I headed toward the house, forcing myself not to look back. If I did, I wouldn’t keep walking.
I made it to the porch before I heard his truck start. The sound of it driving away tugged at something in my chest, like a tether stretching too far.
Inside, the house was too empty, too quiet.
My phone buzzed almost immediately.Saffron…then dots appeared, but no message followed.
Just my name. But it felt like everything—a question, a promise, and a plea.
I’m sorry,I wrote, unsure what exactly I was apologizing for.
When the dots appeared again, disappeared, then reappeared, I held my breath.
What I wanted to say but couldn’t is, I want you so much that when we’re together, it’s hard to breathe.
It was exactly how I felt but wasn’t brave enough to say.
Would he give me the space I needed, or would he run out of patience?
See you tomorrow. If I can wait that long.He added a winking emoji.
God, I hoped he couldn’t.
9
SNAPPER
I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt her pressed against me in the kitchen, tasted wine on her lips, and heard that small sound she’d made when I kissed her neck. That had been two nights ago, but my body didn’t seem to care. It wanted her like it had just happened. I checked my phone before my eyes were fully open. There were no new messages from Saffron, no response to me saying I’d see her today, if I could wait that long. Had I really thought there would be? Wished, yes. Expected, no way.
Instead of putting the phone down like I should have, I opened my photos. I had so many of her—of us—spanning years. Harvest celebrations where she stood laughing with grape juice staining her hands. The summer she was seventeen and worked alongside Kick and me, her ponytail pulled through a Los Cab baseball cap. The previous Wicked Winemakers’ Ball, where she wore the same dress she had this year, her smile genuine before Isabel cornered her. A candid shot from three years ago, when she didn’t know I was watching, standing in the vineyard at sunset with her eyes closed and face turned toward the sun like she was soaking in the last warmth of the day.
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to delete a single one, even when I told myself I was being pathetic.
I closed the photo app and sent her a message.Going to look for those logs Ma mentioned. Want to help?
The dots appeared right away, disappeared, then started again.
What time?
An hour? Meet you at the caves?
I’ll be there.
I stared at the screen for another few seconds, then forced myself to move. Shower, clothes, fresh coffee. Every minute dragged while I waited.
The drive to Los Cab took forever despite being less than twenty minutes from my house in town. When I arrived at the caves, Saffron’s truck was already there. She stood near the driver’s side door with her arms crossed and her hair in a ponytail that made her look ten years younger.
“You’re early,” I said, climbing out.
“So are you.”
We stood there for several seconds, neither of us moving.
“Ready?” I asked.
“Lead the way.”
I took her past the main barrel room, where hundreds of French oak barrels sat, aging wine in neat rows, their surfaces already developing the purple-black stains that came from years of use. The air smelled like wood and wine and time—earthy and rich.
