Chapter 26
Farrah
Today was the day I revealed the new and improved tasting room to Laurel.
I straightened the centerpieces lining the long reclaimed-wood farm table, polished the wine glasses until they gleamed, and adjusted the placement of the newest vintages one last time.
When I finally stepped back, the space looked exactly as I’d envisioned.
Light-filled and warm. Layered with texture and softness.
The endless view of rolling vineyard hills beyond the windows was still the star, but now the room finally felt alive.
I should have been proud. Excited.
Instead, a deep, all-consuming sadness took hold.
I swiped at the tear that slipped down my cheek just as Laurel walked in. These last few weeks had been rough. Crying had become a daily occurrence. Always in the quiet, private moments where the weight of everything felt too heavy to carry alone.
Her eyes widened as she took in the room. She clasped her hands together, delight lighting her face.
“Oh my God, Farrah. This looks incredible!”
She walked slowly around the space, trailing her fingertips along the table, taking in the details—the subtle nods to the James family history, the warmth woven into every corner. When she turned back to me, her smile was wide… until it wasn’t.
It fell instantly when she really looked at me.
“Honey,” she said gently, crossing the room. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing. I’ve known you your entire life, I know when something’s bothering you.”
I let out a long breath and sank into one of the chairs. I was exhausted. From thinking. From pretending. From holding it all in.
“How long do you have?” I asked quietly.
Laurel pulled out the chair beside me and sat, taking my hand in both of hers. Her green eyes—so painfully similar to Walker’s—were full of concern.
“As long as you need.”
By the time I finished telling her everything—about Walker, the photos, the fight, the things left unsaid—tears streamed freely down my face. Laurel reached up and brushed them away with her thumb.
“Oh, honey,” she murmured. “Don’t cry.”
She sighed, the sound heavy with understanding. “When Walker’s hurt, he shuts down. He runs. He’s never liked burdening others with his emotions, so instead of feeling them, he removes himself from the situation.”
The hurt in Walker’s eyes when he walked out of my house haunted me…when he ran.
“It seems,” she continued softly, “you two have always struggled with the same thing—asking for what you want. Saying what you need.”
I huffed out a humorless laugh and wiped my cheeks. “Well… aren’t we just the perfect pair.”
Laurel was quiet a moment before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to be with Walker?”
There was no hesitation. No doubt.
“Yes.”
“Then you need to stop making decisions for both of you,” she said gently but firmly. “Your fears are valid, Farrah. Your feelings matter. But you’ve got to give Walker the chance to be there, to support you. To love you.”
My chest tightened as I dropped my face into my hands. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
Laurel reached for me, pulling my hands away so I had no choice but to look at her.
“You don’t fix it from here,” she said simply. She stood up, walked out of the room briefly, and returned with something clutched in her hand.
I swallowed as she sat down and pushed a key card toward me.
“Go to Austin.”
Hadley was with Jake this week, so I packed a bag, got in my car, and headed to Austin. I wasn't going to leave his place until he heard everything I had to say. This time, I was going to tell him what I wanted, and more importantly, I was going to give him the chance to do the same.
For a one-hour drive, it felt incredibly long.
I tried to drown out my thoughts with music, but I was only getting more anxious the closer I got to the city.
When I finally arrived in Austin, I parked in the garage attached to his building and headed towards the lobby.
I had never been to his penthouse, but luckily, Laurel had done me a solid and given me her extra key card to access Walker's place.
Thankfully, Laurel had also called security before my arrival, so I bypassed the security desk and made my way to the elevator bays.
I pressed the key card against the scanner of the elevator Laurel had instructed me to use.
I blew out a nervous breath once the doors opened and I slipped inside.
With each passing floor, the pit in my stomach only grew larger.
Was this the right move?
Before I could talk myself out of it, the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open, presenting me with a foyer painted in soft creams and trimmed with warm wood tones.
I stood frozen for a moment, unsure how to propel myself forward—all the fears, all the what-ifs, rushing back—until I looked up and was met with emerald eyes.
My heart rate slowed, my breathing steadied, and I knew immediately that I wanted to fight for him.
Walker stood a few feet from the elevator; his brows pinched together in confusion. "Farrah? What are you doing here? H-how, did you even get up?"
I finally stepped off the elevator and approached him hesitantly. I cleared my throat. "Oh, you know. I was, uh, just in the neighborhood." I tried to ease the heavy tension that hung in the air.
Walker crossed his arms against his chest, not finding anything humorous about my comment. "No. Really. What are you doing here?"
I tucked my hair behind my ear and started fiddling with the ends.
My eyes cast down. "I need to talk to you."
He was quiet for a moment, deciding if he wanted to let me in. His arms dropped to his sides, as if he were lowering his guard. "Okay, let's go sit in the living room."
I followed closely behind, taking in the breathtaking city views that lay outside of his floor-to-ceiling windows. We settled onto the couch in silence.
I decided to just cut to the chase, my heart pounding in my ears.
"I'm sorry about the last time we spoke.
I'm realizing I tend to rush into making decisions for both of us out of fear.
I guess I think that if I make the decision, it'll somehow hurt less.
" I glanced down, unable to hold his stare, rubbing the palms of my hands up and down my thighs.
"I can't say I regret breaking up with you nine years ago.
I needed to get out from under your shadow, build something for myself, and follow my own dreams. I don't know if I would’ve done that if I had stayed.
I'm afraid I would have just followed you and molded my whole world around you and baseball, like I always had.
" I paused to gather myself. "I do regret five years ago. I felt the connection, the one we’ve always had. Being with you that Christmas felt right. I realized then I’d never stopped loving you, and I planned to talk to you about it and to break things off with Jake. "
Walker remained quiet, letting me continue.
"Jake blindsided me with that proposal, Walk.
" A tear slipped out. "I didn't know what to do.
I didn't want to embarrass him publicly in our small town; I couldn't do that to him. So, I accepted the proposal, planning to still talk to him and break up. I called you; I texted you… but you never answered. I found out from my sister that you’d already left for spring training. Not long after, those photos came out. Tons of them, all different women. I felt so stupid. I felt like I’d misread everything. "
Walker shook his head, his expression unreadable.
"I still ended up telling Jake everything.
We decided not to call off the engagement and try to make it work.
We had a lot of time invested in our relationship, and there was still love there.
I worked to earn his trust back, and eventually we were in a great place and…
well, you know the rest." My eyes lifted from my hands and up to Walker's.
"It isn't an excuse, but seeing those photos the other week after what had just happened between us felt like five years ago all over again.
It hurt, and I felt stupid. So, I panicked and did what I always do.
Got out. Made the decision for us." The tears began to fall freely, "I'm sorry, Walker. " My voice cracked.
He reached over and ran the pad of his thumb across my cheek, removing the tears. "Thank you for telling me all of that. I had no idea. I wish I had, and I wish I hadn't run without talking to you."
I shrugged and flashed him a sad smile. "We both just need to be better at saying what we want."
Walker intertwined his fingers through mine; his eyes focused on our hands before he lifted his gaze to mine. "And what is it that you want, Wildflower?" he asked in a whisper.
"You."