“Don’t look back!”
I chant to myself as I make my way to the car.
“You know he’s watching.”
“Don’t break.”
That interview was exactly twenty-four hours after he had left me at the cottage and being in the same room, that close to him, had been complete and utter torture. I couldn’t wait for it to be over.
Over.
This is over. It was a fling. Time to go home.
Home.
It’s funny how quickly I had started to feel at home here in northern Georgia with Zach, his friends, and his winery. It isn’t a place I’d ever seen myself, but I had been becoming more open to the possibility. The possibility that maybe we were starting something worthy of pursuing. Then again, he wanted me to feel that way, so who knows what life here is really like.
The gravel under my heels causes me to wobble. I should have known better by now than to wear these shoes, but I’ll be damned if I don’t walk out of here at least looking like I got the last word in.
I make it to my car without incident, and as soon as I’m tucked inside with the door locked, I kick off my shoes and start the engine. Any shoe lover, such as myself, will tell you the fastest way to ruin a pair of heels is to drive in them. With the angle of the gas pedal the fabric of the heel will rip, plastic will scuff, wood will scratch, and worst of all, it could break. Just like my heart.
It hurts more today than I thought it would. The shock and adrenaline has worn off, and it has left my heart feeling as if it’s been run under a meat tenderizer. I’m sore, I ache, and I feel like I’ve been flattened. I ache for what I thought I meant to him and for what he meant to me. I fell for him. Hard.
Under all the hurt, I’m angry. I’m angry at him and at myself. How did I let this happen to me? I know better.
Risking one more glance at him, my eyes flicker up to where I left him standing. Only, he isn’t standing, he’s on his knees. One hand on the ground, the other on his neck, and his face is wrenched up in pain.
What in the world.
Watching him, his arm collapses and his head hits the dirt. Unbridled fear shocks me as he rolls to his side, and with shaking hands I open the door and jump out.
“Zach!”
He doesn’t acknowledge me; he just continues panting with dust flying around his face.
I don’t remember moving, nor do I feel the bite of the gravel in my feet or knees as I land on the ground next to him.
“What’s happening! Talk to me!” I push on his shoulder.
He shifts to his back and I’m assaulted with panic filled blue eyes.
“I can’t breathe,” he barely gets out, clutching at his chest.
His entire face is flushed red and has started to swell. The skin around his eyes, his lips, and his tongue.
Oh my God.
The bee sting.
Jumping to my feet, I start running for the manor screaming.
“Kyle!”
“Michelle!”
“Anyone!”
“Help!”
My heart is racing. I know I should stay calm, but I can’t. He can’t breathe and I feel like I can’t either. Anxiety is sucking up all of my air and none of it is reaching my lungs.
Kyle meets me in the foyer, rushing straight toward me, and although there are other people behind him, all I see is him. Tears flood my eyes and Kyle’s go wild as he grabs me.
“What, what’s wrong!”
“Zach.” I point out the door. “Bee sting,” I say on a rush hoping it makes him move faster.
Quickly he drops me and runs into the tasting room. Michelle bursts past me and out the front door. I follow her as she pulls out her phone and dials 911.
Kneeling next to Zach, the next seven minutes of my life blur.
The winery keeps a bee kit in their first aid kit. Kyle flips off the blue cap to the epinephrine shot, lines the orange cap up with Zach’s thigh until it clicks, and he administers the shot straight through his pants. Liquid Benadryl is shoved down his throat and he coughs uncontrollably but somehow manages to swallow most it. Lastly, hydrocortisone cream is rubbed all over his neck where hives have begun to spread.
In the background, I hear Michelle answer every one of the dispatcher’s questions: name, symptoms, age, weight, does she know what type of bee it was, when did it happen, has this happened before, what medicines does he take, what he’s been given, et cetera. They remain on the phone as the sound of emergency sirens drift through the air becoming louder with each passing second.
A crowd has gathered around us, but when Zach’s eyes aren’t pinched shut, they’re focused on me.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whisper through the tears, assuring him, holding his hand. He gives me a slight nod and then looks up at the sky, while rubbing his chest and breathing hard.
The ambulance arrives, and the paramedics take his vitals as they load him onto the stretcher and into the truck. Kyle hops in with him, instructs Michelle to hold down the fort, and before I realize it they are gone.
Dust from the tires settles back on the ground, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the long driveway. Michelle moves to stand next to me, and not one person says a word, the only evidence that this just happened being my galloping heart.
One by one, murmurs take up behind me as the magazine crew and the guests who had dropped into the tasting room, make their way back inside. Michelle gives my arm a squeeze and she leaves me all alone.
Sitting at the top of the steps, the tears drop faster as I think about how easy and quickly it could have been to lose him. I’ve never lost someone close to me and I’m shaken by this entire experience.
Part of me wishes I had gone with him, but who am I? I’m no one. They are his family, I’m—for lack of a better word—just a colleague.
Some time later, Michelle sits down next to me. The sun was high in the sky when he left, but now it’s begun its descent west. I’m afraid to ask what time it is, sitting here for so long, it serves no purpose, other than I just couldn’t leave yet.
“He’s fine. Kyle said the doctor is going to let him go home once the swelling is gone.”
“That’s good to hear,” I answer without looking at her.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“No.”
It’s the most honest answer I can give her, because right this moment, I can’t filter through all of the emotions I’m feeling. I said goodbye to him and the stubborn part of me didn’t want to take that one last look. If I hadn’t . . . no, I can’t go there. That didn’t happen, so I need to focus on what did. I looked, and now he’s going to be fine.
“Should I stay until he gets home?” I glance at her and she frowns with heartache.
“That’s up to you. I do think he would like to see you.” And this just takes me back to our conversation where I told him I was done, that we were done. That being said, there’s no reason for me to stay.
“No, I think I’ll go ahead and go.” I stand and shake the dirt off of my dress. “Please tell him I’m glad to hear everything turned out okay.”
“I will. If you’re ever back this way, please stop in and say hello.”
Giving her a closed lipped smile, I nod my head and make my way back down the steps to my car.
A deep sigh escapes me as I slip on my sunglasses and put the car in drive. The sound of the car, the crunch beneath the tires, and the distance growing between me and the manor has me squeezing the steering wheel, fighting the overwhelming sorrow seeping into my bones.
This was supposed to be only a stupid assignment with the added bonus of a fun getaway fling on the side. And as far as vacation flings go, I can’t imagine one being better or more than this.
More.
Is there more than this? It was only a vacation fling, right?
Reaching the end of the driveway, I crack and pull to the side of the road. I certainly don’t regret my time here. I’m appreciative of the opportunity to experience s
omething so different from my everyday life.
I turn to look over the property memorizing the details. I spot two stone columns, one on each side of the driveway entrance. The stones match that of the manor, and on each column is a metal plaque that says Wolff Winery.
“Huh,” I say to myself.
I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this before, but Wolff is the perfect name for him and this place. What I know about wolves is that they are intelligent and work together in a pack. They watch their prey and study them for weaknesses, then they chase the mark over long distances, looking for the perfect opportunity to take them down. I hate to think that I have weaknesses, but I guess here I did have some.
The first being a six-foot plus male that exudes strength, raw energy, and undeniable sex appeal. I was attracted to his work ethic, the love for his family’s business, and his perfect smile. The second being his attributes made me trust the things he said and did, and the fact that we were working on something together, and that he’s Lexi’s longtime friend.
My eyes move to her pie sitting on my passenger seat. What I wouldn’t give for a fork at this moment. Yesterday, I couldn’t eat anything, but today, I want to drown my emotions and my gullibility with food and Southern spiked iced tea.
After one last glance around the sweeping property, I find my favorite playlist and pull away. The gravel disappears as smooth concrete takes over, and just like that, the last two weeks are nothing more than an image in my rearview mirror.
I understand that in life people come and go. It would be so much easier if there were a way to stay emotionally unattached, but I’m certain there’s a hidden lesson in all of this. I’m sure eventually I’ll figure it out, but getting the CliffNotes version sooner rather than later on how to avoid this ache and emptiness would be much appreciated.
My phone rings through the Bluetooth of my car and Lexi’s name pops up on the console. I have zero interest in talking to her after all that just happened, but I still accept the call.
“Hey.” Wow, even I can hear the sadness in my voice. How pathetic am I?
“Hey, Zach texted me yesterday and said I should call and check on you this afternoon. What’s going on?”
In the background, I hear the screen door slam that leads to her front porch. Lexi has the most beautiful old Florida farm home that sits on acres and acres of land in central Florida.
“Nothing at the moment, assignment’s over, and I’m driving home.” I contemplate telling her about Zach, but that is his business and he might not want me to, so I don’t.
“Oh, then I don’t know why he made it sound so urgent. Did you get the pie? I was shocked when he called and asked me to send it. Such a thoughtful idea,” she says all dreamy and cheery.
“Oh, he’s Mr. Thoughtful.” My words drip with sarcasm and suddenly I’m angry all over again. This episode with the bee sting is so unfortunate I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, but I can’t let it detract me any longer from my gut feeling of why I am leaving in the first place.
He lied to me. He used me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember how he was at the Feeding America event?” He was the perfect image of arrogance: icy blue eyes, a deep scowl, and a better-than-you attitude.
“Yes, don’t remind me.” She groans. Poor Lexi was so embarrassed that night.
“Well, let’s just say I didn’t find him to be that different during my stay here.” Here he took that arrogance one step further and allowed his own self-importance with his plan to overshadow human decency. He wanted what he wanted, and it didn’t matter if anyone got in his way.
“Really? I don’t understand. When he called and asked for the pie, he sounded so happy. Happier than I’ve heard him in a long time. What did he do?” She asks the question in a low, hissing tone, as if she already knows she will need to roast him over a fire after I tell her.
Hearing Lexi get worked up on my behalf has a tiny smile making its way onto my lips.
Meg is a man-eater, guys love her and girls are intimidated by her. She’s fiercely independent, and infectious with her personality and flare. Lexi, on the other hand, is the exact opposite. Lexi likes to be seen more than heard. She’s kind, overly humble, and fiercely private. Her feathers never get ruffled, which makes her reaction just that much more satisfying, and me love her even more.
“Let’s just say his motives over the last two weeks haven’t been from the kindness of his heart.” A heart that I felt beating under the warmth of his skin. Too bad its cold and calculating ways didn’t reach the surface to give me a warning.
“I’m going to kill him. Explain.”
“I will, but not today.” And maybe not ever. For years, I despised my mother because she allowed my father to use her. Whether she knew he was doing it or not, it doesn’t matter, all I know is now I don’t feel any different. I feel stupid and want to forget about the whole thing.
“Well, you know I’m here for you if you need me.”
“I do, and I appreciate it.”
“Maybe I should send him a pie, too, but lace it with a laxative.”
A laugh bursts out of me, oh my God, who knew Lexi had it in her? Her laugh follows mine, and the heaviness in my chest loosens a little.
“Poor guy, I don’t know if he can handle it along with all those migraines.”
Come to think of it, there were shadows under his eyes today, and his skin was more pale than usual. Yesterday must have hit him hard, and it must have lasted a good portion of the day. My go to would be good, but I think after the sting he’s earned a pass.
“He’s still getting those?” she asks, concerned.
“Yeah, he had several while I was there.”
“That’s unfortunate for him,” she says sincerely. “Hey! How was my brother? I’m so glad you got to meet him.”
My mind drifts back to the guys playing football behind the manor. Every one of them shirtless, sweaty, and looking like they belonged on a damn calendar.
“Your brother is hot!”
“Eww!” she squeals.
“Well he is, and his friends, too.”
Silence falls on her end of the line, and this silence speaks louder than she probably intends it to. Hmm.
“Why didn’t you come see him?”
“A large order came in, and I couldn’t get away.” There’s sadness in her voice, but I know there is something more. For as long as I have known her, if she has a chance to spend time with her brother, nothing gets in her way.
“Must have been a big order.” I’m probing because something about this isn’t adding up.
“It was,” she mumbles, sounding defeated, and then she changes the subject. “Hey, I have honey for you.”
“Orange blossom honey?”
“Yep, lots of it.” She sounds proud.
“Oh, Meg will be so happy.” We have been toying around with the idea of selling a few brand products at the café, and her honey is one of them. We’ll give her the money, like a commission sell, but it will have our name on it.
“I’ll ship them to the restaurant later this week.”
“How many are you sending?”
“How many do you want?” She giggles.
“All of it!” I laugh back.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“Shelby . . .” The creak of a rocking from her front porch makes its way through the phone to me. I can picture her so well with her shoulder-length light brown hair pulled into a tiny pony tail and bright green eyes, and I wish I were sitting next to her rather than sitting here.
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
“I will be.” A lump forms in my throat.
I’ve never really had a boyfriend, I’ve never wanted one past a couple of weeks here and there, but to me this feels an awful lot like what a breakup might, and we weren’t even together. This sucks.
“For what it’s worth, I’m s
orry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Zach on the other hand—” Just saying his name causes my breath to catch and the ache to increase in my heart.
“I know, but still.”
“Still nothing. This isn’t on you.”
“Maybe, but sometimes I think we don’t realize the thing we need until it happens and then it’s too late.”
“What is it you think I need?” I ask, knowing this statement was meant for Zach, but hoping she can give me something, anything.
“I don’t know, you tell me.”
I thought I wanted him, but it’s this one thing . . . this one unforgivable thing that I’m not sure I’ll ever get past.
He used me.
Southern Spiked Sweet Tea
I feel like I’ve changed.
I’m not the same person I was a month ago, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
When I glance in the mirror, I still look the same. When I talk to the staff, I still sound the same. But when I stare out over the vineyard from the back porch, I don’t feel the same. The colors aren’t as bright, the wine isn’t as delicious, and I feel out of place.
Fuck me, I miss her.
Shelby drove away a little over two weeks ago, and every day still feels like the first day. I had been hoping she would be at the manor when Kyle and I returned from the hospital, but she wasn’t. What a debacle that was. Apparently, having one type of reaction doesn’t mean you’ll always have the same type reaction when stung, and now I’m extremely susceptible to anaphylaxis going forward. Thank goodness my mother had the foresight to have a bee kit, or that entire situation could have turned out so much worse, and thank goodness Shelby was there.
Shelby.
My heart dips as I think back to the moment of the beesting. I can see her sad eyes, the slight pout of her bottom lip that’s lost its smile for me, and the closure she was giving us as she squared her shoulders and turned away. I’m trying to give her some time, but with each passing day, I doubt a little more that she’s going to come back. I’ve sent her a few texts, which have gone unanswered. I’ve called both her cell phone and the restaurant, but she never responds. It’s as if she’s disappeared.
The Sweetness of Life (Starving for Southern Book 1) Page 26