I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 06

I Was His Secret Genius, Now I’m His Biggest Regret Chapter 06

The bus hissed to a stop.

The old man stood up and waved through the window at a young man in a work jacket, his face bright with the joy of reunion. Ava was about to reach for her suitcase on the overhead rack when a hand with long fingers reached past her and steadied it.

“Grandpa, I told you to wait for me.”

A young man stood in the aisle, his voice low and steady. He looked to be around thirty. His dark work jacket made his shoulders appear broad, and his expression was focused and practical, as if he had just come from a workshop.

The old man smiled and patted his arm. “This is my grandson, Ethan Ashton.” He turned to Ethan and gestured to Ava. “Go on, help this young lady with her luggage, too. Her arm’s hurt.”

Ethan’s gaze fell on the gauze peeking from Ava’s sleeve. It lingered for only a second before he nodded. Without a word, he took down her suitcase as well.

“Thank you,” Ava said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The three of them followed the crowd off the bus. The Nashville evening air smelled of barbecue, with faint music drifting from distant bars.

“Where are you staying? Someone pickin’ you up?” the old man asked, worried.

“I booked a hotel. It isn’t far,” Ava said.

“That won’t do.” The old man turned to his grandson. “Ethan, drive this young lady to her hotel.”

“Grandpa, she might not be comfortable with that,” Ethan said, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

“I’m comfortable with it,” the old man said, glaring at him. “You’re a grown man. What’s wrong with givin’ her a ride?”

Ava wanted to refuse, but when she met the old man’s sincere, stubborn eyes, the words died in her throat. In this unfamiliar city, that small, unquestioning kindness was like a tiny flame.

“Then… thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

She sat in the back of Ethan’s Ford pickup. As the truck pulled onto the street, the city flashed by: flickering neon signs, guitar music spilling from honky-tonks, new distilleries with “Opening Soon” banners hung across their fronts. Everything here was alive with a noisy energy, a stark contrast to Kentucky’s heavy, tradition-bound elegance.

No Clayton. No cold looks from her children. No scrutiny from Savannah.

She looked out the window until her eyes ached.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ethan watching her in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t an invasive stare, but more like the curious inspection of someone recognizing their own kind.

“I’m Ethan,” he said, his voice clear beneath the rumble of the engine. “What kind of opportunity are you looking for in Nashville?”

Ava met his eyes in the mirror. “I’m not looking for an opportunity.”

She paused, then said, each word clear and deliberate, “I came to build a new whiskey brand.”