Twenty-one
Beckett
B y the time I wrap up rounds, my feet ache and my brain’s fried.
But all I can think about is Sadie curled up in my bed, hair messy from sleep, eyes half-lidded as she reaches for me.
Every night this past week has ended with her in my arms, and I’ve started measuring my days by the moment I get to climb into bed beside her.
Tonight, though, before I can go home, I promised Tarryn I’d stop by the winery.
The sun’s low over the hills as I drive up the long gravel road to the Paradise Hill tasting room.
The vines stretch in every direction, early-summer green and humming with life.
There’s something about this place that settles me.
Maybe it’s the legacy. Maybe it’s the land. Definitely helps that Sadie’s here now.
I spot Tarryn walking a row near the production barn, tablet in hand, ponytail swinging with each step.
“Hey,” I call, stepping out of my car.
She looks up and smiles. “Well, if it isn’t Dr. Beckett himself.”
I roll my eyes but wait to speak until I’m closer. “Is Zach still up to his usual?” I ask softly.
Tarryn sighs and flips the tablet around so I can see the video footage—security cams from the tasting room. Zach’s leaning on a barrel, phone in hand, while one of the interns is cleaning up from a tasting.
“Still working hard, I see,” I mutter.
“Working his charm, maybe. Not much else.” She tucks the tablet under her arm. “Elise’s over at Black Bear. They’ve been having water issues, and she’s trying to get ahead of it before we hit peak sun. Plus, she’s trying to figure out which acre to recommend for the white wine vinegar this year.”
Black Bear is our acreage on the east side of the lake and gets all the afternoon sun, which is perfect for white grape varietals. Kingston’s home is over on that side, so someone is usually there.
I raise a brow. “We’re in the condiment business now?”
She nods. “And after the disaster last season with that vat of white wine, we sold out every bottle of white wine vinegar within a week. It was a smaller bottle than the wine would have been, so we made more money per ounce. People have been asking about having it again this season, and there’s no reason not to. ”
“How will that impact wine production?”
“It won’t. We’re only using a small section of our whites, and I’m buying more from the Thompson Farm and the local indigenous nation. They’re really becoming a powerhouse grower.”
“I can’t believe how great you did, turning a bad event into something so successful.”
“If it turns a profit, I’m not picky,” she says, grinning. “Elise’s got numbers. They work. If it pans out, we’ll start a yearly batch. Small, but high-end.”
It’s good news. Smart. Strategic. But my mind’s already drifting. “Sadie in the tasting room?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm.” Tarryn’s smile shifts—knowing, maybe. “She’s got two couples in there right now. Charming the pants off them, last I checked.”
I head toward the tasting room, the sound of laughter carrying before I even open the door. Inside, the space glows with warm wood, soft golden light, and Sadie’s voice, weaving between her guests’ delighted comments.
She’s behind the counter, pouring with elegance, her eyes bright as she talks about flavor profiles and food pairings. The two couples she’s helping hang on her every word, nodding, pointing at bottles, setting them aside in a neat cluster by the register.
And then—Zach.
He sees me but doesn’t acknowledge me, strutting like he owns the place, all swagger and fake charm.
He slides in beside Sadie and starts pouring without even glancing at her.
One of the women giggles at something he says—something suggestive, no doubt—and then he turns to the men and says loudly, “Am I right?”
They chuckle awkwardly. It’s forced. And when he claps one of them on the back, I see their expressions shift, polite but distant.
They finish their final sips, mutter something about having to get on the road, and leave. No bottles. No sale. Sadie’s careful setup left behind on the counter like an afterthought.
Then Zach smirks, turns to her, and says, “You gonna clean up your mess or what?”
She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even flinch. Just nods, quietly collects the glasses, and begins wiping down the bar.
I feel the burn of anger crawl up my spine. I step forward until I’m standing just behind her. She doesn’t turn around, but I see the way her shoulders tense.
“Zach,” I say, voice low. Controlled. Dangerous .
He looks at me with fake surprise. “Didn’t see you there, Beck. Everything okay?”
“No. Not really.”
He looks between me and Sadie, then shrugs. “Just having a little fun.”
“Looks like you cost us a sale.” I point out the obvious.
He scoffs. “They weren’t serious buyers.”
“They were until you opened your mouth.”
He opens his hands like he’s about to say something else, but I give him a look that shuts it down. He mutters something under his breath and heads for the back.
Sadie still hasn’t looked up. Her hands are steady as she dries the glasses, but I can see the tightness around her mouth.
I lean in, lowering my voice. “You okay?”
She nods. Barely.
But I’m not. Not even close.
I wait until the last glass is dried and stacked before I speak again. “Sadie.”
She finally looks up. Her smile is faint, polite. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says before I can ask.
“You’re not,” I say softly. “You don’t have to lie.”
She presses the towel to the counter a little harder than necessary, then straightens, squaring her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. I can see the tug-of-war playing out in her head. Pride, restraint, self-protection.
“I don’t want to cause problems,” she finally says. “I’m the new girl. He’s family.”
“So are you.” The words come effortlessly. “Or at least you’re starting to feel like it.”
Her eyes flicker. That softens her for a second, but she shakes her head. “Beckett…”
“He embarrassed you. He disrespected you. And he cost you a sale you earned.”
“It’s just wine.” Her voice is too light. “They’ll come back.”
“Maybe. But that’s not the point.”
She looks down, folding the towel, and then unfolding it. “Look, I’ve dealt with guys like Zach before. You smile, let it roll off, and move on.”
“Why should you have to?”
“Because it’s easier,” she says. Her voice doesn’t rise, but the honesty in it hits like a punch. “Because if I say something, I’m the difficult one. The drama. The problem.”
I step closer, careful not to crowd her. “You think I’d ever see you that way?”
She finally meets my gaze. There’s heat in her eyes now, not anger, just something tired and raw.
“Maybe not now. I’ve won you over.” She cracks a faint smile. “But I also know this isn’t your battle.”
“Yes, it is,” I say quietly. “Not because I want to fight it for you, but because I give a damn when someone treats you like that.”
She swallows hard. For a second, I think she might tell me the truth. The whole thing. But instead, she just smiles again.
“I’ll be okay,” she says. “Just…don’t make a thing of it with Zach. It will only make things harder when you’re not here.”
I nod, even though it kills me. “Okay,” I say. “But if it happens again, I’m not pretending I didn’t see it.”
She sighs. “Fair enough.”
I reach for her hand before she can turn away. Just a brush of my fingers against hers. She freezes at the contact, then lets her fingers slip between mine.
“I missed you today,” I admit.
Her expression softens like sunlight on water. “I missed you too.”
And even though I’m still angry—at Zach, at the way she’s had to armor herself—I tuck that away for now. Because what I want more than anything is to take her home and remind her that not everyone in this family treats people like they’re disposable.
Because she’s not. Not to me .
I take her hand and lead her toward the main house. “You took a rideshare in this morning?”
She nods.
Sunday dinner is always a circus. Tonight should be no different.
As we reach the door, Sadie hangs back near the entrance to the kitchen. “You okay?” I ask.
She nods, giving me a tight smile. “Do I need a playbook for tonight?”
I lean in. “Just follow my lead. And don’t let Max get to you. And whatever you do, don’t let Zach bait you.”
“Noted.”
We enter the dining room just as Tarryn finishes placing a giant serving platter in the center of the table.
Roast chicken, fingerling potatoes, heirloom carrots—all laid out like a food magazine spread.
Mom’s done her usual magic. Dad’s already in his chair, wine glass in hand while Max lounges at the far end like he’s the king of the estate.
Zach is beside him, looking far too smug for someone who torpedoed a sale less than an hour ago.
“Ah, there he is,” Max says as I pull out a chair for Sadie. “Dr. Beckett, gracing us with his presence.”
“And not a minute too late,” I mutter as I sit.
“Sadie,” Mom says with a warm smile. “So good to see you again.”
“Thanks for having me.”
Max’s eyes flick to her, assessing. “So, you’re the one keeping our boy distracted these days.”
Sadie’s shoulders go rigid beside me, but she manages a smooth reply. “I don’t think of myself as a distraction.”
“She’s got a point,” Kingston says, not looking up from carving the chicken. “Let’s eat before Max starts interviewing the guests.”
The meal starts in relative peace. Plates fill, wine is poured—our merlot tonight, smooth and spicy. But it doesn’t take long for the tension to crawl in.
“So,” my dad says between bites, “we finally ran the numbers on the pinot barrels.”
All eyes turn to him.
“We’re good to bottle,” he continues. “And not a moment too soon. Grapes were crushed eighteen months ago. But there’s a catch.”
“There always is,” Tarryn says.
“Glass costs are up,” Dad says. “By a lot. If we go with traditional corks, it’ll dig into the margins. We’re looking at another twenty-five cents a bottle for closures alone.”