Page 17 of You Give Wine a Bad Name

I studied her for a moment, searching for any signs of hesitation, but all I saw was determination. “Alright, if you’re sure. But I’ll text you as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Deal,” she agreed, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

We headed out to the car, the atmosphere between us still heavy with the weight of the decisions we both had to make. I wished I could stay with her, be there for whatever conversation she was about to have with Miles, but I also knew I couldn’t ignore my responsibilities at Sunset Vines.

The drive to the festival grounds was quiet, both of us lost in our own thoughts. When we finally reached the entrance, I pulled over and put the car in park, turning to look at Angie.

“Good luck,” I said, my voice filled with sincerity. “I know you’ll make the right decision, whatever that is.”

“Thanks, Bowie,” she said, leaning over to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

I watched as she got out of the car and headed toward the festival, my heart heavy with worry. But there was nothing more I could do now except trust that she would be okay.

With a sigh, I turned the car around and headed to Sunset Vines, my mind still on Angie and everything that had happened between us. I hoped that whatever was waiting for me at the bar was something I could handle quickly, so I could get back to her as soon as possible.

When I arrived, the bar was already filling up with the usual happy hour crowd. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses greeted me as I walked in, the atmosphere seeming completely normal for this time of day.

Lila was behind the bar, chatting with a couple of regulars. She looked up when she saw me, her face lighting up with a relieved smile. “Hey, big brother,” she said, her tone playful. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual despite the knot of unease tightening in my gut. “What’s the issue you texted me about?”

“Oh, that,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing major. Just a guy who came in earlier, walked up to me, and offered me a thousand bucks if I’d text you and tell you to come to the bar as soon as possible.”

My frown deepened, the unease in my chest growing stronger. “A thousand bucks? What did this guy look like?”

Lila shrugged, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Really good-looking. Built, like he spends all his time in the gym. Honey blonde hair, all-American type of guy. I might have slipped him my number,” she added with a giggle.

My stomach dropped, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. “Lila…what the hell? Why would you do that?”

She blinked, her smile fading as she registered the seriousness in my tone. “What? Is he not a friend of yours?”

“No,” I said, my mind racing as I tried to piece together what was happening. “Did he say anything else?”

Lila’s expression turned worried, her earlier playfulness evaporating. “No, just that he needed you here. Why? What’s going on?”

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. My mind was already spinning, my thoughts racing ahead to Angie, to the trailer, to the possible danger she could be in. Everything clicked into place in an instant, and I felt a cold wave of fear wash over me.

Without another word, I grabbed my keys, the urgency of the situation hitting me like a freight train. “Call the police,” I said, my voice rough. “Have them go to Angel’s trailer at the festival. Now.”

Lila’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God, Bowie, I didn’t mean to…”

“Just call,” I snapped, already heading for the door. “I’m going to get there as fast as I can.”

I didn’t wait for her response. I sprinted to my car, my heart pounding in my chest as I fumbled with the keys. The moment the engine roared to life, I tore out of the parking lot, my mind a whirlwind of fear and adrenaline.

The drive back to the festival was a blur, my thoughts consumed with one thing and one thing only—getting to Angie. I pushed the car as fast as it would go, weaving through traffic with a reckless urgency that I hadn’t felt in years. My mind was a chaotic mess of worst-case scenarios, my heart hammering in my chest with the fear that I might already be too late.

Chapter Nine

Angel

The summer festival was in full swing, the final day drawing a crowd so massive it felt like every person in the city had converged on this one spot. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the festival grounds, while the sky transitioned from gold to deep violet. The air was thick with the scent of fried food, mingling with the earthy undertone of the grass beneath my feet. People were everywhere, laughing, shouting, dancing as a rap band blared from the stage, their heavy bass beats pounding through the air, through my body, until I felt like I was vibrating with the music.

I moved through the throngs of people, barely noticing when a sharp sting bit into my arm. Mosquitos. I slapped at the spot, then another on my neck, irritated by the small intrusions. But the truth was, I was more than just annoyed by the mosquitos. My emotions were all over the place, and the crowd wasn’t helping. There was a restless energy in the air, a kind of wildness that felt on the edge of tipping into chaos. Maybe it was just the nature of the final night of the festival, or maybe it was my own nerves projecting onto everything around me. I didn’t know. I just felt on edge.

But beneath the anxiety, there was something else, too. A warmth that had been simmering ever since my time with Bowie. It was strange how quickly I’d gone from being wary of him to feeling something much deeper. It wasn’t just attraction—though there was plenty of that. It was the way he made me feel safe, in a way I hadn’t felt in years. I’d almost forgotten what that felt like, to be with someone who made me feel secure. I never thought I’d feel that again, not after Trace. Not after what he’d done to me.

I didn’t think it was possible to trust a man after Trace had broken that trust so completely, but Bowie…he was different. There was a steadiness to him, a kind of reliability that I respected. More than that, though, it was how he’d turned his life around, how hard he’d worked to be a better person for his younger sister. He wasn’t just some guy with a pretty face—he was someone who had been through hell and come out stronger on the other side. That was the kind of person I wanted in my life. I could feel it deep in my bones, that Bowie was someone I could trust, someone I could build something real with.

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