I stopped, horrified at my outburst, at the raw, unfiltered honesty of it.
Braden didn’t crack a joke. He didn’t smirk. He just watched me for a long moment, his usual teasing gone. He let out a slow breath, a soft whistle of air as he leaned forward. “Okay. ‘My disaster.’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard you claim anything, or anyone, like that before. Not even your own boat.”
He let that sink in, let me absorb the weight of my own words reflected back at me.
Then a flicker of his old self returned, but it was softer now, more knowing. He offered a crooked smile. “You know, I’d be a pretty shitty bartender if I wasn’t a good listener. You talk about her a lot differently than you did about Caitlin.”
I stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I might have only been a teenager at the time, but I saw you two together. With Caitlin, it was easy. Comfortable. You two were inevitable, like the tide. Everyone knew you’d end up together.” He met my gaze, his eyes full of surprising wisdom. “With Iris, nothing has been easy. You fought it. And now, you look at her like you’re half terrified and half starved. Eli and I both saw it. This isn’t the same,man. Not even close.” He shrugged. “It’s the difference between being a boy and a man.”
His words hit me like a punch, a truth so sharp and unexpected it knocked the wind out of me. He was right.
“But what do I do?” My question came out as a raw plea. “How do I convince her of that?”
“The similarities between the two women are there. Anyone with eyes can see them. Eli and I just said the hard part out loud. And maybe that’s a good thing.” He paused, his index finger tapping his thigh. “Let me ask you a question. And I want a real answer, not your usual grumpy bullshit. What are you actually scared of here? Are you scared your feelings for Iris aren’t real?”
“No,” I answered immediately. “They’re real. Too damn real.”
“Okay.” He nodded, accepting it. “So, what is it then? What’s the real fear, Austin?”
His question landed in the air between us. Suddenly, the impenetrable wall I’d built around that dark, terrible day—the wall I’d shown to Iris—wasn’t the real issue.
It was just a symptom.
The real fear, the one I’d never admitted even to myself, was what came after.
“I’m scared of it happening again.” My words were low and ragged. The confession felt like peeling back a layer of skin to expose the raw nerve beneath. “I’m scared of being that happy again. Because I’ve seen how fast it can be snatched away. How a perfect day can turn into the worst day of your life in the blink of an eye.”
I looked down at my hands, at the calluses and scars from years of work, but all I could see was that empty, debris-strewn water. When I glanced back up, Braden nodded at me to continue.
“The accident… yeah, the guilt is a big part of it. I survived. They didn’t. I’ve been carrying that for thirteen years. But the real reason I keep everyone at arm’s length… it’s because I’m a coward. I’m so damn scared of losing someone else I love. I feel like I’m a lightning rod for tragedy. Like if I let myself love Iris, I’d just be sentencing her to some awful fate. And punishing myself by having to watch it happen all over again. A just punishment for being the one who got to live.”
The whole ugly, twisted, irrational truth of it was out, hanging in the quiet air of the brewpub.
Braden was silent for a long time, just letting the words settle. He didn't offer cheap reassurances. He didn't tell me I was being ridiculous.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice thick with compassion. He took a long swallow of his water, his gaze distant. “Life can change on a dime, man. You know that better than most. But it doesn’t only change for the worse. Sometimes it changes for the better. You’re anything but a coward, brother. Let me tell you what I see right now. You’re a complete wreck. Tormented. But you know what? You’re more alive than you’ve been in thirteen years. You’re feeling something again. Even if it’s scaring the living hell out of you. Maybe this painful shit you’re going through right now is the change you need. To finally start living again instead of just going through the motions and calling it a life.”
His words landed in the quiet office not like an accusation, but like a life ring thrown to a man who hadn’t realized he was drowning.
More alive.
The phrase echoed in my head, stark and undeniable. He was right. The last few months I’d known Iris had been a special kind of hell, a constant battle against myself. But they had also been… vibrant. Filled with color and passion and taste and a raw, humming energy I hadn’t experienced since I was a stupid, invincible kid.
Before Iris, my life was a flat gray line of routine and control. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. A carefully constructed existence designed to keep the past at bay. It wasn’t living. Braden was right. It was surviving. And Iris, with her sweet, hopeful energy and her eyes that saw too much, had lit up that grayness like a perfect tropical sunrise.
I studied my brother, the unexpected, profound wisdom in his gaze. Braden wasn’t just the joking brewmaster. He was a man who saw things, who understood more than I ever gave him credit for.
“How’d you get so damn smart?” I asked.
Braden let out a short, surprised laugh, the tension in the room breaking. He shrugged, his usual easy grin returning. “I listen to people’s problems all day for a living. Some of it’s bound to sink in.” He sobered again, his gaze steady. “I just want to see you happy, okay? For real, happy.”
“Yeah,” I said, the single word thick with a meaning I couldn’t fully articulate. I looked down at my hands, then back at him, the truth of my situation, the real core of my fear, finally clear in my mind. “I don’t know how to fix this with her, Braden. But I think you’re right. I have to try.”
“That’s all any of us can do,” he said quietly. Then he pushed to his feet. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
I finished my water, the glass making a soft clink as I set it on his desk. “Thanks.”
