Page 81 of Fall is Brewing

I frown. "Glad about what?"

"That you're seeing it."

"Seeing what?"

"The other side of your rivalry. How much they want it, too."

I lean against the counter. "I always knew they worked hard."

"No." Patty shakes her head gently. "You knew they existed. You knew they had employees who worked hard. There's a difference.”

A guilty shiver tumbles down my spine because she's right. I'd spent weeks imagining Brooks as the rival down the road. Simply the competition. The obstacle.

I hadn't imagined him loading delivery trucks before sunrise. Or spending afternoons politely hearing no from businesses that had carried Hartley cider for decades. Or building an entire company one conversation at a time while pretending rejection rolled off his shoulders instead of lodging somewhere behind his ribs.

I hadn't imagined the weight of being the brother who had the most vision for the orchard from what I could see. Yes, Evan and Jace were invested, too. But not in the same way Brooks was.

Dad walks in before I can answer, a clipboard tucked beneath one arm and orchard maps folded in his hand. “Hey sweetheart, you made it home for dinner tonight! They’re not working you too hard over there, are they?”

“No, it’s like I messaged you. I just got caught in the storm yesterday and it made more sense to eat dinner there and wait it out.”

He pops a quick kiss onto the top of my head. “Good, good.” His eyes pause on the mug in my hands that I’d just finished washing. Dammit.

I quickly dry it off and slip it into my bag before Grandpa can take notice, too.

But Dad merely nods once, no judgment. Just acceptance. It's one of the things I love most about him. He never rushes people into explaining themselves.

Grandpa wanders in a minute later, cheeks pink from the cool evening air. "Smells like traitorous coffee in here."

I choke on literally nothing as Patty bursts out laughing.

Grandpa winks at me, stealing one of Patty’s apple slices from the bowl.

"I was conducting research,” I say, opening my phone app with the notes I’ve taken. Though suddenly, it feels way more traitorous… to Brooks.

"Research tastes an awful lot like Brooks Calder's roast, I guess,” Grandpa adds.

"I cannot believe all of you have become coffee detectives."

“Aanya ratted you out,” he finally confesses.

I groan, dropping my forehead into one hand. "Of course she did."

"Small town," Grandpa says around another stolen apple slice. "News travels faster than raccoons around here."

"That's... unfortunately true," Patty agrees.

I shake my head, laughing despite myself. "I swear I can't do anything in Orchard Falls without the entire town finding out before sunset."

Dad sets his clipboard on the table and leans against the counter, studying me with that quiet patience he's always had. "So..." he says. "What'd you learn?"

I blink. "Excuse me?"

"You said you were conducting research."

Grandpa points at me with what’s left of his apple slice. "Seems only fair we hear the report."

For a second, I consider brushing the whole thing off. Giving them the sanitized version. Inventory systems. Coffee sales. Delivery routes.