Page 69 of Whiskey Kisses

“And the cuter.” She takes a deep breath, sobering. “Seriously though, this has always been my fight, too. The distillery might not be Daddy’s anymore, but it’s still partly mine, isn’t it? And I’ve been dealing with Cole in one way or another for years. I’m not letting you face any of this alone.”

“But what if something happens to you?” I ask, giving life to words I’d rather didn’t see the light of day. “I will burn this fucking city to the ground, Evie. I’m serious.”

“Then don’t let anything happen,” she replies simply, her gaze stern. “You do what you need to do, and I’ll be here. In Savannah. Not having tea parties with your mama in Boston.”

“Evie—”

“I’m not leaving,” she says firmly. “You can’t make me go.”

“Fine. Okay. That’s what I told my dad you’d say, anyway.” Relief that Evie’s set on staying with me wars with frustration that she won’t go to someplace safer. She’s stubborn and fierce, but … well, that’s why she deserves a place at my side. Maybe she’s as crazy as I am.

“Unless …” Her eyes narrow, and she drops her arms. “You want me gone?” She almost curves in on herself, suddenly seeming a lot less sure.

“Nah, it’s not like that.” I reach for her, but she takes a step back.

“You got the distillery,” she murmurs, her face going slack. “You don’t need me anymore, do you?”

“Stop acting like a nutcase, Evie. I was trying to do the right thing. Shit.” I yank her into my arms and hold on, prepared to shake her back to reality if need be. “The unselfish, keeping-you-safe-even-though-I’d-miss-you thing.”

“I want you to be selfish,” she begs, resting her forehead on my chest. “I want you to be as selfish as me because you’re the one thing I can’t give up. Because …”

“What?” I ask, kissing the top of her head.

“You’re all I’ve got left,” she says softly. Shakily.

Her admission snakes around my heart and squeezes. I can’t imagine what that would feel like. “Not just me. My family loves you, too. That’swhy they wanted you to come, Evie. Not so I could get rid of you—so they could take care of you.”

She buries her face in my shirt with a quiet sob, her tears leaving a wet, warm spot on the fabric. Tilting her chin, I kiss her tears, licking my lips to taste the salt.

“Weirdo,” she whispers, wrinkling her nose. But she closes her eyes when I do it again, when I trail kisses over the freckles on her cheek and down to her mouth.

There’s something primal and appealing about tasting her tears, and I find myself getting hard. Mentally I’m already ten steps ahead, pulling Evie back into the house, bringing her upstairs so I can lay her on our bed and show her with my body what I’m not ready to tell her with my words. I want to fill her up so that she can’t remember what it feels like to be empty. But Evie brings me back when she presses closer, wrapping her arms around my waist. “We’re a team,” she murmurs. “If you stay, then I stay.”

“And what about when everything settles down?” I ask, gazing down at her. The days are getting shorter, and the sun’s already getting low in the sky. “And it’s time for me to go back to Boston? You gonna come with me?”

She hesitates, and I see the same ambivalence in her eyes that I feel whenever I think about this very thing. “Maybe.” Her voice is barely audible against the rustling of the trees in the evening breeze.

I pull her closer, cradling her face with one hand as I run my thumb along the worry lines that have formed between her brows. “Let me ask you in a different way,” I say. “Are you going to stay with me, Evie?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “I am.”

20.Evie

Icap the last glass bottle, labeling itcalendulawith a Sharpie before setting it aside with the others. I’ve been in the sunroom all day, making tinctures. It was time—I had a huge box of jars containing arnica, goldenseal, and calendula in the maceration stage. That’s when the herbs infuse into the solvent. Usually, this process only takes a few weeks, but the herbs sat longer this time around because I’ve been so busy. Timmy helped me strain liquids for a while, mildly fascinated by the process, but eventually he wandered back to his video games.

I don’t mind. Working with herbs on this level requires a certain degree of concentration. Take goldenseal. Its antibacterial and anti-inflammatory properties make it great for treating colds and infections, but too much can cause seizures or even death. Like any medicine, herbs can either heal or harm.

Outside, the drizzle turns to a downpour, drumming against the windowpanes as I wash out my equipment. I’d hoped Tristan would stay home today, especially after that awful-sounding meeting with my father yesterday, but he left early this morning. Said that he wanted to work out for a while and that he had a load of stuff to do afterward. It didn’t seem like he wanted company, so I let him go.

Maybe it was the talk we had in the garden yesterday, but I’m really missing him today. I wish that wasn’t the case. Tristan and I didn’t getmarried for love, but we’ve fucked our way into some pretty big feelings. On my end, at least, but I think on his end, too. Things feel more complicated now than ever.

Timmy’s in the living room, playing some uber-violent video game when I find him. He pauses it when I walk in, looking up at me expectantly. He’s so young and angelic looking, which is funny, because he’s such a bad kid. They all are.

I drop onto the couch, grabbing a pillow to squeeze. “Tell me about him,” I say on a whim.

Timmy looks longingly at the screen, his knee bouncing. “Who, Tristan?”

I chuckle. “Who else?”

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