Twenty-eight
Beckett
I didn’t sleep last night. Not a damn minute.
When I left Tarryn’s, I drove around looking until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, but then I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. When it was a reasonable hour, I reached out to Sadie again, asking if she could let me know she was safe.
Nothing in return.
But she has to come into work. She loves the job. Loves the people. Tarryn said she was on the schedule today, and that’s enough to keep me upright. I’ll go down to the tasting room and talk to her. I’ll apologize. I’ll grovel if I have to.
When the kettle screams, I shut it off and don’t bother making the tea. I’m too wired. I throw on jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, not caring that I look like hell. No shave. No shower. No appeti te. Just this restless, hollow pain that only eases when I imagine seeing her again.
I’m halfway out the door when I double back and grab my keys off the counter.
I’m going to fix this.
Or at least try.
When I reach the vineyard, I park haphazardly, crooked across two spots, and jog to the entrance.
I need to tell her I’m sorry and that I was out of line.
That I didn’t mean to make her feel small or questioned.
That the way I came at her wasn’t about her at all.
It was about my own fear. About losing control. About failing her.
The bell above the door gives a lazy jingle as I enter. Inside, the place looks warm and ready for the day—glasses lined up on the bar, menus laid out, fresh-cut wildflowers on the hostess stand. But she’s not here.
Zach is behind the bar, polishing glasses like he’s actually doing something useful this morning. He looks up, eyebrows arching.
“Morning,” I say tightly. “Is Sadie here?”
Zach snorts. “She quit.”
I blink. “What?”
He shrugs, setting the glass down a little too hard. “Told me she was done. Walked out yesterday after her shift.”
No. No way . “She quit?”
He leans on the bar, smug as hell. “Yep. Guess doing a half-ass job doesn’t bring in enough tips, so working loses its charm.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re the manager. You’re supposed to help, not sit on your ass while she runs the floor.”
He shrugs again. “Not my fault if she can’t handle the job. Now, I’m going to hire a real sommelier. None of this amateur shit Tarryn foisted on me.”
The muscles in my jaw clench so tight I might crack a molar. I don’t have time for his power plays or his lazy-ass attitude. What the hell happened here? “She loved this job,” I say, mostly to myself. “She wouldn’t just walk away.”
Zach wipes an invisible smear from the counter, feigning innocence. “Guess she didn’t love it that much.”
I take one last look around. In my bones, I don’t believe she’d walk away from a job she loves because of me.
Unless she did.
I turn on my heel and walk out, the bell jangling behind me. My pulse hammers in my ears. Zach might have pushed her, but I’m the one who broke her trust.
I should’ve been the one to protect her.
I head straight to the vineyard offices. I find Tarryn behind her desk, one hand holding her cell to her ear while the other scrolls through a spreadsheet on her laptop. Her glasses are pushed up into her hair, and a legal pad sits on her lap, already half full. I knock lightly on the doorframe.
She waves me in and mutes her phone. “You still look like hell.”
“Didn’t sleep,” I mutter, sinking into the chair across from her. “Busy morning?”
She exhales, switching to speaker and setting her phone down. “BC Liquor’s trying to push up their fall release orders. I’ve got a call with our growers this afternoon, trying to nail down grape yields. Meeting with an equipment rep in an hour. Oh, and I’m reviewing Sadie’s VIP Buyers proposal.”
That gets my attention. “Sadie’s what?”
She grabs a folder from her desk and slides it open. “She’s been working on this quietly for a couple weeks. It’s genius. She wants to create an exclusive tier for our highest-spending customers. Kind of a hybrid between a wine club and a luxury loyalty program.”
Tarryn flips to the next page and reads, “Guaranteed access to limited and library wines. First look at unreleased vintages. Private barrel tastings. Concierge service for cellaring and shipping. Invitations to vineyard brunches and dinners with the family. Even custom labels and bottle storage onsite.”
I sit back, eyebrows rising. “That is brilliant. ”
“I know.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “I’m pissed I didn’t think of it myself.”
“What’d she want to call it?”
“She had a few names jotted down. Barrel Society. The Reserve List. Founder’s Circle. Paradise Elite.” Tarryn glances up at me. “She gets it, Beckett. The experience. The brand. She understands what people want before they even know they want it.”
I rub a hand across my jaw, everything inside me tightening. I had no idea she was working on something like this. All over again, my gut tells me she didn’t just quit.
“She’s just as sharp as Caleb,” I murmur.
Tarryn’s lips twitch. “Maybe sharper.”
I nod slowly.
She was building something here.
And now she’s gone.
“I need to tell you something,” I say, voice low.
Tarryn looks up from the proposal, her expression shifting from impressed to wary. “What is it?”
“She didn’t just quit.” I pause. “I’m sure Zach did something.”
Her eyes widen. “Wait, what?”
“Zach didn’t tell you? I came here to talk to her this morning, and he said she quit.”
Tarryn leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Why would she quit?” She shakes her head. “We know why she quit. He’s going to be sorry. Now, he’s got to work.”
“He seems to think a sommelier is what we need.”
Tarryn’s mouth presses into a tight line. “At a huge cost. I was thinking I’d send Sadie to get her certificate. I think she’d do well enough to become a master sommelier. So you didn’t make any progress finding her? I need to talk to her.”
“No.” I pause. “I can’t find her. Like I said, I came here to try to catch her at work.”
Tarryn swears—loud and unfiltered—then scrubs a hand down her face. “Damn it, Beckett. I was just reviewing footage again from the tasting room yesterday. Do you know what I saw?”
I shake my head.
“After the incident with Julia and Zach, she ran eight tastings. Eight . Overlapping. And the dishwasher was down, so she was hand-rinsing glassware and hauling racks down to the restaurant. And Zach? He stood around like a lump, doing nothing but checking his phone and criticizing her timing.”
The fury in her voice rises with each word. “I want to move Zach and give Sadie full control over customer experience,” she continues. “She’s ready for it—or she was. Hell, she was already doing the job without the title. She’s creative, organized, and the guests love her.”
Urgency rushes through me. “We need to find her.”
“No shit,” she snaps. “I’m sorry. I don’t have time for this, and I’m not blaming you. That bullseye belongs right on Zach.”
I don’t argue. She’s right.
“I don’t care what drama’s going on between you two, but I know Sadie,” she says, more quietly now. “She wouldn’t have left this job. Not unless Zach pushed her. Or something else made her feel like she didn’t belong.”
I stare at the grain of the desk between us. “I think I did that.”
Tarryn doesn’t speak for a moment. “You might have helped. But if Zach shoved her out, I’ll take care of it. You handle your part.”
I nod once, swallowing hard.
“She’s not the type to leave something she loves,” she adds. “But she is the type to walk away if she thinks she’s not wanted.”
That stabs me right in the heart.
I step out of Tarryn’s office, the heavy wooden door closing behind me. The hallway feels cold. I walk past the framed photos on the wall—snapshots of harvests, winemaker dinners, staff toasts over barrels. Sadie would’ve belonged here. She did belong here .
And I set her up to be pushed out. My phone buzzes with a text.
Caleb: Heard from Sadie. She said she’s staying with Ginny? Can that be right? I’ll be up for a while if you want to discuss.
Okay, so she’s safe, I suppose. But she doesn’t want to talk to me. Outside, I lean against the railing on the porch. Rows of vines stretch out across the hill, neat and ordered, yet I feel anything but.
I keep going back to the look on Sadie’s face. She’d been exhausted, cornered, and I just pushed her harder. Instead of offering comfort, I cut her off at the knees.
Because I was scared.
Not of her. Not of what she might have said or done. But scared that if I let myself believe in her, really trust her, and I was wrong…I’d lose everything.
And now I’ve lost her anyway.
I look down at my phone, thumb hovering.
I need to talk to her, not Caleb. But there’s no point in calling.
She won’t answer. And as much as I want to, I’m not going to ask Rosemary about this again.
It’s not professional. I can’t risk making her uncomfortable.
I’ve already crossed a line I told myself I wouldn’t as her doctor.
I scroll. Past Caleb. Past work contacts. Then I pause on Ginny’s name.
Sadie mentioned reconnecting with her recently, so staying with her makes sense. They lived together once before. I tap to message before I can second-guess it.
Me: Hey, it’s Beckett Paradise. Do you know how to reach Sadie? I need to find her. Please.
I stare at the screen for a few seconds before sliding the phone back into my pocket. My hand runs down my face. I need a plan . I need to fix this.
And if I can’t?
I at least need to tell her she mattered. That she was right to want more. That she didn’t imagine the way I looked at her. The way I felt when she walked into a room. That it meant something. All of it did. And I hope it still does.