Silver Brewer: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “I know,” I mutter. “But it’s not like I can call him back and say, hey, I’m a nut-head lately, forgive me. Or better yet, race down to him and grovel at his feet.” I can’t leave Illinois, and I want to curse the adoption process even though I understand its reasoning. I want to raise my fist and scream. I am a good woman. I deserve this abandoned child. Why can’t you trust me? But I don’t want anything to get in my way of keeping Finn forever.

  Nothing’s permanent, Olivet, until it’s in black ink on dotted lines. It might be Uncle Frank’s only decent advice.

  “If you call him, I think he’ll understand you’re a little off balance lately. And yes, typically an apology works best, and when groveling, so do blow jobs, but we don’t need to discuss that.”

  My head can’t wrap around the fact I won’t be giving Giant one of those to make up for what I’ve done. I won’t be kissing him or touching him or anything ever again.

  “You didn’t even tell him about Mr. Calder?” Marcus reminds me, and I sit up, brushing at my cheeks.

  Marcus gives me a disapproving look once again. It took a few months of persistently pestering one Drake Calder, grandson and attorney to Sam, to forgive me and then get what I wanted—an interview with the old man. I’d been hurt after what my uncle thought I’d done, but I couldn’t shake the feeling there was a reason I met Mr. Calder, the elder, in the wrong place at the right time instead of his grandson. Maybe it was the romantic in me, but I couldn’t let it go.

  “Why didn’t you at least tell Giant about that?”

  Never let anything divide you. Not family, business, money, or a river.

  Oh Mr. Calder, how right you were, yet what about miles and miles of distance? His girl moved to California, and he never got her back. Why didn’t she come back? I bet she was afraid. I bet the resort in her memories didn’t match the reality of her heart, and she couldn’t turn back. Her summer of love was all a fantasy. A great adventure. One she’d never forget.

  My shoulders fall, and I reach for Finn on Marcus’s lap, needing the comfort of holding my child. Once he’s in my arms, I remind myself I need to think about more than me. I need to continue with my initial plan despite the stabbing pain in my chest. I need to do what’s best to keep Finn.

  “I think I need to let the poor man be.” My resolve returns just a little bit. The best thing for Giant is to set him free.

  33

  Brotherly love

  [Giant]

  Three more months have passed, and being the last week of May, her six months are up any day.

  “You look like shit.” A gruff male voice mocks me while my throat burns with another swallow of whiskey. I should be over at Blue Ridge Microbrewery and Pub, celebrating the Summer Fling Sample Thing Billy thought up as another draw to the bar. Samples and such will be provided to introduce our summer brews, but I couldn’t handle the festivities.

  “Surprised to see you here.” A heavy hand pats my shoulder, holds a moment, and then a man sits on the barstool next to me. I turn to face James. This is his hangout. Ridged Edge is a bar on the outskirts of town, appropriately named, as well as owned and operated by Rebel’s Edge, the local biker club. James is second in command. He joined them at a low point in his life. They aren’t hard-core one-percenters, but they’ve had their share of unsavory dealings. It’s one reason I didn’t feel safe with Letty up on the mountain with him nearby.

  You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, along with Finn. Then don’t walk away, I wanted to shout during that phone call months ago, but I heard it in her voice. We were over.

  “It’s a free country because of men like me,” I slur, rousing myself from thoughts of Letty. I went off to fight for America. James decided to do service Stateside. Search and rescue was his calling, and he became a ranger in the Smoky Mountain area, saving people on terrain more familiar to him than the dry, arid desert was to me.

  “Thank you for your service,” he mocks, rapping on the bar and then holding up two fingers. This place isn’t their secluded club. It’s open to the public who might want a little taste of danger and maybe a one-night stand. I’m contemplating both, but then Letty pops into my thoughts once again, and I know it isn’t true. I’d never have a one-night stand again.

  “What brings you here?” My younger brother’s rugged tone matches my own.

  I hold up my low glass and jiggle it for him. The amber liquid inside sloshes from side to side like my stomach. I’m trying to ignore the ache in my heart.

  Selfishly, I saw a baby only for myself.

  She was lying. She wanted it all, and I was willing to give it to her. “I’m having a shit day,” I mumble. A shit week. A shit month. A shitty few months. So much shit.

  James snorts next to me. The bartender brings him a few fingers of whiskey in a lowball glass like mine and slides another in front of me. James taps my glass with his before lifting it to his lips. “To women.”

  I huff and stroke a hand over my beard. I need a trim.

  “Lost my girl,” I mutter, shocked to admit the words out loud to my absentee brother. Being closest in age compared to my other siblings, he was my best friend as a kid. Two years younger made no difference. Then I went away. Life got in the way.

  His head swivels, and he stares at the side of my face. I don’t need to look over at him to know he understands me—what I feel and what I’m thinking. He’s lost many women in his life.

  He exhales. “Damn, I liked her.” He doesn’t mean it in any other way than he was impressed by her when he met her that one time up at the old ranger station on the mountain. She held her own against me even with him as an audience. The time reminds me…

  “What were you doing up there? At the station last fall?”

  James turns his head forward, staring at the glass bottles along the opposite wall while I face him. His profile is similar to mine yet not the same. He has more gray hair—silver actually—despite being younger than me. A scraggly patch of hairs circles his mouth and lines his jaw, heaviest on his chin. His blue eyes are as sad as I feel, but the edge to his cheeks tells me he’s keeping it in. Maybe we aren’t so dissimilar after all.

  “Camping.” He’s lying, and we both know it. As he told me, the station isn’t a campground.

  “We heard shots.” I pause, giving my brother time to explain himself.

  “That was target practice.” Sarcasm drips from his voice.

  “That’s what you told Charlie. Want to tell me the truth?”

  James’s lip tweaks at the corner of his mouth, and he stares back at me, his eyes admitting he knows I know he’s lying. “You always were the smartest of all of us.”

  I chuckle without humor. “You know Charlie is the smartest.”

  James snorts. “Let’s get back to your girl. What happened?” His voice shifts, and I hear the familiar sound of him buried beneath the tough exterior he’s built over the last few years. The voice of my brother, the best friend, who could read me and my silence better than most. He doesn’t typically chat with us as his real family, resigning himself to the club as his brotherhood, but I’m grateful for a moment he’s acting like the brother I once knew and still love.

  “It’s a long story, but the short of it is, she adopted a baby, and she didn’t want me to be part of it.”

  I want to adopt Finn with you.

  Then what?

  “Ouch,” James mumbles. Talking about a child is the last thing I want to do with my brother, but he continues to question me. “Why’d she adopt?”

  “A number of reasons,” I say, not wanting to give away all of Letty’s secrets. “But I think most of all she just wanted a family after a jilted relationship.”

  “How do you fit in there?” He scoffs.

  “I was the next guy.” My attention turns back to my brother, and he stares at me, pain resonating in his eyes. He’s the only Harrington with blue eyes.

  Was I some kind of transition man for Letty? I don’t believe it for a second, b
ut still, I have my doubts. What were we doing all those months besides playing house? I thought we were building something, biding our time until time passed, and we could take the next step.

  James nods next to me, knowing all about “the next guy” syndrome.

  “Women sure do know how to sock a punch,” he mutters, giving away his only weakness as he turns his attention to the liquor in his glass. He stares at the whiskey before taking a deep swallow of the burning liquid. “I’m sorry, man.”

  Silence falls between us another minute. It’s one of the best qualities about my relationship with James. We don’t need to fill any quiet with useless chatter.

  Cricket certainly could chirp, and I almost chuckle with the thought until I remember how sad I am not to hear her voice, her sounds, her hum. My dick weeps at the same time it jolts for attention. My entire being misses her.

  “Evie didn’t call.” The admission startles me as much as him sitting next to me. Evie Pepperly was the love of James’s life, and he never mentions her name. Never. But I know about his pact with her. Once a year, she guarantees to call him. It’s always around this time. Fuck. I don’t know who has it worse. Then I peer over at my brother. Him, he definitely has it worse than I do.

  “I’m sorry, man,” I reply to him as he did to me. He shrugs, but he isn’t so nonchalant over this missed call. He won’t tell me more, and his demeanor tells me not to ask.

  “You know,” he begins after another moment. “If she was my girl, I’d fight everything in my way to keep her.”

  Considering Letty is the main thing standing in my way of obtaining her, I snort.

  “I’m serious. A baby wouldn’t keep me away from a woman if I loved her. It would redouble my efforts to be with her instead.”

  Oh man, this is going to get real deep, real fast if we start talking about kids, but then a thought occurs to me. An elderly voice fills my head.

  Never let anything divide you.

  Sam Calder. That man had loved someone deeply. Enough that he wanted to rebuild a resort in hopes his lost woman would return. What could I build for Letty to bring her back to me?

  “It isn’t the baby that’s holding her back,” I mutter although I’m not certain that’s true. She wanted everything: love, marriage, family.

  I sit up straighter on my stool.

  Family. Did she misunderstand? Did she not see I wanted it all with her as well?

  Don’t do this, I said, but did I explain myself to her? It wasn’t only adopting Finn; it was about marrying her as well. It was about building a family.

  Fucking hell.

  I scrub a hand down my face. “Love sucks,” I mutter although I don’t mean it. The love I’ve had with Letty has been everything to me. I’m not certain I’ve explained myself to her, and now, it’s too late.

  “Don’t I know it,” James mumbles. Then he taps my empty glass with the edge of his and downs the rest of his whiskey. “You win. You look pathetic, old man.” His lips twist as the corner crooks into a half-ass grin, and I’m reminded once again of us when we were younger, always trying to one-up each other. God, how I’ve missed him.

  “Speak for yourself,” I snark, reaching out to ruffle his hair as though he were still a kid. His hand catches my wrist before I can touch him, and our eyes lock. The hold he has on me is tight and meaningful, a warning. My sign he’s no longer my kid brother. “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “Me too,” he says, releasing my wrist and lowering his hand to his thigh. His fingers spread and then clench together. He closes his eyes for a second. His body trembles.

  “Still having nightmares?” I question, pushing him another inch. “You know I understand.” It’s my olive branch. My hope that he’ll turn to me as his big brother, like he once did when we were kids. Turn to me like he should have when things turned sour for him.

  “I’m not doing this with you.” He immediately stands. His hand hovers in the air, and then he retracts it to his side. “Happy Birthday, big brother.”

  I’m surprised he remembered. The marker of my birth coincides with a low time in his existence.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, but he’s already walking away. Fifty years old. Why do I feel like this is the story of my life? People always walking away. My wife is dead. My girls live in Atlanta. And the woman I believe to be the new love of my life doesn’t want me involved in hers.

  I continue to watch James retreat until a woman saunters up to him, wrapping herself around him, and he kisses her temple. The affection looks forced. His emotions are locked back within his jaw.

  To brothers, I decide as I lift my empty glass. Then I pick up my phone to call Charlie for a ride. I’m too buzzed to drive.

  An email alert catches my attention before I make the call, and I absentmindedly click the notification when I see the sender is Mullen Realty.

  The court settled in her favor after the mother signed over her maternal rights. Thought you’d like to know she’s finally free and gets to keep the baby.

  All the best, Marcus Klurg.

  What the fuck? Was Letty in jeopardy of losing Finn? Why hadn’t she told me?

  I stare at the message.

  She would have called me if she wanted me to know. It’s clear she doesn’t. She got what she wanted with Finn, and he’ll have a great life.

  I just wish I could be in it—with both of them.

  Instead, I delete the email and call my brother Charlie for a ride home, where I’ll be going alone. Always alone.

  34

  Name your price

  [Giant]

  After my lacking celebratory drink with James, I give in to the longing to isolate myself. I head up the mountain the following weekend. I haven’t had the heart to come to the cabin all spring, sensing memories of Letty would be all around me, but she never entered the place. We’d been higher up on Pap’s land instead. And I want the solitude.

  The heavy thwack of an ax splintering wood does nothing to ease my thoughts or the worrisome questions within my head. Why did Marcus send the email and not Letty? How had Marcus found me? I assume my information is office knowledge after Letty’s attempt to solicit me for my land. I want to smile at the memory of her, but instead, I hammer down at the wood with more force. I don’t want her to be a memory. I want her in my arms, in my home, in my heart.

  I walk up the porch of the cabin to stack an armful of chopped wood by the front door and then return to the yard, preparing to start chopping another pile when an SUV clears the trees and exits the narrow drive.

  Now what? I mutter in my head. No one comes up here. You’d have to be really lost to stumble upon this place.

  The SUV draws near, and my fingers clench harder at the shaft of the ax in my hand. My chest heaves as I consider throwing it at the windshield to stop whoever is driving recklessly close to me. The vehicle stops short of my wood pile, and the driver door opens. For a second, the offending driver is hidden by the large door. Then, out steps a woman, one I recognize immediately with my eyes, my heart, and another body part that hasn’t been used on the regular since some time back in the winter.

  Cricket, my heart screams, but I don’t speak to her.

  “Mr. Harrington?”

  Is she serious? I watch as her throat rolls with a swallow, and her hands clench at her sides. Her eyes stay focused on mine. She’s wearing tight jeans with flip-flops and a tank top. Her clothes hug her body, outlining a form I’ve missed with each passing second of the past few months. It’s warm for late May. The trees are all in bloom, and the sky is bright, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

  “George Harrington the second?” she formally inquires, and I drop the ax in order to cross my arms. I turn my head away from her, staring off in the distance. She’s kidding me, right?

  “Giant,” she whispers, and I close my eyes. My heart squeezes. I want to run to her, wrap her in my arms, and inhale the scent of her hair. Mouthwatering apricots.

  Then I want to shake her for breaking my heart.<
br />
  “Where’s Finn?” I ask, turning back to the SUV and wondering if she left him somewhere back in Chicago at her home.

  “He’s sleeping.” She hitches a thumb in the direction of the vehicle.

  He’s here. She brought Finn with her. She’s free to travel about the country.

  “What are you doing here?” I don’t want to ask. I want to wait her out and hear her explanation before I sound desperate; however, my voice is rough and the question harsh. Her hands clutch together before her, and her head lowers.

  “I don’t suppose you’d believe I was in the area. That would seem a little impossible. Then again, I could say I’m looking for property, which I am. I’m looking to make an investment for a buyer, and I heard this is a good area. Pretty trees. Lovely sky. The male scenery isn’t too bad, either.”

  Not this again.

  She’s rambling to fill the space, and her lips curl up at the corner, pleased with herself. If she’s flirting with me, she’s going to have to try a lot harder. I’m hurt. We’ve had no contact since the break-up phone call. The rip-me-to-shreds-and-throw-me-away-in-the-wind phone call. I wrote a hundred emails and deleted them all. I never received one from her. I want her reasons. I want to understand.

  You destroyed me, I want to yell at her while she stares at me all adorable in her tight jeans and teasing smile with chirping lips. Lips I want to kiss. I’m a fucking contradiction.

  “There’s nothing for sale here,” I say, keeping my tone curt. My heart races, and my arms tighten around my chest, willing myself to stay still and not approach her.

  “Perhaps in town?” My brows pinch. What does she mean? “Or something in the general area?”

  What? “Land’s empty and owned for miles.”

  “I could build. I know those Duncans have a construction business in the family.”

  What the…?

  “You can’t build out here, Letty,” I snap, and she flinches at my voice.