Page 34 of The Vineyard Crush

“Come to Maine,” I whispered, the words borne into existence on little more than an exhale, threading through the thick silence heavy with unvoiced hurts and yearnings. “You need family with you. We need you with us.”

His frame stiffened infinitesimally at the gentle entreaty, and I tightened my embrace, pressing my cheek atop his graying crown in silent reassurance. Let me in, Leone. Let me help shoulder this crushing burden you’ve shouldered alone for too damn long.

When at last he stirred, withdrawing a hairsbreadth to pin me with those mossy green eyes rife with harrowed vulnerability, I held his gaze steady and unwavering.

“Please,” I murmured, calloused fingertips grazing the stubbled hinge of his jaw in a feather-light caress that contained entire worlds of consolation. “I know it’s hard to move on from losing something…someone like that. But it’s been two years, Leone.”

Recognition flickered through his liquid depths, chasing away some of the wrenching sorrow for a fleeting half-second. Two years…Jesus, had it only been that long? With a grimace, he ducked his chin in the barest perceptible nod - the first stone cast across this gulf yawning between us.

Encouraged, I pressed on in that same gentle yet insistent cadence. “You have to move on. Do it for me, for our family. Come home.” A wistful half-smile curved my lips as I studied his beloved, tormented visage through a sheen of unshed tears. “Your younger brother and sister need you.”

A muscle corded and twitched along the granite line of his jaw, eyes squeezing shut as if to physically dam the renewed flood threatening to breach free once more. I understood, of course I did - that constant ineffable ache persisting like a phantom limb no matter how much time lapsed. An emptiness yearning to be filled, yet terrified to invite fresh hurt.

Carefully, reverently, I cradled his gruff, indomitable features between my palms, forcing those shuttered eyes open to meet my steady regard once more. “If you don’t come back, Mom will end up killing me with all the helicoptering, reports and the inventory” I whispered, injecting a faint lilt of teasing reprieve into the words.

The breath gusted out of him in a ragged exhalation that might have audibly fractured under the weight of its desolation…or perhaps it was the softest flicker of a muffled, mordant chuckle in rueful recognition.

“Can you imagine - the two of us trying to manage the books, the logistics? We’d bankrupt the Resort before the first guest set their foot in.”

At that, the faintest uptick ghosted across the stern line of his mouth - minute, fleeting, yet profound in its raw honesty. Familiar fondness sparked behind those emerald depths as they locked onto mine, the first glimmer of warmth parting the banked clouds after an eternity of cloying darkness.

“What would I do without my girl keeping me on the level?” he rasped, knuckles grazing the high arch of my cheekbone.

A sputtering inhalation hitched in my throat as hope - tenuous, shameless, blinding - unfurled inside me like a long-furled blossom yearning for the sun. He wouldn’t verbalize it out loud just yet…but perhaps, finally, the shackles of grief were loosening their inexorable grip.

Swallowing hard, I blinked back the sudden prickling behind my eyes and summoned up my most impish grin, one dimple winking roguishly. “Be the absolute mess you are in all the ways that really count?”

It won me the barest ghost of a wry smirk in return, the silence between us no longer strained to bursting but rather replete - a companionable homecoming after far too long away.

My brother was still somewhere in that tempest-tossed wreckage, buried beneath twin years’ worth of sorrow and self-inflicted isolation. But now the lighthouse had been rekindled, glimmering faintly yet undeniably on the distant horizon.

And I would be the beacon to guide him safely home, come hell or high water. After all, that’s what family was for.

Fifteen

Emma

Returning to the vineyard after convincing Leone to resign his job in the city and take over as CEO felt surreal. I flipped through the photos from Kate with several attachments - photos she’d taken for the winery’s website and social media accounts. I swiped through them one by one, appreciation swelling within me for her keen eye in capturing the essence of our little slice of paradise. And then, one image made me pause.

Lily and I, eyes crinkled with laughter as we talked amid the vibrant green rows. A simple snapshot, yet it radiated the kind of effortless joy that money can’t buy. My chest tightened as I studied our matching grins, so utterly content in that single moment.

Ridge’s words from that night on the roof resurfaced, unbidden. “I wish I could take them to the River or the lake.” That wistful longing had been palpable, even through his usual easygoing demeanor. An idea began to take shape.

By the time I slid behind the wheel of my truck, I had made up my mind. A few taps on my phone, and Ethan’s reassuring voice confirmed he could handle things at the winery for the day. Perfect.

I made a beeline for my little shed-turned-home, kicking off my travel-worn flats and shimmying into a pair of well-loved jeans. A soft t-shirt and light jacket completed the casual look - the temperatures were dipping lower with each passing week, no longer conducive to sundress frolicking.

Next stop, the kitchen. I rummaged through the pantry, assembling a small stockpile of snacks - crackers, cheese, grapes, the usual suspects. Can’t have hungry kiddos on our hands. With a satisfied nod, I transferred the provisions into a woven basket, adding a couple bottles of our crisp white wine. One can never have too many options for the adults. A jug of grape juice rounded out the spread for the little ones.

All prepared, I hoisted the basket and made my way across the property to Ridge’s ranch office. My knuckles rapped out a cheery rhythm on the worn wooden door.

“Come on in,” Ridge’s gruff voice beckoned from inside.

I stepped through the doorway, my gaze landing on the ruggedly handsome man behind the desk, paperwork neatly stacked surrounding him. Avery was sprawled out on the beat-up couch, one little arm dangling off the side as she played peacefully. Just the sight of Ridge brought a warmth to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Hey,” he greeted, green eyes brightening momentarily before his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“Are Lily and Cody home?” I eyed the sleeping toddler, knowing Sundays were usually reserved for family time.

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