Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Ryan
T he next day, I look up from my desk. “Ryan,” Brennen says, his eyes narrowing slightly as he registers the tension in my posture. “You’re here. Good. I want you to meet someone.”
The man steps forward, offering his hand. “Miles Dawson. Wine critic.”
I take his hand, gripping it a little harder than necessary as my amusement registers. Dawson is here at my request, and it would seem as though he’s hit it off with my brother and sister.
“Dawson,” I say evenly. “Good to see you again.”
He nods, his expression betraying nothing. Brennen glances between us, his brow furrowing.
“You two know each other?” he asks.
“Dawson was in my unit,” I say, my voice clipped. “So yeah, we know each other.”
Dawson’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t elaborate, and Brennen doesn’t push. Instead, he gestures toward the table, where a few glasses of wine are set out, a bottle open between them.
“Miles is here to evaluate the new blend,” Brennen says. “Figured we could use an expert opinion.”
I nod, though my mind is miles away, back at the Airbnb, back on Candace with her hospital bracelet and her tears. I go through the motions of being polite, tasting the wine, offering comments that mean nothing. After all, I’ve been a beer and scotch man for a long time. All the while Brennen watches me with that damn Murphy instinct that always knows when something’s wrong.
Finally, I stand, pushing back my chair. “I need to check on something up in the vines,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
Brennen frowns. “Now? It can’t wait?”
“Yeah. Now.” I glance at Dawson. “You mind tagging along? I’ve got something I want to show you.”
He hesitates, then nods. “Lead the way.”
We head out into the vineyard sprawling before us, the rows of vines bathed in the faint light of a stormy, coastal afternoon. The rain has left everything damp, the air heavy with the scent of earth and wet vines. I walk in silence, my mind racing, and Dawson keeps pace beside me, his usual easy demeanor replaced by something more cautious.
When we’re far enough from the house that Brennen can’t hear us, I stop and turn to him. “Why didn’t I hear about all of this before now?” I ask.
Dawson crosses his arms, his face impassive. “You asked me to look into things. And it’s a good thing I did, because this place is barely hanging on.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demand, the anger bubbling up before I can stop it.
“I did,” he says calmly. “Every report I sent your way, every call you didn’t answer. You wanted me to look after things without getting involved, so I did what I could do. The one thing I didn’t put in the reports was Emma.”
“What’s Emma got to do with this?” I ask sharply.
Miles shakes his head and exhales. “Everything. There’s no easy way to say this, Ryan. I’m in love with your sister.”
“My sister? Love?” I ask incredulously.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“Yes, Ryan…”
Before he can finish and I can think about it, my fist connects with his face, and Dawson goes down, landing on his ass and his elbows.
“… that generally happens when two adults fall in love with each other. They have sex.”
“Get up,” I growl, suddenly wanting to vent my rage and grief on someone. Dawson is looking like a good target.
“No way.” His refusal kind of stops me in my tracks. “Because if I do, you’ll only knock me on my ass again, and this time you might break something.”
“What makes you think I won’t pummel you when you’re down?”
“Two things. First your sense of honor wouldn’t allow it, and second, if you did, your sister would beat the shit out of you.”
“You don’t know that she’d win…” I say, grasping at straws.
“Sure I do. I refer you to that first reason, which is why I know you’d never hit her back.”
He has a point. I run a hand through my hair, the frustration clawing at me. “This isn’t just about the vineyard anymore,” I say, my voice low, raw. “It’s about Candace.”
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing, waiting for me to continue.
“There was a baby. She lost it,” I say, the words heavier than I expected. “And there was a crash—she can’t have kids. She blames me. My father. All of us.”
Dawson exhales slowly as I extend my hand and pull him to his feet. He watches me with a steady gaze. “That explains a lot.”
“Like what?”
“Like why she’s been so relentless about taking this place. She’s not just angry, Ryan. She’s hurt. And if you don’t figure out how to deal with that, she’s going to burn this place to the ground—figuratively or literally.”
I nod, my jaw tightening. “I know. But I don’t even know where to start.”
“You start by being honest,” he says simply. “With her. With yourself. Stop playing the superhero and start being human… and not just with Candace but with Brennen and Emma as well.”
His words sting because they’re true, and I hate him a little for it. But I also know he’s right. Candace deserves more than half-measures, more than the controlled, calculated moves I’ve been making.
“I’ll figure something out,” I say, my voice firm.
“You’d better,” Dawson replies, his tone serious. “Because you’re not the only one with something to lose.”
I glance back toward the house, the lights glowing softly in the distance, and feel the weight of everything pressing down on me.
I will figure it out. I have to. Candace might be willing to burn this place to the ground, but I’m not letting her do it.
The entire revelation settles heavily on my shoulders as Dawson and I walk back toward the house. The vineyard is quiet now, the rain reduced to a mist that clings to everything. The air feels charged, like the storm outside is still echoing in my veins. I’m about to head inside when the door swings open, and Brennen steps out onto the porch. His face is shadowed, but I can see the tension in his posture.
“You’re still out here?” he asks, his voice low. He glances at Dawson, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Something going on I should know about?”
Dawson raises his hands. “That’s my cue. I’ll leave you two to it.” He turns to me, giving a small nod. “I’ll be with your sister.”
He laughs at the evil eye I shoot his way.
I watch him walk away, then turn back to Brennen. “Did you know about this? About them?”
Brennen nods. “He’s good for her.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the porch railing. “You look like hell, Ryan.”
I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s been that kind of day.”
Brennen studies me for a moment, then gestures toward the steps. “Sit. Talk to me.”
For a second, I consider brushing him off, but something in his tone gives me pause. I sit heavily on the porch step, running a hand through my damp hair. He joins me, sitting just far enough away to give me space but close enough that I can feel the unspoken concern between us.
“I figured out why Candace is so angry,” I say finally, my voice rough. “Why she wants to take the vineyard, why she wants to destroy everything tied to us.”
Brennen’s brow furrows, but he stays silent, waiting.
“Apparently, she was pregnant when I left. That bastard who sired us did something. I’m not sure what yet—but something—and she lost the baby,” I continue, each word like a stone in my chest. “There was a crash. And the injuries… she can’t have kids. Ever.”
A soundless whistle escapes Brennen’s lips, and he shakes his head slowly. “Jesus, Ryan. That explains… a lot.”
“Yeah,” I say bitterly. “Everything. She blames me. Blames Dad. And she’s not wrong. I left her. I didn’t know she was pregnant, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t there when she needed me.”
Brennen leans back, his hands gripping the edge of the step. “Our father had a way of ruining everything he touched, didn’t he?”
The words hang between us, heavy with truth. I glance over at him, surprised by the quiet venom in his tone.
“I’m sorry,” Brennen says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “For the way I acted. For pushing you away when you first came back. I was… I don’t know. Angry, I guess. Jealous, maybe.”
I shake my head, the tightness in my chest easing just slightly. “You don’t need to apologize. I get it. I wasn’t exactly a model brother, leaving you to deal with everything while I ran off to… I don’t even know what. Fix myself? Escape?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Brennen says firmly. “You’re here now. That’s what counts.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t know what to do next. Candace is… she’s everything I’ve tried not to think about for years. And now that I know the truth, it’s like I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Brennen gives me a sideways glance. “Are you staying? Or are you going to head back to Texas and leave this mess behind again?”
“My life is in Texas,” I admit. “Shadow Strike, the businesses… it’s everything I’ve built. But being here, back at the vineyard, back with you and Emma… I’ve missed this. I didn’t realize how much until now.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “Yeah, I get that. This place has a way of pulling you back in.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the sound of the rain a quiet backdrop. Then Brennen speaks again, his voice softer. “Dad cost me Joselyn, you know. We were supposed to be together. She was… everything. But he made it impossible, drove a wedge between us that I couldn’t fix. And I was too damn proud to fight for her the way I should have.”
His words hit me harder than I expect. I glance at him, seeing the pain etched in his features. “I didn’t know,” I say quietly.
“Not something I like to talk about,” he admits. “But seeing her again, having her back in my life… it gives me hope, you know? Hope that maybe we can still figure it out.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips, despite everything. “Yeah. I get that.”
We sit there for a while, the silence between us no longer heavy but filled with a quiet understanding. For the first time in years, I feel a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for the vineyard, for my family, and maybe, for Candace and me.
As the rain finally stops and the clouds begin to clear, I make a silent promise to myself. I’m not running this time. Not from family, not from the vineyard, and definitely not from Candace.
This time, I’m staying… and fighting.