The Dating Plan(92)

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He didn’t want to hear a story about his dad that wasn’t exactly like the one in his head. He’d spent too long hating the old man, too long trying to prove something to someone who didn’t care.

“He envied you because you were everything Grandpa had wanted him to be, and you were a constant reminder that he’d let his father down. You were smart, strong, brave, loyal, and honest. Not only that, he couldn’t control you because you didn’t put up with his shit. When he couldn’t break you with his fists, he tried to break you with his words. Grandpa told him once that you were a better man, more worthy of his legacy at thirteen than he would ever be, and he intended to leave the distillery to you. That’s what set him off the night he broke your arm.”

Worthy. Because of who he was, and not what he’d done. The goal he’d been pursuing all his life had been inside him all along.

Emotion welled up in his chest. They’d never been an affectionate family so the closest he could get to a hug was to clap Brendan on the shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. For everything.”

“And you.” Brendan turned away, but not before Liam saw his eyes glisten.

“They’re starting now,” Joe called out from the door. “Bulldozer is on its way to the rickhouse. You want to watch?”

“Tell Jaxon I’ll be right there,” Brendan said.

“He’s not with me.” Joe stepped inside, frowning. “I haven’t seen him since Liam arrived.”

Brendan’s breath hitched and he rose quickly from his seat. “I sent him out to see you.”

“I’ll take a look around,” Joe said.

“You don’t think he would have gone into one of the buildings?” Brendan made his way quickly toward the door with Liam close behind.

“Jaxon’s not like me,” Liam assured him. “He doesn’t break the rules. He might just be playing nearby—probably in the field with his plane . . .”

“Liam . . .” Brendan’s voice trembled.

“We’ll find him, Bren.” Nausea roiled in his belly and he feigned a confidence he didn’t feel in the least. “Don’t worry.”

Ten minutes later, after a quick search of the parking lot and the distillery grounds, they met up with Joe.

“I checked the malt house, the mash tun, and the stillroom. He’s not there.”

“I need to call Lauren.” Brendan pulled out his phone, his hand shaking.

“You’ll just scare her,” Liam said. “It will take her over an hour to get out here and she’ll be totally panicked when she’s driving. Let’s look again. If we don’t find him in the next ten minutes, then give her a call. I’m sure we’ll find him. He’s only five years old. How far could he go?”

A tremendous crash startled him and he looked over just as the wall of the rickhouse crumbled.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t anyone tell them to stop?”

All the blood drained from Brendan’s face. “What if he’s inside?” His voice rose to a panicked pitch. “I can’t lose him. I didn’t think after Dad I could love anyone, but Jaxon and Lauren, they’re everything to me.”

Liam had never thought he could love anyone, either. Family had meant only pain and hurt, betrayal and disappointment. But then Jaxon had been born and his walls had started to crumble. After his dad died and he’d reconnected with his grandfather, a sliver of light had reached his heart. And then he’d met Daisy again. She hadn’t measured his worth in the amount of money he had, or the number of letters after his name. She liked him for who he was and how he made her feel. She had opened him up to a world of love and laughter, hope and happiness. And he had let her slip away.

“You won’t lose him. Not if I have anything to do with it.” Heart pounding, Liam ran over to the bulldozer and waved at the driver to stop. He told the contractor to stand his men down and raced into the partially fallen building.

Despite the gaping hole in the wall, the room was cool and quiet, the empty casks still standing in rows. Now, more than ever, it reminded him of the inside of a Spanish galleon, and he remembered telling Jaxon how he’d played pirates here when he was a boy. He looked down the longest row to the wall at the back and knew in an instant where to find his nephew.

“Brendan!” He shouted over his shoulder. “I know where he is.”

Together, they ran to the back of the rickhouse and found Jaxon crouched behind the old Murphy cask with a sharp stick in his hand. Biting back a sob, Brendan hugged Jaxon to his chest.

“What were you doing here?” he scolded, although his voice was shaking. “We were looking everywhere for you.”

“Your name was missing.” Oblivious to the panic he’d caused, Jaxon pointed to the cask that bore the names of all the Murphy men. “I wanted to carve it into the wood. I thought if your name was there then you wouldn’t knock the distillery down and when I grew up it could be mine.”

Brendan stroked Jaxon’s hair, and sighed. “I’d like to save it, too, but the distillery is old and falling apart, and we need to sell the land to save our company.”

“Can’t we fix it?” Jaxon asked. “You and me and Uncle Liam could work together. We could keep just this piece. I want to be a Murphy son.”