Chapter 38
Thirty-eight
Kingston
Elise’s taillights are still burned behind my eyes. I chased her, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even slow. After watching the truck disappear, I have no choice but to go back inside and face what’s waiting.
Hope is on my couch, legs folded under her, still wearing my robe, a glass of wine in her hand. A candle flickers on the coffee table like she’s set the stage for this moment.
“You didn’t catch her, did you?” Her voice is soft, almost triumphant, but her face tells another story. Her mouth is trembling.
I slam the door so hard the frames rattle on the wall. “Get out.”
She sets the glass down, fingers shaking.
“No. Not until you listen. Kingston.” She stands, the robe back on but slipping from one shoulder, eyes bright with tears.
“You don’t understand. I didn’t realize how much I loved you until you ended things.
We were made for each other. We’re both career driven, and we’ve got incredible chemistry.
I always thought we would get married one day and build a family.
If that meant me walking away from my career, I would have done it.
If it meant moving here—” Her breath hitches.
“—I would have figured it out. For you.”
I shake my head, jaw so tight it aches. “That’s not true. We were never headed anywhere. You told me a hundred times you couldn’t understand how I stayed in a small town. You grew up in one and hated every second. You said you’d suffocate if you ever had to live in one again.”
“That was before.” Her voice rises, frantic. She steps closer, clutching the robe tighter. “I was wrong. I thought I knew what I wanted. I don’t care about Vancouver or Toronto anymore. Not if it means I can’t have you.”
Her hands press to my chest, as if she can make me feel what she’s saying. Her palms are warm, her eyes desperate. “I would have given you everything. I still would. Just…don’t let her ruin this. Don’t throw us away for someone who’s not strong enough to stay.”
Something inside me snaps. I grab her wrists and pull her hands off me, holding her at arm’s length. “Don’t talk about Elise. No one should have to stand here and witness this.”
“Why not?” Hope’s voice cracks. “She’s already gone. She couldn’t handle it. couldn’t handle you. She ran. Just like Cara. Just like—”
“Stop.” The word scrapes my throat raw.
Her tears spill over now, streaking down her cheeks. “Kingston, please. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Don’t you remember what we had? Don’t you remember how easy it was? We could have that again. We could be a family. You don’t have to be alone.”
Her voice is shaking, but I can’t decide if those are crocodile tears.
But it doesn’t matter because one thing I know for sure.
“You don’t want me. You want the version of me that spoiled you and looks good on your arm.
The Kingston who could stand beside you against a city skyline and not ask for more.
But this—” I gesture at the walls, at the vineyard beyond them, at everything Elise made me see again.
“This is who I am. And you’d hate it. You’d hate me. ”
Her chin lifts stubbornly. “I could learn to love it.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “No.” I say. “I don’t buy it. And it doesn’t matter because it isn’t what I want. It isn’t what you want either.”
Her sobs tear through the silence. But eventually, my words seem to sink in.
She pulls herself together and grabs her bag with jerky hands, robe dragging against her legs.
I follow her out, and at the door, she spins, eyes blazing.
“She’ll never love you the way I did. She’ll leave, just like Cara. Just like everyone.”
I slam the door before the words can take root.
I stand there, feeling numb, stunned at this turn of events.
I don’t understand her at all. Where did that come from?
I wasn’t lying when I told her she was a great lawyer.
She understands Renew Motion’s business, but I don’t see how we can move forward in any capacity now.
I can’t trust her, can’t take her seriously after this.
So that ends our relationship completely.
I’m sure that’s for the best in the long run. I can find another attorney.
I look out the windows into the dark abyss of the lake.
My chest tightens until I can’t breathe.
I pull my phone from my pocket, thumb trembling over Elise’s name.
I type three words—please come back—and delete them, deciding to call instead.
But it goes straight to voicemail. Her voice is warm and bright on the recording, too bright for this kind of night.
The beep comes, but I can’t make a sound.
I only thought it was too difficult to talk to her about this before.
After this debacle, it feels impossible… Still, I hang up, try again. Same.
Desperate, I hit Tarryn’s number.
She answers on the second ring, already furious. “What did you do?”
“She left,” I choke out. “I need to know if she’s safe.”
“She saw all the text messages coming in from Hope. I assured her Hope was only your lawyer, and then she goes home with you and finds her sitting half naked in your robe in the living room?”
I close my eyes. That’s all true. “She’s been texting me. We were involved before, but it didn’t mean anything. And I’d ended it. I wasn’t responding to her texts.”
“But you didn’t tell Elise. You hid it. So many men have run right over her heart, and I warned you about doing that to her.”
“I didn’t choose Hope. I never would. Elise has to know that.”
“Then why didn’t you tell her? Why did she have to see it for herself?”
I don’t have an answer. The silence is enough to damn me.
“Don’t call me again until you’re ready to be honest with her. Completely. Nothing less than that is worth it.” Tarryn’s voice fractures, then steels. “I can’t believe you, Kingston. You of all people know how it hurts to be deceived.”
The line clicks dead.
I stand in my empty living room, phone limp in my hand, Elise’s taillights still seared into the dark. My fear has gotten the best of me, pushed me into being the very thing I’ve hated since Cara left. I have to make this right.
The next morning, rather than fly, I drive to the vineyard. It gives me a chance to shape what I will say to Elise. I was up half the night, replaying every stupid thing I’ve done, and the only response that feels real is to get down on my knees and beg her to let me explain and accept my apology.
I tell myself she might be here with the family, with Tarryn, and maybe I’ll find her in the rows, and we can fix this in one conversation. Beg. Say it right. I don’t know. I just need to see her.
But the minute I pull up, I know something’s wrong.
Trucks crowd the gravel. Workers stand in small knots, faces drawn.
Beyond them rows of vines have toppled, their posts snapped clean, wires dangling in the sun.
A crumpled bumper rests at the edge of the block like a thrown prop.
No skid marks. No tracks. Just vines ripped from their anchors.
Someone wanted this to read accident. But it reads staged.
Greyson stands at the edge of the block, sleeves rolled up, directing people the way he would call a code in the ER. Ryker runs a forklift, hauling posts and wire to clear a path. Beckett is already down in the vines, barking orders I only half catch over the crack of splitting wood.
I vault the ditch and take the slope two steps at a time.
The smell hits before the sight fully settles in, green and raw.
Crushed grape leaves bleed into the dirt, the fruit still sour and unripe.
Posts lie snapped like matchsticks. Trellis wires hang slack over the ruined canopies.
At the far edge, the bumper is a ridiculous punctuation mark.
Someone wanted a story. They left a lie.
“What the hell happened?” I ask.
Tarryn turns. She’s flushed, and dust streaks her shirt. Elise kneels beside her, clipboard in hand, hair pulled out of her face. Their eyes are hard and focused.
Seeing Elise floors me anyway. She’s here, and she’s close enough to touch. But she doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even glance my way. Her hands just keep moving, steady and certain.
“Someone took out the posts last night,” Tarryn says. “Wires snapped. They left an unlicensed bumper behind. They wanted it to look like an accident.”
Sabotage is the only word that fits. “Max.”
Tarryn’s mouth tightens. “We don’t know that.”
“Who else would do this?” I ask, my blood boiling.
“Kingston,” Beckett says softly. His tone is a leash.
“Don’t tell me to stand down,” I say. “You see this as well as I do. While we wait for Dad to grow a spine and really do something about Max, he’s grinding this vineyard into the dirt.”
The green smell thickens. Hoses hiss as crews mist the tender clusters to keep them from cooking in the sudden sun. Elise’s voice rises clear and practical as she directs a hand to patch a post and rethread the wire. She never falters.
Dad stands at the far edge of the rows, pale under the sun like a man bracing for a blow. He doesn’t move when I cross toward him.
“When are you going to stop him?” I ask. “You want proof? Look around. This is proof.”
Dad shakes his head, and his voice is gravel. “We can’t jump to conclusions.”
“Jump?” I give a short laugh that tastes bitter.
“We’ve had vats with acid dumped in, water poisoned, water lines and equipment tampered with, and someone burned down Tarryn and Elise’s home.
Now this. How many more times do we let him bleed this place before you admit what he is? We need to call the police.”
“We can’t let this tear the family apart,” Dad says. His shoulders slump, and I hear the tired in him.
“It already has,” I say. “And what if next time it isn’t only vines that get hurt?”
Dad’s mouth tightens. “You sound just like Max when you lose your temper.”
For a beat, I can’t breathe. I force myself to calm before I speak. “Why won’t you at least report this to the police?”
“Because if it’s Max, it’s all my fault,” Dad snaps.
“What are you talking about?”
He drags a hand down his face, eyes fixed on the rows. “I’m the one who brought him back into this business. I vouched for him when no one else would. If I call the police now, I’m not just turning in my brother… I’m admitting I handed him the matches.”
Still reeling from that, I shove through the small crowd. I can’t help it. I need to say something to Elise before this rift between us becomes permanent.
But Tarryn plants herself in my path, jaw set. “Not now,” she says. “Go cool off before you make this worse.”
Her voice isn’t sharp. It’s steady and final.
I take a step back. My face burns as I look beyond her. Dust blooms with every footfall. Men shout. Ropes creak. A pallet jack scratches gravel. Someone mists the exposed clusters again to stop them from cooking.
Elise’s voice cuts through all of it, and that carves me open. She’s focused in a way that I find impossible right now. She doesn’t look my way, and she speaks to everyone but me.
The last time we were this close she was laughing, and she chose me again and again. Until last night. Until Hope. Until I proved every one of her fears right.
I press my palms to my eyes, but the picture will not leave, Elise crouched beside Tarryn, shoulder to shoulder, swallowed by the work and by the family.
She belongs here.
Maybe it’s me who doesn’t.