Bitter Truth (Hawthorne Vines #1)

Not when things for them are going swimmingly and I’m sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom feeling like shit.

There’s a sense of loneliness that I wasn’t expecting to face. When I imagined coming home, the things I was most concerned with were my interactions with my family and figuring out what comes next. The idea that I might sit in my bedroom crying because I miss my friends wasn’t anywhere on my radar.

I guess the relationships I created in LA were more important to me than I realized.

“Hey.”

I can’t help smiling just a little bit when I spot my brother Micah standing in the doorway of my room, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Hi.”

He leans to the side, his shoulder resting on the doorjamb as he scans the room.

I don’t doubt he’s assessing the situation: me on the floor with red eyes, my phone vibrating next to me, my guitar case untouched, but the rest of my stuff everywhere.

I’d thought that rearranging my room would be a good use of my Saturday morning, help me take my mind off … well, everything.

Instead it just highlighted to me how alone I was.

The last time I rearranged my childhood bedroom, I’d had Quinn’s help. Hell, she helped me move the furniture around on an almost yearly basis, maybe even more often. There was something about changing a bedroom around that could make my teenage soul feel like a brand-new girl.

But that feeling wasn’t anywhere to be found as I tried moving my bed to face the french doors. Instead, I pulled a muscle in my calf and slammed my finger in one of my dresser drawers trying to shift that around, too.

Now I’m sitting on the floor in the middle of a room and none of my furniture is in the right spot. And knowing I’ve fucked it up all by myself is the worst part.

“Want some help?”

His voice is soft, his eyes kind, and the magnitude of how much I’ve missed him seems to hit me all at once.

If Memphis is a bulldozer and I’m a tornado, Micah is a soft snowfall. Calm and quiet. Observant and thoughtful.

“No, it’s all right,” I tell him, pushing up from the floor and rubbing my sore hands against my jeans.

“You sure?” He glances at his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes before I need to meet Naomi and Edgar at the warehouse.”

I glance around the room, my eyes welling again at the idea of trying to move everything on my own, not to mention that this is the first time I’m seeing my brother in a long while. Clearly I’m dealing with some emotional shit, because sobbing while shoving bedroom furniture around is clearly not the vibe.

“Yeah, actually. That would be great.”

Micah claps his hands together and steps into the room, and after I take a second to explain where I want everything, he takes the lead.

“Sorry I disappeared right after you moved back,” he says, bending down to pick up my dresser from the base. “I had to go to San Francisco for a few days. Memphis sent me to this wine and spirits conference.”

My brow furrows as we lift my dresser and move it a few feet away, so it’s now set against a different wall. “Memphis sent you to a conference?”

Micah gives me a half smile. “I told him it was stupid, but he promised me it wasn’t about the networking. He just wanted information.”

Micah is the most introverted of us, so I can’t imagine how exhausting it was for him to not only go into San Francisco, one of the busiest cities in the country, but also attend a conference surrounded by hundreds, maybe thousands, of people.

“Information about what?”

“International wine distribution.”

My hands come to my hips. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “He said he’s trying to compile a list of potential ways we can expand the vineyard.”

I roll my eyes. “The restaurant isn’t enough?”