Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
He picked up the mug and took a sip, Colby watching him the whole time. He hoped Vince liked it. That he hadn’t chosen wrong. Maybe he should have gone with a dry Irish stout, since those were the most popular.
“Oh, that’s good. It’s a little sweeter than I expected.”
Colby sat up straighter. “It has lactose in it. I’ve looked it up. The lactose doesn’t ferment, which gives it that sweeter taste. And it should be smoother, almost creamy. I think it’s a good dichotomy—the sweet with the bitter flavor.”
Vince leaned forward, elbows on the table, dark eyes full of mischief.
“What?” It was his turn to ask, like Vince had asked him only minutes before.
“You should brew beer.”
The hairs on his arms stood up, and he shook his head. “I couldn’t brew beer.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know anything about it?”
“You’ll learn.”
“What if it’s terrible?”
“You’ll get better. And if you don’t and you hate it, then you stop. You don’t lose anything by trying. You love beer. You want to figure something out of your own. Try new things. This is new.”
He couldn’t…could he? It wasn’t something Colby had ever considered, but the longer he sat there, the more he noticed the fluttering feeling in his stomach. He could try it. Maybe it would be fun, maybe it wouldn’t be, but Vince was right. He didn’t lose anything by trying. And then maybe he could just brew his own beer. It would be a new hobby for him.
“Yeah?” he asked, waiting for Vince’s response, as if he needed it. As if there was no way he could do this without Vince telling him it was a good idea.
“Fuck yes. We can do some research to see what we need. Start out small, of course. Who knows what will happen.”
“You’ll do it with me?”
“I can’t believe you even have to ask. I don’t think there’s anything I wouldn’t do with you, Colby Covington.”
His stomach somersaulted. He couldn’t figure out how he got so lucky to have Vince as a friend.
“Yeah.” Colby nodded. “Let’s do this. Let’s brew some beer. Can we keep it between us for now?” He didn’t want others to think it was silly. Or even worse, to expect it to actually go somewhere. His family was the type who could do anything, and whatever they chose turned out incredible. Colby wasn’t sure he had that gene.
“Of course. Our secret.” Vince winked.
Colby’s stomach did gymnastics again.
“Here you go.” The waiter stepped up to the table, setting a plate in front of Vince, then Colby. “Can I get you anything else?”
Colby shook his head. In that moment, he had everything he needed.
CHAPTER SIX
Vince
“Hey, Aunt Marin, how are you?” Vince asked when his aunt answered the phone. She was a good woman—both she and his uncle George were good people. But they weren’t close in the traditional sense. Not in the way Colby’s family was, but he didn’t figure most people were like the Covingtons. Vince had never met any family like them.
“Not too bad. How is life in South Carolina?”
“North,” he reminded her. He didn’t take offense that she didn’t remember which Carolina he’d moved to. She’d sent him a Christmas card, so she knew. She must have just forgotten.
“Shoot. I’m sorry. I know that. I’m not sure where my brain is.”
“It’s fine, Auntie. Things are going well. Colby and I are going to start trying to brew beer.” He wasn’t sure how that would go, but he was excited to give it a go. He was always up for doing new things, and even more so when he was doing them with Colby. Vince wanted his friend to find whatever it was he was looking for. Their conversation from the other night still broke his heart. He hated knowing that Colby had all that going on beneath the surface—that he doubted himself, didn’t feel like he knew himself, and maybe felt a little trapped.
“Are you sure this Colby you’re living with and constantly talking about isn’t a boyfriend?” she asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Vince chuckled, thinking about their jokes about being husbands. “Nah, just a friend.” He paced around his bedroom.
“Well, it sounds like he’s a better man than that ex of yours. I might not have ever met him, but I don’t like him. He didn’t treat you the way you deserve.”
Vince sat on the edge of his bed. No, Gregory hadn’t treated him the way he deserved. “Can I really blame him when I went back a second time?”
“Don’t you talk like that, Vincent O’Brien. You have a big heart. You got it from your daddy. Don’t ever fault yourself for that.”
He did get it from his dad. A pang hit his chest, and he rubbed it with his hand, as if the ache would go away. It wasn’t constant, but even after nearly thirty years, he still missed his parents, so fucking much. He had so many memories of hanging out with his dad, learning to braid hair from his mama. While he wore it short now, she used to put it in cornrows for him when he was a kid. They’d laughed and loved, and an asshole on the freeway had taken them from him. Vince would feel their loss forever. “I miss them,” he admitted.