“Is everything all right?” Ronnie asked, surveying the damage.
Clara nodded and spit out more of the sludge, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yes, everything is fine. This doesn’t happen often. Ever, actually. Excuse me for one quick sec.” Fierce, like the Clara he remembered, she kept her eyes and chin up, striding out of the barn.
“Ronnie,” Maisie quickly said in Clara’s absence, all amusement now gone from her face. “Let’s start at the back of the brewery, and we can work our way up.”
“Excellent,” his uncle said. He looked nothing like Sullivan’s father, Kurtis. Ronnie had the Keenes’ light green eyes but, at five foot seven, was shorter than Kurtis’ and Sullivan’s six foot two. Ronnie was also bald, whereas Sullivan had his grandmother’s light brown hair.
Sullivan went to follow behind the group, amazed at how grown up the Carter sisters were. When he’d seen them last, they were awkward teenagers. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Time had gone by, so much time. And yet, there he was, back in River Rock, no longer running from his demons, but determined to face them.
As he headed past Amelia, who gave him a wave, his cell phone rang in his pocket. He grabbed it. One look at the screen revealed it was his agent. “I need to take this,” he told his uncle.
“Yeah, yeah,” Ronnie said, waving him off and focusing back on Maisie, who was talking about beer tours and events.
Sullivan turned away and pressed the phone to his ear. “What’s up, Marco?”
“Not much here.” Marco had represented Sullivan since Sullivan was scouted. “How are things out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Quiet,” Sullivan answered, kicking up some gravel as he left the barn.
Marco gave a dry laugh. “I can only imagine. Listen, I talked to Coach Hale a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, what’s he saying?” He could still hear the coach’s roar in the locker room as he read the headline: Sullivan Keene hits hard at the club! The only thing he’d hit hard was that asshole’s face. Luckily for Sullivan, he hadn’t had a bat that night. He wasn’t sure what he would have done with it. He’d only ever snapped like that once, and that was the driving reason he left River Rock and Clara behind.
“It’s simple, Sullivan,” Marco answered. “Take this month; you’ve got to get your head straight. Frederick”—the owner of the team—“is coming down hard on Coach Hale about how this makes the team look. This is your last shot. One more fuck up, and you’re done.”
He got it. He’d had a few articles written about him in the tabloids over the last few months. None of them put him in the best light. “Yeah, I got it.”
Marco hesitated. “They’re in their rights to do this, Sullivan, under your contract.”
“I know.”
“You got this. Right? I don’t have to worry about you?”
“Yeah, I got this. See you in a month.” Sullivan ended the call, not having more to say than that. He was drowning when he should have been gliding through the water. His game was on point. But something wasn’t right in his head, and Sullivan had been pushing that down and down, and with his career on the line, something had to change.
A bang had him glancing over his shoulder to find the front screen door slamming shut behind Clara as she left the house. Sullivan watched her closely and the way she held his gaze like she told herself she had to. He didn’t fault her there. She had something to prove to him, and he’d let her prove it. She deserved far better than the shit he’d given her. “All cleaned up?” he finally asked, breaking the heavy silence.
Freshly dressed in jeans and a blouse that somehow brightened the blue in her eyes, she stared at him coldly. It looked forced. He understood why, though. He vividly remembered how she tasted, how she looked when she smiled lovingly at him. He remembered it all. But she wanted to show him she no longer felt that way. She stopped in front of him, giving him a thorough once-over. “You look good, Sullivan. Different, but good.”
“Different, how?”
She tilted her head, analyzing him in a way no other woman had analyzed him. Clara knew him. All his faults. All his weaknesses. All his pain. “Strong…old.”
He lifted a brow at her. “I look old?”
“Yup.” She strode by him.
He stared after her like a damn fool. “It’s only been seven years since I’ve seen you. I can’t look that old.”
“Just shy of seven,” she answered, heading off to the barn.
Of course, this gave him a fantastic view of her spectacular ass. An ass he had no business looking at. He forced his eyes up. “Wait up,” he called then jogged to catch up to her.
When she finally reached the barn, she turned back to him. “Fine. You look older. Is that a better choice of word? I’ve never known you to be the sensitive type, Sullivan.”
He wasn’t the sensitive type. Yet, she was getting right under his skin. “I’ve never known you to be so outspoken, Clara.”
She gave him a leveled look. “People change.”
“Yeah, they do.” And that’s exactly what had brought him there. To her. To face the damage he’d done in hopes of finding peace. “I heard about Pops’ passing. I’m sorry you lost him. I know how close you were.” Clara’s grandfather had been good people. Sullivan wouldn’t bother with an apology for not calling or coming to the funeral. He didn’t have a good excuse.
Her eyes saddened for a moment, and her pace slowed. “Pops would have loved to see the brewery flourish, so how about we go and find the others?”
For a split second, in her sadness, he saw the old Clara. His Clara. He didn’t know what motivated him to grab her hand, stopping her, but his fingers soon wrapped around hers. Her gaze snapped to his, and she jerked away. “Do not touch me, Sullivan.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry. I just…” Want to apologize. Want to explain. Want to fix all this.
“What you want is not relevant here,” she snapped, striding away.
Knowing he deserved that, he blew out a long breath and followed her into the barn. Rows of tanks lined the old building, which admittedly, didn’t even look all that old anymore. The barnwood had been stripped and re-stained, the floors coated with new lacquer.
“As you can see, we’re set up to handle the quantity needed for distribution,” Amelia said as Maisie led Ronnie out from the back. Amelia followed then gestured to her right. “We’ve got tons of room to expand.”
Ronnie stopped and glanced around with an unreadable look. Truth was, Sullivan wasn’t close to his uncle. But being the only family he had left, they kept in touch over the years with a phone call on holidays and birthdays.
“I’m liking what I see,” Ronnie eventually said. He looked around once more, studying the impressive space. “Give me a couple days to examine your proposal and talk with the team about a plan.”
Clara gave a very polite smile. “We look forward to hearing from you.”
Sullivan nearly snorted. They both knew they had something great here that would benefit them both. He kept the thought to himself as Ronnie said his final goodbyes. When his uncle was heading back to his truck, Sullivan said to Amelia and Maisie, “It’s hard to believe you’re the two little ankle bitters I used to know.” They were women now, but he could still see the mischievous glint in Maisie’s eyes and the warm affection on Amelia’s face.