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Alana twisted her lips and glanced away. He was bound to eventually. “And what did you hear?”

“I heard you guys were close,” he explained. “I also heard she was a bad influence and made poor decisions, but I don’t believe that one as much.”

That took her by surprise. “Why?”

“Because if you thought she was worthy of such a close friendship, then I would trust your judgment of character.”

It was almost the stark opposite of what Chris had once said to her. She knew Chris’s sentiment had come from a place of worry; he wanted her to be safe. But Leo didn’t have that mindset. His sentiment came from a place of confidence. There wasn’t a need to worry if he trusted her to make the right decision.

She rubbed her thumb along the stem of her glass. “I appreciate that. Not everyone felt that way.”

He nodded, but he didn’t say more. He gave her room to continue, if she so desired. Allowed her the space to express what she was really feeling. She hadn’t realized how rare that was until that moment. Alana spent so much of her life creating the space to care for others, making her own problems seem small or practically non-existent. Maybe that was why she needed to run. She couldn’t burden everyone with her pain when she knew they needed taking care of. It was easier to hide herself completely than let them see what was truly going on.

It was why she loved Courtney so much. Courtney had taught her how to express those feelings, to speak up, to rage against the machine.

“Those six months before the crash, I could feel her distancing,” Alana shared. “I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to admit that maybe my friend had a problem. I trusted her to take care of herself, to be the person everyone said she wasn’t. But in the end, she proved all of them right.”

She felt the sharp sting of tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled, dabbing at them with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “I hate that they put her in that sort of box. I hate that this small town didn’t get to see what I did, see all the beautiful sides of her. Court had this ability to make you want to live life to the fullest, to take advantage of every second. She encouraged Tess and I to speak up and have minds of our own instead of following the script that was seemingly already written out for us. Eldest daughters set examples and all that.

“I just wish I had handled things differently, in the end.” And I wish I’d never told her about the wine. It was one of her darkest haunts. If she hadn’t told her the truth about the soil, would Courtney still be alive? Would the magic have somehow saved her?

She pursed her lips, trying her best to stop the waterworks she’d unleashed by admitting all of that. To him, and to herself.

Leo moved his hand from the back of the couch, then gently brushed it along her hair. He tucked the strands behind her ear, then wiped a fresh tear from her cheek, his thumb rubbing circles as the salty water seeped into her skin. His soothing touch should have calmed her, but it only brought a fresh onslaught of tears as she continued to cry. He didn’t move, his palm cupping the side of her jaw, his thumb drawing circles, his fingertips massaging the nape of her neck.

She wanted to curl closer to him, to feel the heat from his chest warm up her skin and her cold, weary soul. She desperately wanted to be soothed, to be touched by a man who knew how to comfort her. To take care of her.

The only one who would be stupid enough to fuck the winemaker is you.

The memory of Freya’s words was like being doused in ice cold water. She snapped out of it, shifting in her seat.

Leo dropped his hand, placing it down beside him. She expected to see embarrassment, maybe disappointment. Yet Leo was his unflappable, calm self. The small stretch of his hand and the curling of his fingers was the only noticeable sign that he was also affected by whatever happened.

Alana downed the rest of her glass, then moved to stand. “Thank you for the wine,” she said, feeling awkward.

Leo nodded. “Do you feel any better?”

She chuckled in disbelief. Feel any better? Somehow she felt even more rattled and confused than when she stepped foot in the shed. But she didn’t want to burden him further, so she merely nodded. “Yes. It was good to talk things out.”

His smile was small. He looked unconvinced. “Good.”

She nodded back, then made her way to the door. With her hand on the knob, she turned back to face him. She gestured to the different-shaped bottles on the counter. “Don’t get too caught up in trying to compete with the other vineyards. It’s all going to be okay.”

Leo tilted his head, a lock of his tousled light brown hair draping across his forehead. “I want to do what I can to help us make more money, to get us out of this predicament.”

“I understand that,” she replied. “But remember, this vineyard has survived for decades for one sole reason.”

“And what’s that?”

She smiled. “Our wine is unique, and you can’t find anything like it anywhere else.”

With that, she stepped out into the warm evening and closed the door.

16

The end of August always meant two things: harvest prep, and Sophie Marien’s birthday.

Despite their viral success—and the obscene story online that she and Leo were an item—things at the vineyard proceeded as normal. They spent their days in the fields—pulling excess leaves on vines to promote good air flow, dropping uneven clusters that they might have missed during their first pass through the vineyard, sampling the fruit to see where they were at with their Brix levels. Grapes needed the right amount of acidity and sugar to make a well-balanced wine. Leo tested the grapes daily and scrawled notes on his chart, constantly making predictions on which day harvest would be that year. Alana occasionally snacked on a grape, but she didn’t need to measure. She already knew what Leo’s chart would eventually tell him.