Page 28 of The Vines Between Us

Chapter Twenty

ALEXANDRE

"Alexandre?" My mother's voice, thick with tears and something like relief.

"Maman? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"He's gone, mon chéri. Your father. He's gone."

I sat up in bed, the words not quite penetrating. "Gone where? He left you?"

"He's dead, Alexandre. Heart attack. The doctors said... they said it was instant. All the drinking, all the anger, the rage... one second he was screaming at me and then the next his heart just gave out."

The room spun around me. I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles white in the moonlight streaming through the window.

"Maman, I'm so sorry. I'll catch the first train to Lyon. I'll be there by—"

"No." Her voice was stronger now, fierce. "I mean yes, come if you want to. But Alexandre... we're free. Do you understand? We're both finally free."

I understood. But freedom after my entire life being full of terror felt more terrifying than the prison we'd known.

"I don't know how to be free, Maman."

"Then learn," she whispered. "Learn with that boy you love. The one you've been protecting us from all these years."

She knew. She'd always known.

"I'm scared," I admitted, the words scraping raw from my throat.

"I know, mon chéri. But he's gone. He can't hurt any of us anymore. Not you, not me, not the people you love." She paused. "Your Hugo—he's still there?"

"Yes, but Maman, we're not... I've ruined things between us."

"Then fix them. You have time now. All the time in the world."

After she hung up, I sat in the darkness, shaking. Free. The word felt foreign, impossible. For thirty-two years, my father's voice had lived in my head, his threats had controlled my choices, his violence had shaped my capacity for love.

And now silence.

I found myself walking through the dark house to Henri's study, then outside into the vineyard. The air was cool against my skin, the vines rustling softly in the night breeze. I walked without destination until I found myself at the stone wall that separated our properties.

And there, as if conjured by my need, was Hugo. Sitting on the wall between our properties in his pajamas and an old jacket, looking up at the stars.

"Couldn't sleep either?" he said softly, not turning around. His voice was guarded, the same careful distance he'd maintained since I'd hurt him.

"My father's dead."

The words hung in the air between us. Hugo turned then, his expression shifting from surprise to concern .

"Alexandre... I'm sorry."

"Heart attack. Three hours ago." I moved closer but stopped short of the wall, respecting the boundary between us. "I should feel sad. Or grief. Or something."

"What do you feel?"

"Terrified," I whispered. "All my life, I've made decisions based on his threats, his violence, his voice in my head telling me I was worthless, that love would destroy me, that I'd destroy anyone I loved.

" I looked up at the stars, the same ones Hugo had been watching.

"What if that voice was the only thing keeping me from becoming him? "

Hugo's eyes softened, but he didn't move from his perch on the wall.

"You're nothing like him."

"How do you know?"

"Because he would never have asked that question." Hugo's gaze was steady. "Because you've spent fourteen years running from love to protect the people you care about, not to hurt them."

"I've hurt you."

"Yes," he agreed simply. "But not like he hurt your mother. Not like he hurt you. You've hurt me by leaving, not by staying."

I took a deep breath. "The last time you saw me with him, that last summer... when we were eighteen. He saw us behind the wine press, I thought he'd left but he was still there watching."

Hugo nodded. "You disappeared for days after that, Henri told me you were sick in bed."

"He beat me until I couldn't stand," I said quietly. "Then he told me if I ever touched you again, he'd kill my mother. That it would be my fault when he finally went too far with her."

Hugo's breath caught. "Alexandre... why didn't Henri do something? Protect you both?"

I laughed bitterly. "Henri tried, once. When I was ten.

My father put my mother in the hospital, and Henri came to Lyon, threatened to take her away.

My father convinced her to tell the doctors she fell down stairs, then told Henri if he ever interfered again, he'd never see either of us again.

" I swallowed hard. "My father knew exactly how to manipulate everyone.

He told Henri that the only way I could visit the vineyard was if Henri stayed out of their marriage.

So Henri made a devil's bargain—he couldn't save her, but he could give his grandson three months of safety every year. "

"That's why you came every summer," Hugo whispered.

I nodded. "It was the only time we could breathe. Henri knew what was happening, but he also knew if he pushed too hard, my father would cut off all contact. So he gave me what sanctuary he could and prayed it would be enough." My voice cracked. "It wasn't. But he tried the only way he knew how."

Hugo's eyes were wet. "And when your father caught us..."

"I made Henri promise not to interfere. I told him I'd handle it, that I didn't want him getting hurt too.

But my father knew. He always knew how to hurt me the most. He said if I ever saw you again, he'd know, and my mother would pay the price.

" I closed my eyes against the memory. "So that final week of us being together once my father had actually gone back to Lyon, I risked everything just to have those last days with you.

I knew I was saying goodbye forever, but I couldn't bear to leave without.

.. without having that one last perfect week.

" My voice broke. "And then I left. And I never came back, not even for Henri. I couldn't risk it."

Hugo's breath caught. "Alexandre..."

"I believed him. For fourteen years, I believed him.

Every time I thought about coming back, about calling you, about finding out if there was still something between us, I heard his voice.

I saw my mother's bruises." My voice broke.

"And then when I came back and found you still here, still so—so you—I panicked.

I thought somehow he'd know. That he'd hurt her. "

Hugo slid down from the wall, standing on his side of the property line.

"That night, after we were together, that's why you ran."

I nodded, unable to speak through the tightness in my throat .

"You should have told me, I could have helped you," Hugo said softly.

"I know. I was ashamed. Terrified. I thought I was protecting you and Henri by staying away."

"And now?"

"Now he's gone. And I'm standing here, looking at you, wondering if I've lost my chance at the only thing that's ever made me feel whole."

Hugo was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Then he took a single step forward, crossing the invisible boundary between our properties.

"I can't promise I won't be afraid that you'll run again," he said. "But I understand better now. And I'm willing to try, if you are."

"I want to learn how to stay," I whispered. "How to love without fear. But I need you to know that I might mess up. That I've never known how to do this. I'm not perfect, but I want to be for you."

"Neither do I," Hugo said. He reached out slowly, his hand hovering in the space between us. "But maybe we can figure it out together."

I took his hand, marveling at how perfectly it fit in mine, how natural the contact felt. Hugo drew me closer, his free hand coming up to brush away tears I hadn't realized were falling.

"I love you," I said, the words I'd held back for fourteen years finally breaking free. "I never stopped."

"I know," Hugo whispered against my lips. "I've been waiting for you to remember."

For the first time in my life, the future felt like a choice rather than a trap. My father's voice was silent. My mother was safe. And Hugo—Hugo was here, offering to learn alongside me.

"Yes," I whispered as his lips found mine. "Together."