Chapter 1

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JOHN

JOHN CUNNINGHAM stomped on the brake pedal, threw the gearshift into Park , and flung open the door, barely remembering to kill the truck's engine as he got out. He put his hands on his hips and paced, stomping down the short weeds and grass that grew between the vines.

He stopped, took a deep breath, then closed his eyes and let out a sigh. After a moment, he opened his eyes and turned to face east, putting his back to the fence. The setting sun burned on the back of his neck. It was only late May, but it was already uncomfortably hot outside. John snorted a humorless laugh. Almost a decade in California, and he still wasn't used to the weather.

Slowly but surely, despite the heat, a smile took over his face as he lost himself in the view. This was his favorite part of the property. Even with all the hundreds of acres that Vista Robles Vineyard covered, this section was the most beautiful. Something about the slope of the land. Or maybe it was how the majestic oak trees stood guard amongst the vines that stretched off as far as the eye could see.

This was his solace. The place to which he came when he needed to reset after dealing with people.

Christ. Fucking people . John took another deep breath. The past week had been intense. The Paso Robles Wine Festival kicked his ass every year, and this one had been no exception. It was the one part of his job that he hated. Most of the time, he could focus on tending to the grapes, coordinating with management and distribution, and diving head-first into the intricate process of turning crushed fruit into a bottled sensation. But Wine Fest? Ugh . For that, he had to be social.

John understood the point of it, of course. People wanted to meet the winemaker, the person responsible for creating the vintages they loved. But John found the whole thing so utterly exhausting. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to answer their questions any differently than the tasting room staff might have done. Hell, that was their entire job: pour wine and answer questions. But for four days every year, John had to be front and center. Constantly present and available to the customers.

And that day—the final day—was the worst of it. They'd all gone over to the Paso Robles Event Center, a facility that covered the space of several city blocks. Initially, the land had only been used by the California Mid-State Fair, which was held every July. Now, though, the Event Center also hosted the Wine Festival's Grand Tasting. Hundreds of local wineries had been represented—and the fact that the small town of Paso Robles even had hundreds of wineries still blew John's mind—with tents and tables taking over the facility while people came in droves to sample the local vintages. In the Vista Robles tasting room, the crowds could be kept to a minimum. But the Event Center? And on a Saturday, no less? It was wall-to-wall people. Almost as bad as the Mid-State Fair itself, which was nothing if not pure insanity.

John could still hear all the noise.

He focused on his breathing as he reached out to finger the closet vine, trying to let the peace and quiet of the vineyard wash over him, waiting for the tension in his muscles to dissipate. There was no way he could go see Adam while he was so wound up.

But he couldn't wait to see his boy, either. Wine Fest had kept him so busy that he and Adam hadn't been able to get together in over a week. He was itching to get to Adam's place, rip the boy's clothes off, and fuck him hard and fast until they were both so utterly spent that they couldn't move. Then do it all over again. And maybe once more for good measure. John breathed a laugh. Christ . He couldn't get enough.

Then again, neither could Adam.

The rumble of a diesel engine cut through the silence, interrupting John's thoughts. John looked up to see another vineyard truck pull up behind the one he'd left parked at the fence line. He let out a sigh and shaded his eyes, watching as his assistant, Ward, switched off the motor and got out, flashing him a crooked grin.

"Thought you'd be out here," Ward said, his deep voice sounding just as weary as John felt. Ward had been in the thick of it with him all week, the two of them trying to share the load. But having Assistant attached to his title meant most people ignored Ward in favor of John, leaving Ward to do more legwork and heavy lifting while John was stuck playing nice with potential wine club members.

Despite his exhaustion, John chuckled at Ward's comment. After years of working together, the man knew him too well.

"Got the table runner and banners packed away," Ward said. "Want me to run the leftover business cards and flyers down to the office before I leave?"

"Sure. Thanks."

Ward put his hands on his hips and blew out a heavy breath. "What a week."

"Yeah."

"You going to Beau's party tomorrow?" Ward asked, then chuckled as he added, "Or are you going full hermit instead?"

John inwardly cursed. He'd almost forgotten about the party, even though Beau threw it every year. Beau Renaud, who owned Living in Zin—a bed-and-breakfast and tasting room on the other side of town—always did a barbecue for his closest friends and acquaintances in the industry, celebrating another successful Wine Fest. John had been invited in years past, but he'd always declined, too tired to continue being social after having to be so all week.

All he wanted to do was lock himself away with his boy all night, then spend Sunday morning in bed before going home and getting caught up on his chores.

But Adam would definitely want to go to the party. All of his friends would be there.

And John was not about to let Adam down by not going with him. He'd failed him before and vowed never to do so again. Not even in something as small as this.

"Yeah," John begrudgingly answered. "Yeah, I'm going."

Ward slowly nodded as he bent down and yanked up a weed, idly tearing it to pieces. "I'm not even sure why Beau invited me."

"What do you mean?"

Ward hesitated before he mumbled, "Just makes me wonder if he knows."

Christ . This was like pulling teeth. Ward wasn't usually so hesitant. "Knows what?" John asked, wishing the man would spit it out already, whatever it was.

Ward shrugged, still focused on the weed. The big man looked almost vulnerable in that moment, which was an odd sight. Ward was taller and broader than John by a couple inches and built entirely of muscle. By looks alone, the man was an alpha beast if there ever was one.

But he was also one of the quietest and gentlest men John had ever met. It made their work relationship not just tolerable but pleasant. Ward was easy-going and did what he was told.

Not that Ward was remotely submissive. He had dom written all over him but he also knew his place in the pecking order around there. The man never questioned John's authority.

Still, it was weird to see him looking so uncertain.

"It's just," Ward began quietly, staring off into the distance as he spoke, "I've been to some of Beau's parties. And some are industry based, and those are fine. All the wine people. Lots of shop talk. But there have also been some that are very…" Ward trailed off before he finally finished, "Queer."

John's whole body went tense. He never talked about his relationship at work, so Ward probably didn't even know he was gay. If they were about to have a problem over that, it would make working with the man absolutely impossible. No way in hell was he going to work with a homophobe. "You have a problem with gays?" John bit off.

"What?" Ward asked with a frown, looking genuinely confused. Then he gasped. "No! God, no." He laughed. "Geez, John, it's not like that. I know Beau's gay. And a lot of his friends are. Hell, our new boss is gay. Or, at least, bi. And then there's Theo and Haven in the tasting room, of course. Man, they make a cute couple, don't they? And so is my brother, for that matter, and we're as close as brothers can be."

"Oh." John felt a shudder run through his limbs as all the fight drained out of him. Christ . He ran a hand back through his hair, shaking off the dizziness of emotional whiplash. "Good."

Ward tossed the remains of the weed aside. "I guess I'm just wondering if Beau's invite means he knows that I've been feeling–" He broke off with a curse and shook his head. "That man is a little too intuitive for his own good."

"Ha!" John slowly nodded. "Yeah." There had been a couple times, in years past, when Beau casually mentioned hosting some type of gay mixer event, then outright stated he wasn't inviting John. Like he knew John's heart was already taken despite John never saying a word about it.

Because even during their eight long years apart, John had never stopped loving Adam.

"Sometimes, I swear it's like he can read minds," Ward went on. "Or maybe I said something without realizing…" A frown creased his brow. "Fuck. Never mind. I told him I wasn't sure if I could make it, but…"

John chuckled when Ward trailed off again. "He didn't take no for an answer, did he?"

Ward barked a laugh. "No, he did not. He's funny like that."

"Yeah, he is." John shifted his weight from one foot to the other while Ward's laughter faded into silence. Well? Something about Beau's invitation was clearly still bothering the man, but John wasn't sure he had the energy to press Ward for it. He was about to make an excuse about needing to leave when Ward finally shook his head again and straightened up.

"We really need to tear these out this winter," Ward said, gesturing at the vines all around them.

John tensed again. Not just from mental jarring of a sudden subject change, but at that particular subject change. He clenched his jaw and reached out to touch the vines again, feeling a desperate need to hold on to them. Christ . He didn't want to rip out this section of the vineyard. It would mean losing his favorite spot for at least a few years while the land sat fallow and recovered.

He frowned as he stepped closer, seeing just how weak the vines looked. Hell. They should have ripped them out last winter. John knew that. But he'd resisted, hoping to force one more year of production out of them before he faced seeing them torn from the ground.

Before he had to face telling the boss that they'd be down one product in their catalog for the next few years.

Damn it . He'd had to do that with his old boss, too. Six years ago, back before the vineyard changed ownership, the pinot noir grapes had to get torn out to give the land a chance to recover. That had been a blow. Pinot noir was one of their bigger sellers, so losing that product from their lineup had meant a noticeable financial hit. They'd debated the merits of buying in grapes from another vineyard to still make the wine, but Vista Robles had always prided itself on doing everything in-house. Having to announce that to the boss had left John a bundle of nerves. He hated disappointing people.

Especially after the way he'd let Adam down nine years ago. Not to mention, himself.

And Adam's dad, for that matter.

John blew out a heavy breath and tried to force those memories aside, but it wasn't easy. This was the place he came when he needed to be alone, to remember Adam, to think about all the choices he'd made. All the regrets he had.

Then again, he had Adam now. The boy was back in his life, and they could finally be together. Maybe he wouldn't need to rely on this place for comfort and retreat as much anymore.

Yeah, right . He knew losing these vines was going to hurt like hell. This place was so wrapped up with thoughts of Adam in his mind, John knew he wouldn't be able to let it go.

"No riesling for a few years," Ward went on, "but we can manage that. It's not one of our bigger productions."

John crossed his arms over his chest, hiding his clenched fists. When it came to raw numbers, Ward was right. Riesling was way down the list in terms of production volume, so it wouldn't be nearly the blow that pinot noir had been. But just the thought of seeing this land bare—seeing it all ripped up and gone to weed, even temporarily—made John's skin crawl.

Ward's phone rang, interrupting the conversation before John could find a suitable reply. The man pulled his phone out and glanced at the screen. "Speaking of my brother. Sorry, I should take this."

"Yeah. Of course." John waved him away and watched as Ward trudged back off to the truck, answering his call as he went.

Shit . John patted his pockets, searching for his own phone. He started back for the truck, then turned to glance over his shoulder, wanting one last glimpse of the vineyard.

A crooked sign caught his eye. John muttered a curse and veered back, unable to leave it. He crossed the dirt road between the riesling vines and the next section of vineyard, stopping at the first row. A small, wooden sign was screwed into the end post there. John pulled a multi-tool out of his pocket, flipped out the screwdriver, and straightened the sign. He tightened the screw that held the sign in place, then checked other signs all down the rows.

Aubbie. Shaney. Magic. Charlotte. Shadow. Pets that had been cremated, their ashes spread in the vineyard. It was a tradition the old boss had worked out with local veterinarian offices. Vista Robles took the ashes and spread them where the vines grew, giving the beloved pets a beautiful final resting place.

Once John was satisfied that all the signs were perfectly straight, he finally turned away and headed for the truck, still sitting there with the driver's door wide open. He found his phone resting in the cup holder. John hopped into the truck, leaving the door open so he could feel the gentle breeze, then had to power the phone on since he'd left it off all day.

A notification popped up, alerting him to a new voicemail. John quickly clicked on it, seeing Adam's name there.

" Hey, John ," the recording began. Two little words, and John was grinning. He loved Adam's voice. Couldn't get enough of it. Even when voices tended to exhaust him, creating too much noise, Adam's was pure delight. Just hearing the boy speak made his skin tingle all over.

Hearing Adam sing was a whole other experience. Christ . John got hard, just thinking about it.

" Just wanted to see if you'd prefer meatloaf or lasagna for dinner ," Adam went on. " I've got stuff for both. "

John moaned low in his throat as his stomach growled. Adam was a ridiculously good cook, though he always left the kitchen looking like a tornado had blown through. Then again, that often made for an interesting kind of foreplay. John loved telling Adam what to do, and the boy loved obeying. Even just watching Adam rush about the kitchen, cleaning up his mess, got both of them desperate and needy.

" Can't wait to see you! " Adam's message continued. " I'm so horny, I could fucking burst. A whole week without you inside me, and I feel like I'm gonna die. "

John laughed, palming his cock through his jeans as it hardened even more. You and me both, baby .

" Anyways, call me back when you get this. Or maybe I'll have to surprise you ," Adam added, his words teasing about more than food. " Love you! "

John pulled his phone away from his ear when the message ended, watching the screen revert back to his list of voicemails. He deleted that new one from Adam, leaving just one message. The smile dropped right off his face as he stared at it. Whether by some miracle—or divine torment—that message was still there after all these years.

The last words Adam's dad had ever said to him.

Except John had never listened to the message. Try as he might, he still couldn't bring himself to do so. Nor could he make himself delete the message without listening to it. He didn't want to hear it, but he also knew he'd regret it for the rest of his life if he never gave himself the chance to find out what the man had said. John had even copied the audio file onto his computer in case the carrier ever deleted it, but even there, it sat untouched. Taunting him every time he saw it.

John's thumb hovered over the message. Listen or delete? Christ . He wanted to do both so badly, but wound up jerking his thumb away instead and tossing the phone back into the cup holder. John yanked the door shut, started up the truck, and turned it around.

Nine years, and he still couldn't let it go.