He stares into his ginger ale, giving his head a shake. “Your questions made me fucking uncomfortable, Jules. But I guess it was a good thing in the end. Because it helped me to realize some things.”
“Some things like what?” I ask before I can stop myself. Then I hold up a hand. “You don’t need to answer if—”
“I realized that maybe the demise of my marriage was my fault to a large extent.” When he confesses that, I fall quiet. “Maybe I put my career first too often. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to understand Cynthia when she needed me. Maybe she was a good wife…but I wasn’t the best husband I could be.”
I suck in a breath, my body still leaning forward, unconsciously trying to get even closer to him. “Wow. That’s…deep.”
Lincoln chuckles. “You could say that. All in all, I freaked out when you asked about Cynthia, and I shouldn’t have.”
“We’re all growing into better versions of ourselves,” I say quietly, overwhelmed by the compassion I feel for him. “At least, we’re supposed to be. Getting better and wiser as we go.” I reach for a French fry just to keep my hands busy. So I don’t reach out and lace my fingers with his.
“True.” His head solemnly bobs once.
I purse my lips to keep quiet. But I just can’t. “Thank you for sharing that with me, Lincoln. And if you ever need to talk, I…I…”
The faintest smirk dances on his lips as he leans back and grabs a few French fries off my plate. “If I ever need to talk, what?”
“Well, uh, we…we’re friends now.” Right?
I think.
I hope.
Sort of.
Lincoln snorts, his vulnerability dissipating like smoke. “Friends? Thought we were just putting on a show? Acting? You said so yourself.”
I plop back against the booth and glare at him. “You know what? I retract my friendship offer. Jerk. Order me another drink.”
Lincoln laughs, waving down the server. The intimacy over our table slips away and somehow, it feels easier to deal with this more playful vibe.
When the server returns moments later with our drinks, my eyes catch on the pair entering the tavern.
“Is that your brother?” I nudge Lincoln with my elbow.
He glances over at the door. “Oh, yeah. Oliver. I didn’t realize he was back in town.”
The Raines boys have been in and out of Fairy Bush since last summer. I like that about the family. Even though their lives are set up in different parts of the country, they make it a priority to get together frequently.
Because they genuinely love each other. Not just because of a matriarch they want to appease or because of an inheritance they’re trying to cash in. They love each other, and they mean it.
“Who’s the girl?” I ask, referring to the leggy brunette who’s strolling alongside Oliver.
She shrugs out of her puffer jacket to reveal a red graphic tee and ripped faded jeans.
“Beats me,” Lincoln says. He takes my hand. “Let’s go find out.”
I snatch up my drink and let him pull me along.
As we’re approaching the bar, I witness a cold, awkward exchange take place between Oliver and Chloe. He gives her a stiff ‘hello’. She responds with a smile that holds a thousand unspoken questions. Before she can vocalize her interrogations, the brunette sticks a hand across the counter and shakes Chloe’s hand.
“I’m Marley,” the woman is saying as Lincoln and I get closer. “So this is the Whiskey Barrel? Oliver’s told me so much about this place.” She looks around at the reclaimed wooden beams and the vintage photos decorating the brick walls of the little bar.
“I really haven’t…” Oliver mutters, sounding annoyed, eyes locked on Chloe.
Chloe holds onto a tight smile. “Funny. He hasn’t said anything about you.” Her words don’t sound meanper se. More confused. Her challenging stare holds Oliver’s, not looking away.
Marley turns and playfully slaps Oliver’s chest. “This man is so secretive. He’s a damn fortress.” She spins around in a slow circle, scanning the room. “Anyway, I’m really excited to be here and see this place in person.”
