Page 45 of Brewing Up My Fresh Start (Twin Waves #2)

TWENTY-TWO

GRAYSON

T he twin bed in Tyler’s room feels like sleeping in a sardine can. Dinosaur sheets tangle around my legs while Roxy—seventy pounds of enthusiastic black lab—has claimed my chest as her personal sleeping quarters. Every time I shift, she opens one eye.

“Down, Roxy,” I mutter for the fourth time in ten minutes.

She responds by somehow becoming heavier, as if gravity has decided to work overtime just for her benefit.

Twenty-four hours. That’s what the investors gave me yesterday before I panicked, threw a duffle bag on my motorcycle, and rode four hours to Charlotte without calling ahead.

Twenty-four hours to choose between Michelle and my career, between the woman I love and the professional reputation I’ve spent years building.

So I ran. Got on my bike and rode until the ocean disappeared behind me and the sound of waves was replaced by highway noise and the steady rhythm that usually helps me think. Except this time, thinking just made everything worse.

My phone buzzes on Tyler’s nightstand. Michelle’s name flashes across the screen, and my chest tightens with dangerous hope until I read the message:

David Norris is in Twin Waves. He knows about our grants and development plans. He’s threatening to cause compliance problems if I don’t work with him. I know you’ve decided I’m not worth the complication, but I need help. Please call me back.

The words hit like structural collapse. David is currently in Twin Waves, circling like a predator who’s found wounded prey.

Prey I left vulnerable by running away when she needed me most.

I dial her number immediately. Straight to voicemail.

“Michelle, it’s Grayson. I’m coming back. Don’t meet with David alone. Don’t sign anything. Don’t trust him. I’ll explain everything when I get there.”

Roxy finally moves, launching herself off the bed with the grace of a small aircraft carrier. In the hallway, Amanda’s voice drifts from the kitchen.

“—know he’s miserable, Carlos. He’s been staring at his phone like it contains the meaning of life.”

“Maybe he just needs space to figure things out,” Carlos responds with the diplomatic tone of a guy who’s learned not to get between Reed siblings and their emotional crises.

“Space? He drove four hours in the middle of the night to sleep on a twin bed with dinosaur sheets. That’s not seeking space—that’s running away from his problems.”

I grab my duffle bag and head downstairs, where Amanda’s making pancakes like she’s preparing for emotional warfare. Tyler sits at the table, arranging dinosaur toys in what appears to be a complex prehistoric ecosystem.

“Uncle Grayson!” Tyler looks up with devastating innocence. “Are you still sad about the lady?”

Amanda shoots her son a look. “Tyler, honey, maybe Uncle Grayson doesn’t want to talk about?—”

“I have to go back,” I interrupt, then realize how that sounds. “Michelle’s in trouble. Her ex-business partner—the one who stole her ideas years ago—he’s in Twin Waves threatening her grants.”

“The grants she got because of your collaboration?” Amanda sets down her spatula. “The grants that prove she’s capable of handling complex federal projects?”

“He’s trying to manipulate her into another partnership. She reached out because she needs help.”

“And you’re going back to rescue her,” Amanda says slowly, “from a situation that exists because you ran away instead of dealing with your investor problem.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple.” Amanda’s voice carries the patient tone she uses when Tyler insists that dinosaurs still exist somewhere.

“You got scared when the investors gave you an ultimatum, so you got on your bike and rode away from both the problem and the woman you love. Now she’s facing exactly the kind of predator you were supposedly protecting her from, except she’s facing him alone because you’re not there. ”

Tyler looks between us with wide eyes. “Are you fighting about the lady again?”

“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.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like I do when I break Mom’s favorite coffee mug.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it? When I break something important, Mom says I have to fix it or replace it. Can you fix the thing you broke with the lady?”

The question shouldn’t be that hard to answer. But sitting in my sister’s kitchen, surrounded by the domestic chaos I’ve spent my adult life avoiding, I can’t think of a single reason why fixing things with Michelle should be impossible.

“I don’t know if she’ll let me try.”

Tyler nods with satisfaction. “You won’t know until you ask. That’s what Mom always tells me.”

M y phone rings while I’m loading my duffle bag onto the motorcycle. Scott’s name flashes across the screen, and my stomach drops with the certainty that this conversation will make everything worse.

“Reed, where on earth are you?”

“Charlotte. Why?”

“Because the investors want to meet tonight to decide whether we keep the Twin Waves contract.”

I sit down on Amanda’s front steps, motorcycle keys heavy in my hand.

“Grayson, they’re using Norris as leverage against you. Either you prove you can control the Michelle situation, or they replace you with a person who promises fewer complications.”

“The Michelle situation isn’t something to be controlled. She’s not a complication—she’s what makes the project worth building.”

“Try explaining that to investors who think love is a business liability.”

I look at my motorcycle, loaded and ready for the four-hour ride back to Twin Waves. Back to Michelle, who probably hates me. Back to Norris, who’s currently threatening everything she’s built. Back to investors who think partnership is a weakness.

“What if I choose Michelle over the investors?”

“Then you lose the biggest contract Reed Development has ever landed, and probably your reputation in commercial development.”

“And if I choose the investors over Michelle?”

“Then you prove everyone right who says you’re incapable of putting relationships before profit margins.”

The impossible choice hangs in the morning air like humidity you can’t escape. Except this time, I understand that running away isn’t an option. Michelle is facing David alone while I’m sitting on my sister’s front porch, paralyzed by professional indecision.

“Scott, what would you do?”

“I’d fight for the woman who makes me want to build things that matter instead of just things that sell.”