“This can only end badly, you know?” I tell the growing row of bottles. “He’ll leave again, and then what? I go back to pining from afar, but this time knowing exactly what I’m missing?” The words taste bitter as overfermented fruit. “It’ll be hell.”
My phone buzzes against the metal work table, screen lighting up with a familiar name.
“Hey, Remy, what’s up, man?”
“Taylen, my dude. How’s it going?” After twelve years of working on my skin, Remy has become a friend. I’m sure we’d be closer if he didn’t live and work all the way in Burlington.
“I’m good. Bottling a new batch of cider.”
He groans. “Man, I’ll never leave Burlington, but if I ever reconsider it, it’ll be to live next door to you.”
I laugh. “I don’t love that you love my cider more than you love me.”
“Why choose?” he asks with the flirty voice he uses on everyone. It stopped working on me when his husband told me I wasn’t special. He does it for everyone. The man is a serial flirt. “Anyway, I’m calling to confirm your appointment. Same time as always?
“Yeah, same time.” I swallow against the sudden thickness in my throat. “Still working on the design though.”
“No rush, brother. We’ve got time to get it perfect.” Remy’s tone is filled with understanding. “Twelve years now, right?”
“Twelve years,” I confirm quietly. Twelve years of marking the loss of my brother in permanent lines on my skin. Of trying to keep Jackson’s memory alive. “I’ll bring you a few bottles.”
“Dude, you should play harder to get. I’d totally divorce Jack for full access to your brews.”
No, he wouldn’t. I smile to myself. Those two are glued at the hip, and I’m sure their idea of foreplay is to ink each other.
I get back to work as soon as the call is over. The last thing I need right now is to spiral down a rabbit hole of missing my brother and wondering how he’d feel about what’s happening with Bastian. Would anything even have happened if Jackson were still alive?
My phone buzzes again, but this time, with a message.
Finn:
Joe’s Bar tonight. Not taking no for an answer.
I reply straight away. Maybe an evening out with my friend is just what I need. As long as he doesn’t decide to press too hard to find out who I hooked up with.
While I don’t exactly regret confiding in him, I’ve kept this secret for so long that I don’t know how to handle anyone else knowing how I feel about my best friend’s brother.
Hours later, after finishing the last of my orders and a quick shower, I find myself pulling into Joe’s parking lot.
Warm air hits my face as I step inside, carrying scents of stale beer and old wood. It doesn’t take long to spot Finn. Not when he’s at the largest table surrounded by Bastian, Fox, Nikko, and Stone.
He stands when he sees me. “You made it!”
The only free chair is next to Finn and dead opposite Bastian. Because, of course, it would be.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask. Clearly, this isn’t one of our usual evenings. Not when the whole band is here.
I place my sole attention on Finn, but my eyes betray me, finding Bastian across the table like a compass finding north. He watches me over his beer, his expression unreadable in the bar’s dim light.
“Things are about to get busy around here. Not just for me, but for all of you. I know running a small-town Christmas festival isn’t what you signed up for, but I cannot thank you enough.” Finn turns to me and then Bastian. “You two are the best brothers anyone could have.”
“If only I knew all it would take to get that title was to give up a tiny bit of land,” Bastian jokes.
“Joint best,” I add. “And I don’t see a beer in front of me anywhere.”
Finn laughs. “No one told you to be late for round one. Anyway, from the land to ideas, running the music activities and coordinating schedules, you’ve all been amazing. So, for tonight, all food and drink is on me. Well, it’s on the mayor, but I’m taking credit because I asked.”
The declaration draws an immediate response from around the table. Stone raises his glass with characteristic enthusiasm, looking like he’s calculating what “on me” means.
