Feisty Red (Three Chicks Brewery #2) - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,17

chair she’d been sitting in and picked up the glasses and bottle and handed them to Clara. “I’ll keep an eye on Mason for you while you two talk.”

“Thanks,” Clara said, feeling the biggest lump of her life rising in her throat.

Maisie approached next, giving Clara a quick kiss. “Call me later if you need to.”

“I will,” Clara said. “Thanks.” When her sisters left the room, and with booze in hand, Clara said to Sullivan, “I don’t want Mason to hear us. Let’s go out to the barn.”

“All right.” He rose, slipped back into his boots, and then followed her outside.

She quickly crossed the yard and entered the barn’s double doors, turning on the lights as she went inside. After setting down the booze on the ground, she grabbed two wooden stools by the doors and set them next to each other. Halfway inside the brewery but still able to see the dark sky scattered with stars, she sat, and Sullivan joined her.

A beat passed before Sullivan glanced sidelong. “Did you always know he was mine?”

She drew in a huge breath and pushed past the lump in her throat, acknowledging that hard question with a nod. “There’s never been anyone else.” Nothing long term anyway. A handful of one-night stands over the years when Clara had needed a reminder that she was still a living, breathing woman, but she’d always used protection. The last time with Sullivan, she hadn’t. Not even knowing where to begin, she figured she’d start at the beginning. “I called to tell you about him, but it wasn’t you who answered.” It was his lover. “I stopped calling after that.”

Another long, heavy pause, as he put the pieces together of that phone call. “That night you called, it was to tell me about him?”

She nodded. At that time, she thought they had everything. That he still loved her. Needed her. She’d been wrong.

Sullivan cursed softly, giving his head a slow shake.

She pushed on to get through this, staring down at the dark whiskey in the bottle. “I thought about calling back again, but—”

“It’s good you didn’t.”

She jerked her head to him in surprise. “It’s good I didn’t?”

Sullivan wasn’t looking at her; he stared out at the bright full moon. “Earlier today, when I saw him, I was so angry that you would keep this from me, keep him from me. Until I saw you pull him back to protect him.” He visibly swallowed. Hard. “Seven years ago, I was a punk-ass kid who had no business being around any child.” He ran a hand through his hair, tension tightening his eyes that looked so much older now, like he’d lived lifetimes already. “I would have destroyed him.”

Like my father destroyed me echoed between them.

Clara processed. The tabloids had women draped off Sullivan but no stories about a committed relationship. He had just received a suspension. Was he reckless? A wild disaster? A total hot mess? “Will you destroy him now?” she managed.

“No,” Sullivan said. Then he turned his head, holding her gaze. “But I’m aware I have to earn your trust for you to believe that.”

She wasn’t going to sugarcoat any of this. “You will because I don’t trust you, Sullivan, not within an inch of my life. And I won’t let you come into his life, mess it up, and then vanish.” Because that’s what he did. He left with no explanation. No care at all that he’d shattered her heart.

He gave a soft nod of agreement. “You’re protecting him from me. I get it, Clara.”

She hesitated, surprised by his response, when something dawned on her. In all her worries, she’d never imagined this version of history. But she saw now, plain as day, that Sullivan viewed this situation as a mirror of what he’d been through. That, on some level, he was just like his father. Her heart completely broke to pieces, regardless of their past. She remembered the bruises, the stitches, the pain, and the horror in his eyes. No matter what he’d done to her, the pain he caused, he wasn’t an abuser. “I don’t need to protect him from you physically—that’s not what I’m saying here. Please tell me you know that.”

He turned and gave a sad smile. “I know that.”

He didn’t believe her, but she needed him to. This time, she’d get her voice out and be heard, unlike last time when he stole that choice from her. “Please listen to me. You being like your father is not the