Tap (Men of Lovibond 1)

We enter Brou’s house through the garage and I quickly learn something about him. He’s no slob. Everything I see is organized and in its place. “You’re neat.”

“Is there any other way to be?”

“Yes, according to some people.” He didn’t see Ollie’s apartment before I cleaned it. Damn disaster.

“But not you?”

“No. I like things neat and orderly which is completely out of character for someone like me.” Free spirits typically don’t become disturbed

by something as trivial as disorganization. But I’m twitchy right now because my bag is a disaster.

He pats my bag. “Have a seat and I’ll put this in my bedroom.” I’m glad the thing is zipped so he doesn’t see the mess inside.

I don’t sit. Instead, I circle the living room. Wood-plank flooring. Brown leather sofa. Rich-caramel walls. Brou’s living room is warm and masculine. I don’t see a woman’s touch anywhere. Except the frames holding Ava’s pictures. I’m guessing Bridgette makes a habit of giving him a picture and frame combo.

There’s a ton of this kid. Anyone can see how crazy he is about that little girl. And the new baby boy on the way.

I’m still not positive about my take on the ex-wife and open marriage. That whole situation is messed up.

I’m holding a picture of Ava in a long flowing white dress when Brou returns from the bedroom. “She’s a beautiful child, isn’t she?”

I place the photo on the shelf. Not a bit of dust. “Yes. And it’s clear to see how much she adores her Unky Bou.”

“It’s actually Uncle Boudreaux but she puts her special twist on it.”

“I thought Bou was probably a shortened version of Broussard.”

“Bridg gave me that name right after I moved here. No one called me Lucas in high school. I was known as Boudreaux Broussard.”

“Boudreaux Broussard. That’s a tongue twister.”

Brou walks toward the kitchen. “Beer for you?”

“Yeah, I’ll take one.”

He returns with an unlabeled bottle. “I have something new Stout and Porter are working to perfect. It’s not quite there yet but it’s pretty damn good. Wanna try it?”

“Hell yeah.” I love being privy to new products. I get to rub that in Ivy and Kelsey’s faces.

Brou places a glass on the coffee table and pours the hazy orange liquid into the glass. I’m surprised by the color. Doesn’t look like anything they’ve done before.

“Has good head, eh?” He’s not going to let me live that one down.

“Yes it does. What is it?”

“Organic apricot ale.”

I bring it to my nose. “Mmm . . . smells good.”

“We want to try appealing to more female consumers. Fruity beers seem to be the way.”

I would agree with that. “I’m always drawn to a fruity option.”

I take a drink once the foam settles. “Rich. Full-bodied. Sweet with a hint of tartness. This is a beer I’d take to the beach.”

He snaps his fingers. “Yes. We’re shooting for this to be our first summer seasonal.”

“Great choice. How’s the pumpkin ale coming?” Seasonals are always great.

“Stout and Porter knocked it out of the park. The first batch rolls out of the brewery in eight weeks.” He lifts his glass of ale. “We’d love to see this one go out in April.”

“It’s delicious. I’m sure it’ll be a huge success.”

“Did you know you’re the reason Stout works so hard to grow the organic line?”

His words tug at my heartstrings. “No. I didn’t.” Of course, he would though. That has always been my Ollie.

We had so little in the early years, but even then when he was starving, he would look out for me. While it was my job as the older sister to look out for him.

Sweet boy. Sweet man.

That’s why it shattered my heart when Eden treated him so poorly.

“What made you decide to come over and surprise Stout this weekend?”

“There’s more than one reason but mostly I’ve been worried about his recent behavior.” Although I must say he seemed like the old Ollie today.

“What kind of change have you seen in him?”

“He’s been withdrawn since his breakup with Eden. It’s really worsened over the last couple of weeks. The big sister in me is putting her foot down. I’m tired of being ignored so I came to set my little brother’s ass straight.”

Brou smiles into his glass of beer. What is so funny about that?

“You said there was more than one reason.”

“I also had something important to tell him, and I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”

“Sounds intense.” Intense doesn’t really cover it.

“It is.”

I’d love someone else’s take on the kidney donation thing. I barely know Brou so I might have a chance of getting an unbiased opinion from him. “Did you know Ollie and I were adopted?”

“I’d heard that.”

“We were taken away from our biological parents when I was ten and Ollie was six. They were heroin junkies. The neglect we suffered at her hands was bad but our mother wasn’t just an addict. She was cruel. And we were her favorite victims because we were helpless to fight back.” To this day, I don’t understand why she enjoyed mistreating us. But it sparked something in me. An intense desire—maybe even a need—to unconditionally love my own children.

Brou puts his hand on my leg and squeezes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We were placed with wonderful foster parents who later adopted us. The rest of our childhood was terrific so our story has a happy ending.”

“I know your parents well. They’re wonderful people. Libby has been after me for years to come visit them in Savannah.” My goodness. I hadn’t considered the possibility Brou would know Mom and Dad. But that makes sense. They visit Ollie in Birmingham every few months.

Brou’s eyes widen. “Nothing’s wrong, I hope.”

“Not with them. They’re well and globetrotting in Scotland as we speak. Our birth mother is the one who’s ill.”

“You have contact with the woman who abused you?”

“Not by choice. She found Ollie and me several years ago. She claimed she was clean and wanted to apologize for the things she’d done. Said she needed to right the wrongs. And she did at first. But then it turned into her asking for a little money to get by because she couldn’t make rent. Within a few months, her hand was out every time she came around. Last week she told me she was in end-stage renal disease and needs a kidney. If we don’t give her one, she’s going to die.”

Brou rubs my leg. “Fuck. That’s a terrible guilt trip to put on anyone but especially your children.”

“There’s no guilt trip where Ollie’s concerned. He was very clear he wasn’t giving her one of his.”

“But you’re considering it?”

I live by the law of attraction. Helping her is positive but I have reservations. “I don’t know. The thought of giving someone an organ I could need later down the road is scary as hell. Is that selfish?”

“No. It’s a very legitimate concern, especially considering her past. This woman hurt you. I think you’re a saint for even considering it.”

“Despite every neglectful and cruel thing Christie did, she’s a human being. How do I live with myself if I stand by and let her die when I could potentially save her?”

“Do you know if you’re a match?”

“Our blood types are compatible. I’m her child so genetically I’m a fifty percent match, which is acceptable. I’ll need to go through the tissue typing and crossmatch testing so our compatibility can be confirmed. After that, I would need a physical to see if I’m healthy enough to donate.”

“I have questions bouncing around in my head like is she clean and sober? Does she follow doctor’s orders?”

“She’s been a noncompliant diabetic in the past but I don’t think any doctor would consider the transplant if she weren’t currently doing as she should.”

“There’s a front runner in my head when I consider what she’s asking of you. Do you want children?”

There’s no doubt in my mind. “Yes.”

“Have you considered how the transplant might impact your ability to start a family?”

“I’ve been so busy going back and forth about it I haven’t given that possibility any thought.” I can’t believe I didn’t even consider that, when having a child is so important to me.

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“People survive with one kidney all the time but it seems like that could cause problems in a pregnancy. So many things can go wrong even under the best conditions. I think she’s asking you to put your future family at risk by doing this.”

“That’s an entirely new way of looking at it.”

“You wanted my opinion. There it is. And if I had to guess, any legit doctor would bring up that concern during your physical. Some might even use that as a rationale for not using you as a donor.”

“All valid points.” Smart, sexy, and now mature and wise. This man is far more than I ever imagined. Why would Ollie warn me against him?

“Don’t feel guilty for putting you and your future family ahead of her.”

“I needed an objective opinion. My parents and friends are too emotionally involved for that; they know the details of how she abused us so they would never be able to get beyond the past to have an unbiased opinion.”

I’m glad I talked to Brou about this. His opinion makes me feel like it’s okay if I don’t go through with it. He has no idea how badly I needed to hear that from someone who didn’t have a place in my inner circle.

“Thank you for listening.” Most guys would have lost interest within the first two minutes.

“You’re good people, Wren.” You’re good people. Ollie uses that same phrase.

“I’m sorry you’ve been worried about Stout. And I hate that you’ve been putting yourself through hell over this decision about your birth mother, but I’m not a bit sorry those things brought you to Birmingham.”

“Me either.”

He takes my glass from my hand and places it on the coffee table before sliding closer. His hand cups the side of my face and then glides around to the back of my neck. “Your hair. It’s beautiful.” He pushes all of it over one shoulder and drags his nose up the side of my neck. “You smell so good. It’s driving me insane.”