“Quit saying that. You’re not fine. You’ve got shadows under your eyes. You’ve lost weight. Your hands are shaking.”
I looked down. He was right. My hands trembled against my thighs.
“You need to rest.”
“I can’t.” The words came out sharper than I intended. “I can’t stop. I can’t—” The rest of what I was about to say stuck in my throat.
Snapper reached up and cupped my cheek. His touch was gentle enough to make my eyes burn. “Saff?—”
“We should get to work.” I stepped away and headed toward the vines.
I felt his gaze on my back, but he didn’t follow immediately.
The afternoon was brutal.Heat pressed down, and my exhaustion made everything harder. I dropped a cluster, stumbled between vines, and forgot to move my bin forward, so I had to backtrack.
Every time, Snapper was there, steadying me. Moving my bin without comment.
By five o’clock, we’d picked the last cluster, and the bins were loaded onto the truck that would take them straight to Los Caballeros.
My hands shook harder as I watched the purple-black fruit disappear.
“Saff,” he said quietly. “Go inside.”
“I need to help?—”
“We’ve got it.”
“But—”
“Please.” He stepped closer, and I saw the concern in his eyes. “Let us handle getting the fruit into the tanks.”
I thanked him, then went inside the house that felt too big and empty. I showered and changed into pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt that used to be my dad’s. Then I sat at the kitchen table with a glass of water I didn’t drink.
The mail was stacked in the center of the table. Bills I couldn’t pay. Notices I’d been ignoring.
I opened the top envelope. Equipment supplier. Past due. Please remit.
The next one was from our wine distributor. Account suspended. Outstanding balance must be paid.
I set them aside and reached for the next. And the next. Each one worse than the last.
My vision blurred as tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.
I couldn’t fall apart. Not now.
But my body didn’t listen. The sobs came anyway—ugly, choking sounds that hurt. I pressed my hands over my face but couldn’t stop.
Days of holding it together had taken their toll on me. I couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t carry it alone. Couldn’t be strong enough or smart enough to save us. I was going to fail, and we were going to lose everything.
Headlights swept across the kitchen window.
I heard a truck door slam. Footsteps on the porch. A knock.
“Saff? You in there?”
I couldn’t answer through the sobs.
He opened the door I’d forgotten to lock.
