Teagan Thompson always knew the road she was traveling on in life. She was a farm girl, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. Teagan loved the animals, hard work, feeling of accomplishment, and being a part of her family’s heritage. It fit her. Strong and independent, if there was a problem, Teagan found a way to solve it … even if she had to do it all by herself.
When she visits her brother in California, Teagan meets winery-manager Griffin Pearce and learns that like objects, people can be broken, too. But no matter her determination, Griffin might be something Teagan can’t fix, especially after he discovers the secret she’s been hiding A part of her personal journey that can’t be altered, it’s also a sad reminder of Griffin’s past and one of the reasons he cannot heal emotionally.
Do unexpected circumstances give Teagan a reason to stay and try to put the broken pieces together? Or does she follow the road back home to her beloved farm as was always the plan?
EXCERPT:
If it had been silent before, after the door shut behind her, it seemed like we were in the deepest, most sacred part of a tomb that hadn’t been open in hundreds of years. I was trying to see if I could even hear my breath … maybe I wasn’t even breathing. The entire transaction between mother and son was intense and enlightening and surprising and overwhelming and … hopeful, even.
Another moment of silence ensued with neither of us speaking or moving. I wanted to go and hug him like he had his mother. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, I knew he needed it, and we were ready, right?
The opposite happened, though. Griffin turned from me and started toward the same door his mother had gone through mere moments before. He was simply going to leave.
“Griffin?” I called out to his back, shocked by his action. When he kept his strut without any type of acknowledgment, I repeated his name much more adamantly. “Griffin!”
“What?” He turned to face me. It was only one word, but it sounded terse.
“What?”
I couldn’t believe that had been his question … his response. He had nothing to say to me? He didn’t want to acknowledge at all what had just happened? What? What?!
“What, Teagan?” he repeated with the same intensity. “Nothing else.” He turned, obviously alluding to the fact that nothing had changed between us.
That made me so upset—the type that was a mix of sadness and anger. “You can forgive her, but not me?” What?
He swiveled around once more on my continued quest for an answer. With a slow shake of his head and one of our stares that connected us so powerfully, he spoke softly but with punctuation. “Not sure I forgave her. I understand more. I simply don’t care enough to be mad at her.” And then he did it—he walked out the door.
My search for breath resumed. He had answered the part of my question about his mother but not the part about me. He—
Wait. Breathe. Think. Rewind.
He didn’t care enough about his mom to be mad at her, but he was still mad at me. Because … he cared about me.