Page 8 of The Forever Formula
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Austen said, his voice somber.
My gaze swung over to Noah. Noah, who I’d once loved with every part of my teenage heart. Noah with his deep blue eyes and playful smile.
But his smile was nowhere to be found tonight.
“Aren’t we, Noah?” Austen said, prodding him.
Noah shrugged. “Of course.”
“Aren’t you going to give me a hug hello?” I asked, unable to resist. There was something surreal about seeing Noah again. Like I needed to touch him to know he was real.
He swung his leg out from under the picnic table, pushing up with his hand as if the whole thing was an effort.
Like Austen, and all his brothers, he had reached the full Hart height. When I’d left, he was only a few inches taller than me. Now he was probably six foot one, and he must weigh easily near two hundred pounds of pure muscle. Whatever he had been doing since I moved away definitely agreed with his physique.
But his expression was impassive. He crossed over to me and wrapped a single arm around my shoulders in a half hug. To say I felt deflated was an understatement.
Looking up at him, I scoffed. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
“She doesn’t have cooties anymore. Do you, Rach?” Austen joked.
It was true that at one point growing up, Noah did in fact think I had cooties. I was thirteen and he was eleven at the time.
But Austen knew what had happened between Noah and me when we were older. Everyone in the Hart family knew. Noah had zero chill back then, and he’d proudly announced to his family that he was going to marry me, not that he bothered informing me of that plan. Austen had made sure to tell me. It was just puppy love, though.
Perhaps to make a show for his brother, after giving Austen a dramatic eye roll, Noah wrapped me securely in his arms and lifted me clear off the ground.
“That’s better.” I laughed with a lightness I didn’t feel as he set me down.
Austen patted the spot next to him at the table. “Come have a drink. Settle a score for us.”
“Uh-oh. I don’t want to get in the middle of anything,” I joked as I took the seat.
The table was covered in, well, everything. Several pitchers of beer, jars of every shape and size. All types of food from honey to a can of sardines were scattered over the table. It was pure Hart-brother chaos.
“What is all this stuff?” I asked.
“This, Rachel Tyson, is the makings of genius.” Austen beamed as he gestured to the spread on the table.
Noah might have been trying to avoid my gaze, but we locked eyes at that moment. “He’s obviously insane. He thinks my brew needs something added, which is ridiculous.”
Excited that he was finally speaking to me, I decided not to let the opportunity pass. “How long have you been brewing beer?”
“Well, officially, as far as Mom knows, four years. But honestly, more like six.” Noah gave me that devilish smirk I’d missed so much. The Hart brothers sure loved shenanigans.
Austen cut in then. “I was a bad big brother. Or a good one. Depends on how you look at it. Because of this dude’s skills, we got a whole business up and running.”
“Yeah?”
“Here, taste this. This is his regular ale.” Austen reached over the table to grab the pitcher of beer and poured me a small glass. Then he turned to his brother, and in a snarky tone said, “With no extra flavors.”
Noah shook his head with a laugh. “Just leave the beer to me, brother. You focus on making us money.”
“Austen is the brains of the operation?” I teased as I took the glass from him.
“I may not be a brainiac nurse, but I know how to sell a product,” Austen said defensively.
“Glad to see all those years of selling candy cigarettes to kids at school finally paid off.” I grinned, enjoying teasing him.
