Jace looked up and gave him a tired smile.
Grayson recognized that weariness from the image in the mirror that greeted him every morning. At harvest time, it wasn’t unusual for everyone in his family to burn the candle at both ends, trying to do their own jobs while also helping in the vineyard, picking the grapes. Long hours were a way of life on a farm, but in the fall, they stretched even longer.
“Did you take a wrong turn?” Jace asked, reminding Grayson that it had been a while since he’d been in his brother’s office. Or even in the brewhouse. Glancing around, he saw that Jace had rearranged the office furniture so he could add a bookshelf that was overloaded with notebooks and books about brewing beer. There were even a few textbooks, which Grayson assumed Sam had loaned him.
Sam and Everett were the only brothers who’d attended college, the rest of them going straight to work on the farm after high school, employing the hands-on and apprenticeship methods when learning how to do their jobs.
“Nora kicked me out of the tasting room. For good reason. I was breaking and spilling a lot of shit,” Grayson confessed, walking in and plopping into the chair across from Jace’s desk.
Jace frowned. “That doesn’t sound like you. What’s going on?” he asked, before sighing softly. “Lark?”
While Grayson had confided in Jace about Lark right after returning from the festival, he hadn’t mentioned his struggles since, hadn’t confided that things felt wrong.
“Had a bit of trouble earlier, but it was handled.”
“Trouble?” Jace tapped a pen on his desk absentmindedly. “With Tommy again?”
“He came by to talk to Lark. Still trying to plead his case.”
Jace leaned back, his head resting against his chair as he placed the end of the pen in his mouth. “Didn’t realize he was quite this relentless. Of course, in the past, he’s never needed to be.”
“Yeah, well, Lark’s not having it. And I don’t blame her. He grabbed her arm, tried to force her to listen to him by manhandling her when she tried to go back to work.”
Jace’s scowl was downright black as he leaned forward. “He grabbed her? Did he hurt her?”
Grayson shook his head. “She said she was fine, but there were marks on her arm.”
Jace dropped the pen, glancing around his desk. Reaching for his phone, he said, “Maybe I need to have a talk with my buddy about how to treat a woman.”
The pure malice in Jace’s tone was something Grayson didn’t hear often from his kid brother. The Storm boys pretty much resided in two camps. Jace, Theo, and Maverick were the fun-loving, easygoing brothers, the ones who laughed often and knew how to have a good time. Grayson, Levi, and Sam were the more stoic of the Storms, serious, steady homebodies.
Everett straddled the line between the two, with a foot in both camps. Which tracked, because he was also the only one of the Storms who was positively allergic to farmwork or hard physical labor. Everett preferred to spend the majority of his time behind a desk, working on his computer. They’d affectionately nicknamed him the nerd of the group, and Everett—crazy guy—loved living up to that title.
“I know you said she always goes back to him, Jace, but I don’t see that happening this time.”
Jace’s expression cleared as he considered that, but only for a moment. “Then why aren’t you happier? Because right now, you look like someone who just had to put their dog down.”
Grayson snorted, humorlessly. “That feels about right.”
“What’s going on, Gray? If Lark’s not going back to Tommy, doesn’t that clear the way for you to pursue her?”
Grayson raked a hand through his hair. “I think I made a mistake.”
“About what?”
Grayson wasn’t sure how to even begin explaining the tornado that was currently ripping through his head.
Finally, he said quietly, “About Lark. She isn’t the one.”
Jace stared at him blankly, silence his only response.
Complete silence.
After an uncomfortable minute, he finally replied, “You seemed pretty damn sure a few weeks ago.”
“That’s the problem.” Grayson rose and began pacing. “What I felt at the festival knocked me on my ass. One touch and everything changed. I swear to God, Jace, every part of that weekend felt right. Perfect. Just like Dad said.”
“But?”
