Page 27 of Make My Heart Malt

“I was hoping to see you toss bottles into the air and spin around and catch them.” His lips curl in the corners.

“I’m not a circus act. I’m a bartender.”

“Touché.” He takes a sip of his drink.

I study his facial features, wanting to read his expression. The scruff on his jaw twitches as he swallows. Then he nods. “That’s really good. It’s refreshing but also adds a little holiday charm with the apple cider. They should serve these at Fir Meadows Tree Farm instead of hot apple cider.”

I laugh. “I’m sure that would go over well with all the families.”

“Maybe it would encourage them to buy two trees instead of one. Anyway, what’s the name of this drink?”

“I call it a Dirty Reindeer.”

“See! That’s perfect. It would fit right in at the tree farm.” He takes another gulp.

I fiddle with the handle on my mug. While the small talk is nice, I need him to get to the point. “You wanted to talk, so talk.” I take a drink.

“Shouldn’t we ease into it a little? Maybe warm it up. Or are we ramming it right in?”

I half cough, half choke. Surprisingly, I don’t spit my drink all over his face. With a napkin, I dab at my mouth and regain my composure. “At this point, I think there’s already been enough warming up. You should be able to ram it right in.” I half wonder if we’re talking about why he came over here or something completely different.

He scrubs his hands down his face before dropping them to the counter. “What do I say? I had to leave. It waseasier to go than to talk to you. I was young and thought I was doing the best thing.” His gaze drifts up. Dark green eyes bore into mine. “I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.”

I guzzle the rest of my drink, not ready for this conversation. “Need another?” I raise my copper mug.

“Sure.”

I make us two more drinks. “What about our senior year? You were always gone and never said more than two words to me.”

He blows out a breath. “Honestly, I hated you. Or wanted to hate you.”

My heart plummets to my ass. Those are three words I never wanted to hear coming from Garrett. And I certainly never expected him to say them.

“I hated my brother. I hated you were with my brother and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I thought it would be easier to be the asshole.” He takes a drink.

I nibble on my thumbnail, digesting everything he’s saying. “That’s why you spent our entire senior year ignoring me,” I mutter, mostly to myself.

“I couldn’t see you with Tony. Everyday felt like a rope around my heart, strangling me. It was easier to hate. Deep down I never hated you though. I convinced myself if I said it enough that it would be true, and I could stop feeling like shit.” His gaze drops to the counter. “I was eighteen and thought I had all the answers. Clearly, I was wrong.”

I swallow a giant gulp of my Dirty Reindeer. “Do you know how many times I called? How many messages I left with no response? That gutted me. Then when I got the automated message that your number had been disconnected, I was in agony. I didn’t have my best friend anymore. Do you think that was fair to me?”

He reaches across the counter and rests his hand on mine. “It wasn’t. I know that now. But at the time, that was the only way for me to process my feelings. I’m sorry.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “I hope we can move past this. I’m here now and want to make amends.”

It’s exhausting holding on to a ten-year grudge. I press my lips together before a smile tugs at them. “I think we can take some baby steps to rekindling our friendship.”

“I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to show you I’m sorry. I can’t take back what I did, but going forward I’ll be the best friend I once was and know I can be.” He pulls his hand away.

Instantly, I hate the loss of his warm hand on mine. I shake it off. “Another drink?”

“Sure. Let’s try something new.”

I mix a new drink and pass it to Garrett. He takes a giant gulp. His teeth grit together as he sucks in a sharp breath. “That one has a bite to it.”

“I call it The Heartbreaker.” My gaze meets his. “Because it’s a little painful, like a broken heart.” The corner of my lips twitch into a smile.

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “I see what you did.” He takes a sip. “Did you go to school for mixology?”

“Well, if you’d stayed in touch, you would know.”

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