Page 5 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Might have to change our name to Southern Brothers Brewing and Distilling now. Especially if you’re gonna do anything with that shine.”

I toss Brandt a look, waiting on the answer I know I’ll get. Moonshine was the first thing he and I ever brewed together. It started mostly as a way to get our own alcohol in high school, creating our own secret still in the back woods. That was, until we discovered how much we loved the process and all the nuances that go into it.

Brandt still plays around with the original still—which is now housed as part of the actual brewery—coming up with fun new flavors, including a sweet tea one. He’s been after my mother, Miss Belle, for the recipe to her famous sweet tea, to try and incorporate it, but hasn’t succeeded just yet.

“Doubtful. Shine’s just for fun. Putting it to market might take the fun out of it.”

“Hasn’t done that with beer.”

“Fair point.”

The conversation lulls, the sound of the road underneath the tires filling the space. There’s a long stretch of highway in front of us, with a whole lot of nothing on either side for the majority of this drive, making it easy to get lost in thought. Which is exactly what I plan to do on the way back to Hickory Hills. I need a stroke of genius to blindside me with the answer to this new beer.

Every Southern Brothers beer has a story, whether we meant it to or not. Party Mode and Sob Story seemed to name themselves. Both ales, one was happier and a little more upbeat, while the other more mellow. Both perfect, everyday drinking beers. Exactly what Brandt and I had been after. Silver Lining Sour was the result of a Brandt experiment gone wrong. He’d been going for something sweet and robust, and what he got was…well, sour. The fact that it was drinkable at all was a silver lining.

The new one is a puzzle I’ve yet to solve though. I knew what we were going for—something light and fun, with that hint of sweet we missed on Silver Lining, but still powerful. A drink that would light you up inside. That part we nailed. The flavor is right, the feelings all there. Yet, still no name.

“Promise me you’ll watch out for her.”

Brandt’s non sequitur pulls me from my thoughts, and it takes me a second to fully understand his request. Still, I can’t help but sass him in return.

“I promise not to let anything happen to the beer. Guard her with my life if I have to.”

“As comforting as that is, I wasn’t worried about the beer. I mean Brenna.”

“I knew what you meant. Brenna will be fine. She’s lived in Athens all these years without you while at school. And I’m sure with Mell home, it’ll be like old times for them.”

"If they get to be too much, don’t be afraid to tell her.”

I shake my head. For as laid-back and easygoing as Brandt usually is, there is a worrywart buried down in there. It only comes out regarding the things and people he loves the most. Like Brenna.

“I have a baby sister; I know how this works.”

“Willa’s different.”

I open my mouth to object, but I stop myself. Because he’s right—Willa and Brenna are different. Brenna—a surprise child if there ever was one—has a double-digit age gap between her and both her older brother and sister. Willa and I are only eight years apart. Not to mention the four brothers between us and the one older than me. Being a simultaneous youngest and “only” child like Brenna is a unique scenario. Willa is just your typical spoiled baby of the family.

Don’t tell her I said that though. Especially since a good portion of the time, I was the one doing the spoiling.

“She’s still a little sister,” I remind him. “And you have nothing to worry about with Brenna. She’s twenty-six and has a good head on her shoulders. She’s not…”

I stop myself before I say it. We don’t need to go there now. Might be the truth, but some things are better left unsaid.

“Bryce?” Brandt finishes for me.

I nod. “Wasn’t gonna say it.”

“We’re both thinking it. She’s not Bryce.”

His tone is underlined with grief, as if all of this falls on him. I know he feels that way, but none of it was under his control. How was he to know that Bryce would drop out of college to run away with the first loser she met, disappear for years, then show back up one day, not only married to a different guy—who is just as much of a loser—with a kid in tow and another on the way?

"Did I tell you she asked if we could find some hours for Topher?”

“What?” I look over at my best friend incredulously. There is no fucking way. “At Pour Decisions?”

“Yup.” Brandt pops the p, just as incredulous as I am.

“Hux not paying him enough?” I ask sarcastically, knowing that’s not even close to the case.