Whiskey (Brewed Book 2)

by Molly McAdams

  Wide eyes on him.

  Worry for where this would go making my pulse race.

  But when he spoke, his voice lacked any of the depth in his eyes. “Casual, right?” A crease appeared between his brows. “That’s the answer you’re talking about.”

  I hesitated for a moment before nodding.

  “That isn’t an answer, Emberly, that’s your instinctive shields talking.”

  “Bullshit.” It was a stunned breath, but the words that followed grew louder and louder until I was yelling. “I’ve told you from the beginning what we were and what we weren’t. You’re the one who started laughing at the reminder. You’re the one who started laughing when I told you I didn’t want something serious. You’re the one who refuses to listen or understand.”

  “Laughing because part of me always knew to expect those shields because they’re so completely you. Not laughing at you.”

  “They’re not shields, Kip!” I cried out, one of my hands moving up to my chest when it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  When it felt like he was coming far too close to a part of me I’d spent years protecting. Hiding.

  “I wanted casual,” I continued. “I wanted to have a few hours every now and then. I never wanted anything else and I don’t know why you can’t see that.”

  The way he was looking at me?

  It was odd because my mind knew it should hurt, but I was already so destroyed I wasn’t sure I could feel pain that wasn’t linked to a man with eyes the color of a raging sea.

  “You come to me when something’s wrong, Emberly,” he said somberly. “You come to me to make any and all pain not hurt so bad. Since that first night, neither of us has been with anyone else even though I’ve had opportunities, and there’s a line of guys here who want you.” One of his brows ticked up. “And a few months is a long damn time to go without fucking you.”

  I went still as the night before burst through my mind in excruciating flashes.

  Teasing and tormenting me with the sliver of heaven I’d touched before it was ripped away.

  “We started out casual, yeah. That was the agreement,” Kip continued, somehow reaching through my internal agony and bringing me back to my living room and the conversation. “But nine years of us? Nine years of taking on whatever’s wrong? Of knowing if I need you or you need me, we’re there? That isn’t casual. Why wouldn’t I think you wanted something more?”

  My head moved in slow, full shakes. “No . . . no, I don’t. I never did, and I knew you didn’t either.”

  I’d been sure he didn’t until he’d sprung it on me out of nowhere that he wanted to marry me. Would marry me the next time he was in Amber.

  I tried to swallow but my throat felt thick. “You never said anything about wanting something more until a few months ago.”

  “Because I know you,” he claimed. “You’re the most codependent, independent person I’ve ever met. In friendships, you need those people close—right by your side. Always. But relationships? You won’t consider them because you crave freedom and your identity. I respect that. It’s why I’ve never pushed you.”

  Wrong.

  Wrong, he’s wrong.

  My head was shaking and shaking as everything he said had wrong repeating in my mind until I was trembling from his explanations and assumptions.

  “Not to mention, you’ve been helping out at that shop since you were a teenager, and it’s hard to get you away from there. And I never expected to want to stay in Oklahoma, but I do now and I can see us there.”

  “Helping out at.”

  I wanted to lash out at him. Correct him. But then I finally grasped the last part.

  My head jerked back. “Wait, what—you . . . what? You expected me to leave Amber? To leave Brewed?”

  Kip watched me for a second before releasing my name on a sigh. “Emberly . . .”

  My head shook faster, sharper as I stepped back, placing a hand out in front of me to keep him from continuing. “Not that you and I are happening because we aren’t, but even if we were, how could you have expected me to leave? This is my life. Brewed is my life—not some place I help out at.”

  “We can figure—”

  “No,” I yelled. “There’s nothing to figure out. I need you to understand that. Casual is all I wanted. In the beginning, the last time I saw you, ever.”

  I struggled over telling him exactly why he’d been wrong while also trying to make myself understand that the reason I’d kept relationships at bay had left without a word.

  Again.

  And finally blurted out, “I don’t crave my freedom or identity.” My soul twisted and cried out, squeezing a pained breath from my lungs. “I’ve avoided relationships because someone took my heart a long time ago, and no one has touched it since.”

  A grave expression stole across Kip’s face.

  “Casual,” I said weakly. “I never asked you to be exclusive to me, and I didn’t see myself as exclusive to you. I was simply with only you because no one was him. Because I thought you understood what I needed and what I wanted.” One of my hands moved to my temple before flinging to the side. “And then you tried to change things!”

  “You said ‘I love you.’”

  “What?” It was only a rasp but it seemed to fill the room that suddenly felt too small and too silent.

  “To me,” he finally said nearly a minute later. Eyes meeting mine before shifting away. “You said ‘I love you.’”

  Denial poured from me as I staggered to the couch.

  I didn’t have to ask.

  As soon as I sank to the cushion, Kip released a weighted breath and began explaining.

  “Last time you visited?” He nodded as if I were the one asking. “You turned to face me the way you do as you’re falling asleep and just kinda sighed and said, ‘I love you.’ Next morning, you were all business and acted like nothing had happened, so I let you because I know how you are and thought maybe you’d freaked.”

  Never in my life had I said those words to someone who wasn’t family.

  Mom, Sawyer, Rae.

  Family.

  “But then the next time I came, everything was different. We spent an entire day just talking. You invited me to breakfast at your mom’s.”

  I reared back, my scoff stopping him from continuing. “What does breakfast have to do with anything?”

  “When had I ever had a meal with your mom before that?”

  I blinked quickly, thinking and coming up empty. “Well, it would’ve been rude not to invite you. We needed to have our monthly meeting regarding Brewed, and you were staying for another night. As for the rest, you were there for a day and a half that time, if I remember correctly. There are only so many times a person can have sex in a thirty-six-hour period. Of course we spent time talking.”

  His head shifted forward, one of his brows raising in a way that was challenging and suggestive all at once. “Months, Emberly . . . we go months.” A carnal look stole across his face as if he were remembering times I’d really rather he wouldn’t right then. “When we are together, you’re insatiable.”

  Blood fanned across my face as memories were drowned in embarrassment and quickly overshadowed by the previous night.

  A night that had surpassed any before.

  Cayson had pushed me to new highs.

  Had me trembling long after we’d come down and were resting in a sea of bliss.

  “That night?” Kip said, breaking through my joy and shame. “You slept in my arms. First time.”

  “No.” My head snapped up. “We don’t—that is not something we do.”

  A harsh laugh tumbled from his lips. “Want me to go on with why I thought we could finally have that future I’d been waiting for?”

  “No, because none of it is—God,” I ground out, driving my hands into my hair as a dozen emotions tore through me when I wasn’t sure I could handle anymore.

  Shame for unintentionally making him think I wanted something more.

/>   Horror for saying words that had never been meant for him.

  Sorrow for that crushed look in his eyes.

  Frustration because I had helped bring this on when I’d been sure Kip had just been refusing to listen to me.

  “It wasn’t supposed to be anything else,” I whispered. My throat tightened uncomfortably, straining my words as I tried to explain in a way that wouldn’t hurt him more. “Everything you’re saying—it wasn’t what you thought. It was all coincidental.”

  A breath punched from him.

  Heavy.

  Pained.

  Ripping into me.

  “Kip, I’m sorry,” I hurried to say. Standing and reaching out for him instinctively before I was able to force my hand to my stomach.

  It wasn’t that it was him.

  It was hurting anyone and especially this way.

  But trying to comfort him would only make this worse, would only confuse him more.

  “Breakfast, talking . . . it was a coincidence. As for the times when we slept . . . Kip, I don’t remember any of that, and I don’t—” My head shook slowly, my voice twisting even more. “Kip, I’m sorry. I don’t love you.”

  The last words were drowned out by the rapid pounding on my door.

  My heart foolishly took off in a frenzy, my stomach fluttering in response before everything stalled and soured when I remembered the man in front of me.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  Kip hadn’t moved.

  Leaned back in the chair. Wounded stare on me. Not seeming to notice the persistent knocking.

  “Emberly, open up,” a familiar voice called out, muffled by the wood of the door.

  But that voice? It wasn’t deep and gravelly, and it hadn’t fueled my dreams for years.

  It was odd whipping back and forth from immense relief to dejection in such a short time.

  When I’d recognized her voice, a grateful breath had ripped from me because I’d known Kip and Cayson weren’t about to be in the same place.

  It hadn’t mattered that neither of them knew what the other meant to me. I had been positive when the knocking started that my punishing emotions would reveal everything.

  This morning had been enough of a shitstorm without that scenario.

  In the next instant, I’d nearly fallen to my knees at the overwhelming pain that came with grasping that Cayson had truly left.

  “Emberly, we need to talk sooner rather than later if you know what’s good for you,” she called out.

  “Lot of people wanna talk to you this morning,” Kip said irritably.

  I staggered from the spot I’d been rooted to and over to my front door, wrenching it open just as she began talking again.

  Rae’s eyes went wide when she saw me, her expression falling. “Oh, Em.” Her head moved in quick, little shakes. “Oh, Em, no . . .”

  And then her arms were wrapped around me, and I had the strongest urge to cry.

  I wasn’t even sure why she was there or why she’d looked at me the way she had, but I needed her and I needed that hug.

  I wanted to tell her about Cayson.

  I wanted to tell her about everything that had just gone down with Kip.

  Except Kip was still in my living room, and Rae was whispering that she was sorry. And in those sorrys, I nearly crumpled because I realized she already knew about my night.

  “I was sure . . . I was so sure,” she said, pulling back a little to look at me. Her brow furrowed and her eyes glistened as she studied me. “I’m so sorry, Emberly. Let’s get you some coffee and food, and we’ll talk. But first . . . maybe put some pants on. Okay?”

  A startled laugh left me because I hadn’t realized I wasn’t wearing any, but I just shook my head and asked, “How did you know?”

  Rae’s eyes darted to the side and widened. For a second, her expression turned a little comical before it pinched in confusion. “Who are you?”

  “You’re Rae,” Kip said confidently.

  “Yeah, and who the hell are you?”

  “Kip,” I said on a heavy sigh. “This is Kip.”

  Rae released her hold on me and took another step back, head slanting as she blinked slowly. “I think . . . I think I misunderstood something. I should go.”

  I wanted to beg her not to leave.

  Ask what she thought she’d known because I had a feeling it was exactly what had happened.

  Tell her everything.

  But Kip spoke first. “You’re good.” The words were somehow soft and gruff and kind and wounded all at once. “I was just leaving.”

  “Kip,” I said pleadingly, turning to find him already right there.

  A breath away.

  When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “Fucked up thing is, if I didn’t know you, I’d leave town and never look back. But I do. It’s hard to sit there and listen to everything you said. It hurts like hell because I know a part of you wants to mean it. But through it all, I still saw you tossing up shield after shield around you.”

  “Kip, no . . . you can’t keep doing this. You’re hurting yourself more by not trusting that I’m telling you the truth. And what you’re asking for?” I pressed a hand to my chest. “A future, a relationship, marriage . . . I don’t want those things. I need you to understand that.”

  His head moved in a mixture of a nod and a shake as he turned, rubbing at his temple as he went.

  “I’m sorry,” I called out, knowing it probably meant nothing at this point.

  “You know why I don’t,” he said when he neared the door, turning on me. “You know why I can’t.” He gestured in the direction of the living room and lowered his voice. “Everything I told you plus others I didn’t get into.”

  “Kip, I told—”

  “But most of all,” he continued over me, “it’s the way you keep saying casual. Casual, like you suddenly get all uncomfortable that I’m even bringing up the future, and then you change the subject or hang up. But then the next time we talk, you’re back to the girl who’s been my constant. You’re jumping into my arms and tearing at my clothes when I walk through this door. Nine years of that is why I’m struggling with what you’re trying to make me believe.”

  My chest heaved with a jagged breath as nearly a decade flashed through my mind.

  Years of nights and hours and even minutes that had been nothing more than a way to fill a need . . . to heal pains for both of us. Or so I’d thought.

  A way to not have to deal with messy and complicated when I was already so completely gone to a man I was sure I would never see again.

  Now I was just regretting it all.

  “What’s funny? The one thing out of everything that made me think you were actually telling the truth?” He jerked his chin to the side, stare flashing that direction for a split second. “Not that I’d seen her yet, but I still knew who she was the second I saw her. She’s your sister, Emberly, and she didn’t know who the hell I was.”

  With that, he turned and left. Slamming the door as he went.

  I stared at the dark wood of the door for a long moment before I turned to Rae, a stuttered breath heaving from me.

  “Hi,” I said pathetically.

  “Hey. I’m so sorry, I had no idea that’s what I was coming into. I thought . . .” Her head slanted as if she were deciding against whatever she’d been about to say. “What can I do?”

  “You can tell me.” At her hesitant look, I said, “Tell me what you were going to say. What did you come for? What did you think you were going to find?”

  A second passed.

  And then another.

  “Emberly, I don’t think—”

  “If it has to do with Cayson, just tell me,” I snapped, my voice sounding frantic and slightly unhinged from the emotional turmoil I’d already gone through since waking.

  “I thought he was here,” she said quickly, hands raised placatingly. “I thought he was here, but he isn’t. I was wrong.”

  My chest was heaving, and I wasn’t sure
why.

  From the burst of adrenaline.

  From the possibility of Rae and Sawyer knowing—how they knew.

  Or because I wasn’t ready to hear confirmation of what he’d done.

  My teeth were clenched tight when I asked, “Why?”

  Her face creased with worry, but when I repeated the question, she explained, “You weren’t at Brewed.”

  I waited, watching her for a few seconds before a sharp laugh burst from me. “So, that led to you thinking Cayson was here?”

  “He wasn’t there when we got back from Beau and Savannah’s last night. Sawyer couldn’t get in touch with him last night or all this morning. We were going to meet for lunch at Brewed. Sawyer showed up right after me and that’s when Jennifer had been telling me you hadn’t been in at all—that no one had even heard from you.”

  My eyelids slowly shut.

  A mumbled curse slipped past my lips.

  “He lost it, Em. Started flipping out, saying he’d told Cayson not to go near you. That he was going to kill him if he hurt you again. I could barely get him to stay seated and talk to me.” She rubbed at her neck in a way that showed how uncomfortable she was with what she was about to say. How worried she was. “He told me he’d been talking to Cayson on his way to meet me. Said that Cayson had been at Brewed last night and spent the night with someone—some drunk mistake.”

  She’d hurried to add on the last part as if to appease me, but the words had an opposite effect.

  Sending a jolt of pain through me, causing me to flinch.

  “Drunk mistake.”

  No, no, no, no, no . . . that isn’t true, we weren’t—we were barely tipsy.

  “Sawyer left, saying he was going to find him. I told him I would check on you so he wouldn’t come here.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, expression showing how much it was weighing on her, knowing what she knew. “I didn’t want him to catch Cayson here. And, also, if the reason you weren’t around was because you’d seen him leave with someone last night, then I wanted to be here for you.”

  “That’s what you thought when I opened the door,” I assumed, head bouncing in a weak nod. “That I’d known he spent the night with someone. That I’d seen them together at Brewed.”

  “You’ve been crying,” she said meaningfully. “Your mascara is everywhere.”