Page 86 of Love You Truly

“I’m sorry too,” I say, extending my hand. It’s not the first time we’ve shaken hands, but it feels different. Graham looks at my outstretched palm as though he knows something is different too.

He takes my hand in a strong grip and looks me in the eye when he does it. I meet his gaze, the same blue eyes staring back at me as I see when I look at my siblings. Only in his eyes, there’s a different kind of ruggedness and a little bit of pain. I don’t know where it comes from yet, but I decide I want to find out.

Mallory watches this silent interchange between two dudes with her lips pressed together to suppress a smile.

My phone pings with another text from Beatrix, who lives closest to the area where Buttercup Hill abuts Graham’s property.

Beatrix: Fire trucks at my house. Set up a perimeter to keep the fire from moving closer to BH

A barrage of texts from our siblings fire off at once. Smiling emoji and thumbs.

“Sounds like they’re controlling it from this direction,” I say, knowing that’s little comfort to Graham.

He nods. “Yeah. Makes sense. They’ll want to contain it, keep it away from your vineyards.” He exhales and snaps his lips shut. I feel like he’s not saying something.

“D’you think they won’t try to save yours?” I ask. It’s no secret that Graham is the new owner in the neighborhood, and folks do tend to take care of their own. But I doubt that extends to letting a fire ravage a person’s property when there’s a chance of saving it.

He crosses his arms and says nothing. Then he rolls his eyes. “I dunno. Guess I wouldn’t be shocked if they worked a little slower than usual, is all.”

I shake my head. “Fuck that. Better not be the case.”

Graham’s phone rings with what sounds like a mariachi celebration, and he shoves his hand deep into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve it. “Yeah,” he says into it, stepping away from us to take the call. I watch him pace in circles on the driveway as he finishes the conversation.

A minute later, he shoves the phone back into his pocket and walks back over to us. “They’ve contained it. Still some hot spots, and the winds could pick up, so we’re not in the clear, but it’s something.”

I look at Mallory, not wanting to ask Graham what I want to ask him. She puts a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

“Any word on the damage?”

He runs a hand over his jaw and nods. “A lot of the vineyards burned, but I’ll know more when it’s light out, and when they’re done.”

I think about the amount of money my dad took out of Buttercup Hill to buy the property Graham now owns, and I can’t help but shake my head.

For a guy like Graham, who grew up as the son of a seasonal worker and single mother, the chance to have a small vineyard like Duck Feather must have felt like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

And as much as I still don’t like the guy, I hope he doesn’t lose everything in the fire. If that makes me a sucker, so be it.

CHAPTER 32

Mallory

It’s dark outside, but that’s the point of a sunrise hike—a little fumbling around with headlamps in anticipation of a warm yellow dawn.

The darkness makes me contemplative, and the steep hill of the hike means I’m not talking. It’s strange to walk next to Dash for this long in silence, but he’s been wanting us to do this hike for a while, so I finally gave in this morning.

I know why he’s been pushing us to come up here—from the top, we have a panoramic view of half the valley, including most of Autumn Lake. He’s spend half the hike so far talking about helping me build the vineyards and winery. He’s acting like a partner. Like a husband.

It makes my heart swell in my chest, and it makes me feel horribly guilty for not telling him yet that he’s free to file for divorce.

“I think you’re smart to plant vines slowly over the next couple years. It will protect you against weather events or fires in any one particular growing season.” He points in the direction of Autumn Lake, even though we can’t see much in the darkness.

“Yeah,” I huff, coming up the hill behind him. How is this man so freakin’ fit?

I’ve spent the past few days in agony, wanting to tell Dash about my meeting with the lawyer. Every time he asked about it, I told him it went fine but didn’t elaborate. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him we don’t need to stay married in order for me to inherit Autumn Lake.

But I have to tell him. I can’t just let him stay married to me on a lie.

“You good?” he asks every so often.

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