Chapter 18 #2
“I’ve been noticing small inconsistencies,” she continues, her voice more breath than sound. “Missing barrels. Water levels that don’t match usage. Equipment being tampered with. He’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his timecards don’t line up.”
Dad stares at her, unreadable. “Do you have proof?”
She hesitates. “Beyond what I’ve told you, no.”
“Tarryn…”
“I overheard a phone call two weeks ago,” I chime in. “Zach was saying something about liability, about how this wasn’t what he signed up for. Then he said he’d cover it one more time.”
“I know how serious this is,” she says, her voice rising. “That’s why I haven’t come forward until now. But something’s not right. I can feel it. And I’m done pretending it’s all coincidence.”
Dad sits back, jaw clenched. For a long while, he stares at the floor like his thoughts are too heavy to voice. His shoulders slope, not from age but from something deeper—disappointment, maybe. Or guilt.
“Zach’s a good kid,” he mutters finally. “Eager. Green as hell, but…”
Beckett crosses his arms. “What he did in the tasting room, trying to sabotage Sadie, wasn’t a mistake. It was a spotlight on his character. This is who Zach is, and trusting him isn’t an option.”
Dad exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn it.” He looks around again, like he’s hoping someone will argue. Hoping we’ll tell him he’s wrong.
But no one does.
“I’m not wrong.” Tarryn’s voice breaks. “I might not have hard evidence yet, but I’m not.”
Finally, Dad sighs. Then, to my surprise, he reaches across the table and takes her hand. “Then document everything. Quietly. You understand me? Because if we bring this forward without proof, it could split this family—and this vineyard—down the middle.”
“I will,” she whispers. “I already have a list started.”
His grip tightens. “Good. Keep going.”
She nods, lower lip trembling, but she’s holding it together.
That’s enough for tonight, though. We sit down for dinner, everyone takes a collective cleansing breath, and then it’s loud in the best way.
Soon, Kingston and Beckett are trading sarcastic jabs about who Mom loves more.
Greyson’s already halfway through his second plate, and Trinity has laid down on the couch after managing some semblance of a meal for herself.
She snores softly while Theo curls against Mom’s shoulder.
Tarryn keeps swatting Kingston’s hand every time he tries to steal a bite from her plate.
The wine is flowing, the food is delicious, and for a while, the tension from earlier melts into laughter and sibling antics.
“Honestly,” Mom says, looking around the table with misty eyes and a smile that’s all heart, “having all my children home feels like a miracle. I wish I could bottle this up and save it for the quiet nights.”
“You mean the peaceful nights,” Dad teases, lifting his glass.
“Don’t pretend you don’t love the noise,” she shoots back, and he chuckles.
She reaches across and touches Kingston’s wrist. “Even you, troublemaker. I’m glad you’re here.”
“I feel attacked,” Kingston says, dramatically placing a hand over his brow.
Tarryn rolls her eyes. “Please. You live for attention.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Greyson nearly chokes on his wine.
Sadie and Mom are laughing so hard, I worry they’re going to fall out of their chairs. I laugh along with them and try again to shake off Ginny not being here. She isn’t ready. I know that. Still, it stings.
A little while later, the others are in the kitchen helping Mom with dishes—or pretending to, anyway—and I step out on the back porch for some air. A beat later, Tarryn joins me, leaning on the railing beside me with a mug of tea.
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Mom said you were bringing a guest. So…where is she?”
I sigh. “Not here.”
“Ginny bail on you at the last minute?”
I glance out at the vineyard, the rows of vines stretching into the night. I know she’s fishing for information, and she’s the perfect person to offer a fresh perspective, but I don’t want to bring her into my drama. She has enough on her plate. “It doesn’t matter.”
Tarryn nods slowly, sipping her tea. “You okay?”
“Not really.” I drag a hand through my hair. “But I’ll get there.”
“You can always talk to me.”
I look at my little sister. She’s only ten months younger than I am, and we’re as close as twins. I know I can trust her. “Ginny’s not ready for anything. Doesn’t want to go public.”
Tarryn raises a brow. “And you do?”
I nod once. “Yeah. I do.”
“That’s gotta be hard.”
“It is,” I admit. “I get it. Her family would lose it. Ours might not be thrilled either. But I’m tired of sneaking around like we’re doing something wrong.”
“Does she care about you?”
“I think so. But caring and being willing to go nuclear with your family over a guy? Different things.”
Tarryn exhales, setting her mug on the railing. “You should talk to Sadie. After her parents died, she and Ginny were really close, and they thought of her as family.”
I look over, surprised. I knew that about Sadie, but I guess I forgot. She was always Caleb’s little sister to me, and he’s best friends with Beckett.
“Sadie’s been through the wringer with people trying to tell her what to do with her life,” Tarryn continues. “She might be the only one who can help Ginny see that living for other people’s expectations is a losing game.”
I glance back through the window, where Sadie’s laughing at something Beckett said, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Yeah. Maybe Tarryn’s right. I nod. “I will. Thanks.”
When we go back inside, the house has started to settle into its usual Sunday-evening lull.
The dishes are done. The wine glasses are mostly empty.
Soft music drifts in from the living room where Beckett and Kingston are arguing about some old hockey stat, but I slip into the side hallway and catch Sadie just as she’s pulling on her coat.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Got a minute?”
She tilts her head and smiles. “Of course.”
I gesture toward the office just off the hall, and she follows. Once the door shuts behind us, I take a breath. “I wanted to ask you something. About Ginny.”
Sadie’s smile fades a little, her expression softening into something more thoughtful. “Okay.”
“I want to see more of her. Like, openly. Not sneaking around or pretending we’re just friends in front of everyone.”
Sadie rests against the desk, arms crossed. “Does Ginny know that?”
I nod. “I’ve told her. She’s not ready.”
Sadie’s gaze drops to the floor, turning something over in her mind. Then she says quietly, “She’s scared.”
I nod. “I figured. Evelyn is a force. But I don’t understand exactly what she’s scared of. She went out on her own once before…”
Sadie exhales. “Your families are everything—your identity, your roots. And Evelyn? She doesn’t hesitate to cut people off.
Being with you puts a lot on the line for Ginny.
Yeah, she left once, but it didn’t go so well.
Now, she works at the vineyard. She lives there.
Her sisters are her support system. You’re asking her to risk all of that, to walk away from the only safety she’s ever known.
” She breaks off, looking thoughtful again.
I wait, giving her space.
“She grew up in chaos,” Sadie says. “Her parents…fighting was basically their only means of communication—loud, public, constant. It felt like they thrived on the drama, and they didn’t care who got caught in it.
Her dad cheated, her mom struck back, and holidays were full-on warzones.
They’d split and get back together a dozen times a year, and Ginny was always stuck in the middle.
I kept my distance, but I saw how hard it was on her.
When she finally left, she didn’t have much support, just her sisters.
She was isolated. And when her world fell apart, coming back home couldn’t have been easy. ”
My breath catches. “That’s a lot.”
“It was.” Sadie meets my gaze. “And Evelyn… She doesn’t yell. She controls. Ice instead of fire. Everything has to revolve around the vineyard. Ginny was practically raised to believe emotions are a liability and loyalty only counts if it’s to her grandmother.”
I whistle softly. “Evelyn’s not exactly a charmer.”
“She’s terrifying,” Sadie admits. “And she’s still Ginny’s biggest challenge. Evelyn won’t accept Ginny having a life outside of Black Bear. And Ginny’s always said she’d never get married, never have kids, never bring anyone into the dysfunction she was raised in.”
“But she got engaged,” I point out.
Sadie’s eyes dim a little. “Yeah. And he cheated on her. With one of her best friends. Just like her dad did to her mom. So she doesn’t know how to trust anyone anymore, how to believe a relationship won’t end in betrayal or power games, or even how to trust herself and her own judgment.”
I shift back, processing it all. “So that’s what I’m up against.”
“She’s not trying to push you away,” Sadie says gently. “She’s trying to protect herself. And maybe protect you too.”
I nod slowly, my jaw tight.
“She’s also scared of losing her place,” Sadie adds. “Right now, she’s completely dependent on the vineyard. She hates the gift shop, hates the politics, but it’s all she’s got. If she loses Evelyn’s support, she has nothing. No income. No home. No fallback.”
“She’s been looking into the Wine Consortium, and she has her jewelry business.”
Sadie smiles faintly. “Yeah. If she gets that job, it might be what changes everything. It would give her some independence. Something of her own. Some options.”
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Then I hope like hell she gets it.”
“Me too,” Sadie says. “Because you’re not the problem. You’re the first good thing to happen to her in a long time. I really believe that.”
That knocks the wind out of me. All this time, I thought I was chasing her. But maybe she’s been carrying this weight, trying to protect me from what she believes about herself. Maybe what she needs isn’t space. It’s someone who stays.
She’s spent her whole life watching love implode. No wonder she doesn’t trust it. But I do. I trust us. And that has to be enough until she can trust it too.
“Thanks,” I say.
Sadie smiles again. “Don’t give up on her yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”