Page 4 of The Vineyard Crush

The only time I really find any peace is when the kids are finally asleep at night. That’s when I sneak up to the roof, just like a damn teenager, and lie back to gaze up at the stars. It’s the only time I can truly catch my breath and let my mind shut off for a little while.

Ever since Melissa left two years ago, this has been my life - taking care of the ranch, the kids, everything. Even when she was still around, it was pretty much the same routine. I’d work my ass off all day, then come home to deal with the kids and a wife who was checked out more often than not.

The phone ringing jolts me out of my reverie, and I let out a groan, already knowing who it is. “Hello, brother,” James’ overly-enthusiastic voice booms through the line.

“Hey, Jay,” I reply, forcing myself to sound at least somewhat engaged.

“Sorry to spring this on you last minute, but I’m going to have to cancel on taking Avery tomorrow,” he says, sounding genuinely apologetic. “Work thing came up that I can’t get out of.”

Fuck. Avery, my two-year-old daughter, was supposed to spend the day with her uncle James so I could have a little bit of breathing room to focus on some ranch work that I’ve been neglecting. Now I’m going to have to figure out how to juggle her along with everything else.

“It’s fine,” I lie, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ll figure something out.”

After getting off the phone, I let out a heavy sigh and gaze back up at the stars, wishing I could just stay up here all night. But time to finish up cleaning the house. As I gather up the toys and straighten the cushions, my mind starts to wander again. To Melissa, and the life we had before everything fell apart.

We were happy, once. Or at least, I thought we were. We had our ranch, our three beautiful kids, a thriving business. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. And then, one day, Melissa just… left.

I still remember the shock, the gut-wrenching pain of it all. Coming home to an empty house, her side of the closet bare, the kids in tears as Mel their nanny tried to calm them down. She’d run off with some big-shot city lawyer, chasing some dream of a glamorous life. Left me to pick up the pieces.

Even now, two years later, the betrayal still stings. How could she do that to us? To our family? I thought we had something special, something that would last forever. But I guess I was a fool. Because even when she was here, she never really was here anyway.

With a heavy sigh, I resume my cleaning, methodically working my way through the house. By the time I reach the kitchen again, the baby monitor in my pocket blares as Avery wakes up with a sharp cry.

Thank goodness James had the foresight to install those white noise machines in Cody and Lily’s rooms, or I’d have three kids wailing through the night. I take a deep breath and make my way upstairs, gently scooping Avery up into my arms and rocking her back and forth.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby girl,” I croon softly, planting a kiss on her downy head. Her cries quickly subside into hiccuping whimpers, but show no signs of drifting off again. Guess it’s time for another feeding.

As I feed Avery, watching her little face scrunch up in concentration, I rack my brain, trying to pinpoint the moment everything started to unravel. And the painful truth is, I think I knew, deep down, that something was off long before Melissa left. We had our struggles, our ups and downs, like any couple. But there were times, more and more frequent as the years went on, where I could sense the distance between us growing.

The little things, at first - the nights she’d come home late from the office, too tired to do anything but collapse into bed. The way she’d sometimes zone out during our conversations, her mind clearly a million miles away. The increasing tension, the snappish remarks that would flare up over the smallest issues.

At the time, I tried to convince myself it was just a phase, that we’d find our way back to each other. We’d been through so much already - the early years of building this ranch from the ground up, the stress of expanding the business, the chaos of raising three kids. We’d weathered it all, side by side, growing stronger with each challenge.

I told myself that this was just another bump in the road, something we could power through if we just held on tight to each other. That the spark, the deep, abiding love that had drawn us together all those years ago, was still there, buried under the layers of fatigue and frustration.

But looking back now, I can see the signs so clearly. The way Melissa would sometimes flinch when I reached for her, the growing frequency of the nights she’d stay up late, ostensibly working, but clearly lost in her own thoughts. The way she’d gaze out the window, a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was already planning her escape.

I should have seen it, should have done something. But I was so determined to hold on, to keep our family intact at all costs, that I refused to acknowledge the cracks in the foundation. I made excuses, told myself that if I just loved her harder, supported her more, it would all work out in the end.

What a fool I was.

By the time Avery finishes her bottle, she’s already drifting off to sleep. I carefully burp her, then tiptoe back to her room, gently lowering her into the crib, and tucking the blanket snugly around her tiny form. I can’t resist the urge to reach out and brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead. My little girl, my precious Avery. How I wish I could give her, Lily and Cody everything.

“Sweet dreams, my little angel,” I whisper, my heart swelling with fierce, protective love. How I wish I could shield Avery, Lily, and Cody from the pain that’s torn our family apart. They deserve so much more than this - a home filled with laughter and love, not the constant tension and exhaustion that permeates these walls.

With a heavy sigh, I force myself to step away, knowing that Avery needs her rest. It’s not just Avery I have to care for, but Lily and Cody as well especially as Lily wakes up most nights with nightmares. The three of them are relying on me, and I’ll be damned if I let them down. I lay on the floor of Avery’s bedroom as I wait for her to drift off.

When I finally wake, the first thing I hear is Avery’s soft cries. I fumble for the baby monitor, glancing at the clock and wincing - it’s already 5:30 am. Time to start the day, I suppose.

I scoop Avery up, cradling her close as I head out to the barn to tackle the morning chores. She fusses a bit, still half-asleep, but thankfully doesn’t start wailing. I guess I’m not the only one in need of some extra rest around here.

As I reach the shed, I quickly grab the little baby seat I keep in the corner, carefully strapping Avery in. She coos contentedly, kicking her tiny feet as I get to work, mucking out the stalls and replenishing the feed and water.

I’m thankful that she doesn’t cry when I move away from her. She’s a clingy one, that’s for sure - she doesn’t like to be left alone at all, and someone has to be by her side at all times.

It’s a familiar rhythm, one that’s become my constant companion these past two years. The rhythmic sounds of shoveling, the earthy aroma of hay and manure - it’s grounding, in a way.

As I’m finishing up in the shed, I suddenly hear a familiar bark, quickly followed by the unmistakable sound of my daughter’s laughter. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips - looks like Lily is up and at ‘em.

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