Chapter 27

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JOHN

JOHN FROWNED at his front porch as he aimed Adam's car towards the garage.

He'd been back to work for just over a week, except he still hadn't dealt with getting a replacement for his truck, so Adam had been driving him to and from work every day.

But that day, Adam had arrived at the vineyard and said he was feeling a bit sluggish, so John had taken back the driver's seat, letting Adam doze beside him.

"Oh!" Adam bounced in the passenger seat and clapped his hands, looking more alert as he followed John's gaze to the front of the house. "It came!"

"What came?" John asked, reaching up to punch the button that would open the garage.

Instead of answering, Adam gave him a sly grin. "You'll see." He paused. "I hope you'll like it," he added, sounding uncertain.

John pulled the car inside, the vehicle feeling tiny in the space compared to his truck, then turned to look at Adam. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I will."

Adam beamed at him and threw off his seat belt.

John shut off the car and got out to follow his boy.

They walked around to the front of the house, and John peered down at the huge box resting beside the front door that he never used.

"What–" John began to ask, then his eyes went wide as he took in the image on the side of the box. Holy shit . "A wine fridge?"

Adam nodded eagerly as a grin took over his face. He held up his hands. "I measured, like, three times to make absolutely sure it would fit. I think if you take out that one shelf under the counter, it'll slide right in.

John blinked at him. "Why did you buy me a wine fridge?"

Adam's smile wilted. "You had to lock all your wine away because of me, and now it's all spoiled," he began.

John inwardly winced. He had lost his small collection, keeping the bottles in that file cabinet. The garage got plenty of shade thanks to the trees surrounding his little house, but with the triple-digit heat outside, that didn't matter much. The garage had gotten too warm.

"But this," Adam went on, his smile starting to come back as he gestured at the box, "has dual temperature controls and it even locks." Adam paused, his expression turning completely sober. "I don't feel the urge to drink anymore, but I can't guarantee I'll always be like that. Maybe something else bad will happen someday. I don't know. But this way, you can keep your wine collection locked up, so it'll be your decision whether I get to have a glass with you over dinner." He paused. "Does that sound stupid? Maybe that sounds–"

John grabbed his boy and kissed him.

Adam gasped in surprise, then melted into the kiss.

"You're brilliant," John whispered over his lips. "Daddy loves you so much."

Adam beamed at him, then laughed. "I'm sorry about the timing, though. I can't exactly help you drag this thing inside."

John tipped the box, judging its weight. "I'll figure something out," he assured Adam. "Come on. Let's at least get ourselves inside." He dragged his arm across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had beaded there just from standing in the heat.

Adam followed him back into the garage, then into the house. They both sighed with relief when the air conditioning hit them. John pulled off his work boots before kneeling down to help Adam out of his own shoes. He knew Adam could manage on his own now, but he also had to admit that he'd been really enjoying taking care of his boy.

Speaking of which , he thought, frowning as he stood back up and took in Adam's face. John ran a hand down the boy's cheek. "You look done in. Why don't you go take a nap? Maybe I'll order something for dinner."

Adam yawned. "And here I was gonna make your favorite."

"Let's save it for the weekend," John suggested. "Go on."

"Yes, Daddy," Adam murmured, padding away to the bedroom.

John's chest swelled as he watched the boy walk away, those words ringing in his ears, making him grin. He went to the kitchen and unpacked the remains of his lunch bag, smiling the whole time. Adam had been making John's lunch for him every day since he'd gone back to work. The whole thing was so sweetly domestic. John couldn't get enough of it, of the way they took care of one another.

He peeked into the bedroom and found Adam sound asleep, so he pulled the door almost shut before heading for the living room. There was still the box on the porch that needed to be brought inside, but John could worry about that later. He pulled out his guitar and his notebooks and dropped onto the couch, snagging the opportunity while he had it.

Ever since his flash of inspiration in the shower with Adam, John had been stealing moments like this, trying to finish Adam's Song . It was almost done, but John still hadn't had a chance to play it all the way through.

He strummed the guitar as softly as he could, singing the lyrics in barely a whisper. John felt his smile spreading, taking over his face, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as his excitement and nerves grew in equal measure.

It was perfect.

The rhymes weren't exact, but he found himself actually content with that. Hand and man weren't perfect rhymes, but when sung, one could hardly tell the difference. What mattered most was the feeling he'd put into the lines. The song spoke of his passion for Adam. Of their struggles and the strength of their love.

He couldn't wait to play it for the boy.

John froze. Holy shit . He stared blankly across the living room, his guitar and all his notebooks there in his peripheral vision as the epiphany slammed right into him, rattling his very soul.

No wonder "December Dreams" had felt lacking! He'd written that song for Adam to sing, but how did it make sense for the boy to sing a song from John's perspective?

It needed to be John doing the singing. And it needed to be public. John gulped. It needed to be very public.

John's heart raced at the prospect, both exciting and terrifying him. But he knew there was no other way. John carefully set the guitar aside and grabbed his phone. He needed to find a place. Somewhere he could perform the song in front of an audience.

Before he got far with his search, he heard the sound of tires crunching along his driveway, too close to be his tenants heading up the other fork to the main house.

John frowned, setting his phone aside as he got up to investigate. Nobody ever came up his driveway. It was too tucked away for it to be a simple case of someone getting lost off the main road.

He went to the front door and peeked out, his eyebrows going up at the sight of a vineyard truck pulling up next to the garage, followed by a white sedan. The truck shut off, and Everett got out.

John yanked open the front door.

"Hey, John," Everett called. He looked around as he strode towards the porch. "What a cozy setting you have here."

"Thanks," John replied automatically, then blurted out, "What are you doing here?"

"I know Adam's been driving you," Everett replied, "but I thought I'd bring you this to use just in case." He pressed the truck keys into John's hand. "I considered simply giving you the truck–"

"No," John insisted.

Everett chuckled and held up his hands. "As an employment perk," he clarified. "But I get it. Far be it from me to step on anyone's pride. But you're welcome to use this until you get a chance to replace your own. I'm sorry you lost it in the fire."

John shrugged. The loss of his truck didn't sting like the loss of the grapes. Not even close. "I'm sorry you lost the vines. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner that those vines were going to have to come out, anyway. I mean, it's moot now. They're gone."

And had that ever hurt! John had made himself ride out with Ward to survey the cleanup efforts of the riesling fields. The entire crop had been destroyed. The fire crew had used the wide dirt roads between vineyard sections as a firebreak to stop the spreading flames, but within that containment, they'd allowed the fire to burn itself out. Which meant all the riesling vines had been consumed.

John had almost gotten choked up at the sight of the charred earth. Almost. But then he'd felt a sense of resignation—almost peace—wash over him as he watched the vineyard workers rip out the remains, leaving nothing but churned-up soil behind. It would be a clean slate. A fresh start. He could let the land rest and then start growing again.

"But still," John went on. "I should have said something. I just didn't want to disappoint you."

Everett leveled a look at him. "John, you could never disappoint me. Your dedication has always been above and beyond. I'm only sorry you put yourself in harm's way. But I do appreciate what the vineyard means to you. At least, I think I do. I can always see it in your face when you're working. That sense of pride."

John felt a smile tug at his lips.

"What's this?" Everett suddenly asked, eyeing the huge box beside him.

"Oh." John chuckled. "Adam bought me a wine fridge, apparently."

"That's thoughtful. Need any help getting it inside? I'm sure Adam can't lift anything yet."

John almost said no , thinking he'd figure out a way to lift it on his own, but it would certainly be easier with some help.

And he was learning to loosen his hold on having to control everything, after all.

"Thanks. Yeah. I'd appreciate it."

They bent down and heaved the box up off the porch, carrying it into the house.

"Adam's asleep," John grunted quietly, and Everett gave him a nod, the two of them moving quietly as they brought the box closer to the kitchen and set it down against the wall. "Thanks," John said again.

"Anytime." Everett turned back for the front door, then paused, eyeing the living room. John's guitar and notebooks were still out, waiting for him to come back. "Ah. So you do play."

John felt his cheeks warm, but he nodded. "Ever since I was a kid. It was always my one passion in life, before I discovered wine."

"Are you composing?" Everett asked, pointing at the notebooks.

John nodded again. "I'm writing a song for Adam. Something I've been trying to write for a decade, but the words only recently came together. Right before you drove up, I was trying to search for a place where I could perform it for him. Like an open mic night or something." John paused, shaking his head as he thought aloud. "It has to be public. It has to be big . Just singing it for him here," he went on, gesturing at his house, "won't be enough."

Everett looked at him. "Sing it at the wedding."

John blinked. "What?"

"Sing it at the wedding," Everett repeated with a casual shrug, like the suggestion should have been obvious.

John frowned. "But it's your wedding."

"So?"

"So," John stammered, "it's your day. I don't want to hijack that. It wouldn't be fair."

"John, I'm offering," Everett said with a laugh.

"I don't know."

"Hang on." Everett went to the door, leaned out, and called, "Mor!" He waved his hand, and John watched as Morgan got out of the white sedan and came up to the porch.

The boy stepped inside and gave John a smile. "Hey, John. How are you? How's Adam?"

"Good," John got out. "He's sleeping."

Morgan chuckled, giving him a knowing nod. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Everett slipped an arm around Morgan's shoulders. "Did you know John was writing a song for Adam?"

Morgan gasped. "Oh my god! That's so sweet."

"I told him he should sing it at the wedding."

Morgan gasped again, louder that time. He covered his mouth with both hands, then gave a little bounce of excitement. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "Yes, you totally have to. Oh my god. That would be so cool."

"But…it's your day," John repeated.

"John," Everett began. "How many times do I have to tell you? You're family. You won't be stealing our thunder or whatever else you're thinking. We'll always want to share and celebrate with our friends. Trust me. It'll make our day even more amazing."

"It'll be epic ," Morgan insisted with a grin. "Oh! I'm gonna call Trevor. I'll get the band in on the surprise. It is gonna be a surprise, right? I can't wait to see Adam's face! Maybe when they take one of their breaks, it'll be perfect for you to step in. Maybe they can even announce you. This is gonna be so awesome!" Morgan pulled out his phone as he rushed outside.

Everett chuckled, watching his fiancé hurry off. "Well, if that doesn't convince you, I don't know what will."

John relented with a laugh. "Okay. Fine. Only if you're sure."

"I'm sure," Everett insisted.

Everett left a few minutes later, and John went to check on Adam before he returned to his guitar. He played the song through once more, his heart picking up speed as he imagined getting up in front of a crowd for the first time.

It was going to be nerve-wracking as hell, but he knew it would be worth it. He couldn't wait to see Adam's face. Couldn't wait to give the boy the words he'd been trying to write for a decade.

The song came to an end, and John smiled. He quickly put the guitar away, then snatched up the notebook Adam had given him, the one with Rhyme and Riesling on the cover. John checked his notes in the other notebooks that he used for all his messy ideas, then grabbed a pen and opened Adam's notebook to the first page.

Above the first line, John wrote, "Man to Man."

Then he carefully penned out the final version of the lyrics, taking his time to make sure the letters were neat and legible.

Once it was done—the page finally filled after a decade of sitting there, taunting him with its emptiness—John sat back and couldn't help grinning.

John's phone vibrated, showing a new text message. He set his pen aside and picked up the phone, opening the text from Morgan.

Morgan : Trevor's in! He promised they'd keep it a surprise. But they'll announce you at one of the breaks.

John let out a shaky breath and texted back.

Me : Sounds good.

He paused, thinking. He'd have to sneak his guitar over to the vineyard and hide it somewhere safe. That way, it would be there waiting for him on the day of the wedding. John hoped he could get it there without Adam noticing its absence from his living room.

His phone vibrated again.

Morgan : I'm so excited for you! I can't wait to see this.

John grinned as the anticipation began to take over.

Morgan was right. Even if only John and Adam felt it, this was going to be epic.