Page 23 of Best Kind of Trouble
If he’s even willing to take the job, given the new curveballs my father just threw.
CHAPTER SIX
LIAM
On Monday afternoon, my sister tugs me back into the storeroom at Big Catch, where she changed the course of my life last night. It’s her first day of work, she’s obviously hungover from the staff party last night, and someone has already puked in the women’s restroom. Still, something tells me Hannah’s not nearly as worried about her own problems as she is about Briar’s.
That’s my sister for you. She’ll do anything for the people she cares about.
The good news is that Hannah doesn’t really need to focus on her job in order to do it. She worked the evening shift for years, so she has this daytime floor manager gig in the bag.
But while the job’s a cinch for her, it’s got to be boring. Hannah’s like me: we live for trouble. But her new boyfriend has a seven-year-old kid, a kid she loves, and she’d rather be around for him than have a more interesting job.
“Couldn’t you just go outside with me for a cigarette break instead of bringing me in here?” I say, rolling my eyes at her as she switches on the single bulb in the cramped room.
“Neither of us smokes.”
“I’ve been thinking of taking it up to get more breaks.”
“Very funny,” she says, because we both know she’d figure out a way to kick my ass if I started smoking again. “Have you heard from Briar?”
I stop myself from snapping the hair band on my wrist. It still smells like her.
Not that I’ve been sniffing my wrist constantly like a weirdo. I just noticed, is all. I don’t usually walk around smelling like flowers.
“No,” I say gruffly. “I thought you told me you didn’t want me messaging your friends.”
She growls at me.
I lift my hand as if tapping out of a fight. “Look, I told her I’d take the job, and I will. But we’re not suddenly friends who text each other. She’ll let me know when she’s ready for me to start working, and we’ll go from there.”
She glances around at the shelves anchored to the walls and stacked with supplies, as if she thinks there might be someone else in this tiny-ass room with us. When she reaches the obvious conclusion that we’re alone, she says in an undertone, “She texted me an hour or two ago. Her father’s only giving her a budget to last until the end of the year.”
I whistle, and she shoves me for making noise, then bites her lip.
“Look, in light of this new information, I’m not going to make you take the job, Liam. It’s a risk. I can find her a different brewer.”
Laughter rips out of me. “Oh, so now you’re trying to give away the job you ‘made’ me take? How were you going tomakeme take it, anyway?”
“I know you’re ticklish,” she says pointedly. “What if Itickled you in public, right before a boxing match? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”
“Nice try.” I smirk. “It would be helpful, if anything. The other guy would underestimate me, and then he’d be the one feeling embarrassed after the ticklish asshole smashed his face in.”
But my smile fades as I consider the latest development in the Silver Star drama. Odds are, Briar’s cooked. A few weeks of budget, no staff. That’s a lot to turn around, and over the holidays too. She’d be lucky to make it halfway through January.
I’ll be damned if that doesn’t make me curious to see what Princess Briar pulls out of the think tank between her ears. Because I saw her hit that bag last night. That woman might be green, but she’s tougher than she seems.
Challenges light me up, and I got a feeling she’s the same way.
“You don’t have to do it,” Hannah says again, although I can tell she still wants me to. She’s feeling guilty is all. She’ll feel guiltier if I’m unemployed in a month.
Would I give her shit about it? Would I ever. But only because it’s the Moroney way. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love my sister, our dad, and our little brother, Connor. Never will. That’s what happens when you get thrown into the deep end and have to save each other.
Our mother walked out when Hannah was little and Connor was a baby. Something like that happens, you either get close with the people left to you, or you leave everyone behind forever. We chose each other, thank Christ.
“I’m not going to let you down,” I insist. “If the brewery kicks it, I’ll get another gig. We won’t be able to work together anymore, which sucks?—”
Shehuffs in protest.
