Page 3 of A Vintage of Regret
Bending down, he picked up his phone from where it had landed in the grass, the screen still smudged with dirt and sweat. His fingers hovered over the contact list for a second before he clenched his jaw, turned, and made his way back toward the ATV, picking up his discarded mug along the way.
The engine still ticked softly in the cool morning air as he climbed in. He didn’t want to make the next call—not because he couldn’t handle grief or shock. He’d dealt with more than his share of both. It was who he had to call.
Grant Callahan.
Bryson didn’t hate the man—but he wasn’t sure he liked him either. As small boys, they got along well enough. Ran through the yards playing cops and robbers. But as the years gave way to adolescence, something shifted in Grant. An unwarranted arrogance fed by his mother’s need to be the most important and influential person in town.
Then, when Bryson and Riley went from being friends to being something more, things turned explosive. That had been when the boys were all of sixteen and fourteen. Grant made it crystal clear that some kid with grape juice under his nails wasn’t the right person for Riley. But what Bryson’s family did for a living had nothing to do with why Grant didn’t like Bryson,and everything to do with his mother and her need for power, prestige, and money.
Well, that and the fact that as a freshman, Bryson was the starting quarterback, and Grant, a junior, sat on the bench.
But that had been a lifetime ago. However, the tension had never faded. Especially not after Riley left. Especially not after Bryson stayed.
Still, none of that mattered right now.
He tapped Grant’s name and lifted the phone to his ear. It rang twice before it connected.
“Bryson?” Grant’s voice came in sharp and alert. “Why are you calling me?”
Bryson exhaled. “It’s your dad.”
A pause. “What about him? Is he okay?”
“I found him out in the vineyard. He collapsed. EMTs just left with him.”
“Jesus,” Grant breathed. “Is he?—”
“I started CPR. They worked on him all the way to the ambulance. But it didn’t look good.” Bryson stared at the empty space where Sean had been. “It didn’t feel right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. No obvious injuries that I could tell. No sign of a fall or anything like that. Just—I don’t know what happened.” He paused. “They took him to Stone Bridge Medical.”
“I’ll call Erin and have her meet me there,” Grant said. “Thanks for the call.”
Bryson hesitated, then said what had been pressing at the back of his mind since the moment he saw Sean’s still body. “What about Riley?”
There was another pause—longer this time. “I believe she’s still in Patagonia, but she was looking to move again. Not sure. We haven’t exactly been best friends since she took off right aftergraduation…no thanks to you.” Grant always had to get that one dig in.
Bryson pinched the bridge of his nose. That wasn’t what happened, but that’s what Grant, Erin, and their mother liked to believe. Why? Bryson honestly had no idea. He didn’t think Riley had given them that impression. Or maybe she had, Bryson didn’t know. A lot had happened in the weeks leading up to her departure. Some his fault. Some hers. And some had to do with other people.
But mostly, because of what had happenedtothem… and that was something only a few people knew about.
“Would you like me to call her for you?” Byson asked.
“Why would I want you to do that?”
“I’m just trying to help out.” Bryson’s voice sharpened.
“I don’t need it,” Grant said.
Of course, he didn’t. Grant had never been the kind of man to ask for help. No matter the situation. He’d always been proud and stubborn.
“My little sister left years ago. Breaks my mama’s heart. Riley doesn’t understand that her actions have consequences. The only person she thinks about is herself. Regardless, this is my family, I’ll handle it.”
Bryson wasn’t about to argue with him. “I’m heading to the hospital. If you need anything, please let me know.”
The call ended.
