The Whiskey Brothers: Willard

The Talk

Evie

Before I have time to process what is happening, I am straddling Willies lap.

His face is poised and stern and I can clearly see that he is pissed off. With me. I didn't like it one bit, but I have every right to ask him those questions. There isn't anything special about me. A man like Willie is so out of my league it's almost laughable that he would even look my way for longer than five seconds.

"I think it's time for the talk," Willie said placing a hand on each of my thighs.

"My parents already covered that so no worries," I said folding my arms over my chest with a roll of my eyes.

Again, his eyes travelled down to my chest before snapping back up to my face. Every time he does that, I melt a little more under his gaze. This man is slowly turning me into molten lava and I am more than okay with it.

"Not that talk, smart ass." He rolled his eyes at me.

"Okay then," I shrugged before looking at the back seat. I was searching for something—anything more interesting than his piercing brown whiskey-colored eyes.

Fuck, of course they were whiskey colored.

Everything about Willie screamed masculine and fucking hot as hell. It is hard to avoid the overwhelming attraction that I have for him. And I have tried just about anything and everything I could to get him out of my head but once I turned 12 and discovered boys—or in Willie's case; men—it was game over and absolutely no one compares to Willie.

It is unhealthy to be honest. And I have no idea how I hid it so well, but I knew that if I wasn't careful, I was going to do something that we would both regret. It is a small town and dating, let alone hooking up, with a guy—man—like Willie is sure to follow me for the rest of my life all the way to my grave and I couldn't live with that let alone fathom the idea.

"Do you remember the Christmas Party we had at the distillery when you were 12? I do. I remember every single detail. You were 12 and I was 22 and as wrong as it was, I knew then and there that I wanted you. I wanted to do and be anything and everything that didn't just need but you wanted. But I was a grown ass man, and it was wrong to even think about such things. I kept my distance until you were 18 and I avoided you at any and all cost to ensure I didn't do something that would be wrong; something that we would regret later.

"I tried to pretend my feelings weren't real and for a while, I think I had myself pretty convinced, fooled even. But then you turned 18 and everything fucking changed. It wasn't about what I wanted or what you wanted; it was about what I fucking needed—what you needed. But you were going away for college, and I couldn't stop you or get in the way of your dreams. So, I sat back and waited. I knew we would be together, but I didn't know how or when and that was fine. I'd wait for however long I needed to. I'd do whatever it took.

"Then your momma got sick, and you came back home. Everything changed in a blink of an eye and your mom passed. I had thought that you would return to school, but you didn't and the last two years I've spent watching and waiting for the perfect time to come in and make you mine.

"I had made a decision that I would approach you about my feelings the night of your 22nd birthday and then shit hit the fan, and I am sorry. I'm sorry about your papa, I'm sorry that you've spent the last two years alone, but I am here now and I'm not backing down. I know what I want and it's you. It's been you for the past ten years and I'm over fighting against it." Willie said breathlessly.

He had bared his soul to me and I just sat on his lap in bewilderment. How is this my life? What did I do to deserve a man like him?

It is Willie. Willie Whiskey. The man of my dreams. The man I've wanted since that same fucking Christmas Party. But, fuck, now things were complicated. I am different now and burdened and Willie deserves way fucking better than someone like me.

"Willie," I sighed with a shake of my head. I honestly didn't even know what to say...I mean, what could I say?

I want so badly to give in, but I just can't...and I won't. I made a vow to myself after momma died and I won't dare break it. Even for the man of my dreams. Even though his words had shaken me from the inside out. Even when I felt the same desire to have him as mine. I couldn't and I would hate myself for the rest of my life because of it.

"Don't," he said grabbing my face in both his hands. "It wasn't a question; it was just the truth...the whole truth. But, to answer your questions: I see you as this beautiful, fierce, strong, amazing creature. You are absolutely stunning and every single time I see you it amazes me how beautiful one person can be. You truly blow me away. Your random facts, your button nose, your emerald orbs, your cute as fuck glasses, your fire hair...you've got this beauty about you that I can't even begin to explain. And then your body, babe, your body is one of the greatest wonders I've ever seen. I love every single inch of you and I fucking love how perfectly you fit against me. You were made for me, babe, and I will never tire of you." He said looking deep into my eyes.

Swoon. Like, fucking, swoon.

I think I just melted into a puddle right here on his lap. Had it not been for his strong manly hands holding onto me, I would have easily thought that I had melted. He and his words were so swoon worthy. I don't think that I am worthy of his truths and his feelings, but he has shared them nonetheless and I believe him. I believe every word that came out of this man's mouth. I trusted him—immensely so. But trust isn't the problem. The problem is much deeper and graver than trust.

The problem is this: I am barely surviving the death of both my parents. How could I even think about letting this man consume my heart, mind, body and soul and survive losing him? I wouldn't and I couldn't.

If I had learned one thing over the past few years, it is that life is short, and death and grief were an absolute. I couldn't even fathom giving everything to this man who looked at me with nothing but desire and not be in a constant state of worry and distress waiting for the day he gets taken away from me.

And, let's face it, I didn't deserve a man like Willie to begin with. So why would I even dare to tempt fate?

"As I already said, it's not a question. I don't want an answer. We will be together, but right now you need to process the loss of your papa and I wouldn't dare try to stop you from doing that. I'll be patient. Just know, that you are mine. Now and forever, babe." He said before setting back into the passenger seat and buckling me in.

I sat there in shock looking over at him as he drove me back to my apartment in silence. Is this really happening? Did Willie just bare his soul to me? Was I considering being his? I don't know what being his would entail but I know that I am unworthy of happiness, I know that without a shadow of doubt.

Willie deserved better than silly old me.

Willie finished the 5-minute drive to my apartments in silence, thankfully. I am not sure if I can handle any more truth bombs tonight or ever again. Willie parked the car in front of the building and hopped out of the car and raced to my side to help me out. It is an action that I adore but I would never a mutter a word of it.

I stayed silent and deep in thought as he walked me to my doorstep and placed a kiss on my head before telling me he would call me in the morning, and he left as I watched from the window in my apartment in utter bewilderment.

Had that just happened or is this all just some dream—nightmare?

He had done everything as if it were the most common or simple thing in the world. The man just dropped a bombshell on me and whistled as he left me to process.

What the actual fuck?

Yet, he is right. I need to focus on processing what had happened with my papa before focusing on a relationship with him, or anyone for that matter. The more I thought about that the more complicated it grew.

Somehow or another I changed into a pair of shorts and night shirt and climbed into bed and swiftly fell asleep.