Page 106 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start

“We’re not fighting,” I say automatically. “We’re discussing.”

“It sounds like fighting.” Tyler considers this carefully. “When Mom and Dad discuss stuff really loud, it usually means a person made a mistake and needs to fix it.”

Amanda’s expression shifts to something that might be amusement if the situation weren’t so serious. “Tyler, why don’t you go check if Roxy needs to go outside?”

Tyler scrambles off his chair. The moment he’s gone, Amanda turns to me with laser focus.

“Sit down.”

“I need to get back?—”

“Sit. Down.”

I sit. Amanda joins me at the table, and suddenly I’m eight years old again, getting lectured about running away when things got difficult.

“What really happened with the investors?”

“They gave me twenty-four hours to choose between Michelle and Reed Development Corp. Said her preservation grants would complicate construction timelines and hurt profit margins. They want a developer who can deliver projects without community complications.”

“And you couldn’t choose.”

“How could I choose? Michelle’s grants aren’t complications—they’re what makes the project worth building. But without the investors, I lose everything I’ve worked for.”

“So you ran away instead of fighting for either option.”

The accusation lands harder than it should. “I needed time to think.”

“On a motorcycle. At midnight. Without telling anyone where you were going.” Amanda leans back in her chair, studying me with the careful attention she reserves for Tyler’s more creative explanations about broken household items. “Grayson, what exactly did you think would happen while you were here thinking?”

“I thought I’d figure out a solution that didn’t require choosing between my career and the woman I love.”

“And instead, you left Michelle vulnerable to exactly the kind of man who destroyed her before.”

The words feel like being buried under municipal paperwork—suffocating and completely inescapable. “I didn’t know David was coming.”

“But you knew she was handling the investor situation alone. You knew she’d think you abandoned her when things got complicated. You knew she’d assume you were just like her ex—using her for business purposes then disappearing when the relationship became inconvenient.”

Each observation hits like construction equipment dropped from significant height. “I was trying to protect her.”

“From what? Making her own decisions about what she can handle? Choosing whether to fight for your partnership or let the investors win?”

“From getting her heart broken when I have to choose my career over her.”

Amanda reaches across the table and grabs my hand.

“Listen to me very carefully. David is a predator who uses people and discards them. You are a workaholic who’s spent his entire adult life avoiding emotional intimacy because you’re terrified of losing people you care about.”

“That’s not?—”

“You lost your parents when you were seventeen. Miranda left because you wouldn’t let her get close enough to matter. And now you’ve run away from the first relationship that actually threatens your carefully controlled emotional distance.”

The observation hits like structural failure—sudden, devastating, and revealing weaknesses I’ve spent years trying to hide. “Michelle deserves better than a man who can’t choose her when it matters.”

“Michelle deserves the choice about what she wants. You took that away from her by running.”

Tyler reappears in the doorway, soccer ball tucked under his arm. “Uncle Grayson, are you crying?”

I swipe at my eyes with irritation that’s directed entirely at myself. “I’m fine, buddy.”