Page 5 of Bourbon Girl: part 5 of 6
devil's cutthe portion of bourbon absorbed into the barrel wood
THE TOURbus rolled into Goldenrod's gravel parking lot and my entire body went rigid. There was no way around visiting the distillery on our regular tour schedule.
Through the windshield, I could see the familiar lines of the building in the weak November sunlight. Somewhere inside, Dylan was probably preparing for our arrival. My pulse hammered against my ribs.
"You okay?" Jett asked quietly as he killed the engine.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The tour group—a bachelorette party from Nashville—gathered their purses and phones, chattering excitedly about the tasting ahead. They had no idea their guide was seconds away from having a panic attack.
"You can go on in," I told the group. "The bartender will be ready for you."
I descended the bus steps and positioned myself near the rear of the vehicle, using it as a barrier between myself and the distillery entrance. The bachelorettes filed inside, their laughter echoing across the parking lot. Jett lingered beside me, his presence both comforting and complicated.
"Bernadette." His voice was careful. "Why are you avoiding Dylan?"
I kept my eyes fixed on the distant tree line, watching leaves scatter in the wind. How could I possibly explain?
"It's complicated," I managed.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have right now."
Jett opened his mouth to respond, but movement from the distillery entrance cut him off. Dylan emerged, his expression stormy as he strode across the gravel toward us. My stomach plummeted.
"Bernadette." He stopped a few feet away, his jaw tight. "You've been ignoring my calls. My texts. Now you're hiding behind the bus?"
"I'm not hiding. I'm just—"
"Just what? Avoiding me without explanation?" His dark eyes searched my face, hurt and confusion warring in their depths. "What happened? Saturday night at the party, everything was fine. Better than fine. Then you disappeared and now you won't talk to me."
I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though it felt like swallowing glass. "I can't see you anymore."
The words hung between us, stark and final.
Dylan's face went pale. "What? Why?"
"Please don't ask me that."
"Don't ask?" His voice rose. "You can't just cut someone off without a reason."
My hands clenched at my sides. "I'm sorry. I just can't."
"Is it because of him?" Dylan's eyes cut to Jett, accusation sharpening his tone. "Is something going on between you two?"
"No," I said quickly. "Of course not. This has nothing to do with Jett."
Beside me, Jett went very still. I could feel his reaction to my words, but I couldn't look at him. Not now.
"Then what?" Dylan stepped closer, desperation replacing anger. "Help me understand. Whatever I did, I can fix it. Just tell me what's wrong."
"You didn't do anything wrong." My voice cracked. "This isn't about you."
"Then what is it about?"
I couldn't answer. Couldn't explain that every feeling I'd developed for him now felt tainted and wrong. Couldn't articulate the way my entire world had collapsed with a single phone call.
"Hey, man," Jett said, taking a step toward us. "Bernadette doesn't owe you anything. She said she can't see you. That should be enough."
