacker’s temple. Followed by left, which finds his ribs .
That is, until my brothers intervene.
“Whoa!” both Gus and Hux scream simultaneously.
They weasel themselves in between us, Gus wrapping himself around me to contain my actions, just like we were taught in the Hayes classes. It takes a moment, but they get us separated. Then I see it. Him.
I knew who hit me. There wasn’t really a question. But looking him in the eye, my heart hurts all over again.
Brandt.
“Fucking seriously?” Gus growls. “Are you really going to do this?”
“You fucked my sister!” Brandt screams.
“Good to see you too,” I say. “Welcome home. Wasn’t expecting you for a few more days.”
Brandt lunges for me, but Hux steps in, stopping him.
“Fine, but we’re taking this outside. Too many assets in here, and insurance doesn’t cover hissy fits,” Gus grumbles.
Glad to know that’s where Gus’s head is. Assets. My best friend and I are throwing punches at each other, and Gus is worried about something getting broken and having to file an insurance claim. I have half a mind to ask him if my jaw counts as an asset, but opt to keep it to myself. No need to push my luck twice in one afternoon.
Hux opens the garage style door in the back corner behind the bar, the rattle of the metal filling the awkward silence. It’s not much, but at least it’s something. Stops us from having to suffer through it as we make our way to the grassy area between the tap room and the brewhouse, past the new picnic shelter structure we had installed this summer. Hux and Gus lead the way, like two reluctant prison guards on their first day of work.
“You two sure you wanna do this?” Hux asks, looking between us. He’s to my right, Gus to my left, with Brandt directly across from me, the four of us making a weird diamond shape, like we’re the Jets versus the Sharks and about to burst into song. “You’re really both more lovers than fighters.”
Love’s what got me into this mess…thank you very much…
“I took Hayes self-defense,” I say, as if it somehow justifies my actions. It doesn’t. Not in the least.
“Me too,” Brandt adds.
“Yeah…” Hux mutters. “That’s not sayin’ much…”
I can’t disagree with him there. Those classes have never been about kicking someone’s ass. They’re about making sure you don’t get yours kicked. About how to disarm someone or escape a situation.
What to do when your best friend comes at you for something semi-legit is not covered.
“Maybe we could use our words instead of our fists,” Gus suggests.
“Okay, Mr. Rogers,” Hux snarks, the two of them having a conversation through Brandt and me like we’re not here.
“I asked you to look after her!” Brandt shouts, lunging toward me.
I swerve backward, out of his grasp, throwing up an arm to protect myself. Gus mutters something about a good start to using our words, but I don’t ask him to repeat it. Mostly because I know it will only make me want to punch him next.
“I was looking after her.”
“You said you would treat her the same as you would treat Willa. Is that how you’d treat your own sister? You’d fuck Willa?”
I recoil. I know that he said it to get a rise out of me. To make his point. And he’s not wrong. Because I did tell him that I would treat Brenna the same way I would Willa. And I absolutely crossed a line with Brenna this summer I never would with Willa .
“Ew,” Hux comments under his breath.
I plant my feet and look my best friend dead in the eye. All his anger is right there, hovering at the surface, ready to boil over again at any moment. All I can do is hope that I can explain all this to him in a way that will help him understand that none of this was malicious. That all of it was an accident.
No, not an accident. Because that implies that it was a calamity. And falling for Brenna was anything but. This summer was…serendipitous. That’s a better word.
“The only thing I want to do for the rest of my life is look after her.”
“What?”
Brandt rocks backward, as if my statement hit him like a wrecking ball, knocking him off-balance. Slowly, the tension releases from his body, the anger that was simmering in his eyes eases, and he nods. I stay silent, letting him process what I said and come to his own conclusions. There’s still so much I want to say, but I’m letting him lead this. He started it with that first punch after all.
He nods again, each movement careful and deliberate, as if they are their own thought. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gus and Hux signal at each other, gesturing back toward Pour Decisions, but I don’t acknowledge them. They can do what they want. Their intervention isn’t needed anymore.
“She’s still a baby sister,” he comments, a single chuckle slipping out as he lowers himself onto the grass. Bending his legs, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, shaking his head. “My baby sister, to be exact.”
I nod, parking myself next to him, mirroring his stance. “I am aware. She’s also a beautiful, intelligent woman.”
“How?”
One word. One very loaded question.
I nod, trying to find the words to do it all justice. All while not betraying Brenna in the process. Because I’m sure the last thing my beautiful girl wants is for her brother to know this all started because she admitted to never having been on a second date. Or joking about Muldoon faces being eaten every time someone said good girl.
“By accident.” Shit, there’s that word again. “As in not on purpose, accident, not mistake accident.”
“Right.”
“I was looking out for her. She confided in me, and needed some help, so I said yes. Same way that I would hope you would help Willa if she ever came to you. And no, I won’t tell you what it was, because I’m not going to betray her trust. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself,” I explain. I pause, leaning down to pick at a blade of grass. I don’t need to look up to know that he’s nodding in understanding. Call it best friend intuition. “As cliché as it sounds, one thing led to another. We got closer and closer. And then all of a sudden, she wasn’t a little sister anymore. She was…she was a woman. A very grown up, very beautiful woman. And…I couldn’t help myself.”
My heart swells, thinking about Brenna at the murder mystery dinner and the way she lit up when she solved the whodunit. And the way she kissed me back that night at the top of the stairs. I shift, my dick twitching—very inappropriately—as my brain rushes to the Fourth of July on the boat and how she felt in my arms. How irresistible she was.
I clear my throat, trying to get back on track.
“For the first time, I saw her for what she was. Who she is. And I fell. I fell hard. I couldn’t help myself. And yeah, I probably should have stopped myself. I admit it. I should have walked away. I tried. You should know that I tried. But I couldn’t.”
“You fucking lied to me about it.”
“I didn’t lie.”
I was just very careful with my words …
“She did,” he clarifies. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his phone, flipping to something, then turning to show me. It’s a picture of her and me, from the farmers’ market that morning, and my heart plummets. “I asked her about it, and she told me that this was nothing, Anton had thrown a peach at you.”
“That wasn’t a lie; he did.” Brandt glares at me. “But, it’s also what you think it is.” I own it. I need to. He deserves that.
“I planned on asking you too, but you stopped answering my calls.”
Yup, did that too. Mostly so I didn’t lie. I nod, acknowledging the fact that my actions don’t mean I’m not a jackass, just a different kind of one.
“Not my usual style, but in this case, avoidance was definitely easier.”
“You didn’t think you could tell me?” he asks. “Couldn’t have shot me a text being like dude, can we talk ? Or even a taking your sister on a date !”
“Cause if I had sent you a text saying that I was taking your sister on a date, you would have just sent me a thumbs-up?”
Brandt casually lifts the shoulder closest to me. “I probably wouldn’t have taken it seriously.”
“Sneaking and hiding were never my intention. Ask anyone. This whole damn town has seen us. Truth be told, I’m a little surprised you only got the one picture.”
Hell, if I’m honest with myself, part of me thinks I was waiting on the legendary Hickory Hills rumor mill to tell him so I didn’t have to. Save me the trouble.
Then again, I was avoiding his calls…
“Clearly they’re falling down on the job. Someone better tell Hattie Burch. ”
“Or not,” I correct him. “We all might be better off if this is the beginning of the end of the rumor mill.”
Silence falls over us, the rustle of the leaves from the late summer breeze filling the empty space. I’m not sure what else there is to say.
“You’re too old for her.”
“Yup.”
“And you suck at relationships.”
“She makes me want to be better at them. Also cliché, but still true.”
“And she has the whole world at her feet. The chance to go do whatever she wants and be successful and…and…”
“And you think I don’t know that?” I cut him off.
He’s making every point I’ve made all summer. If there’s anyone who knows these arguments, it’s me.
I pop up to my feet, starting to pace.
“You think that I haven’t been warring with myself over this? Brandt, the last thing I want is to be what holds her back.” He opens his mouth to argue with me, but I stop him. “Yes, I know I said I want to spend the rest of my life looking out for her. But part of that is looking out for her best interest. And not letting her make a choice that she is going to regret.”
He looks up at me, studying me. “I don’t want her to be?—”
“Bryce, I know. But I’d like to think I’m at least two steps up from Topher, thank you.”
That earns me a laugh. A real laugh.
“You are. More than two.”
“Good. And believe it or not, Brenna has a number of options for her future, including a real opportunity here in town. A really fucking good one from the sounds of it.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” I crash back down to the ground, my adrenaline pumping, wanting to let my best friend in on the secret. I know I can’t tell him everything, but I can clue him in a bit. “If she’s serious about it, which I think she might be, then she’s gonna need some help from us and Hayes’s lawyers, but this could truly be big for her. And the town. You should be proud.”
“Damn, I missed a lot this summer,” he says.
“Maybe you should leave more often,” I retort, slapping his shoulder. “Stuff only seems to go down when you’re gone.”
He flips me the bird, which I probably deserve. No, not probably. Definitely deserve.
“Brenna’s pretty pissed at me.”
“Your entrance earlier did leave a lot to be desired,” I comment. “What are you doing back early? We weren’t expecting you for a few more days. And how’d you get here?”
“Program was done, and I didn’t feel the need to hang around. So I found an earlier flight and rented a car,” he answers, as if that’s all the explanation that should be needed. “Plus, I felt guilty. I left you here all summer to do everything by yourself, and that clearly took a toll on your creative side, since it took you ’til the eleventh hour to come up with a name for the new brew. Although maybe that was because you were too distracted with my sister.”
I roll my eyes at the accusatory look he gives me. “Hardly. She’s the reason it has a name at all. The muse.”
“TMI.”
“You went there.”
He huffs out a long breath, shaking his head, letting it hang between his knees for a second before looking up at me.
“So it’s real. This thing between you two. What I unfortunately witnessed wasn’t just some fucking around?”
I laugh. “I mean, we were fucking around, but yeah. It’s real. Very, very real. At least for me. And I hope for her too. ”
He nods. “Then I guess I owe you both an apology.”
I smile, my whole body easing. A lightness settles around me, letting me know that all is right with the world again.
“You certainly owe her one,” I say, pushing to my feet. Holding out my hand, I help him up, but don’t immediately let go once he’s upright. “But we’re even.”
“Yeah?”
“I fucked your sister and didn’t tell you.”
Giving me a shove, Brandt rolls his eyes. I laugh, holding my arms out wide, taking a slight bow. Now everything really is right with the world.
“I gotta find Brenna, make this right,” Brandt says as we walk into Pour Decisions. He looks between me and my brothers, one eyebrow quirked up. “What’s the going rate on a ‘your older brother was a major jackass’ apology?”
“About that,” Willa answers.
We both whip around, surprise hitting me hard as I register my own little sister perched on a barstool, legs crossed, leaning against the bar with a drink in her hand like she owns the place. It’s a move only Willa could pull off.
“That expensive?” Brandt blanches.
“That depends.”
Now it’s my turn to raise a brow. It’s been a minute since I had to subject myself to such a grovel, and I usually could get away with simply supplying alcohol when Willa needed as my peace offering, but I can’t imagine it’s as expensive as the look on her—or either of my brothers’—face is suggesting. Right about now Gus is looking like he’d rather cut off his right arm than make a suggestion.
Hux looks even worse.
“When did you get here?” I ask.
“Somewhere around ‘you fucked my sister,’” she replies, lowering her voice to try and impersonate Brandt. I have to admit, she’s not half bad .
“There were a couple of those,” I return.
“Oh, well, pick one.” Willa takes a long sip of her beer. “More importantly, while you two idiots were out there rolling in the dirt, Brenna stormed back in here and slammed this on the bar.”
She slides a coaster down the bar toward me, her expression going somber. My stomach lurches as I reach for it, my fingertips grazing it just enough to grab hold and pull it in the rest of the way. I know my sister, and somber is not in her normal repertoire. Whatever this coaster holds isn’t good.
Picking it up, I suck in a breath, then turn to look at Brandt. Party Mode logo on one side, Brenna’s handwriting is scribbled on the other. And my heart stops.
Driving Mell to Texas. Back in a few days. Don’t text or call. I don’t want to hear it.
I close my eyes, but it doesn’t do much to stop the room from spinning. I hold out the coaster to Brandt, letting him take it, since I’m sure the message is just as much for him as it is for me. Probably more. He was who she fought with. Then again, I’m what they fought about.
Shit…
Spinning on my heel, I walk back outside, hoping the sun will do something to make me feel better. It doesn’t. All it does it make me overheat, the stickiness of the August humidity tacking on to add to the misery,
“Milo…” Willa says, her voice soft.
I don’t respond. There isn’t anything to say. She doesn’t want to hear from me. I knew from the start of all of this that getting involved with Brenna was risky business. That there was always the possibility of it going south or her choosing to leave town. What I didn’t realize in all that was just how bad it would hurt.
“Guess who,” Willa whispers, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind, resting her head against my back, squeezing.
The move is a game we used to play when she was little, one neither of us has used in a long, long time. And it works, my insides easing ever so lightly, the corner of my mouth tipping into a smile. Because for all her strength and snark, Willa is still that same sweet little girl on the inside. At least with me. And that sweet little sister knew exactly what I needed.
I clasp my hands over hers, returning the gesture. We stay like this for a moment, letting the silence surround us, same as we did a few months ago sitting on her couch. Although, back then, Willa was a much bigger mess than I am. She was numb after her blowup with Nash. I’m not numb; I can feel this. Not sure what this is, but I can feel it.
Twisting, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull Willa in for a side hug.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“You helped me figure my shit out; I’m here to help you figure yours out.”
I smile, thankful for a family who is never short on support. “So you wanna help win back the girl?”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you lost the girl. But yes.”