Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“No,” I finally said.
Ford nodded again.
“Nothing to say?” I asked, wishing I could just leave well enough alone.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly one to advise on romance.”
“True,” I agreed. Ford had married Vanessa, Griffen’s fiancée, and soon regretted it. They’d stuck it out a few years, but he’d ended up divorcing her, and she’d been as miserable an ex-wife as she’d been a wife. He hadn’t dated much that I knew of since then. No serious relationships.
“But,” I prompted, “since you brought it up.”
Ford let out a sigh. “West is a good man.”
“He threw you in jail,” I said, my voice rising with a sharp edge. Heads turned at the other end of the bar, and I wished I’d kept my voice down. I was usually better with this whole customer service thing.
“He was doing his job,” Ford said, as if it should be obvious. “I respect him. When I was playing things Dad’s way, he annoyed the shit out of me. Everything always had to be black and white, by the book. He believes in what he does, Ave. He cares about this town and the people in it. And yeah, he threw me in jail, but he didn’t have a choice. Trust me, if I’d had any evidence to clear my name, I would have given it to him. And he would have used it to get me back out. He’s never stopped looking. He doesn’t even like me, which is fair enough, given that I royally screwed over his best friend. But I know if he had the slightest shred of evidence to clear my name, he’d use it. Because that’s the kind of man he is.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. What else was I going to say? Ford was right. He was fucking right about everything. “I’m an asshole,” I muttered.
Ford tipped his chin up. “You’re a Sawyer. We don’t like to admit when we’re wrong.”
I didn’t like the way that landed. “I don’t want to be Dad,” I said.
Ford barked out a laugh, his amusement rusty but there. “Ave, you’re nothing like Dad. None of us is like Dad, and thank God for that.”
We both looked up as the door opened again. My stupid heart wished for West, and again I was disappointed. Then the face came into focus, and I smiled. Here was a friend. Andy Weber, fellow brewer. He worked for one of the big multi-nationals based out of Asheville, saying he liked the health insurance, and the work environment was top-notch. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but we’d taken classes on brewing together at AB Tech ages ago and had always been friends.
“Ave, tell me you have some of that fall brew left.” He said, leaning on the bar and shooting me a familiar grin.
There was only a slight prick to my heart as I shook my head. “We sold every drop at the thing on Halloween. I have a harvest lager.”
“I heard that was good. I’ll take that.” Andy settled onto a stool.
Ford got up quietly and wandered away, leaving us alone to talk. I was grateful I didn’t have to introduce them. After our father’s murder, Ford’s name wasn’t low profile. Neither of us wanted to talk about it.
“How are things going?” Andy asked.
“You mean in general or since I fired Matthew?” I asked.
“Both.”
I saw the look on Andy’s face and had a sinking feeling in my gut. “This isn’t a random visit with an old friend, is it?” I asked, sliding him his beer. He took a long sip, really tasting the beer, and smiled.
“Fucking A, this is great,” he said appreciatively. Then he shook his head. “I wish it were a friendly visit.” He let out a long sigh. “There’s been some talk. The Holiday Jam food truck thing.”
“Yeah?” I asked, already feeling the weight of dread pressing on my chest. “Let me guess. The organizers feel that I’m not reliable enough to handle my usual spot, so they’re replacing me.”
Andy’s face fell. “How’d you know? It’s not official. Just talk, but—”
“Because it wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened since I fired Matthew,” I said, resigned to the fact that it also wouldn’t be the last.
“He’s got a mouth on him, that’s for sure,” Andy said. “I didn’t like him when you hired him, but he had the resume.” Andy shrugged. “He talks a good game. And a lot of these assholes want to believe it, Ave. You’re female and you’re a Sawyer. You know, nepo baby, plus what’s a woman doing brewing beer? It all snowballs into a big pile of bullshit.”
I laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I know.”
And I did. That was the core of it. The problem was, I couldn’t change who I was, nor did I want to. My father aside, I was proud of where I came from and what I’d made of myself, despite how it looked on the outside.