Page 8 of Wildflower and Whiskey
“Your son,” he spat, like the words themselves were poison. “Always aboutyour son. You think you’re better than me? You think you’ve got it all figured out?” I figured he was on a drunken rant. That he didn’t mean anything he was saying. That saying about words not hurting was so wrong. Sometimes they cut deeper than sticks and stones.
My heart hammering and my baby in my arms made me feel helpless, but I knew I couldn’t be that girl. At least not anymore. I’d do everything I could to protect my son and right now I was feeling especially low because I was exposing him to my papa’s dose of crazy. “No, I’m not better, but please keep your voice down. Braden’s scared.”
Dad leaned forward in his chair, and for a moment I saw something behind his drunken rant, something broken and raw. I didn’t know a lot about Papa. Growing up he wasn’t the sharing type. What I did know was I never had grandparents. But then whatever emotion had surfaced was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced with the same bitterness he was drowning himself in for years. “You need to get out,” he said without looking at me, his lower lip quivering. “Take your kid and go. Don’t come back.”
My breath caught in my chest. “Papa. . . please.”
“Go!” he roared, and the bottle in his hand crashed to the floor, whiskey spreading across the worn carpet.
Braden began to cry. My pulse was a drum in my ears. I backed toward the door, holding my son like he was the only solid thing left in the world.
I didn’t know what had set him off, why his rage burned hotter than usual. But one thing was clear, Papa didn’t want me here.
“Give me a few weeks, Papa. I’ll do my best to find a place to stay. I don’t have enough money saved yet.”
“Fine,” he muttered, but his focus was on the television so I wasn’t even sure he heard what I said.
I went to the kitchen to feed my son his nightly oatmeal and then I took him upstairs for a bath, but the whole time my stomach was in knots. I wasn’t welcome here. I wasn’t welcome anywhere. An unsettled feeling took root inside me suddenly. It felt like fear. Like maybe Papa wasn’t all there and would try to hurt Braden or me. I went back downstairs to find that Papa was gone. He had a lady friend who picked him up most nights and drove him to the Frosted Mug. I went out to the garage and found an old metal baseball bat. I carried it up to my room and slipped it under my pillow. It was better to be safe than sorry.
CHAPTER 4
Phoenix
I’d barely walked through the brewery doors when I spotted Dominic setting up behind the bar. Normally, mornings were quiet, just prep and inventory before the first customers trickled in from town. Sometimes customers went through the orchard or visited my brother’s bakery before stopping into the brewery for brunch or a late lunch. Dinners were busy too, and date night among people from the city really took off after I had a social media campaign targeting the romantic ambience of the brewery at night beneath the stars. It showcased our extensive beer list as well, which catered to a wide array of palates from bitter, citrusy notes to the rich, roasted flavors of stouts that mimicked coffee and chocolate, to the tartness of sour beers and the crisp, clean palate of lagers. Usually, my time was spent thinking about how I could make the brewery better and more successful, but my head wasn’t on work today.
It was on Elyna. She hadn’t looked right yesterday. Too pale, too stiff around the shoulders. Something was eating at her, and no matter how much I told myself it was none of my business, I couldn’t let it go.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on with her?” I asked Dominic, my tone sharper than I intended.
Dominic glanced up from his ledger, his brow raised. “Morning to you too, boss.”
“Don’t play dumb.” I leaned against the counter—arms crossed. “Elyna. She’s… off. Has been since yesterday. You know something?”
Dominic shook his head slowly. Yup, I wasn’t getting any information out of him. “That’s not my story to tell, Phoenix. If she wants you to know, she’ll tell you herself.”
My jaw tightened. “That’s never going to happen.” The tension between us ran too deep. I was really beginning to dislike it, but there was nothing I could do.
“Then maybe you need to earn that kind of trust,” Dominic suggested, flipping another page in his book.
Before I could fire back, Cooper strolled in, whistling off-key and carrying a box of clean glasses. He caught the tension in the room instantly and smirked. “You’re looking extra grumpy this morning, bossman.”
“Don’t start, Coop.”
“Bossman is inquiring about Elyna,” Dominic cut in. He was being annoying, but I knew it was coming from a good place. Dominic was a hard worker, loyal to his core.
Cooper grinned some more, like he was on to something.
“Stay out of it, Coop,” I muttered.
He set the box down with a thud and leaned on the bar next to me, grin widening. “Come on. You’ve been circling that girl like a hawk since she walked through the door. Admit it, you’re in over your head.”
I shot him a hard look. “You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.” His smirk grew wider, like he’d just won a soccer match.
“She’s got her hands full,” I reminded, my every word clipped. “She’s got a baby. She’s living with her no-good father. That man has always been trouble and that hasn’t changed.”
That shut him up. Cooper’s grin faded, and Dominic gave me a long, measured look, like he wanted to say more but didn’t.
