Page 70 of From Grumpy to Forever
“This man? You love him?”
My heart squeezed in my chest, and I nodded, reality settling in. “I do, Mom. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him.”
“I can see that, honey.” Her smile was kind. “But have you told him that?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Reid
I ran the chisel down the edge of the board, shaving the thin curl of wood off the already perfect board until it fell to the workbench below, joining the growing pile of shavings and scraps.
I should be paying attention to the cut and the feel of the grain of wood under my hand, but all I could think about was Avery.
And the look on her face when she told me to go.
She was angry with me. And she had every right to be.
I’d let my temper get the best of me. It had been years since I’d lost control like that. There was a time in my life when it was a regular occurrence that I got into a fight with someone.
A short fuse, my mom called it.
I’d always had one. When we were kids, we fought like most brothers did, especially when my brothers would play a game with one another to see how far they could push me until I exploded. By the time we got to high school, I didn’t need any help getting heated enough to throw a punch.
But instead of my brothers, it was generally some other dickhead who’d pissed me off or flirted with my girl. Grayson and Brody spent more time than they should have pulling me off some asshole. She’d never come right out and said it was my temper that had driven her away, but Isabella did tell me before she left that the guy she’d cheated on me with was calmer and less explosive.
It was the reality check I needed. I’d done the work. I’d learned to channel my temper into more productive pastimes than fist fighting. I’d learned to love woodworking, and I’d gotten damn good at it, too.
I was still a grumpy asshole—that wasn’t a secret. But I was no longer a grumpy asshole who’d throw a punch.
Until today.
“Dammit.” I slammed my palms down flat on the board, shaking the sawdust off the top, and dropped my head. No wonder Avery didn’t want me around. I’d fucked up.
Badly.
Emotion roiled in my gut, but the rage from earlier was gone. Now, it was replaced by something I wasn’t completely sure of. A mixture of regret and hurt and…love.
Abandoning the chisel, I reached for a piece of sandpaper instead. But before I could get back to work, the sound of the door sliding open pulled my attention. I didn’t have to turn around to know who’d joined me.
“Thought you might be here.”
“Figured you might come looking for me.” I lifted my head to see my twin brother watching me, his arms crossed over his chest. “You didn’t think I’d be at the inn?”
Grayson shook his head. “Not tonight. Not after…”
“After I just epically fucked things up, you mean?”
He only shrugged. “Are you ready to talk to me, brother?”
There didn’t seem to be any reason not to. Not anymore.
“Come on,” Gray said. “I’m sure you have a beer in here somewhere.”
He wasn’t wrong. I led him through the shop to the back wall where the little fridge was stocked with some growler jugs of Ethan’s early test samples of his microbrew.
I poured us each a glass. It wasn’t until I’d had my first sip that I took a deep breath and repeated the question I’d asked him once before. “What do you know?”
Grayson took a minute to answer, as if he were weighing the options of how much he should say.
