“Look,” his voice deepens as he steps forward, “if you brought Ellie back here, I pray you’re not doing something stupid.”
I offer him a single nod as the pictures in my mind flash to her tight, dripping pussy served up for me on the kitchen counter twenty minutes ago.
“I know you had a thing for her.”
I narrow my gaze to do my best impression of an innocent man. “That’s insanity.”
“Fuck, dude.” My brother shakes his head. “She’s back there, isn’t she? You didn’t, did you?”
I don’t answer, which is probably worse than lying. At least with lying, he’d wonder if I was telling the truth. Now, he knows I’m an asshole.
“Jesus, man. No wonder Adam is going crazy.”
“Adam doesn’t know.”
“Really?” He shakes his head and swipes his hand down over his graying beard. “You don’t think your son noticed that you had a thing for his girlfriend?I noticed, and I’m not even living with you.”
Jesus Christ! Could that really be true? Could Adam have picked up on what I felt for Ellie?
“No,” I press. “I was never vocal about anything I felt for her, and—”
“And you planted a field of fucking flowers for the girl. You longed for her when she went away, you had private conversations with her, and ogled her when they were—”
“Okay, time for you to go.”
His gaze drops to the porch floor as he shakes his head. “You’re losing it.”
“Really, ‘cause I feel better than I’ve ever felt.” I shrug. “I shouldn’t feel this good, not with everything that’s on the line, but I do.”
“At the expense of your son.”
That one stings.“They’ve been broken up for over a year. I’m not doing anything wrong.”
“Then why are you hiding it?”
I shake my head, knowing full well this kind of want makes me a stupid, piece of shit. “How the hell am I supposed to tell my son that I’m interested in his ex?”
Cash shrugs as wind clips the shutters on the side of the house. “I don’t know. He’s your son, though. You should talk to him before he tears apart the whole town.”
I nod, though I have no fucking clue how I’d ever tell him about Ellie and I. What words can a person use to describe such forbidden things? I can’t look at the boy I raised and tell him that his ex-girlfriend is cute as hell, and every time I see her, I can’t help but think about shoving my cock down her throat. I can’t tell him that I look forward to her smile, or that I feel alive when I’m next to her. I can’t tell him that there’s something about her, something different from everyone else. I can’t say I want to make her mine, marry her, have children with her, and build a life with her.
Fuck.
Cash shakes his head. “Talk to your son, Silas. Talk to him before he does any more damage. In the meantime, I’ll be getting things ready for the festival. I’m going to display Dad’s old whiskey book, maybe remind some of the old-timers of his work. Hopefully, that will get us an edge on these rednecks from Mullet’s bar.” He turns to head down the porch. “Seriously, though, get Ellie out of your system now, apologize to Adam, and then get your shit together.”
I should keep my mouth shut. It’s not important that Cash knows that this thing with Ellie isn’t temporary, but for some reason, I can’t help myself. “This isn’t something I had to get‘out of my system.’I love her.”
Cash’s eyes widen, and he hangs his head as though his disappointment is overflowing. “Jesus Christ, dude. You don’t love her. Her father is a family friend, she’s twenty-five yearsold, and you don’t have anything in common. She’s,” he stops himself with a heavy sigh, “just talk to Adam and get your head out of your ass. We’ve got a million things going on with the distillery right now. No one has time for your midlife crisis.”
I let out a slow breath, the kind that’ll keep me from saying something I’ll regret. “I’m done apologizing for wanting something for myself.”
“Okay,” he quips, tossing up his hands as though he’s given up. He turns on his heel and stomps down the stairs, each step louder than it needs to be, like he wants me to feel his exit. An exit he doesn’t bother looking back from.
It’s fine. I’m not seeking his approval. Hell, his approval is the last thing I need. That said, I don’t disagree with him to some extent. We’ve been struggling to keep the doors open, and it’s an all-hands-on-deck sort of situation. I also know what Ellie and I look like to the world. More than that, I’m now aware that my son has most likely picked up on my feelings for her. I probably should’ve noticed that sooner.
No one has ever accused me of being emotionally astute. I could tell you wind speed, direction, and threat level in half a second, but add in a feeling and I’m lost. Feelings don’t follow patterns. They don’t obey logic. They don’t line up in neat little rows waiting to be assessed. They just hit, and I’ll be forever learning how to navigate through them.
I scrub my hand down over my face and sink into the solid oak chair at the kitchen table, thinking over the possibility that Cash is right.
