Chapter 6
One week after the worst phone call of my life, the wheels finally touch down in San Francisco after an anxious six-hour flight from JFK. I was thankful that Kellan had already left for the office when I woke up this morning, so I didn’t have to say a physical goodbye. Thank god. I take my phone off airplane mode and a few texts come through.
Kellan
Good morning, little bird. I will be on a red eye to Chicago tonight through the weekend. Don’t stay away too long. I don’t like having you far away from me.
I roll my eyes and reply.
Audrey
I just landed. I’ll be back Monday night. Have a nice trip.
Of course, he doesn’t care that I’m going home to spread my gran’s ashes. All he cares about is making sure my ass is back in New York when he says. I feel lucky to have this much time away from him. A tiny ball of hope forms in the center of my body, brimming with the brightness of being out of Kellan’s shadow. I look back at my phone and message my pop.
Pop
hi honey. let me know when you land. can’t wait to see you, have a safe flight
Audrey
hey Pop, i just touched down. i’m getting a rental and will be there in about 2 hours. love you.
Pop
very excited to give you a hug. welcome home.
Home.My chest tightens at the thought of a bear hug from my grandfather and seeing Oakwood Valley again. During the entire flight, I was a mess of nerves. Would everything look the same? Is Mrs. Dickson still hitting on younger guys at the diner? Are the teenagers still hooking up at Sunset Valley Point?
Is he still around?
I close my eyes and whisper his name for the first time in ten years.
“Donovan.”
It’s strange having his name leave my lips. I cursed his name a thousand times before I left for New York all those years ago and then I promised myself I would never say his name again. But I just did. Truthfully, I thought about him the entire flight. I thought about him nearly every day for the last ten years. Donovan.
We were just kids all those years ago, but he took something from me I could never get back. He took my body and my heart, then crushed it to dust.
The memory of me sitting on my front porch, waiting for him to show up in his dusty blue pickup, is a painful one. I sat in a wooden Adirondack chair, checking my phone every two minutes, hoping he would text or call. My heart dropped with every minute that passed, doing everything I could to hold back the tears that were stinging my eyes. Forty-five minutes, an hour, then two. The sun set selfishly behind the lush green of the valley, driving the stake further into my heart—he never came for me.
I felt so foolish for letting him in the way I did, thinking the night we spent together actually meant something more than just a one-night stand.
He used me, then tossed me away. I was so na?ve to take his words at face value. I believed the tremble in his words as he shook like a leaf before asking me on the date that never happened that night around the firepit. The promise of a summer together, his sweet musings about how amazing our night together had been. It was all just words. Nothing but bullshit. Words to get my clothes off and claim me as another one of his trophies. I believed him with my whole heart when he said it was his first time, too. I learned to never believe him ever again. No call. No texts. No word from Donovan King for ten years.
I shake off the memory and grab my carry-on from the overhead bin. I don’t want to think about the possibility of seeing Donovan again. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. To spread my favorite person in the world’s ashes and say my final goodbye to her. My gran.
I almost forgot how stunning the drive into Oakwood Valley is. The beautiful peaks and valleys of the wine country landscape nearly take my breath away. I’ve been surrounded by traffic and skyscrapers for too long. For the first time in a long time, a bubble of hope brews inside me. Hope for a better outcome in my life. Hope that I’ll escape the nightmare waiting for me on the other side of the country. But for now, I’m taking Gran’s advice to live for today.
The closer I get to Oakwood Valley, the stronger I feel. I can’t avoid the pull, no matter how hard I tried to stay away.
This town and all the amazing people in it. I chose to leave. I chose to forget. And now, I hoped it would choose me back and welcome me with open arms.
I pass the charming wooden sign on the side of the road that reads, “Welcome to Oakwood Valley.” A mixture of excitement and nerves swirls inside my stomach. As I approach Main Street, I roll my windows down to take in the scene and the smells. It’s like going back in a time machine. Nothing has changed. The Golden Grape Diner, with the best burgers and fries in town, flashes its open sign. Vintage Blossom Flowers has a row of beautiful bouquets outside their storefront—I see lilies, Gran’s favorite. My favorite coffee shop, Sip Savor, has its door invitingly open, spilling out the smell of freshly ground coffee beans and sugar in the air.
As if on cue, my stomach grumbles for a sweet pastry and a caramel macchiato. I take an empty parking spot in front of the shop and put the car in park. I walk in and see a young barista drying some mugs while two people sit in the cafe with headphones and laptops in front of them. She greets me with a friendly smile.
“Hi! Welcome to Sip Savor. What can I get ya?” I can’t help but smile back at her inviting and warm energy. She has a slight lisp and big brown eyes. A little thrill runs through me as I admire her icy blonde hair, painted with pink streaks. Kellan would hate it, so I love it. I look at her name tag, decorated with an Oakwood Valley High School and guitar pin.
“Josie, is it?” She gives me a friendly nod. “I’ll have a caramel macchiato, upside down, non-fat to go, please.”
“You got it…?” Her words hang in the air like she’s waiting for a pin to drop until I realize she’s asking for my name.
“Oh, my god, I’m so sorry. It’s Audrey,” I let out with a nervous chuckle.
I have to remember how to socialize with small-town folk. Everyone here is so outwardly friendly that they want to know your name and invite you to dinner that night.
She lets out a giggle.
“No worries. It’s nice to meet you, Audrey. So, are you visiting Oakwood Valley? I’ve never seen you here before.” She talks and makes my drink order at the same time, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the coffee bar.
“I guess I’m visiting. I’m actually from here, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I’m here because my grandmother passed away last week.”
I realize I may be oversharing, but since I’ve stepped foot on home soil, I feel like a different person. It’s like the small town safety bubble wraps around me, something I don’t get with Kellan in the city.
Josie stops and puts down the to-go cup she was about to pour my coffee into. Her eyes widen as she stares directly at me.
“Oh my gosh, are you Violet Winthrop’s granddaughter?”
I shouldn’t be surprised at this. My grandparents are well-loved in this town; I’m sure her passing has touched many people here.
“Yeah, I am,” I answer, giving her a sympathetic smile. Her mouth opens wide as her hand goes straight to her chest.
“I am so sorry for your loss. Violet was the best. She and Noah would come here every Sunday morning to grab cinnamon rolls and hot chocolates together.”
I smile at the thought of my grandparents walking hand in hand down Main on their favorite Sunday morning tradition. I feel tears stinging my eyes, but I try to keep them at bay. I’m not trying to cry the first five minutes I get into town.
“Yup,” I say, popping the P. “That’s my gran and pop.” Pride swells in my chest, knowing everyone loved them together.
Josie pours the rest of my coffee into the cup and shuts it with a lid. She hands me a napkin and grabs a cinnamon roll from the display case.
“Here, Audrey. It’s on me.”
“Oh, no, Josie, that’s okay. Let me pay?—”
“For Violet.”
That’s all she has to say, and I shut my mouth, giving her an appreciative smile as I raise the contents in my hand as a thank you.
I turn to leave when a sign on the bar catches my eye.
Winthrop Wine Special Happy Hour. Friday 7:00–10:00 p.m. That’s tomorrow night.
“Hey Josie, where can I put down these cases?”
A raspy, masculine voice cuts through the air. I turn around to drink in a tall man sliding through the doorway. His face is blocked by the wine cases he’s holding, corded forearms straining from the weight. I scan his tanned arms down to his rugged hands — they grip the boxes as if they weigh nothing at all. My eyes trail down to a pair of faded blue jeans that hug his strong thighs, squeezing in all the right places. My god. I crane my head at an angle to try and get a good look at his face, but all I can glimpse is a peek of chocolate brown hair from behind the boxes.
“You can go straight to the back and put them on the wine shelf! I organized it all for you earlier,” Josie replies, raising her voice above the whir of the espresso machine.
He angles himself in the opposite direction, not letting me get a look. Jesus, his body is built like a god.
“You got it. Thanks, Jojo.” There he goes again with that sexy voice.
Who is this guy?He walks past me, his face hidden on the other side of the cases. His back muscles press against his white cotton tee, a trail of sweat beading down his spine. He’s been working hard today. Can the back of someone’s head turn you on? Because the back of his head is definitely a turn-on. His ass fills out the back of his jeans, flexing with each step he takes. His masculine scent lingers as he kicks open the door to the back room, filling the air around me with musk, teak, and sandalwood. I didn’t even see his face, but I want to bottle up his smell and bathe in it.
So this is how it feels to be horny. It’s been a long time.
With the sexy mystery man out of range, I come back down to earth and return to my conversation with Josie, who thankfully missed my peep show on the man with the perfect ass.
“Josie, what’s this Winthrop Happy Hour about?” I ask, setting down my coffee on the bar and leaning forward to rest on my forearms.
“Oh, duh,” she laughs. “You’re literally a Winthrop. Noah made a Cabernet Sauvignon dedicated to your grandmother before she passed. Violet’s Vintage, Noah called it. Then once the news hit, we decided to hold a happy hour in honor of her. And of course, we had to stock lots of Violet’s Vintage,” she beams with a megawatt smile.
“Huh. I’m sure I’ll hear all about it from my grandfather when I get home. Violet’s Vintage…I love it.” I take a swig of macchiato. “Will you be there?” I ask.
“Yup! I’ll be playing some live music. Too young to drink, though,” she jests. We both laugh, and she turns around, wiping the equipment with a wet towel.
“Is that why you have the guitar pin? You’re a musician?” I point to her pins on her apron. Her face lights with pride. “Sure am. I’m a singer/songwriter, play guitar and piano, and I also teach lessons around town.”
“And you go to Oak Valley High?” I ask.
“I just graduated. I’m going to Berkeley College of Music in the fall. Just working this summer to save up.”
I already admire this chick. She’s driven, hardworking, independent. Everything I wanted to be at her age. Hell, everything I want to be right now.
“Wow. Congratulations. Getting out of Oakwood Valley is a big deal. And for music? I can’t wait to come to one of your sold-out shows one day,” I gush.
“Thanks, Audrey. That’s the plan!” Her dreams are so big they fill the entire room. Maybe, if I bask in her optimism long enough, my dreams will grow big and bold like hers.
The swinging of the back door steals my focus.
Mystery man emerges, sans boxes. His tousled hair covers his eyes as he gazes down at his boots. One glorious hand reaches up to his face, pushing away thick locks of hair. His eyes flit to meet mine.
Oh. My. God.
Those deep ocean blues are the ones that haunt my dreams. My body freezes in place, my feet root into the ground. I can’t take a breath—the oxygen is gone. Non-existent.
He takes a moment to register who I am as he slows his pace, coming to a full halt when it hits him. You could cut the tension with a knife, electricity buzzing in the ten feet between us. My heart beats in my ears, my chest tightens, and I feel suddenly lightheaded.
“Audrey?” he utters softly, like if he were to speak any louder, I’d vanish into thin air.
I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. There’s a tornado of anger, confusion, hurt, and happiness swirling inside of me. He takes a step closer, and I take a step back, the edges of my eyes brimming with tears. The tension in my shoulders shakes, the oxygen in my lungs leave all too quickly.
Facing him? Impossible. It’s like staring down a storm. I swivel and flee the shop, my feet barely touching the ground. I race to my car with the singular thought of escaping that beautiful disaster behind me.