Page 93 of The Spare

“I’m coming with you,” he says firmly, reaching out to cover my trembling hand with his. “I’ll ask Bas if we can use his plane. Make it as easy as possible. And if I need to get you liquored up, no problem.” He extends his arms in the direction of the grapes and winks.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Possibly. But I’m your idiot.”

The warmth of his words isn’t lost on me. I’m your idiot. Jeez. How ridiculous am I?

“I’ll be right by your side the whole time, Lex. It’s going to be stressful, but together? We can handle anything. I’ll teach you my Mel Robbins techniques. We’ll have you overcoming your anxiety about this in no time.”

I get quiet, staring down at our laced fingers.

“You trust me?”

The funny thing is, despite our years of bad blood and the new revelations about his indiscretions, I do. “Yes.”

Sam studies me, his dark brows drawing together perceptively. “What else?” His thumb gently caresses my knuckles in the way I’ve become accustomed. “I feel like there’s something else you aren’t telling me. Is it… Is it what happened with Shelly? Have I ruined everything between us?”

“No.” And it’s honestly not. I’d somehow made peace with that the week the bomb dropped. There had been so many disappointments during that time, this wasn’t all that surprising. I mean, I can’t say the news that Sam had gotten someone pregnant would’ve ever been a shock.

“It’s not Shelly. But… I feel like we need to talk about the future. Really talk about it. Where we stand, what happens when our contract year is up, and if we actually have a chance at making this real.” My head falls under the magnitude of my words. “We’ve spent too many years keeping our thoughts and feelings bottled up. We need to be open about everything. If there’s a chance of this working out between us.”

Sam nods, a look of hope settling in his big blue eyes. “And you still want a future with me, Lex? After everything?”

“Yes. But only if we can talk openly. Never let the actions of the past come between us.”

Sam stands taller, a newfound determination lighting up his face. “Dinner. This Friday. Let’s go to Ash & Olive. Just the two of us. No vineyard talk, no family drama. We’ll lay it all out on the table. I’m an open book.” He winks, his flirty dimple making me smile.

“Perfect.”

Knock, knock, knock.

Sam and I both turn from where we’re standing in the kitchen as the harsh knock hits the door. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was nervous. And not about the recent fire or kidnapping attempt. It’s more of a worry that the universe is going to pour more onto my plate than I can handle. Because, heavens to Betsy, it’s so crowded it’s spilling over already.

When Sam opens the front door, Sheriff Dean is standing on the porch. His duty belt creaks slightly as he shifts his weight. “Sheriff Dean,” Sam greets, stepping back to welcome him inside. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, Sam. Dr. Patterson.” Dean gives us a polite, professional nod as he steps into the foyer, taking off his hat. He looks between the two of us, his expression solemn but unreadable. “I wanted to come by in person to give you both an update on the investigation.”

Sam’s hand instantly finds the small of my back, his thumb rubbing comforting, steady circles against my spine. “What did you find out?” he asks, his voice tight with anticipation.

Dean rests his hands on his belt, his eyes settling on us. “First off, the fire marshal and our department have officially cleared you from the suspect list, Sam. You’re completely off the hook for any insurance fraud or intentional destruction charges.”

I let out a quiet, shuddering breath. I didn’t realize that had been worrying me so much until this moment. I lean into Sam’s side. “Thank God.”

“What about the accelerant?” Sam presses, his posture still rigid. “Do you know who set it?”

“We have strong leads, but we aren’t ready to press charges yet,” Dean explains, his tone measured. “Because it’s an active investigation and no warrants have been served, I can’t release any names to you right now. But I wanted to reassure you that we’re pursuing it aggressively.”

“Sheriff Dean, I need to know if we’re safe.” Sam’s jaw is set in a hard line.

“I hear you. And that brings me to the main reason I came by tonight.” He turns his gaze directly on me. “The investigation into your attempted abduction has officially concluded. We’ve confirmed the kidnapping was completely unrelated to the arson at Sutter Creek. It was purely a case of mistaken identity.”

“I heard it was intended for Sydney Cunningham,” Sam interjects.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that. But we can say with certainty it had nothing to do with you, Alexis, or the vineyard.” He nods in each of our directions, underscoring his statement.

I had heard as much through the rumor mill, but I knew I couldn’t completely let my guard down until it was confirmed. Poor Sydney. I haven’t wanted to pry, but no one at St. Luke’s has talked to her lately. It’s all very hush-hush. I hope she’s okay.

“Alexis was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Dean confirms with a firm nod. “The vineyard fire is an ongoing arson case. As soon as the prosecutor gives us the green light to make an arrest, you’ll be the first to know.”