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She places a tender hand on my shoulder. “I’m looking forward to it.”

By the time I finish my late-evening charts and drive back to the Sutter Creek estate, it’s past 8:00. The house is quiet. Dropping my keys into the dish on the entryway table, I slide off my heels and pad quietly toward the kitchen to start a pot of tea. As I reach for the tea bags, I notice a warm light spilling from the cracked door of the sitting room.

Curiosity strikes, and I head in that direction, and peek around the doorframe, stopping dead in my tracks. Sam is sitting in the leather armchair, one leg crossed over his knee, deeply absorbed in a book.

A sudden, absurd thought flashes through my brain. Why am I so surprised? Of course he can read. I internally scold myself for the momentary absurdity. But my surprise isn’t about his literacy. It’s about the book in his hands.

I’d assumed if Sam ever picked up a book, it’d be a gritty crime thriller. Or a dry agricultural manual. Instead, a copy of Matthew McConaughey’s Greenlights is resting in his hands.

I blink in genuine astonishment, watching the subtle way his brow furrows as he turns a page, completely oblivious to my presence. I linger in the doorway a second too long. The floorboard under my bare foot lets out a faint creak, and Sam’s head snaps up.

For a heartbeat, his face flashes with a raw vulnerability. It’s as if I’ve caught him doing something far more intimate than reading. Then, the careful mask slips back into place. However, his eyes remain focused on mine.

But this is his home I’ve invaded, whether it had to happen to keep this charade going or not. I should be more respectful of his personal space. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. He marks his page with a bookmark and closes the book, resting it on his thigh. “You’re home late.”

“The charting never ends.” I fold my arms tightly across my chest, suddenly feeling hyper-aware of the space between us. “I’m trying not to bring my work home, or it will consume me. More than it already does, I guess.” I nod toward the book in his lap. “I didn’t realize you were a fan.”

A faint, self-deprecating smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “Looking for wisdom in unexpected places, I suppose. Or maybe just trying to figure out how he navigated his messes into successes.” He shrugs.

I tilt my head, studying him. “And are you? Navigating a mess?”

“Every damn day, Lex,” he answers without hesitation, his tone heavier and more sincere than usual. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands loosely clasped between his legs. “Usually one of my own making.” His face is drawn, his eyes seem heavy.

The air in the room shifts. It’s as if we’re two strangers crossing a frozen lake, testing the ice with every step.

“I thought you preferred the reckless approach. Live large and fast. Let the debris fall where it may.”

Sam flinches, an almost imperceptible tick in his jaw, before he looks up. His eyes hold mine. “I know what you think of me,” his voice is rough around the edges. “And you’re not wrong. I made a lot of mistakes. Ones I’ll probably never forgive myself for. Especially when it comes to you.”

My breath catches in my throat. I shift uncomfortably where I stand, my pulse quickening.

“I can’t undo the years I pushed you away, Lexi. Or the cruel way I did it.” His deep blue eyes brim with sincerity. “But I’m trying. I’m trying like hell to be a better man than the fuck-up you believe me to be. To prove I’m worth giving a second chance.”

A heavy silence settles over us. As I stand there in the amber light of the sitting room, watching the shadow of regret etched across his sharp features. An uneasy realization creeps into my mind. I’d spent years labeling Sam. He’d grown into a reckless playboy who tossed me aside when it was clear there were greener pastures ahead. It was easier that way. It protected me.

But looking at him now, with Matthew McConaughey’s memoir resting in his hands, I can’t help but consider his words. I’ve read Greenlights myself. McConaughey had compiled years of journals into a book about learning from the obstacles of the past, so you can create more opportunities in the future.

Suddenly, I’m seeing Sam through a different lens. The weariness in his shoulders and the aching sincerity in his eyes make me question my prior judgment of him. In my defense, I’ve had decades of his bad behavior to form this opinion. But I can’t help wondering…

What else have I missed?

What else was hiding behind the arrogant grin and the hostile armor he built all those years ago? Was he always this complex, or did I just refuse to see it because it hurt too much to consider anything else?

Then I remember the cruel interactions I experienced with him when he found me alone at Luigi’s before he needed my help. “People don’t change overnight, Sam,” I mutter, forcing my walls back into place.

Sam

Alexis is standing there, shadowed by the hallway light. My heart does a violent drop into my stomach. For a fraction of a second, I feel completely exposed. Caught off guard sitting here with a self-help book in my hands.

I’m tempted to shrug it off with a joke. But that’s the old me. I need to let her in. Allow her to realize I’m aware how flawed I am. And that I’m working on it.

God, she’s breathtaking in the soft light. Even exhausted, her hair slightly mussed from a long shift at the clinic, she commands every inch of the room. And to think I spent years pushing this beautiful woman away.

The air is so thick from years of resentment and unspoken words that I can barely draw a full breath. She’s standing five feet away, but it feels like there’s an ocean between us. Every interaction with her feels like walking across thin ice, waiting for the moment it shatters under my weight.

And we both know I have no one to blame but me.