Page 124 of Best Kind of Trouble
The look on his face says I’ve officially gotten his attention, and also that he’s kind of pissed at me. “So what if I was?”
“You can feel sorry for yourself later. The article is bullshit, as you know. My father’s giving me another test, but I’m sick of playing his games. Dottie has a plan for dealing with the fallout. We’re not giving them what they want.”
“You’re not giving me up, Princess?” His mouth turns up in a sardonic smile. “Because you could, you know. I figured you wouldn’t be upset to get rid of me right now. I might be good, but there are plenty of good brewers out there who don’t have arrest records or baggage. Ones your daddy might like a little better.”
My heart lurches. His words are razor-edged, but I can feel the hurt flowing off him.
“Well, you figured wrong. Now, do we have a pale ale to carbonate or not? Because Dottie and I are ready. She even ordered matching silver sequined sweaters for everyone at thebrewery, like the one she’s wearing. I assume you got bigger sizes for Liam and Otis?” I ask, glancing at Dottie.
“Of course,” she says with a smile. “Liam’s might be a little small, but there’s nothing wrong with a snug fit. I thought we could all wear them for the New Year’s party.”
“You heard her.” I shift my gaze back to Liam, meeting the challenging look he’s giving me. “We’re all going to have festive sweaters, so we definitely need to have a beer better than this one.” I gesture to the crappy IPA that I shoved away from him.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says, saluting me, his words sending an electric charge through me.
“We’ll be fine as long as we stick to the rules,” I lie in an undertone, telling myself it’s true. “We’ve done it before.”
He raises his eyebrows again, and I have the foolish urge to trace them with my fingers. To kiss him and forget the rules and also the sight of that app on his phone. I want to go back to the feeling of lying in his arms. But it’s not that simple. My wariness has been reignited, and it’s had plenty of practice over the last several years.
“Maybe I’ll tattoo them onto my body.” The way he says it is sinuous, invoking memories of that tattoo winding around his arm and the one on his thick, muscular thigh.
“Oh, that would be quite painful,” Dottie says, tsking. “It might be easier to just memorize them. I could make a mnemonic for you, if you’d like to show them to me.”
“Nah,” he says, getting to his feet. “It’s not remembering them that’s the problem.” He meets my gaze again, his eyes bottomless. “It’s following them.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
BRIAR
It’s Friday, two days before the New Year’s Eve party. My father has already confirmed that he and my mother are coming—and also that he expects me to attend the weekly Sterling family dinner tonight.
He didn’t acknowledge Melly’s article, or the role he clearly played in it, not that I’d expected differently. Accountability is not his thing—hence the way he made it our fault that he and Bubba flubbed the brewery’s organic status.
He also has not acknowledged the retraction the paper printed, or the statement from Liam, reporting that he took over the brewing at the beginning of the month and has seen no evidence that the brewery was producing organic beer before the change in management.
We told the truth, which is exactly what was needed, but the truth is always a double-edged sword.
Because even if my father won’t acknowledge our statement, other people have. Several of the bars and local grocers that stock our beer have called up threatening to cut ties over it. I’ve had to make several restitution payments, and I’m sure more requests will come. Maybe enough to sink us for good.
Everything had been shaping up so well, but now our path is full of stumbling blocks.
I haven’t told anyone other than Dottie about the blowback yet, and all she’s done is pat my hand and assure me that it’s all going to be okay and that the truth is always a worthy cause.
Though Liam and I worked on writing his response together, and the words flowed like magic, he’s barely said a word to me since.
He looks at me though.
He looks at me a lot, and every time he does, it feels like my heart is being ripped into smaller pieces.
It wants to love him. It wants to trust him. It wants to believe it’s possible for us to have some kind of future together, even though publicly acknowledging our relationship is even riskier now. It might convince people that Melly had a point—that Liam has been steering the ship solo, and I’m a no one at my own brewery.
I don’t want that, but Idowant him. I’ve struggled to sleep at night, because I keep waking up, half-expecting him to be there, only to discover that the warm paw striking me in the face belongs to Karma. I wanteverything—Liam and the brewery and my friends—and each morning I wake up with the sinking feeling that I might end up getting nothing in the end. Just like last time, and the time before.
Maybe I really am doomed to be a failure, but I won’t accept that fate without putting up a fight.
In honor of my new determination, I got a punching bag and set it up in my apartment. Karma watches me apathetically every night as I practice boxing with my new gloves. I haven’t told Liam about it, but Hannah and Sophie know.
Now that they’re both back from their respective trips, I’ve had a chance to catch them up on things. We haven’t seen each other yet, but they’ve been supportive. Nora, too. Of course theydon’t know everything. All they know is that someone printed shitty lies about the brewery and we had to bite back.
