Page 8 of Stout Bear

Max crossed his arms, taking a deep breath before responding. Each sibling took a step closer, forming a semicircle around him.

“The staff are talking. We can’t hide it if this continues,” Gwen said, her voice edged with anger.

“Our festival profits rely on the seasonal brews. Without them, we might not break even,” Noah added.

Guilt gnawed at Max. He didn’t want to raise alarm without solid proof, but now it looked like a cover-up. Laney’s samples were from their holding tank, but if the contamination came from further up the line, it could be disastrous. The mountain spring water was critical to the Fate Mountain Brewery brand and flavor profile. Finding a new water source would be extremely expensive or impossible.

He worried that revealing the potential water contamination could destroy their reputation if it was nothing—or turn into full-blown panic if it was real. How could he explain that the meeting with Laney had confirmed his worst fears while also introducing the complication of an unexpected mate bond?

Max pushed off from his desk and squared his shoulders, adopting a calm, authoritative stance. He tried to keep his expression neutral as he held up a hand to quiet them.

“I have it under control. The batches we dumped were isolated incidents. We’ve got some off-flavors, but we’re working on it,” Max said, his tone firm.

“You’re working on it? That’s not an explanation,” Gwen replied, exasperated.

“How bad is it, really?” Noah asked, sighing.

“Why is this happening?” Liv asked.

Until he visited the spring with Laney tomorrow, he had only theories and preliminary data. He feared they would panic or lose hope if they learned how uncertain everything actually was.

“The festival is two weeks away, Max. We can’t afford not to bring the new brews to market,” Liv said, raising her voice.

“We need to know if we should pivot our entire campaign. Tell us what’s really happening,” Gwen said, trying to stay calm.

“These losses are piling up. We can’t just ignore them,” Noah said.

The small office seemed to shrink, the air thick with anxiety. Max pressed his palms onto the desk. He looked from one sibling to the next, recognizing the strain in each of them. Their family had weathered other crises, but a threat to their water source struck at the heart of everything they built.

He couldn’t risk scaring them until he had a plan to fix this problem. His role as the eldest demanded he shield them from uncertainty while finding solutions. That burden felt especially heavy tonight.

“I have it under control,” Max said, quiet but resolute.

“We’re your family. Don’t you think we deserve to know what is going on?” Gwen asked, her voice trembling with pent-up worry.

The siblings exchanged tense looks, clearly hurt by Max’s secrecy. His stoic front kept them from pushing further, but dissatisfaction lingered in the air between them.

“You say you have it under control. But every day we lose more time—and money,” Noah said flatly.

“You need to fix this, ASAP,” Gwen said, exhaling in frustration.

The siblings left the office, shutting the door behind them. Max remained motionless for a few moments, then slumped against his desk. The fear of losing their brand’s unique selling point weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Chapter

Ten

Laney and Maxset out at eight in Max’s pickup truck, winding along the narrow mountain roads. The sky glowed with morning sunlight, painting the peaks in soft pink and gold. From the passenger seat, Laney watched as the landscape transformed from sleepy small town to rugged wilderness. Towering evergreens loomed on either side of the road.

“My father had the pipeline built thirty years ago,” Max said. “He always said the spring was the best water he’d ever tasted.”

The Bock family had invested everything into building their brewery around this natural spring. If the contamination proved serious, their entire operation could be at risk.

Max pulled off onto a gravel turnout near a small structure nestled against a rocky slope. Laney stepped out, slipping on her backpack and taking a moment to absorb the cool mountain air. The scent of pine and soil filled her nose.

The pumphouse, roughly the size of a large shed, was built of sturdy timber with a corrugated metal roof. A low hum emanated from within, hinting at the pump system directingwater down to the brewery. The structure looked well-maintained.

“We upgraded the pumps last spring,” Max said, unlocking the door. “We needed something stronger to maintain pressure along the new pipeline sections.”

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