Chapter 22
Twenty-two
Kingston
This day has been solid from the start. It kicked off with Elise’s surprise FaceTime—her hair messy, her cheeks flushed, her laugh spilling across the line.
For a few minutes, it felt like she wasn’t halfway across the world.
I wanted to reach through the screen and touch her.
She’s doing great work—of course she is—but the things Sebastian said to her have put me on guard.
He’s slick, and I still don’t trust him.
But work pulled me out of that spiral. My design team has finally hit on a hip joint that could change the game—cleaner movement, smoother rotation, a chance for patients to walk without pain.
And the NIH in London wants me to step into surgery with one of their lead orthopedists to show off our knee replacement in action.
It should be the only thing on my mind, as it’s the kind of win I live for. But even as my team celebrates, I’m still thinking about Elise’s laugh from this morning, about the way her eyes lit up on that screen.
By the time I shut down my home office, I’m wired in a good way.
Sending that salad to Bordeaux was the right thing, wasn’t it?
My assistant was happy enough to hand it off—she gets a long weekend in Paris with her friend out of it—but I keep wondering if I went too far.
Elise may think I’m excessive. But I wanted it to be a reminder. She has roots here. She has me.
When I head out into the kitchen, Simone is pulling containers from the fridge, her sleeves rolled up, hair pinned in her usual no-nonsense bun.
“Pork chops and rice for dinner tonight,” she says, sliding the dish across the counter. “And I stocked the fridge for the weekend—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You won’t go hungry while I’m in Calgary.”
I lean against the counter. “You think I’d starve without you?”
She doesn’t even blink. “You’d live on protein shakes and takeout. Maybe the occasional steak if you remembered to thaw it. So yes.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Fair enough.”
She narrows her eyes, studying me. “You’ve been smiling all day. Something happen with Elise?”
I can’t hide it. “Yeah. She FaceTimed me this morning.”
“She’s good for you,” Simone says.
I force a shrug, aiming for casual. “Maybe.”
But the word tastes wrong in my mouth. Simone’s comment slips under my ribs and settles in a place I don’t usually let anyone touch. I want Elise to be good for me. I want to be good for her. And that’s terrifying.
“So tell me about this delivery you had me arrange,” Simone continues, saving me from myself. “Salad? All the way to France?”
I groan, rubbing the back of my neck. “I know, it was overboard. But it’s her favorite. I thought maybe it would remind her of home. Of me.”
Her face softens. “That’s not ridiculous, Kingston. That’s thoughtful. Women remember things like that.”
“Or they think it’s too much.”
“Trust me.” She points a wooden spoon at me. “She’ll remember.”
I tuck the container of pork chops under my arm. “Good. Because I’d rather she be thinking of me than that Italian.”
Her laugh follows me to the door. “Play nice with your brothers tonight,” she calls.
Outside, the sky is streaked with fading light.
The helicopter waits on the pad, rotors idle.
I climb aboard, and the flight across the lake is smooth, the water below reflecting orange and pink as the sun sinks behind the hills.
From the cockpit, I spot the big house—stone walls, terracotta roof, gardens wrapped tight around it like a crown.
On the back lawn, my mom is easy to find. Wide-brimmed sunhat, gardening gloves, a pair of shears in hand as she leans over the rose bushes. The helicopter kicks up a swirl of petals and leaves as I land, and she straightens, shading her eyes to watch me.
I shut down the engine and cross the lawn.
She waves me over with the clippers. “You’re early,” she says, brushing a leaf off her arm.
“Had a good day,” I answer. “Thought I’d stop in before basketball.”
Her smile curves. “And?”
I don’t dodge it. “I talked to Elise this morning.”
For a second, she blinks like I’ve said something outrageous. But then she recovers, clipping another bloom. “Oh?”
“She caught me on FaceTime. She’s diving into the work, learning a lot, picking up practices she wants to try here. She looks good. Happy.”
Mom smiles. “I’m glad. She’s always been serious about her craft.
I knew she’d make the most of this exchange.
” She drops the clipped rose into her basket.
“Between her and Tarryn, Paradise Hill will be in good hands when your father and Mitch finally step back. Two strong women leading—your father will be proud.”
“He already is,” I say. Pride swells in my chest.
Mom straightens, stretching her back. “It’s hard to imagine this place without Mitch in the cellar.”
I glance at her. “What about you? Any retirement plans once Dad finally lets go of the reins?”
She chuckles, slipping off her gloves. “Travel, I think. There are places I’ve wanted to see for years—maybe the Greek Isles, maybe South America.
” Her eyes go distant, as if she’s already seeing whitewashed walls and blue water.
“But I won’t stray too far. My goal is to be close to my grandchildren.
” She cuts me a sidelong glance, teasing.
“Whenever you children decide to give me some.”
I groan, running a hand down my face. “You have one. Isn’t that enough?”
“Never. I need many more.” She pats my arm, her eyes kind but sharp. “You’ll figure it out when the time is right.” When Mom sets her basket down, she squeezes my hand. “I’m glad Elise is getting so much out of the exchange. She deserves it.”
“I think so too,” I tell her.
The moment lingers, warm as the late sun. Then I head off to the car I keep parked here. The drive to the community center is short, barely enough time for my mom’s comment about grandchildren to stop echoing in my head. As I pull into the lot, I shove it aside to focus on the game.
Inside the gym, Beckett is already taking shots while Greyson stretches by the sideline. Theo is there too, his little legs pumping furiously as he zooms circles around the court, laughter bouncing off the walls.
“About time,” Beckett calls, catching a rebound. “We thought you were bailing.”
Greyson grins, scooping Theo up before he runs straight into the wall. “Yeah, figured maybe Hope had you tied up.”
I snort. “Hardly.”
They share a look. “So?” Beckett asks. “What’s going on there? When are you finally going to ask her to marry you?”
“Never,” I say flatly, grabbing a ball from the rack. “We’re not seeing each other anymore.”
That stops both of them cold. Beckett lowers the ball he’s holding, and Greyson blinks like he misheard. “She dumped you?”
“No.” I bounce the ball once, sweat slicking my palms, the echo sharp against the hardwood. “I ended it.”
Their jaws practically hit the floor.
“Since when?” Beckett presses.
“From the start, we agreed it was no strings,” I explain, trying to seem casual. “She loves her job in Vancouver, and I love my life here in Black Bear Valley. I couldn’t keep pretending it was enough.”
Greyson shakes his head, setting Theo back on his feet.
I shoot the ball, and it sails right through the net. “I told you once. If you weren’t willing to move to Vancouver, you didn’t really love Trinity. You thought I was talking about Cara.”
He pauses, studying me.
“But I wasn’t. I was talking about Hope.”
Beckett exhales hard, like the air’s been knocked out of him. “Damn. Didn’t see that coming.”
The doors slam open, and Ryker saunters in, twirling a ball on his finger. “What’s this? Funeral faces?”
“Kingston and Hope broke up,” Beckett supplies.
“We didn’t break up. We were never together,” I say, my frustration growing.
Ryker’s eyebrows rise, and a slow grin spreads. “About time. Now, are you finally going to admit you’ve got a thing for Elise?”
The ball slips out of my hands, clattering to the floor. “What?”
He shrugs, already lining up at the three-point line. “Come on. You went out of your way to antagonize her when we were kids. And then she spends her last week before France living at your place with you chauffeuring her back and forth? If that’s not a thing, I don’t know what is.”
He lets the ball fly—perfect arc, clean swish.
I stand there stunned, heat rising in my chest. All this time, I thought I was hiding something from even myself. Turns out my brother saw it years ago.
“Let’s play,” Ryker says, grabbing the rebound. “Greyson, you’re with Kingston. Beckett, you’re stuck with me. Theo, you’re the referee, and remember, I’m your favorite uncle.”
We square off, teams set. The game picks up fast, bodies colliding, sneakers squealing, laughter cutting through the echo of the ball on the hardwood.
Theo cheers from the sideline, and when Greyson and I crush them with a clean win, the victory is sweeter than usual.
Even so, Ryker’s words hang in the back of my mind, sticky and insistent. “You’ve got a thing for Elise.”
We shower and pile into cars, meeting up again at Mikey’s, the bar Ryker invested in a few years back. It’s loud tonight—hockey on the screens, country music fighting with the chatter—but the table in the corner is ours. Beers land in front of us, the first sip cool and bitter.
Greyson leans back, eyes steady. “So. You and Elise.”
I nearly choke. “What about me and Elise?”
He doesn’t blink. “You tell me.”
Beckett chuckles, leaning forward. “You’ve been edgy all night, man. And Ryker called it. You’ve got a thing for her.”
“I don’t—” The denial dies in my throat, flimsy even to my ears.
Greyson doesn’t let me off the hook. He waits, the silence stretching until the weight of his gaze makes me shift and look at him.
Only then does he go on. “Listen, if you do, that’s fine.
But if you fuck it up? It won’t just be between the two of you.
” He ticks the list off on his fingers. “She’s Tarryn’s best friend.
Tarryn’s about to step in as CEO, and Elise is going to be the master vintner.
The future of Paradise Hill depends on those two being able to work in sync.
If you hurt her, you’re not just risking Elise.
You’re risking our sister and, by extension, this family. ”
He’s right. This isn’t a fling I can stumble through. But it doesn’t even remotely feel like that. Elise isn’t just a woman who makes my pulse race. She’s already woven into the fabric of our lives.
I swirl my glass, staring at the amber liquid. “I hear you.”
Ryker lifts his beer in a mock toast. “Good. Because if you screw it up, it won’t just be Greyson coming for you. We’ll all line up.”
Beckett smirks. “And you’ll lose.”
Their laughter fills the table, easy and brotherly, but they’re not wrong. And even so, Elise isn’t someone I can walk away from. She’s become too important.
Ryker called it a thing. But sitting here now, with my brothers staring me down and Elise’s face still haunting me, I know the truth.
What I feel for her has made me different. It’s already more than I ever thought it could be.