Copyright©2025 by Rees Aurin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical method, without the written permission from the author, except for the brief quotations in the book reviews.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter 1

Astrid

I tossed a roll of ribbons and a bundle of fairy lights into a cardboard box, which was already packed with planners, scattered notes, and enough crafting supplies to open a small store. Before sealing it shut, I had a mini heart attack and dove back in, searching frantically for sticky notes and binders—my notorious forget-me-nots. Thankfully, they were there.

For a wedding planner, those two were like coffee and comfortable shoes, yet somehow, they always slipped my mind until I was standing in the venue, desperately digging through my emergency kit as if hunting for the lip balm I knew I’d packed but hadn’t.

I nudged the box aside with my foot and turned back to my bedroom closet for my essentials—my ride-or-die skincare, the hair ties that vanished into thin air no matter how many I stocked up on, and the scrunchies that’s sole purpose was decorating my wrist rather than holding my bun.

I opened the small drawer where I usually kept the scrunchies, expecting nothing unusual, certainly not the brown leather watch tucked among them, its cracked dial quietly staring up at me, a memory patiently waiting to be noticed again.

I picked it up, brushing my thumb gently over the cracked dial. My throat tightened. I hugged it close to my chest, gripping it as if it could somehow bring him back.

Bring dad back.

His voice rang softly in my mind.

“You know why I call this my lucky charm, Astrid?” Dad asked, fastening the watch onto his wrist.

“Oh God, Dad, not again.”

“Yes, again,” he said, grinning. “Because every time I wear it, I win. Never lost a single case.”

“Maybe your lucky charm could take a break?” I teased. “You know, let your actual talent shine for once.”

He shook his head, a smile reaching his eyes. “Sorry, kiddo. That’s not up for debate. This is the first gift you gave me. It stays right here”—he tapped the watch affectionately— “until my very last breath.”

Tears blurred my vision, slipping hot and fast down my cheeks. My glasses fogged up, and I tugged them off, pressing my eyes against the sleeve of my shirt. Dad had worn this watch every single day since I'd given it to him on his fiftieth birthday, even during his last breath, exactly as he'd promised.

My phone rang, snapping me out of the memory.

I was halfway to placing the watch safely back into its drawer when I paused. One breath. Two. A heartbeat of hesitation, and then, as though it had always belonged there, I fastened the watch around my wrist. The strap hung loosely even on the tightest notch, the oversized dial swallowing my wrist whole, yet somehow it felt perfect.

I tore through the house searching for my phone, clueless as to how I'd managed to lose it again. Thankfully, whoever was calling had zero intentions of giving up as my phone rang relentlessly until I finally found it hidden inside one of the already-packed boxes. Kelly’s name flashed impatiently on the screen. Of course, it was her. Nobody else would consider twenty missed calls a casual check-in.

The second I tapped the green button— “Where the hell did you drop your phone, Azzie? I aged five years waiting for you to pick up.”

Scolding first, greeting second, my best friend’s go to response.

“Oh no!” I gasped dramatically. “Are the wrinkles coming in?”

She snorted. “Yep, and you’re funding my Botox.”

“Finally accepting your age, I see. Proud of you, grandma.”

She groaned loudly. “I hate you!”

“Love you too!”

Kelly and I met on our first day of college.

Exhausted by overly peppy seniors determined to sell us freshmen on every historic brick of that campus, I’d escaped to the library. Apparently, I wasn’t the only escapee.

An agriculture major and a business major—what could we possibly have to talk about, besides debating crop rotations and quarterly profits?

But all it took was one shared granola bar, five minutes of whispered jokes escalating into uncontrollable snorts, and nearly getting kicked out by a librarian who took personal offense at giggles—for Kelly and me to become instant best friends. Still are.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Kelly said. “You got everything packed?”

“I could’ve driven myself, Kel. Orange Falls is only five hours away. I have a perfectly functioning car, a charged phone, and GPS for if I somehow manage to get lost.”

Moving to a small town like Orange Falls had never been part of my plan. But life had a funny way of flipping everything upside down without so much as a heads-up. Four months earlier, I’d lost my dad—and with him, the last piece of family I had left. My anchor, my person gone.

I'd tried immersing myself in work again, but the second a father took his daughter’s arm to walk her down the aisle, something inside me cracked. I broke down and walked away. After that, I stopped accepting events altogether. My heart couldn't bear being shattered repeatedly.

For months, Kelly had been trying to convince me to move to Orange Falls, the small town she'd grown up in, insisting that a change of scenery would help. I turned her down every time. No amount of picturesque charm could put me back together again.

When she finally stopped bringing up the whole change of place conversation, I assumed she'd accepted my no until a week ago, when she called me with the most absurd news I'd ever heard.

The wedding planner for Kelly’s neighbor had backed out at the last minute “scheduling conflict” being obvious code for “found someone richer.” So, Kelly, in all her brilliant impulsiveness, offered me up. Without asking.

She'd sold the poor couple on the idea that I was some sort of wedding-planning legend, shamelessly bragging about all the billionaire clients I'd supposedly handled. And of course, they believed her instantly. With only ten days until the big event and zero other options, what choice did they really have?

“If it were up to me, I’d have told you to drag your own butt here,” Kelly complained. “But Mom, sorry, your godmother, gave me specific orders to personally escort you to Orange Falls, as if you’re made of glass or something.”

“Can’t blame her,” I laughed, “We both know I’m her favorite child.” It was Kelly’s classic running joke that her mom had secretly swapped us at the hospital, then finally realized her mistake and tracked me down.

“I’m almost packed,” I said. “Just need to toss in a few personal things, then I’m good to go.”

“Don’t forget those tiny cocktail umbrellas,” Kelly reminded me. “Amy’s been sending me hourly reminders, as if the whole wedding will be canceled if those paper parasols aren't perfectly arranged along the aisle.”

“Oh, trust me, she’s mentioned it.” I sighed. “At least ten times.”

Amy was the bride that Kelly sold me to.

For the past week, I’d been on nonstop calls with her and Isaac. the groom, picking up where their previous planner had left off. Between sorting through contracts, confirming bookings, packing my entire life into cardboard boxes because yes, I'd impulsively decided to move and repeatedly reassuring everyone that, yes, the wedding was still happening, I’d barely had time to breathe, let alone think about anything else.

After Kelly finished relaying Amy’s extensive rundown of reminders, I ended the call and resumed packing. Not long after, the doorbell rang. The moment I opened the door, I was swept into the kind of rib-crushing, lung-emptying hug only Kelly could give equal parts affection and attempted murder.

“I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” I hugged her back tightly. It had been a month since we’d seen each other. After dad passed away, Kelly had made a habit of dropping by regularly, making sure I was still eating, still breathing, still alive.

“You better have. I didn’t drive five hours just to have my best friend not miss me,” she teased, grinning as she glanced around at the half-packed boxes. “Need help?”

“First of all, you didn’t drive,” I corrected her. “You spent half the bus ride scrolling Instagram and probably slept through the rest. But yes, I missed you, and yes, I’m absolutely taking you up on that offer.” I pointed her toward my half-packed personal items, then headed to the kitchen.

Half an hour later, I'd finished packing up the kitchen essentials—a coffee mug, the coffeemaker, and a handful of utensils, but still, not a peep from Kelly.

Was she still packing?

There wasn’t even that much stuff left to sort. Curious, I wandered back into my room and found her cross-legged on my bed, hunched intently over my brown Cryptex box, spinning the dials with the intensity of someone attempting to crack a bank vault.

Damn it!

Damn it!

“Thank God you came.” She looked up sharply. “I was two seconds from hunting you down for the password. I’ve twisted every stupid dial, and this thing still won’t open.” She pressed the box to her ear and shook it vigorously. The rattling inside sent my anxiety skyrocketing. “What the hell is inside—”

I lunged forward, grabbing the box so fast it startled her.

“It’s…it’s nothing. Just some old stuff,” I said quickly, my fingers gripping the box tightly, the weight of five-year-old memories pressing into my palm. My secret. The only thing I'd ever hidden, even from Kelly, had been quietly collecting dust inside this box.

“Old stuff?” She eyed me suspiciously.

“Something childhood related,” I said, trying to sound as boring as possible.

Her eyes sparkled instantly. “Now, I definitely need to see what's in there.”

Wonderful!

I’d just handed her a shovel to dig up my grave.

“Come on, Kel. We can look at it later,” I urged. “If we don’t leave now, we’ll probably reach Orange Falls around midnight.”

“Fine. I’ll come back to this later,” she said reluctantly, sighing. I let out a breath of relief. With Kelly, later usually meant never, as long as the box stayed safely out of her sight. Her goldfish memory had become my saving grace.

We loaded the boxes into my car one by one.

“You sure you’re okay with moving?” Kelly asked softly, that familiar worry seeping into her voice.

“I don’t know, Kel,” I admitted, squeezing one last box into the remaining space. “But right now, it feels like the only thing I can do.” When I'd finally said yes to moving to Orange Falls, she’d practically exploded with excitement, already planning a hundred things we’d do once I got there.

“Trust me, Orange Falls is about to shake up your entire life,” she said, sounding so confident she could’ve been selling me beachfront property in Kansas.

“Because clearly, my life hasn't had enough earthquakes already,” I teased.

“Oh, please.” She scoffed. “Not that kind of shaking. I’m talking about good kind, like margaritas, not natural disasters.”

“Well, you had me at margaritas,” I said, and Kelly flashed me an I-knew-it grin as I closed the trunk. “Let me just lock up, I’ll be right back.” I’d barely taken a step before she caught my hand.

“Azzie,” she said, looking straight at me, sincerity in her eyes. “When I told Amy you were the best wedding planner, I wasn’t being dramatic for once. You’re going to make this wedding incredible. I just know it.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing her hand, even though my nerves were screaming the exact opposite. This was my first wedding in nearly four months. Well, technically second, if you counted the one I’d run away from halfway through.

I stood with the key in my hand, a strange heaviness settling around me. It felt as if the house itself had reached out and curled its fingers around my wrist, begging me to stay. The couch where I used to curl up for Sunday movie nights sat empty. My bedroom still had the sunshine wallpaper I'd chosen when I was twelve and had proudly declared to Dad that yellow could fix even the worst days.

One deep breath. A slow sigh. I slid the key into the lock, the familiar click echoing softly.

One last quiet goodbye.

I turned toward the car.

There's a saying that some things refuse to let us move on and I felt the truth of it when my gaze snagged on the short woman standing near the palm tree in my yard, her face pale.

“Why the hell is she here?” Kelly hissed, halfway out of the car. “Azzie, don’t…don’t even think—”

“I'll be fine,” I said, already walking toward the woman before Kelly could finish her warning.

“What part of stay away from me do you not get?” I asked.

“Astrid.” The woman smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, and took a step closer. She reached out her hand, and I instinctively stepped back, my stomach twisting at the mere thought of her touch.

“How…how have you been?”

“Why are you here?” My voice came out sharp and cold.

“I…I…” She sobbed. “I’m concerned about your—”

“Drop your act,” I interrupted. “You have one minute.”

“Just once, come see my husband,” she pleaded, desperation clear in her voice.

“He wants to—”

“You have the audacity to ask me to see him?” My tone was calm, unnervingly so. “The man who murdered my father? Your husband has destroyed too many lives. He’s a killer. Your tears won't change that.” The image surged back, vivid and gut-wrenching—Dad’s empty gaze, blood spreading thick and red around him. His lifeless eyes were burned forever into my memory.

“Please, don’t call him a murderer.” She broke into trembling sobs. “He regrets it. He hasn’t been able to sleep peacefully since. It…it was a mistake”

“Can his mistake bring my father back, Lucy?” The words tasted bitter, burning my tongue. I refused to dignify her by using the last name she shared with that monster.

Seven letters he'd sent from prison. Ten times she'd shown up at my doorstep. Countless calls I'd long stopped counting. All to deliver her husband's pathetic pleas for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for a man who had raped a young girl.

When Dad took the case, Lucy’s husband had pleaded with him to drop it, even threatened him, but dad refused to back down. When the verdict came out against him, he pulled out a gun right there, on the courthouse steps, and shot my dad.

“I can't bring him back, I know that,” she choked out, tears slipping down her cheeks. “But please, let me make it right somehow. Anything you want, just name your price.”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips. Money. She thought money could fix this. “There’s not enough money in the world to equal what my dad was worth. Your husband doesn’t want redemption. He wants my forgiveness to ease his guilt. But hear me clearly: He’ll never get that. Never.”

Her tear-streaked face crumbled.

“A rapist like him belongs exactly where he is. Let him rot. It’s all he deserves.”

I stepped back, putting distance between us. “I’m leaving this city. If you ever come here again, all you’ll find is a locked door and silence.”

I turned toward the car.

“I’ll still keep coming,” Lucy called after me, her voice wavering. “One day...one day you’ll change your mind.”

I stopped.

But I didn't look back.

Chapter 2

Astrid

The car crawled through downtown traffic, skyscrapers looming overhead. Every traffic light stayed stubbornly red. Eventually, the congestion began to thin, buildings shrinking away until they were just tiny blocks on the horizon. Ahead, the road opened wide, sunlight washing over the windshield.

I rolled down the window, resting my elbow on the ledge. The wind teased my bun, pulling out loose strands around my face. Summer was almost here, I could feel it in the air, the kind of warmth that dragged memories along with it: ice cream cones on sidewalks, sunburned noses, and summer afternoons spent doing nothing at all.

It was oddly calming.

“Azzie, I know seeing her wasn’t what you wanted, but don’t let her ruin your mood,” Kelly said.

“I’m fine, Kel.” I shot her a quick smile. Lucy had become like a stubborn pebble stuck in my shoe, annoying and impossible to ignore.

The first time Lucy came to my house, a day after Dad's funeral, I thought she was there to offer condolences. For a moment, I hoped she felt guilty about what her husband had done. Instead, she asked me to visit him in prison, claiming he was losing his mind, and wanted my forgiveness. She didn’t even pretend to be sorry.

Rage flared through me. She had the nerve to paint him as the victim.

I pushed the thoughts away.

“Want me to take over?” I asked Kelly. “You've been at it for three hours. You need a break.”

“Sorry, Astrid Sanders, but letting you drive is like handing the controls to someone whose only driving experience is Mario Kart, and somehow you're still worse.” She flashed me an overly sweet grin before shifting her attention back to the road. Ever since I'd lightly tapped a car in the college parking lot, she'd made it her life's mission to remind me I drove like a cartoon plumber.

“Well, that felt unnecessary.” I turned on the music, skipping past tracks until the familiar Welcome to the Hotel California drifted through the speakers.

Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Are we sixty-five?”

I turned the volume up a bit higher. “Gotta appreciate a song that knows exactly where we are.”

A roadside sign flashed past: Sunset Drive-In Diner. “Kel, maybe we should take a break before your butt permanently fuses to the driver's seat.”

“Why don’t you just admit you’re starving instead of dragging my poor butt into it?” she complained, even as she pulled into the parking lot.

We climbed out of the car.

“Because then you'd call me a glutton, which I'm clearly not. That title still belongs to you.” I grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

We walked inside and slid into an empty booth near the front window. A waiter appeared, handing me a menu, and leaning in with a smile that screamed either excellent customer service or can I get your number?

Kelly cleared her throat lightly, then louder, a not-so-subtle cue: Please acknowledge that this waiter is flirting with you, so I can openly mock you.

I ordered French fries and a cheeseburger, biting back a smile as I handed him the menu. He took it, holding my gaze a moment too long before flashing another slow smile and heading off. Kelly didn't even let him fully disappear before leaning dramatically across the table. “If he keeps staring at you instead of watching where he's going, he’s definitely going to trip over something.”

“Stop it,” I muttered, struggling to keep a straight face. “We’re not doing this.”

“We’re doing this absolutely,” she shot back, eyes sparkling as she propped her chin in her hand. “College rules still stand. Whoever gets flirted with the most buys the dessert.”

“Hard pass,” I said firmly.

“Fine,” she sighed, “But when you bite into a sandwich full of marshmallows, don’t come crying to me.”

“God, please no,” I groaned with an exaggerated shudder. “I hate those fluffy bombs.” Even imagining biting into one makes my teeth hurt.

Kelly tapped a finger thoughtfully against her chin. “Come to think of it, he might make decent boyfriend material. He’s got those longing eyes working for him. Better than Shawn, at least.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “Could we please leave Shawn out of this?”

How Kelly had managed to spot longing eyes in a two-second interaction was completely beyond me.

“Impossible. Shawn’s been my primary source of entertainment since college.” Kelly cleared her throat dramatically. “Astrid,” she began, perfectly capturing Shawn’s uptight voice, a voice I’d genuinely forgotten existed. “Have you tracked your study hours? Astrid, keep a spreadsheet for expenses. Astrid, studying is directly proportional to profits. The more hours you study, the bigger your future earnings.”

I burst into laughter. “You nailed it.”

My relationship with Shawn had lasted barely a month, though honestly, even calling it a relationship felt generous. I'd been struggling with my finance class, and Shawn was the nerdy genius conveniently sitting nearby. Out of sheer desperation, I'd asked him for help, convinced I'd fail otherwise. Absolutely no sparks flew, just numbers. Endless, painfully boring numbers. The tipping point came when he suggested cutting our lunch breaks to maximize productivity. That was exactly when I knew it was time to subtract him permanently from my life.

The waiter returned, placing our plates in front of us before sliding an extra drink my way, a tall glass filled with something pink, fizzy, and crowned with a tiny umbrella. “This one's on the house,” he said with a quick wink. His gaze lingered on me a beat too long, long enough to erase any doubt that he was flirting before he walked away.

Kelly froze, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. “It’s on,” she whispered, her tone dripping with satisfaction.

“He’s probably being nice,” I said.

“Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England. Face it, you’re paying for dessert.”

By the time we paid the bill, dessert included, thanks to me, Kelly had teased me so mercilessly I considered leaving an extra tip just to shut her up.

The waiter’s hopeful look practically begged for my number. I offered him a polite smile instead, ducked my head like a D-list celebrity dodging paparazzi, and quickly escaped out the door.

Chapter 3

Astrid

The sun dipped lower, melting into ribbons of gold and burnt orange along the horizon. There was something deeply soothing about watching sunsets from empty roads, as if I'd driven straight into a scene from a classic country movie.

My phone vibrated with a notification, breaking the quiet. A photo-memory filled the screen—Kelly and me grinning, tongues out, peace signs up.

I blinked. “What the—”

Kelly shot me a quick sideways glance. “What’s wrong?”

“Remember that time I visited Orange Falls?”

“Of course, you didn’t want to come then either. I literally had to drag your reluctant butt all the way there. And oh my God, the candy apple incident! You took one bite, and bam, the wind sent your hair straight into that sticky mess. It was adorable, in a hilariously tragic way.” She laughed, eyes gleaming as she relived my most embarrassing moment in glorious detail.

“And you made it even worse by nearly scalping me while trying to untangle it,” I shot back. “But that’s not the point right now.”

“No?”

I lifted my phone to show her, but Kelly threw me a sharp look that said, Do you want me to crash?

“Fine.” I sighed, dropping my phone back into my lap. “Exactly five years ago today, I was in Orange Falls.”

Kelly’s eyes widened as the realization dawned. “Wait—this exact day? And now, five years later, you’re coming back?”

“Yes!” Usually, I'd never need a reminder—Orange Falls had a permanent spot in the messy filing cabinet of my mind. But this year, my head just wasn't in it. I'd completely lost track of days, months, everything, really.

“That’s one hell of a coincidence!”

“Yes, hell of a coincidence!” I echoed, a smile tugging at my lips. Memories rushed in, warm and bittersweet. Orange Falls hadn’t been on my mind then, just like now. I was supposed to be on a week-long trip to Europe, until clumsy, chaotic me managed to lose my passport. It wasn’t until I was halfway to the airport, rummaging through my bag in panic in the back of an Uber, that I realized it was gone.

I wallowed in self-pity over my ruined trip, binge-watching videos of happy tourists wandering through all the places I'd planned to visit, basically torturing myself.

Kelly tried to convince me to come to Orange Falls, and I gave her an instant, firm no. So, she played dirty, calling Dad, knowing perfectly well he was the one person I could never refuse.

I went with no expectations, but the town was so breathtaking it pulled me out of my sulking without me even noticing. Its beauty captivated me at every turn, the rustic charm of its historic streets, the fresh, invigorating scent of lemon groves, the vineyards under the warm sun.

Riding the Orange Falls Express was a moment I’d cherish for a lifetime. Those notes I’d exchanged with—I slammed the brakes on that thought. I wasn’t opening that lock.

“Anything I should know about the town before I settle in?” I asked.

“Alright.” Kelly slipped into her best tour-guide voice. “Quick crash course on Orange Falls: The Ashbournes founded it, and they still own half the town. Every Saturday there’s a farmers' market, you'll get all the fresh stuff cheap. Town meetings happen once a month, but nobody really goes unless they've got something to complain about. Except, of course, for the gossip squad. They never miss an opportunity to catch up on all the latest drama.”

“Gossip squad?” I frowned.

“Think of them as detectives without any actual crimes to solve,” Kelly said. “They dig into everyone’s personal business and broadcast it to the entire town. Azzie, there are three people you absolutely want to avoid.”

I nodded solemnly, making a mental note: Whoever these women were, I'd be giving them a very wide berth.

“First, there's Aunt Dee—the ringleader. Her lemon tarts are hands down the best in town, probably why everyone flocks to her café. Sure, they come for the treats, but they stay for the gossip. Then there's Lou and Betty, her minions. Those two sniff out every scrap of information in town and deliver it straight to Aunt Dee.”

“Sounds like this town doesn’t even need a newspaper,” I laughed.

“You bet. Their network moves faster than Twitter—sorry, X.”

Kelly kept the conversation flowing effortlessly until the sun finally dipped out of sight. Moonlight took over, spilling softly onto the quiet road flanked by sleepy trees. Unlike city streets, there was barely a whisper of traffic here. We’d counted maybe six cars, a couple of farm trucks, and exactly one startled deer. I inhaled deeply, soaking up the fresh night air, when the car’s headlights lit up a sign: Hitchhiker’s Bend, 5 Miles Ahead.

The name had a distinctly creep factor, like something straight from a campfire story. “What’s Hitchhiker’s Bend?”

“We’re close,” Kelly said. “Maybe half an hour, tops.”

“Hitchhiker’s Bend?” I echoed.

Kelly shrugged, trying to sound casual, but her voice came out strained. “People say weird things happen there, but it's nothing, mostly.”

I shot her a look. “Kel.”

“Well…um”—she gave me a sheepish laugh—"there's this ghost lady who, you know, haunts that stretch of the road.”

“Hau…nts?” My voice splintered awkwardly around the word. This wasn’t the time or place to hear ghost stories. Not when we were in perfect murder-movie conditions. And yet, my traitorous fingers were already typing Hitchhiker’s Bend into the Google search bar.

The page started loading, slowly. One bar of signal blinked at me as if taunting me. “Damn this! The internet picks now to act like it’s straight out of the Stone Age.” I turned to Kelly. “Alright, spill it. Don’t even think about telling me it’s nothing. I’ll lose my mind before this thing finishes loading.”

Every single time I start a horror movie, I swear I won’t regret it and yet, without fail, I always do. By midnight, every single light in the house is on, and I’m practically leaping out of my skin at shadows, creaks, and, on one particularly embarrassing night, the innocent sweater I’d tossed onto the chair. You’d think my curiosity would learn its lesson, but nope—it never does.

“Can we not talk about it?” Kelly begged. “You know how easily I freak out.”

“And you know my curiosity has zero self-control,” I said. “Spill, please.”

She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Fine. So, years ago, a woman was standing on this road late at night, trying to hitch a ride. A driver didn’t see her. He hit her, and she died on the spot. Now, people swear they see her appear out of thin air, asking for rides. If someone stops, she climbs into the backseat, and then—well, that's when things supposedly get wild. She starts to shake the car violently until the driver panics, loses control, and…you know. Crash. Basically, she’s the world’s worst passenger.”

The internet chose that exact moment to load, revealing a picture of a pale woman in a white dress standing by the side of the road, eyes glowing creepily like high-beam headlights. Bless my soul, if the lady didn’t scare me straight into the afterlife.

“And you’re telling me this now?” On my last trip to Orange Falls, I’d taken the bus. I spent most of the ride sleeping, snacking, or daydreaming. The thought that I’d traveled down this haunted road without knowing sent a chill straight down my spine.

“I take this route all the time, and I’m still alive, right? Besides, the ghost lady supposedly only comes out at night.” Kelly trailed off when I glanced pointedly at the pitch-black sky. She laughed nervously, the sound coming out more like a squeak. “Okay, bad example. But don’t worry, even if she does show up, I’m definitely not stopping.”

I caught another sign just then—Caution: Hitchhiker’s Bend—4 Miles. Go slow.

The road had narrowed to barely enough space to fit a car and a half, trees pressing in so close it felt as if I’d stumbled straight into a horror movie. I leaned forward, stealing a quick glance at the dashboard. We were going fifty miles an hour. Quick math: four miles at fifty mph meant about five more minutes stuck on this creepy road.

I slid my glasses off for good measure. If the Hitchhiking Lady was out there, I figured my blurry vision might actually be my best defense. Blurry ghosts are less terrifying.

“If the Hitchhiking Lady pops into the backseat, do you think she prefers spooky songs?”

Kelly shot me a sideways glance, obviously questioning my sanity.

“Eyes on the road,” I reminded her. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”

“Seriously?” she yelled. “Of all the possible topics in the universe, that was your pick?”

The car lurched violently, slamming into a pothole with a teeth-rattling thunk.

“Freaking government,” Kelly muttered irritably. “Can't even keep the roads drivable.”

“Did you just roast your dad—Kel, watch out!” I screamed as something golden flashed through the darkness. My heart shot straight into my throat as the blur snapped into focus.

It was a deer.

Kelly jerked the wheel sharply to the left. The tires squealed, losing traction and sending the car sliding sideways. She fought to regain control, but we skidded off the road. Bushes scraped against the doors, branches clawing at the metal, slowing us just enough that when we hit the tree, the impact was solid but not devastating. We jolted to an abrupt, heart-stopping halt.

Our seatbelts tightened, pulling us firmly back into our seats. My breath came fast and uneven. “Y-you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine...” Kelly managed a breathless, shaky laugh. “W-we nearly got taken out by a deer.”

“At least it’s not the Hitchhiking Lady,” I said weakly, attempting a joke as I patted around, searching for my glasses, which had slipped off during the crash. But I didn’t find them.

“Don’t jinx it.”

We climbed out to inspect the damage. The bumper was dented—annoying, but survivable. Feeling slightly less doomed, we got back inside. Kelly turned the key. The engine gave a tired whine, then went silent. Another attempt. Still nothing. We exchanged a look and stepped out of the car again, opening the hood as if either of us had any clue what we were looking at.

“It might be the fuel pump,” I said doubtfully, squinting at the mess of metal and wires. “But honestly, I'm not sure. Try it again.”

Kelly tried the ignition again. Still nothing.

“Can we fix it?” she asked, poking her head out the window, sounding half-hopeful.

“Not unless we've suddenly become mechanics.” I glanced down the empty road, which stretched deep into the dark woods. “This car's not going anywhere.”

“What now?” Kelly asked, coming up beside me.

“Try calling your mom or dad,” I suggested. “Maybe they can send someone to pick us up.”

She pulled out her phone, her shoulders immediately slumping. “Of course. Zero bars. Because why would anything go right today?”

I checked mine, too, not that I expected miracles. “Same. Welcome to the horror-movie setup of our dreams.”

Headlights appeared in the distance, getting closer. Kelly and I exchanged the kind of look that needed no translation—we absolutely had to stop this car. We hurried to the roadside, waving our arms, but it sped past without even slowing.

A few minutes later, another car approached, and this one actually slowed. My heart did a tiny, hopeful dance—finally, a decent human. But the driver took one look at us, eyes wide with panic, hit the gas, and disappeared into the darkness, as if we were the ones he should be scared of.

“Shit!” Kelly snapped.

“Yes, shit! Looks like the rumor’s getting a sequel—Hitchhiking Lady 2: Now with Friends.”

We'd been standing out in the dark for nearly an hour. Four cars and one truck had passed by and not a single one stopped.

Cowards, all of them.

I'd never imagined people could be so freaked out by a local ghost story that they'd abandon two harmless girls stranded by the side of the road.

The woods had gone quiet. Not cozy quiet, more like serial-killer-documentary quiet. My imagination helpfully conjured images of wild animals prowling around and sizing us up as midnight snacks. I was mentally drafting tomorrow's headline—“One Local Girl and Another Still Unidentified, Eaten by Bear”—when the faint hum of an engine drifted toward me, pulling my attention back to the road.

“We have to stop this one,” I said.

“Even if we become human speed bumps,” she said, completely serious.

We hurried to the edge of the road, waving our arms frantically like castaways signaling a rescue plane. But the car didn't even pretend to slow down. In fact, it sped up, zipping past us as if we were invisible.

Anger bubbled up inside me.

“Asshole! Dickhead! Thick-skulled! Brain-dead moron!” I shouted after the car. “Fine! Drive off, you coward! Have fun sleeping tonight when the Hitchhiking Lady crawls into bed and spoon-cuddles your sorry ass—”

I froze mid-rant as the car’s brake lights flared, bathing the road in a red glow.

My heart sank.

Did he hear me?

To my absolute horror, the car began reversing, slowly backing toward us. Relief should’ve been great right about now, someone finally taking pity on us, but it's hard to feel relieved when the person coming back had just been called every name in the curse-word dictionary. The car eased to a slow, deliberate stop right beside me.

The window slid down. I squinted, trying to see the blurry figure inside. Between the lack of decent lighting and the fact that my glasses had disappeared somewhere in the car, I could only make out the vague silhouette—dark hair falling across a forehead, eyes hidden beneath shadows, maybe the faint outline of a beard, but nothing clearer than that.

Silence.

He didn’t say a word, just studied me silently as though I were an alien.

Kelly hurried over. “Um…thank you for stopping?”

He didn't glance her way. His eyes stayed locked on mine, pinning me in place so intensely my heart stumbled over its next beat.

“You’re lucky I’ve got thick skin. Most asshole dickheads wouldn’t bother stopping for a ‘brain-dead moron.’” Voice like velvet smoke—deep, rich, and just enough rasp to make the insult sound effortless.

Chapter 4

Astrid

My self-respect shrank to the size of a grape. Sure, he'd heard my insults, but did he really have to rub salt in the wound?

“We’ve been stuck here for a while.” Kelly stepped in, sensing I desperately needed a lifeline. “You’re the first person who’s actually stopped. Our car isn’t moving anytime soon. Could you please give us a ride to Orange Falls? It’s just half an hour away.”

“Didn’t seem like she wanted a ride when she was hurling insults my way.”

Yes, moron, obviously I hadn’t thought it through, because normal people don’t usually slam on the brakes after being called an asshole.

“Sorry about that,” Kelly said apologetically. “My friend’s got some anger issues. Totally working on it with a therapist, though. She’s like, ninety percent harmless now.”

My mouth dropped open. Excuse me? I was fully prepared to protest this outrageous character assassination, but Kelly’s elbow jabbed into my side, shutting me up.

“Can we get our things now?” she asked, flashing him her most hopeful smile.

The least he could do was say yes after my best friend dragged my name through the dirt, but instead he tilted his head, gaze sliding back to me. “Your friend doesn’t have a mouth?”

Of course I have a mouth, jerk. It just stopped working the second yours opened.

Even with my blurry vision, I could feel his gaze pinning me in place like I was a bullseye on the dartboard.

Kelly squeezed my wrist—a wordless warning: Mess this up, and you're walking home.

I swallowed what was left of my pride, cleared my throat, and said, “Could you, could you give us a lift?”

“Get in.”

“Thank you!” Kelly’s eyes brightened as she flashed him a smile worthy of a toothpaste ad. “Just give us a sec to grab our stuff.” She grabbed my arm, dragging me toward our car.

“Thank God we found a ride,” she whispered. “Credits to you, your insults worked wonders. Who knew yelling at someone would actually make them stop?”

“And he returned the favor,” I muttered, irritably scuffing my shoe through the dirt.

“Can you blame him?” she mumbled. “Your insults were pretty colorful.”

“Fantastic. First, you praise me, and now you’re defending his honor? Pick a side.”

“Yours, obviously.” She looped her arm through mine, grinning. “Just survive him for half an hour, until we get to Orange Falls.”

“After that, can I kick him?”

A prickling sensation crept up my spine, like someone dragging an ice cube along my back.

Did he hear me?

The urge to glance over my shoulder burned fiercely, but I forced myself to stay painfully still.

“I’ll even lend you my shoe,” Kelly offered generously.

“Right or left?” I deadpanned.

Kelly laughed.

As I reached for the trunk, she quickly grabbed my arm. “Forget it. Just grab your bag and let’s go. We’ve got way too much stuff here. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

I knew it was a hassle, and he didn’t exactly seem like the type to welcome extra luggage, but I needed my essentials, at the very least. “How exactly am I supposed to make it through the night—”

“I’ll call Mom as soon as we have a signal. Your belongings will be at your house by tonight.”

“Fine.” I sighed, giving in. “But I need to find my glasses. Unless you’re volunteering to guide me around like a blind bat, don’t even think about saying no.”

A sharp honk pierced the air, interrupting our conversation.

I took a deep breath, biting back the urge to shout, Calm down, we’ve been here a whole sixty seconds!

Impatience at its peak.

“Hurry up, or he’s going to ditch us. He’s our only chance of survival,” Kelly urged.

She scrambled through the backseat while I rummaged around the front. I flicked on my phone’s flashlight, quickly sweeping it across the floorboard.

I didn’t find them.

Where the hell had I thrown them?

“Kel, any luck?”

“No,” came her muffled voice.

“Are we leaving today or camping overnight?” His velvet-smoke voice curled around me—smooth and lazy, somehow managing to sound both bored and impatient all at once.

I straightened abruptly, intensely aware of how close he was—tall and broad-shouldered, quietly drawing attention without even trying.

Was it just me, or had the road shrunk two sizes trying to make room for him?

“Sorry, just another minute, please.” Kelly jumped in, saving me from my awkward silence again. “My friend dropped her glasses somewhere in the car when we hit the tree. She can’t see a thing without them.”

My hand itched to smack Kelly. Can’t see a thing? My vision’s blurry. I wasn’t helpless. Now, thanks to her, he’d probably imagined me stumbling around town crashing into poles and waving at streetlamps.

“You two are going to take forever at this rate. Move aside.” He leaned into the car, sliding into the seat I'd occupied moments ago. When he reached into his pocket, probably grabbing his phone, I instinctively aimed my flashlight at him. The beam caught him squarely in the face, illuminating his eyes, warm, impossibly brown, as they locked onto mine. My breath caught. I quickly turned away, staring a bit too intently into the darkness.

His hands slid beneath the seat, while I awkwardly tried to follow his movements with my flashlight like a rookie spotlight operator.

Kelly sidled up beside me, tugging impatiently at my sleeve.

“What?” I hissed, distracted as the soft glint of his watch drew my gaze, highlighting the sure way his fingers flexed.

“I need to tell you something,” she whispered urgently.

“Later,” I muttered back.

“But I have to—” She snapped her mouth shut as he straightened up, thankfully holding my glasses.

He handed them to me, his fingers brushing mine just enough to send a jolt through my skin. Before I could whisper a thank-you, he’d already turned away, his silhouette fading into the shadows. But his low voice drifted back to me, words I wasn’t sure were meant for my ears.

You seem to lose a lot more than just your glasses.

Lose more than just my glasses?

I slipped my glasses on and leaned inside the car, half-expecting to spot a bobby pin or maybe a lost hair tie. Sure enough, a crumpled chocolate wrapper stared back at me.

Did he mean this—a chocolate wrapper?

Before Kelly even had a chance to glance at the backseat, let alone reach for the door, I nudged her forward and climbed in myself. No way was I riding shotgun with that iceberg.

The car pulled onto the road, silence settling between us like an awkward plus-one no one invited. He flipped on the interior light, and instantly my eyes betrayed me, darting straight to the rearview mirror. With my glasses finally back on, I could see him clearly. Way, way too clearly.

Thick, silky hair fell across his forehead in a careless, shampoo-commercial sort of way. His beard was scruffy enough to suggest he either spent weekends hiking mountains or simply forgot razors existed.

Right on cue, my phone let out a loud ribbit-ribbit—my frog notification tone slicing through the silence, and my thoughts.

Kelly: Azzie…Azzie…Azzie…

Astrid: Yes…Yes….Yes….still alive.

Almost instantly, the bubbly pop-pop of her notification tone echoed from the front seat.

Kelly: Good that you’re alive. Officially adding “backseat betrayal” to the list of reasons to hate Astrid. Now listen, remember when I said I had something important to tell you?

Ribbit-ribbit.

Astrid: Dramatic much…Now quit stalling and tell me already.

Pop-pop.

Kelly: I have seen him somewhere.

Ribbit-ribbit.

Astrid: Where?

Pop-pop.

Kelly: I can’t place him, but I swear I’ve seen him before.

Ribbit-ribbit.

Astrid: I knew your memory’s bad, but I didn’t realize it’d gotten so bad you’d start forgetting people too.

Pop-pop.

Kelly: Hey, this isn’t about my memory. His beard and hair are covering half his face.

Ribbit-ribbit.

Astrid: Take a picture, run it through one of those beauty apps you’re obsessed with, and give him a virtual shave. Maybe it’ll jog your memory.

Pop-pop.

Kelly: I’m serious. I’d ask his name, at least, but he’s giving off major stay away from me vibes.

Ribbit-ribbit.

From the driver’s seat, a deep, irritated voice cut through our back-and-forth. “If you two are going to text sitting next to each other, at least turn off those annoying notifications.”

My eyes went wide. Kelly made a tiny, horrified noise, at least, that's what it sounded like from the backseat. I could practically see her eyeballs bulging cartoonishly onto the windshield. It hadn’t even occurred to me how painfully obvious our obnoxious message alerts were.

“We…uh…we…” Kelly started, her voice fizzling out like air from a dying balloon. She hoped I'd jump in. I didn't. Her fingers tapped impatiently against the seat, a signal I pointedly ignored. Why bother? He'd already caught us texting like teenagers passing notes in class.

Still, Kelly pressed on. “We just…we were talking about nature—”

“And that ridiculous frog-quacking sound is unbearable,” he mocked.

Irritation prickled along my skin.

Did he seriously just insult my frog tone? My adorable, precious froggy?

I glanced at the mirror, catching sight of his stupidly perfect face. My fingers twitched. I was half-tempted to grab a fistful of that shampoo-ad hair and swing a solid punch to his jaw, but I resisted. I wasn't exactly dying to be left stranded on the side of the road tonight.

“Dick,” I muttered under my breath. Apparently, my voice wasn’t nearly as quiet as I thought, because at that exact moment, his gaze snapped to mine in the mirror.

Damn it!

I tore my gaze away, heart pounding.

Please, God, just this once, let him not have noticed.

The car rolled to a stop right in front of Kelly’s house. Not randomly halfway down the road or in the middle of nowhere, but exactly at her doorstep. Maybe I was imagining things, but he'd turned onto each street before Kelly could even open her mouth to give directions.

Kelly tossed a cheerful, “Thanks! Amazing ride, really,” and hopped out.

I hesitated, fingers still glued awkwardly to the door handle.

Should I say thanks, too? Or quietly escape?

He had helped us when he could've easily left us stranded on the road. Before I lost my courage, or worse, started overthinking it again, I forced the words out. “Thank you.”

He glanced over his shoulder, a faint smirk curving his lips. “A thank-you? For a dick like me? I’m flattered.”

Oh, God. He'd heard. Of course he'd freaking heard.

Chapter 5

Astrid

I watched the car disappear around the corner and finally released the breath I’d been holding. Thank God I’d never have to run into him again or endure another wave of secondhand embarrassment. After all the charming insults I'd hurled his way, my face was probably tattooed into his brain permanently, and not in the adorable, romantic way people dream about.

“Why is he so intimidating?” Kelly asked, abandoning the bubbly, five-star passenger act she'd put on just minutes ago. “Honestly, it’s a miracle I survived even half an hour in there.” She paused, squinting thoughtfully. “But I swear he looks weirdly familiar.”

“Probably in your nightmares,” I teased. “He’s definitely got that vibe.” With that face and those intense eyes, he could easily pass for one of those high-fashion models, if only his personality didn’t belong on an FBI watchlist.

“Are you two just going to stand there forever, or are you coming in?” a voice called, pulling my attention toward the doorway. My eyes lit up at the sight of a woman smiling warmly enough to crinkle the corners of her eyes.

I rushed over, throwing my hands around her. “Eleanor!”

“Oh, Astrid.” She hugged me tight, giving my back a comforting pat. “Thank God you're okay. I nearly panicked when Kelly messaged, saying you'd gotten stranded at that ghost bend.”

“I’m totally fine,” I reassured her. When Dad died, she and Kelly had dropped everything to be there for me without ever needing to be asked. Without them, I wasn't sure I'd have survived the wreckage of those days.

“Mom, it wasn’t just Astrid.” Kelly huffed, crossing her arms. “Your daughter made it out in one piece too, in case you forgot.”

“Oh, sure.” Eleanor gave Kelly a pointed glare. “I sent you to bring her back safely, and instead you caused a mess.”

“It was my fault,” I admitted sheepishly. “I kind of panicked when I heard about Hitchhiker’s Bend, and Kelly caught the vibe and panicked right along with me.”

“See?” Kelly said triumphantly, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “My best friend’s on my side.”

“So, now I’m your backup?” I fought back a smile. “Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Azzie!” she huffed. “Rude.”

A man strode into the doorway, a file clutched in his hand. “Eleanor, what did you do to Mabel this time? She’s—” His voice broke off the moment his gaze landed on me. “Astrid!” He blinked, clearly startled. “When did you get here?”

“That expression says it all. Kelly and Eleanor didn’t give you a heads-up, did they?” I grinned, stepping closer, and gave him a quick hug. “Surprise, Steve. Just got here.”

Steve Jones—Kelly’s dad and Orange Falls’ mayor. He looked pretty much the same as he had five years ago—not an ounce gained, just a few deeper lines around his eyes, and a bit more grey in his hair.

“They did.” He affectionately patted my head. “Just didn’t realize it was today.”

“Trust me, Astrid,” Eleanor scoffed. “I told him two days ago you were coming and reminded him again this morning, right before Kelly left to pick you up.”

Steve drew his brows together, bewildered. “Did you?”

Eleanor sighed. “Honestly, you and your daughter both have the memory of goldfish. I could toss you both into Emerald Lake, and within seconds you’d forget how you got in there.”

“Whoa, Mom,” Kelly protested, hands raised defensively. “Leave me out of this. My memory is miles ahead of Dad’s.”

“Sure,” Eleanor nodded. “Yet, somehow, at least three times this week alone, you've wandered into the kitchen asking, ‘Mom, have you seen my….?’”

A laugh burst out of me before I could even think to swallow it down, earning a fierce glare from Kelly. She huffed, nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. Pretty hilarious, considering not two minutes ago she'd insisted she knew Iceberg from somewhere, without the slightest clue as to where she'd seen him.

“You can argue about memory loss all you want, but later.” Steve intervened. “Let’s at least welcome Astrid before she thinks she's walked into the middle of a family feud.”

“Finally, something out of your mouth that isn’t campaigning for votes,” Eleanor mocked.

Steve shot her a look that seemed to say, Do we really have to do this?

Ignoring him, Eleanor turned to me and nodded toward the house. “Come on, Astrid.”

The house welcomed me like a hug after a long, exhausting day. Five years ago, I’d fallen in love with this place, and five years later, absolutely nothing has changed—the deep-blue curtains framing the windows, oil paintings arranged artfully across the walls, and furniture perfectly complementing every cozy corner.

“Astrid, mind if I borrow Eleanor for a minute?” Steve asked, already steering her aside before I nodded.

“What sort of trouble have you stirred up with Mabel now?”

Not exactly subtle borrowing, considering his voice carried easily enough for me to hear every word. I tried not to eavesdrop, distracting myself with tall glass vases of peonies placed in one corner. No doubt, these were from Kelly’s greenhouse.

“Nothing,” Eleanor said lightly, but the tiny hitch in her voice gave her away. “What’s that Marble fussing about now?”

“Really? And who went around town saying my clubhouse project would overshadow the Ashbournes? Now she’s throwing a tantrum.”

Ashbournes.

I racked my brain, trying to place the name, and then it clicked. Right, the Ashbournes: Orange Falls’ founding family.

“She found out already?” Eleanor sighed, shaking her head. “Della must’ve been spreading it around—her two little sidekicks were hovering when I was talking to Nina. But honestly, who cares if Mabel heard?” Her voice rose, frustration clear now. “I didn’t say anything wrong! That woman walks around Orange Falls like she owns it, as if nothing gets done without her stamp of approval.” She crossed her arms, shifting into full lecture mode. “Steve, you're the one building the clubhouse. You've fought tooth and nail for approval. If anyone deserves recognition around here, it’s you.”

Kelly came over and handed me a bowl of ice cream.

“Are they about to start fighting?” I whispered after taking a spoonful.

“Don’t worry.” She shrugged. “This is just their daily drama.”

“And the Ashbournes own that land.” Steve’s voice drifted over, dragging my attention back to their argument. “Now she’s refusing to sign off—all because you couldn't resist riling her up. I don’t care how you fix it.” Steve's tone was one part exhausted, two parts warning. “Talk to her, bake her a pie—I hear she has a weakness for apples. Just make sure it's sorted by tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not,” Eleanor shot back, bristling. “And I’m definitely not baking anything for that woman.”

“You will, unless you want to see her publicly backing William Lever in the next election.” Steve’s phone buzzed, and he held it up with a resigned sigh. “Look who's calling—Orange Falls Herald.” He turned, already answering as he headed up the stairs.

“What’s the story with Eleanor and Mabel?” I asked Kelly.

“Think oil and water,” Kelly leaned in closer. “Two minutes together and they'll invent a fresh reason to start World War Three.”

Her voice dropped instantly the moment Eleanor glanced our way.

“Astrid,” Eleanor called, her face turning serious, “if there’s anyone in this town worth being cautious of, it’s Mabel Ashbourne. Trust me, watch your back.”

“Please, Mom.” Kelly grinned. “If Mabel gets to Astrid first, she’ll probably warn her that you're the real town troublemaker.”

“Wonderful! Now my own daughter’s siding with that Marble.” She gave Kelly a betrayed stare before calling over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready whenever you two finish making fun of me.”

Kelly and I exchanged a look and burst into laughter.

After dinner, I’d planned to head over to the place I'd rented, but Eleanor and Kelly talked to me into staying the night. I didn’t argue. It was late already and dealing with a dusty house that had been sitting empty for months felt overwhelming after the exhausting day I’d had.

Maybe my body was tired, or maybe it was simply being surrounded by people and laughter again, the exact kind of warmth I'd missed every night since Dad died.

Whatever it was, the memories that usually haunted my nights stayed mercifully quiet, and the instant my head touched the pillow, sleep pulled me under.

Chapter 6

Aeron

It had been forever since I'd watched a sunrise without adjusting the aperture. From the terrace, I watched sunlight filter through the trees in Mom’s garden, casting streaks of gold and amber across the sky, almost enough to make me forget I was jet-lagged and sleep-deprived.

A knock at my door broke the moment. Mom stood in the doorway, coffee mug in hand.

“I could’ve come down.” I took the cup and sipped slowly. It tasted exactly like home, even after a year away. Her coffee was still my favorite.

“I hardly ever get to spoil my son. Let me have this moment. Tomorrow you'll disappear again. Honestly, even my Amazon packages stick around on the porch longer than you do.” Her voice had that perfect mix of warmth and guilt-trip, the kind only my mom could pull off.

“Good to know your guilt-tripping skills are still in peak condition, Mabel Ashbourne,” I remarked dryly.

“Don’t mock me.” She shot me a glare, then narrowed her eyes, giving me a thorough inspection. “What’s with this lumberjack look?

“That bad?” Between wrapping up the Savannah Kings documentary and rushing edits just so I could make it home today, I hadn’t made grooming my top priority. Or even added it to the list at all.

“One more inch and birds will start nesting there.”

“Your garden birds could use an upgrade.”

She laughed, her expression softening warmly. “Well, lumberjack or not, I’m glad you’re home, even if it’s just for one day. I missed you.”

I stood in an awkward silence. If I admitted I’d missed her too, it would open the floodgates, and once Mom started, there was no stopping her. Tears were her first language, words came second.

“Aeron.” Her voice grew softer, heavier, slipping into a tone I recognized immediately.

“Mom,” I started, hoping to stop her before she got too far. “We’re not going there.”

But she pressed on anyway, worry deepening in her eyes. “It's been six years. You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened to your dad. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m trying.” Saying it was easy, but letting go, actually doing it, was harder. Every night when I closed my eyes, the accident replayed, taunting me with a brutal truth: it should’ve been me, not him.

“You said the exact same thing last year. And the year before,” she reminded me, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll let it go. I'm not spending our only day together lecturing you.”

“You might want to reconsider that lecture.” I said, watching her closely as curiosity sparked in her eyes. “I’m staying.” I paused again, intentionally.

“Permanently, Mom. No more disappearing after a day.”

Her eyes widened in genuine surprise. “You’re serious?”

“When have you ever known me to joke?”

“You’re right.” She nodded. “My son wouldn’t recognize a joke if it danced naked right in front of him. But…but…why now?” she asked cautiously, as if afraid I'd change my mind. I couldn’t blame her, after years of leaving just as suddenly as I'd arrived, trust wasn't exactly something I'd earned.

“I guess…” My mind flickered briefly to that split-second moment on the haunted road, the one that shifted something in me, but I quickly shut it down. “I missed home. Besides, if I leave you alone much longer, you might run the business into the ground.”

“I’m in too good a mood today, so I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” she said, laughing. She looked even happier now than she'd been last night when I'd first gotten home. “Have you told Ayden and Allen yet?”

“I’m meeting them now.”

We headed downstairs, Mom practically glowing as she detailed exactly how she planned to silence Aunt Dee, who'd apparently been spreading rumors about why the Ashbourne heir, meaning me, was never in town.

Isabel, our estate manager, interrupted Mom’s scheming plans. “Mabel.” Isabel held out a wrapped box topped with a decorative ribbon, “this just came for you.”

Mom eyed the box warily. “I didn’t order anything.”

Isabel cleared her throat awkwardly. “It’s from Eleanor.”

I was momentarily thrown. Eleanor sending ribbon-tied gifts wasn't exactly normal behavior. Rivals didn't exchange peace offerings without hidden knives beneath the bows.

Mom opened the box cautiously, leaning back as if bracing herself for a miniature bomb, or at least something equally unpleasant to jump out. Instead, there were apple pies inside. Innocent-looking apple pies.

Her guarded expression shifted instantly into pure delight.

For apple pies to land as a gift, something had clearly happened. “All right, Mom. What did you do?”

She glanced at me guiltily but stayed quiet, which told me everything I needed to know. I turned toward Isabel, silently demanding an explanation.

“She paused the clubhouse project Steve proposed,” she said reluctantly.

I raised an eyebrow at Mom. “Did you seriously?” Last time we'd spoken, she'd practically pitched it to me like it was the project of the century.

“She was spreading rumors,” she said defensively, “claiming the Ashbourne name would fade and her family would take center stage after this project. She thinks she’s the first lady of Orange Falls.”

“So you put the brakes on the project just to put her in her place?” I shook my head, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You two really can't let go of your petty feuds, can you?”

“It was a strategic move.” She insisted sharply.

“Right, strategically petty.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest but quickly snapped it shut, guilt flickering clearly across her face.

“You two are impossible,” I muttered, walking away even as a reluctant smile tugged at my lips.

Chapter 7

Astrid

Kelly pulled onto a quiet side street, and through my window, I had a perfect view of the town square. At its center, a fountain sprayed sparkling arcs of water, droplets shimmering like tiny sparks in the morning sun. Cobblestone paths curved around quaint shops, dotted with townsfolk chatting in groups, coffee cups in hand.

I stepped out of the car, squinting as the sunlight hit me full force. Shielding my eyes, I blinked hard behind my glasses. Directly across from me stood Aunt Dee’s Bakery & Café.

“Day one, Kel,” I said as she shut the car door, “and I’m already standing exactly where you warned me not to.”

Amy had called first thing this morning, insisting we meet at Aunt Dee’s to discuss wedding plans before driving over to the venue together. Every part of me wanted to say no, to suggest literally anywhere else, but honestly, what choice did I have? I’d barely picked up the keys to my new place, much less unpacked, and inviting her to Kelly’s house like I owned the place wasn’t exactly an option.

“Trust me, Azzie. It’s exactly the kind of disaster you’re imagining, but in the best possible way.” Kelly rounded the front of the car. “Aunt Dee’s word spreads faster than the local news. By evening, the whole town will know you’re a wedding planner. You scored yourself some publicity.”

“My job gets free promotion, and my personal life gets a full investigation. What a bargain,” I laughed, though a knot of unease tightened in my stomach.

Being their next topic of discussion wasn’t exactly on my bucket list, but I wanted to see if this infamous gossip squad was actually as scary as Kelly made them sound.

Kelly pushed the door open. The smell of fresh bread and strong coffee curled around me.

“Kelly!” came a voice sweeter than buttercream frosting. A short, plump woman broke off her conversation she’d been having, her round face lighting up as she hurried over. Her gaze flicked briefly to me—a quick, curious once-over before landing back on Kelly. “Long time no see. Found another place to satisfy your sweet tooth?”

“There is no one who can bake my favorite lemon tarts other than Aunt Dee,” Kelly said. It was less of a casual comment, more an obvious hint.

So she was Gossip Queen One of Orange Falls.

Aunt Dee waved a hand, half-dismissing Kelly’s praise. “You flatter me too much, dear.” But the glint in her eyes said she wasn’t entirely against the attention. “I hear you went all the way to the city just to bring back a wedding planner for Amy.”

Kelly gave my hand a small squeeze, the silent—brace yourself, she knows.

Aunt Dee’s gaze slid to me, eyes bright with curiosity. “That must make you the one everyone’s talking about.”

Before I could even open my mouth, another voice jumped in.

“She’s the wedding planner?” A woman, probably be in her forties, rushed over.

Oh boy. The gossip train had officially left the station, full steam ahead and no brakes. Conversations quieted, chairs shifted, people turned—some subtly, others with open curiosity until every gaze in the room landed on me.

And then, before I could blink, people began closing in from all directions.

“What’s your name?” asked a woman with short steel-gray hair.

“Astrid.” I gave her a polite smile, already knowing my name alone wasn’t about to scratch the surface of their curiosity.

“So, you're from the city? Bet things move a lot faster there,” asked a teenage girl with short auburn hair. “I’m heading to LA for college this fall. I’m literally counting down the days. I'm Joanna, by the way.”

I offered her a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Joanna. And yeah, the city moves fast. LA’s great. I’ve visited a few times. Traffic’s a nightmare, but you’ll never get bored.”

“Oh, honey, welcome to Orange Falls!” another woman cut in eagerly. “I’m Emma. My daughter runs the best bridal boutique in town—bridesmaid dresses, emergency alterations, you name it. Anything you need, really. Her shop’s just two streets over.”

Now that’s what I call top-tier mom marketing, right in front of a wedding planner, no less.

“I’ll definitely keep that in mind,” Dress fittings could be chaotic, especially with last-minute emergencies.

“Are you just here for one wedding or are you planning to settle in?” Emma asked.

“She’s settling here permanently,” Kelly sounded a little too enthusiastic.

I didn’t correct her. Permanently wasn’t exactly the word I’d chose. I was just here, for now.

“Have you found a place yet?”

I blinked. Did all small-town introductions feel like getting grilled for a job interview?

“If you’re looking, I know someone renting,” she continued cheerfully. “Cute house, big porch, just down the street from the old post office.”

“She doesn’t want to live next to Bill Patterson,” Aunt Dee cut in with a scoff. “He blasts his radio on the porch every morning. Same country songs every single day.”

“How about Martha’s old place?” Emma suggested.

Aunt Dee wrinkled her nose. “And spend the whole year fixing leaks?”

“I found a place,” I interrupted. “Mary’s. The grey house with the rose bushes out front.”

Aunt Dee exchanged a glance with Emma, then nodded approvingly, as if her judgment was the official seal of approval.

The door opened, and a man with salt-and-pepper hair stepped in, eyes flicking curiously over the gathered crowd. “What’s everyone gossiping about?” His gaze landed squarely on me. “New face?”

“Amy’s wedding planner, Simpson,” Aunt Dee announced, sounding exactly like she'd personally hired me herself.

He raised a brow. “Thought her wedding planner backed out.”

“Oh, she did, and what a disaster that was.” Aunt Dee huffed, planting her hands firmly on her hips. “I warned Amy. Told her to pick Linda Morris, someone who actually knows how things run around here. But no, she chose some big-city planner who promised a wedding to top all weddings in Orange Falls. And, of course, the second a better offer came along, the planner jumped ship.”

“Mm…hmm.” Emma nodded.

“That one’s a disaster waiting to happen,” Simpson agreed.

I wasn’t sure if Aunt Dee was more offended by the planner backing out or Amy ignoring her advice.

The door opened again. For a second, I braced myself, expecting another town’s folk dropping by for a fresh round of gossip, but this time it was Amy.

“Amy! Come in, come in!” Aunt Dee chirped, her voice shifting seamlessly from town gossip to sugary-sweet hostess. “We were just talking about how lucky you are—finding a wedding planner and all.”

I stared, speechless at this sudden shift. Hadn’t she literally just been bitching about Amy’s choice of wedding planner a minute ago? Now she was acting like her biggest supporter.

“Thank you, Aunt Dee,” Amy said, visibly relieved. “It’s been... a lot. All thanks to Kelly, and of course to Astrid for jumping in at the last minute. I was this close to losing my mind, but now it finally feels like things are coming together.”

“Oh, don’t even worry about it. Astrid’s got this,” Aunt Dee went on, reassuring Amy with the confidence of someone who’d seen me plan a hundred weddings.

Honestly, this woman could sell sand in the desert.

Chapter 8

Aeron

The grapevines stretched out in winding rows, sunlight catching on the leaves. Workers moved between them, adjusting branches and checking grape clusters beginning to darken. Across the vineyard, the wedding venue still carried traces of last night's celebrations. I walked deeper into the rows, spotting Ayden up ahead, standing on a ladder, clipping stray leaves.

“You know we pay people for that.” Not exactly the nicest greeting for a friend I hadn't seen in a year, but I’d never claimed to be an expert at hellos.

Ayden turned sharply at the sound of my voice—first a flicker of annoyance, predictable given my one-year absence, then a resigned sigh, equally predictable now that I'd shown up again. After seeing those same expressions year after year, they were easy enough to read. He climbed down the ladder. “I'm a farmer. Getting my hands dirty comes with the job.”

“Suit yourself.” I turned toward his cabin, nostalgia hitting me all at once. The paint peeled off in lazy curls, porch steps worn down by endless summers, firewood stacked up for winter, nothing had ever changed here. I came back every year, yet somehow the rush of memories felt fresh every single time.

A Border Collie charged toward me, bouncing excitedly around my legs. “Pepper.” I chuckled, crouching down to scratch behind his ears. “Damn, buddy, you’ve gotten huge.” I was surprised he even remembered me. Last year, he’d just been a goofy pup stumbling over his own paws.

“I’m surprised he didn’t attack you.” Ayden gave Pepper a skeptical once-over as the dog hopped on his hind legs, front paws patting at me in pure desperation. “He treats strangers like they're grape thieves. He’s even chased off a few wedding guests before. I swear you speak some secret animal language nobody else knows about.”

Part of it came from spending a lot of time in the wild. When you watch animals long enough, you start noticing things—what calms them, what they need, what makes them trust you. Mostly, though, I just enjoy being around them. They’re uncomplicated.

We headed inside, Pepper trailing behind us, tail wagging. Ayden recounted all the pranks we’d pulled in this house as kids—me, Allen, and him.

Pepper disappeared briefly, then reappeared with a ball in his mouth, dropping it into my hand. I got the message, and tossed the ball across the room, watching him run after it. Seconds later, he was back, dropping the ball at my feet again.

“Is Mom doing okay?” I'd asked Ayden to check in on her now and then—not that he ever needed a reminder. He'd been part of our family ever since his parents passed away, though he preferred the vineyard over staying with us.

“If by okay you mean she's not missing you, then no,” Ayden said. “She misses you, Aeron. She won't admit it, but it's obvious every time someone mentions your name. She’s strong, but even strong people fall apart sometimes.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, you know everything,” he laughed bitterly. “Except how to actually stay and deal with it.”

A smile curved my lips, fully aware of the jab beneath his words. “Well, I do now. I’m done running.” Pepper, who seemed bored of ball-tossing, wandered off to find something more interesting.

Ayden looked up sharply, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re serious?”

Mom hadn’t believed me either, at least not at first. “Have I ever lied before?”

“You haven’t, but I’m still processing this.” Ayden shook his head, disbelief fading into a genuine grin. “Wait, Allen doesn't know yet. Let me call him first. We’re partying tonight.”

“He’s already on his way. I called—”

Right on cue, a tiny hurricane burst into the room.

“Aewon!” she squealed, nearly tripping over her own feet in her excitement to reach me.

“Hey, Kaia.” I crouched down just in time to sweep her into my arms, gently ruffling her hair. Allen’s little girl—his spitting image, but with double the energy. “Where’s your dad?”

“Pwaking the cal. Daddy said you came, so I came to see you too.” She stared up at me with wide, earnest eyes, adorably stumbling over her words.

“Why do I feel like you only came to see if Aeron brought that dinosaur toy you asked for?” Ayden said playfully.

Kaia shot him a fierce glare, pointing one tiny finger accusingly. “You..you mind youl own beeswax, Ayen. No one awsked you.”

“It’s business, not beeswax,” Ayden corrected. “Funny how you trip over words but never over that attitude.”

“Aewon,” she cried, turning to me with pleading eyes for backup.

I shot a pointed look at Ayden. “Stop mocking her.”

Ayden snorted. “Please. You’re always the one picking on her first, and then she turns around whining to me: Ayen, Aweon’s mean. Now look at her, switching sides again.”

Every time Allen, Ayden, and I got on a group call, Kaia insisted we switch to video, pressing her tiny face close to the screen, eyes wide with hope that some wild animal might wander past. Those calls usually ended with Ayden and me teasing Kaia, while she jumped back and forth between us, switching loyalties based on who was being nicer to her at that moment. This time, I decided it was my turn to back her up.

“Don’t worry, Kaia. We’ll kick him when he’s asleep.” Her sour face instantly shifted into a bright grin. “And I brought you that dinosaur toy you asked for.”

“Lealy?” she squealed, bouncing on her toes, eyes wide and already demanding to have the toy right now.

“What did I miss here?” Allen walked into the room. Kaia sprinted over and wrapped herself around his legs, recapping the dinosaur toy I’d brought and demanding we get it from his car.

“Not now, princess,” Allen coaxed. “Later, okay? We’ll take it when we go home.” Kaia still wasn’t convinced, so he softened his voice. “Why don’t you go play with Pepper for a bit?”

Her attention instantly shifted, and she dashed outside to play.

It felt surreal watching Allen patiently coax his daughter. The reckless, carefree Allen I'd always known was suddenly careful, and responsible. Kaia had rewritten his entire story.

“I love these reunions,” Allen settled back on a chair. “Even if they're one day a year.”

“Better rethink that.” Allen’s mouth curved into a smirk. “Aeron’s staying for good this time.”

Allen's head snapped toward me, eyebrows raised. Skepticism again—first Mom, then Ayden, and now Allen. Clearly, staying put required more proof than my words alone. Maybe if I managed more than twenty-four hours here, they’d finally believe me. But considering I'd spent exactly one day a year in Orange Falls for the past five years, I couldn’t exactly blame them for having trust issues

I caught up on everything I'd missed—Allen's chocolate business, Ayden's vineyard drama, and all the chaos I'd been absent from. Of course, Kaia ensured things wouldn’t stay peaceful for long. She rolled around in the dirt, dragged Pepper into her mess, and, most impressively, destroyed Ayden’s favorite plants. Ayden had the kind of patience you could bottle and sell, except when it came to his plants. Allen took one look at Ayden’s darkening expression, scooped Kaia into his arms, and bolted.

Chapter 9

Astrid/Aeron

We settled down at a table, and I opened the Trello checklist on my phone. “I’ll start with what we’ve got covered. Venue? Booked. Catering? Handled. Guest list? Finalized. Dress? Safe in your closet. Florist? Sorted.”

“Actually…” Amy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “There might be a tiny florist issue.”

“Didn’t you say the florist was handled?” Kelly asked.

“That's what I thought too.” Amy dragged a hand slowly down her face. The look she gave me said my planner was seconds away from another angry red dot. “Turns out, the last planner reached out but never actually booked anything. Apparently, you have to pay some money to book which she forgot.” Amy admitted sheepishly.

“What kind of scammer did you hire?” Kelly laughed wryly, shaking her head.

“Is there another florist around here I could reach out to?” I asked.

Amy slumped back in her chair. “Everyone’s booked solid. Between destination weddings and other events, florists here barely have room to breathe. One said she could maybe squeeze us in, but made it clear we’re not exactly her top priority.”

Sure, I could handle the florals myself, but I’d already be juggling a hundred other tasks, so…hard pass. I glanced hopefully at Kelly. “Kel, if I get you the flowers, could you handle the arrangements?”

“Me?” She blinked, eyes widening. “Azzie, I know you love me, but unless you want bouquets that look like a five-year-old put it together, I’d rethink that plan.”

“You’ve always been amazing at crafts,” I pointed out. “Remember those Halloween decorations you made? Everyone thought we hired a professional.”

“That was glitter glue and paper,” she argued. “This is a wedding.”

“Exactly. If anyone can turn chaos into something Pinterest-worthy, it's you.” I fixed her with a don't-even-try-to-argue look. I turned to Amy. “Can we pull in some extra hands to back her up?”

“Absolutely.” Amy’s eyes lit up. “I have friends who can help.”

“Perfect.” Crisis averted. No new red dot for my planner.

Aunt Dee came over, setting our coffees down. “Hope everything’s going well,” she asked sweetly, though the mischievous sparkle in her eyes screamed gossip-hunting rather than genuine concern. Her staff handled every other table, but she’d made sure to deliver our order herself.

“Pretty great.” I took a sip and paused, stunned. It was the kind of coffee that made you reconsider every mediocre cup you'd ever convinced yourself was decent. No wonder this place was packed.

“Glad to hear that.” She grinned. “Also, if you need decorations, Carlos Rentals has everything. Chairs, linens, centerpieces, even those big fancy arches people love. Lou, Carlos’s wife, is my best friend. Tell him I sent you, and he'll give you a fair price.”

Lou was one of her minions, wasn’t she? It all made sense now. Of course they sent business each other’s way.

Amy assured her the venue was all sorted. Aunt Dee nodded and stepped away, but I didn’t miss the sour look on her face as if she’d bitten into a lemon. Clearly, the idea of everything running smoothly left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Once our planning wrapped up, we headed out to the venue. Cleanup from the previous wedding was still underway, but even half tidied up, the place was beautiful. Vineyards sprawled in every direction. It was no wonder Orange Falls topped lists for destination weddings.

I opened my checklist, moving through the venue and reviewing tables, seating charts, and perfect photo spots. Everything seemed reassuringly in place. For now, at least, there were no disaster.

Aeron

I watched a certain bun-head move restlessly around the wedding venue, flitting from one spot to another. Too far to hear her, but close enough to clearly catch every expressive gesture—the dramatic waves of her hands, the exaggerated sighs. Last night's colorful curses replayed vividly in my mind, tugging my mouth into a reluctant smile.

“She’s Isaac’s new wedding planner,” Ayden’s voice came from behind me, amusement obvious. I wasn't sure if he was calling me out for staring too long or just generously offering information. “She’s here to manage the last-minute wedding mess.”

“Only the wedding?” The question slipped out before I could bite it back.

“What else would a wedding planner be here for? Searching for a long-lost love?”

His words were casual, just a throwaway joke, but they landed exactly where I wanted—somewhere between a wish and an old ache. Glancing at the time, I saw it was already three o'clock. “I should go.”

“Where?”

“A date with the past.” I stole one last look at the bun-head, then turned away, walking off before Ayden could question me further.

Astrid

Amy and Isaac left, and Kelly and I climbed into the car to head home. My eyes caught the dashboard clock: 3:30. Without warning, a memory slipped to the front of my mind.

A ride on the Orange Falls Express.

“Kel.” I turned to her. “Does the train still run at the same time?”

“You could come back in a hundred years, and that train would still be running on the exact same schedule, probably using the same faded timetable from the 1900s.” Kelly snorted.

“Then we still have time to catch the last ride,” I said eagerly. “Come on, let’s go.” If the universe brought me back to Orange Falls exactly five years later, then taking the train again felt like a sign I shouldn’t ignore.

“Honestly, if I have to see that train one more time, my eyeballs might fall out,” Kelly groaned, even as she turned the car toward the station. “But fine, since it’s your absolute favorite thing in Orange Falls, I’ll suffer through it.”

“What else are best friends for?” I grinned.

Halfway there, her assistant called, sounding frantic about a client causing a scene, and said he couldn't manage alone. Guilt twisted in my stomach. Kelly had already spent two whole days putting my needs above her business.

“We can take the train another day,” I said. “Let’s head back.”

Kelly waved my words away like a pesky fly. “Relax, Azzie. He panics if someone breathes too loudly near a plant.”

Her phone rang again.

“I don’t think it’s just someone breathing loudly this time,” I pointed out.

She sighed. “Okay, new plan. I’ll drop you off, sort out whatever disaster that was, and rush back. You grab our tickets in the meantime.”

“Perfect.”

Kelly dropped me off at the station and sped away, waving until she disappeared around the corner. I stayed rooted to the spot, eyes moving slowly over the old building, my heart picking up speed with every passing second.

Five years it’s been.

Exactly five years.

Chapter 10

Astrid

Had someone lifted this place straight from history and forgotten to put it back? No wonder it had made it onto the National Register of Historic Places.

Every time I walked into this station, nostalgia settled around me like the opening credits of a black-and-white movie. With its wrought iron benches, ornate lampposts, and rusted signs, the station looked like it had decided history was exactly where it belonged.

Dad and I had planned to come here this summer. He would have loved this place—the vintage building, the old clock ticking overhead. I could almost see him now, standing right here, taking it all in before turning to me with a grin. “Let’s settle here, Astrid,” he would have said, as if the station itself was reason enough to stay forever.

“First time in Orange Falls?” a voice asked.

I turned to find a tall man in a navy-blue uniform, his matching peaked cap slightly tilted. It took maybe half a second for my brain to catch up. He was the conductor. Older now, definitely, but he still carried the same air of authority.

“I’ve been here before.” I smiled. “Exactly five years back. We even talked.”

He squinted slightly. “Did we?”

I nodded. “I nearly face-planted while getting onto the train, and you caught me.” I watched him, waiting for that flicker of recognition. When it didn't come immediately, I threw in an extra detail, hoping to trigger his memory. “You said I was clumsy, just like your granddaughter.”

His face brightened. “Ah, right! I remember you now. You were with the mayor’s daughter, weren’t you?”

“You’ve got it now.”

“Took me a while. Guess I'm finally getting old.” He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nice to see folks still coming back to Orange Falls.” He studied me for a moment. “Visiting again?”

“Settling here. I needed a change.” I doubted the town gossip had reached all the way out here yet, though, knowing Aunt Dee, the news had probably traveled farther than I'd expect. Still, he didn't strike me as the fence-leaning, elbow-nudging, whispering, Did you hear about the new girl? type

“Change is what you decide, young lady,” he reflected. “But destiny’s got a way of putting you exactly where you need to be.”

I stared at him blankly, not quite sure I understood.

Destiny.

Such a thing exists?

If it did, it sure hadn’t left a map. No family. No one waiting for me at home. Just me and a town that didn't know me any more than I knew it. If Kelly heard me say that, she’d probably show up with a frying pan, ready to whack me, and demanding—And what exactly am I? A ghost?

The distant honk of a train pulled me out of my thoughts.

“You’d better hurry to the ticket counter.” He glanced at the growing crowd. “Lines get pretty long this time of year. Wedding season and all.” He gave a nod, and headed off, leaving me to it.

I hurried to the ticket counter and bought two round trip tickets from Orange Falls to Pine Heights. The clerk slid them toward me, thick and sturdy like cardstock, and the instant my fingers brushed against them, an oddly familiar heaviness settled over me. It felt exactly like the ticket tucked away in my Cryptex box. I shook the thought away, firmly pushing it aside.

On the platform, passengers were already boarding. Fifteen minutes passed, and still no Kelly. The train gave a sharp honk, signaling its final call. I tried calling her, but she cut me off mid-ring and sent a quick text instead: Can’t make it.

Seemed like a pretty big issue.

I sighed, and boarded the train alone.

I moved down the train, compartment after compartment, searching for an empty window seat, somewhere I could soak in the views of Orange Falls uninterrupted. Four compartments later, it was obvious every good spot was taken. The last compartment, though, had plenty of seats available, the one compartment I'd been hoping to avoid. But with nowhere else left, I reluctantly stepped inside and slid into a seat by the window.

The train started moving, settling quickly into an easy rhythm. Outside, fields skimmed by in a sunny blur, vineyards sprawling lazily toward the horizon. Sunlight filtered through the window, warming my skin and softening the edges of the compartment into something almost cozy.

Just as I started to relax, darkness swallowed us whole as the train entered a tunnel. A few startled gasps broke the quiet. First-timers, obviously unprepared for Orange Falls’ tunnels.

I closed my eyes, a faint smile touching my lips.

The memories, sweet, bitter, and still close to my heart, came rushing in, carrying me back to five years ago.

“Astrid! Come back inside, you lunatic!” Kelly’s voice had climbed into that familiar place between panic and bossiness, but I wasn't really in the mood to listen.

“Let me have my Titanic moment, Kel!” I shouted over the clattering noise of the train, breaking into my best, and loudest, version of the world’s most famous romantic song. Gripping the rails, I leaned back, imagining this footboard was the bow of my very own ship. There was no Jack here, just me, Astrid, counting on nothing but the wind and the grassy fields rushing beneath to catch me if things took a sudden turn for disaster.

“Don’t expect me to jump after you!” Kelly shouted back.

“You won’t? Fine, get ready to be haunted when I become a ghost! “My hair whipped across my face, enjoying this reckless moment just as much as I was.

I'd been on trains plenty of times, but none of them felt like this. It woke up that wild, reckless part of me, the kind that usually needed at least two tequila shots before it made an appearance.

“Alright, you reckless maniac, I’m giving you exactly ten seconds to step back inside.”

“Or what? You’ll personally push me off the train?”

“That would be easy. I’ll just find the conductor and tell him some lunatic is trying to jump out of his train.”

“You wouldn’t.” I gasped. I could already picture the conductor, arms crossed, wearing that I’ve dealt with enough idiots for a lifetime expression. There’d be a lecture on rules, safety, and probably, common sense.

“I’ll even take some passengers as witnesses,” She added.

Her threat worked. I straightened, and Kelly helped me inside. But as I steadied myself, something caught my eye—a flicker of movement near the guard’s compartment, brief, subtle, just unclear enough to make me wonder if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I brushed the thought aside and settled into my seat. Kelly leaned over, eyes glinting mischievously. “Passenger ratings. Vibes only?”

“Vibes only,” I agreed, grinning.

A kid by the window munching on chips like it was his last meal. Nine for dedication, minus one for making me and Kelly crave chips. Backpackers pointing at scenic views like they’d just discovered nature. Solid eight. The elderly couple sitting close together, holding hands. Easy ten. They were adorable.

Right in the middle of our game, sunlight vanished, plunging us into darkness.

A tunnel.

I definitely hadn’t expected this, and Kelly hadn't warned me either. But I loved the rush, the feeling of the world pausing. Before I could even think to stop myself, a scream escaped me, ricocheting off the tunnel walls.

Kelly laughed, throwing her own scream into the mix. Another voice joined in, then another, and before long, the entire compartment was screaming and laughing together like a bunch of ghosts who'd just realized they'd all arrived to haunt the same house.

Light flooded back into the compartment, and I felt a sharp little pang, like the credits had started rolling way too soon on the best part of the movie.

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this hard.” Kelly was breathless, still clutching her stomach.

“Add it to the list of reasons you love me.” I shifted in my seat, fingers brushing something firm beneath me.

A ticket.

I picked it up. “Kel, you have our tickets, right?”

“Of course.” She pulled them out and waving them like tiny victory flags. “Guarded them with my life. You think I’d risk being tossed off by the conductor?”

Then whose ticket was I holding?

I glanced around the compartment, debating who to ask first—the elderly couple, the tired-looking man behind me, or the kid’s mom? Before my amateur detective skills could kick in, I flipped the ticket over and went still.

Written on the back in rushed handwriting were words that sent my heart crashing against my ribs.

Careful, Rose. Titanic had lifeboats. This train doesn’t.

Someone had been watching me.

Chapter 11

Astrid

A sudden jolt threw me forward, pulling me unceremoniously out of my memories and planting me firmly back in the present as the train shuddered to a stop at Pine Heights station.

I pulled off my glasses, pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, and let out an exhausted sigh. Getting onto this train had felt dangerously close to taking an express ride straight back to the last place I ever wanted to be. To him.

Five years ago, I'd found a ticket stub left on my seat. One impulsive reply, and a playful curiosity about the stranger who'd secretly watched me, had turned into five days of secret notes passed right here, on this very train, in this very compartment. Those five days had gotten stuck inside me, like a bruise I kept pressing just to remember how it felt.

“Turkey head. Goofball.” I kicked the seat across from me. “Had the audacity to play secret admirer, leaving me cryptic notes, but couldn’t muster the courage to actually show his dumb face.” Another kick. “He’s probably bald now.” Another kick. “Or stuck with a girlfriend who laughs like a hyena.” Kick again, just because.

The train rounded the bend, slowly curving its way back to Orange Falls.

Any desire I'd had to sit and enjoy the scenery, or even spend another second here vanished instantly. I pushed myself up with an irritated stomp and headed straight for the guard’s compartment door. It was technically off-limits, but rules had always felt like cake frosting on a birthday cake, impossible to resist sneaking a taste when no one was looking.

The door was locked from the outside.

I knocked once, expecting whoever was on the other side to open, but no one did. I knocked again, louder this time, then hesitated, picturing the conductor standing there with a disapproving eyebrow raised. Deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble, I turned to leave. And that’s when I heard it—the faint clank of a latch sliding open.

Warm brown eyes appeared through the narrow gap, soft like sunlight slipping through drawn curtains, just before the door opened fully. My breath caught in my throat as a tall figure stepped into view, filling the entire doorway.

God, no.

Iceberg!

He had to be as startled as I was. Surprise flickered through his eyes too fast for anyone else to catch, but I caught it. Worse, he caught me catching it.

What in the sunburned hell was he doing on this train?

Wait—dumb question. Trains are public transport, Astrid. Anyone can ride one.

Kelly’s words echoed in my head. That nagging feeling she’d seen him somewhere before. Which left me with only one possible conclusion.

He was from Orange Falls.

Unlucky me.

“Lucky me.” His voice cut easily through the train’s rattling, calm, clear, and irritatingly casual.

The irony! The universe woke up today craving a good laugh, and surprise, surprise, I was the punchline.

“Funny, I was just about to say the exact opposite,” I shot back with a tight smile.

“First an asshole, then a dick.” He leaned forward casually, resting one hand against the doorframe. The camera shifted slightly with his movement, its lens tilting toward me as if even it couldn't resist eavesdropping. “Remind me, who’s the unlucky one here? Or am I about to witness another dose of your colorful vocabulary?”

Anger pricked my skin. It’s not like I went around casually calling R-rated words. It was a slip, pure impulse, terrible timing, and worst of all, it had to land right on the one person currently topping my most annoying people alive list.

“You deserved it for insulting my froggy tone.” He could’ve just asked us to mute our phones and left it there, but no, he had to launch an all-out war against mine as if that tiny croak had personally offended him.

“And if you’re about to lecture me that frogs are just animals and you’re a human with divine rights to insult them,” I held up a hand, cutting him off before he could speak, “don’t bother. I can already see that argument sitting right on the tip of your tong—”

“I know the difference,” he interrupted smoothly. “One croaks, and the other…” He paused, letting a slow, maddening smirk settle into place. “Well, the other evolved into a talking frog.”

A talking what?

Did I mishear him?

He’d just demoted me from fully functioning human to something hopping around on a lily pad. Not that frogs weren't adorable. They are great amphibians, but I wasn't exactly convinced this counted as a promotion.

“Ribbit got your tongue?” His mouth tilted into a slow smile, enjoying my stunned silence.

For a brief moment, I entertained the thought of kicking him somewhere that would feel deeply rewarding, but unfortunately, I was a law-abiding citizen. Well, most of the time.

“You better sleep with one eye open, you absolute pain in the ass, because I'm going to haunt you for this. Ghost chains clanking, windows rattling, maybe even a chilly wind—I haven't decided on the details yet.” I spun on my heel and marched off, determined not to give him a single additional second of my attention. He'd already taken far more than he deserved.

I didn’t lose my cool easily. Wedding planners couldn’t afford to. We survived on patience. Bridezillas, family dramas, last-minute flower emergencies, I could handle those in my sleep. But him? He was chipping away at that patience.

I stared out the window, hoping the passing scenery might distract me. It didn't. If anything, watching the endless fields crawl by made the ten remaining minutes to Orange Falls feel like ten years.

Craving fresh air and desperate to escape this suffocating compartment, I stood up. Because the universe hated me, that was exactly when he opened the door and strolled in.

I swallowed a groan, half irritation and half you've-got-to-be-kidding-me.

I sank back onto my seat but immediately thought better of it. Why give him the satisfaction? Nope, not happening. I stood up, determined to stand my ground.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have had the same realization. Same second, same spot, same stubborn refusal to budge. We moved toward each other like magnets, except his annoyingly long legs ate up the distance twice as fast, landing me directly nose-to-chest—or more accurately, nose-to-unfairly-solid-chest—crammed into the world's tiniest space by the footboard door.

Seriously?

Find someone else to mess with.

I stepped left. So did he. I stepped right. Surprise, surprise, there he was again, perfectly in sync. One more step to the right, and I'd be off the train.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

His face was infuriatingly calm. “I could ask you the same.”

“It’s that awkward hallway shuffle thing. Both our brains are malfunctioning at the exact same second. Not my fault,” I pointed out. “Fine, listen carefully. I’ll move left, you stay exactly where you are.”

He raised an eyebrow, lips pressing tight as if desperately holding back a laugh, but nodded obediently.

“The second I’m clear, you—”

The train jolted, and not the gentle kind you could politely ignore. This was the aggressive kind, tossing me sideways like a rag doll.

My foot slipped, ankle twisting sharply as everything tilted. My hands shot out, fingers grasping desperately for something solid. One hand found cold metal, barely holding on, while the other flailed, finding nothing until suddenly, warmth caught my hand. Firm, steady, human warmth. Fingers closing around mine strongly.

My pulse roared so loudly in my ears it drowned out everything but the wind and his irritatingly calm voice. “Hanging in there?”

Jerk.

He looked unfairly relaxed, the kind of calm no one should have while holding another person's fate—specifically mine—in their hands.

“P…pull me up,” I breathed shakily.

But he didn’t move. Not an inch.

Instead, that calm mask of his cracked open, replaced by a slow, devastating smile. It screamed trouble.

“Pain in the ass?”

“No.” I shook my head vigorously. “Don’t you dare go there.”

“Hmm, tempting. This might just be revenge served deliciously fresh.”

Revenge?

I was dangling off a moving train, asshole, not comfortably sipping a cappuccino in some cozy café.

“There's a tunnel coming up in exactly..” He glanced casually outside. “Two minutes. You know, if keeping your skull intact is important to you.”

My eyes widened, shooting him an I don’t believe you look, but I still tilted my head just to be sure.

Holy banana pants!

The tunnel rushed toward us, faster than I was emotionally prepared to deal with.

My throat dried up instantly. Surviving this seemed highly unlikely, at least until I glanced upward and reluctantly accepted that the irritating devil above me, who was clearly enjoying this far too much, was my only shot at making it out alive.

Time to bargain with the devil.

“I take it back,” I blurted out, but his expression made it painfully clear I needed to try harder.

You're so going to get it once I'm safely back on this train.

I flashed him the sweetest smile I could muster. “I promise never to call you an asshole, dick, or any other insult ever again. Now, please, pull me up!” I stole another glance at the tunnel.

Closer. Way too close.

“Thirty seconds.”

My heart nearly stopped. Seriously? What else did he want?

“I’ll even change my frog tone.” I offered desperately. Clearly, he had some unresolved issues with innocent amphibians.

“Twenty-nine.”

“I-I’ll name my firstborn after you. I still don't actually know your name, but trust me, I'll find out!”

“Not really feeling the sincerity.”

“Asshole! Which part of me hanging off a speeding train screamed insincere to you? I swear, if I survive this, my phone notification tones will be your screams—”

He yanked me up in one swift motion. I stumbled forward, off-balance, and my hands grabbed desperately onto the nearest solid object, which happened to be his arm.

And the darkness swallowed us.

I was breathing hard. His hand stayed wrapped firmly around mine, steady and gentle even, his thumb softly stroking my hand as if trying to erase the panic trembling through me. My fingers tightened instinctively around his, holding on unwillingly, or maybe unable to let go. The space between us disappeared entirely, if there had even been a gap to begin with.

Light filled the compartment again.

The first thing I saw were his eyes. Warm brown, intense, and deep enough to drown in. I forgot I was supposed to look away.

The sharp honk of the train snapped me out of whatever fog I'd fallen into. I stepped back quickly, realizing far too late and embarrassingly, that my hand was still firmly wrapped around his.

I dropped it immediately.

“A thank you wouldn’t kill you,” he pointed out, like he hadn't just casually waited until the last possible second to save me from becoming tunnel graffiti.

I offered him my sweetest smile. “Let me show you how thankful I am.”

I stomped down hard on his foot, wishing I'd worn high heels. A nice spiky one would’ve left a satisfying mark. He sucked in a sharp breath, clearly caught off guard, fists clenching at his sides like he'd accidentally grabbed an electric fence. But annoyingly, he still managed to pull off a look that said it hadn't hurt at all.

Flashing my most triumphant smile, I spun and walked away. If only I'd worn my hair down. This moment called for a dramatic hair flip.

Chapter 12

Astrid

“Did the train run over your mood?” Kelly asked as I clicked my seatbelt into place. “I expected at least a dramatic gasp, you know—Oh God, Kel, it’s exactly like five years ago!”

“Is my face that bad?” Without moving a muscle, I flipped down the sun visor and took a quick peek at my reflection. Yikes. Had I seriously been standing outside the station by the lamppost with this resting bitch face the whole time?

Great! A man whose name I didn’t even know was already giving me permanent scowl lines.

“Without a doubt.” Kelly reversed the car and eased onto the road leading into town. “So, who’s the culprit this time? Crying baby, snoring old man, or some kid loudly munching snacks without sharing?”

“I wish I had someone else to blame,” I muttered, squeezing the seatbelt like a stress ball ready to pop. “By any chance, did you accidentally manifest some ridiculous wish to see Iceberg again?”

“Who’s Iceberg?” Her expression was genuinely clueless.

Right. She had no idea. Then again, I didn’t know his actual name either. Only that his personality had all the warmth of a refrigerated popsicle. So Iceberg seemed fitting enough. “Our hitchhiker’s bend savior.”

Her eyes widened. “You ran into No-Talk Timmy?”

Okay, this was weird.

Even Kelly had a nickname for him.

And somehow, that name cracked me up. “Where did you dig that up from?”

“There was this boy named Thomas in my class, the quietest kid, so everyone started calling him No-Talk Timmy. The name stuck, and now it’s my go-to nickname for anyone who barely talks.”

“Please, Kel. No-Talk Timmy sounds innocent. Don’t compare him with that guy. D.e.v.i.o.u.s.” I spelled it out slowly. “Devious suits him better.”

The car slowed as we approached the town square, caught in light traffic.

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even realize he comes off that way.” Kelly grinned. “Anyway, where did you see him?” Before I could even open my mouth, she cut me off. “I told you! I knew he looked familiar. And now I know why. He must be from around here. My memory is terrifyingly good, and you’re going to admit it.”

“Born and raised here, in a town where everyone knows everyone, and you still don’t remember him?” I shook my head. “I stand by my words.”

“Alright, genius, I admit it, I have a terrible memory. Now, are you actually going to tell me where you saw him, or do I have to start making up stories?”

“On the train. He was in the guard’s compartment.” Taking pictures. I kept that part to myself. Kelly would instantly romanticize it, swooning over how effortlessly cool he must have looked taking photos of the sunset. I bet those pictures were probably weird angles, half-shadows, and too much glare.

“Did you two finally make up?”

“Make up?”

Make up for what?

For calling him an asshole? A dick? Because if I was keeping score, he'd called me a talking frog, so I was pretty sure we were—

The thought slipped away as my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Kelly needed to take a left here. This was the turn to my new house. Left turn, three houses down.

“You both got off on the wrong foot,” she said.

She drove right past the street.

Why was I so helpless with directions? I could memorize a seating chart for two hundred guests, plan an entire wedding down to the last flower petal, and recall precisely which fork belonged where. But streets? Hell no.

Kelly took the next left.

I scanned the street for something familiar and spotted it: a teal door standing out among the muted buildings. That was it—my little landmark beacon until my brain memorized the way home.

“You were saying something?” I asked, the echo of her words finally catching up to me. Something about a bad start...

“Oh, so you were listening. Could’ve fooled me,” Kelly said. “Yeah, I was saying you and No-Talk Timmy got off to a bad start.”

“Forget a bad note,” I grumbled.

Kelly’s eyes sparkled like she was thoroughly enjoying my misery. “Worse?”

“He made me apologize while I was barely hanging onto the train footboard.”

The car screeched to a sudden stop, jerking me forward until the seatbelt snapped me right back. “Ow. Kel, I’d like to make it to dinner alive.”

“What the hell do you mean, hanging onto the footboard?”

“That’s a long story,” I sighed. “Let’s get inside first.”

“Nope. Spill it now, ASTRID.” Kelly crossed her arms, a stubborn gleam in her eyes.

I sighed again, fully aware I had no chance of dodging this one. So I told her everything—from running into him in the guard’s compartment to the moment he’d saved me. Her expression morphed from shock to anger, finally settling somewhere near relief.

“Thank God he pulled you up, because if he hadn’t, I would’ve burned this whole town to the ground.”

My brain stalled completely. “Kel, normal people cry, maybe panic a little. Your first instinct is world destruction?”

She gave me a dead-serious look. “I was scared for you.” We climbed out of the car and headed toward the house as she continued. “I thought Orange Falls was all sunshine and sweet peaches. Turns out, we’ve got a rotten apple.”

“Wouldn’t it be more like a rotten orange?”

Kelly gave me an approving high five. Rotten apple, rotten orange, Iceberg, No-Talk Timmy. His list of nicknames just kept growing.

Her phone rang, and she stepped aside, gesturing for me to go inside. Privacy? That wasn’t like her. Kelly never kept things from me. Still, I unlocked the door resisting the urge to eavesdrop I'd grill her about it later.

I switched on the light, spotting a few unopened boxes stacked in a corner. Other than that, the place was empty. Just four walls, the bare essentials included with the rental, and a lot of empty space. I'd definitely have to pick up some basics soon—kitchen utensils, a bit of furniture, and some workspace supplies.

I slumped onto the floor, leaning back against one of the boxes. My stomach let out a loud growl, reminding me exactly where my priorities should be.

“Oh, my dear, this place is far too empty for my liking.”

I looked up to see Eleanor standing in the doorway, a picnic basket in one hand and a stack of blankets in the other. “A new home without a housewarming? Not acceptable.”

Behind her, Kelly appeared, clutching a laundry basket that looked way too heavy. With a pillow balanced on top, her eyes barely peeked over the edge.

So this was what Kelly had been secretly plotting on the phone.

“You know I hate surprises.” I moved over to Kelly and took the pillow from her.

Eleanor shot me an apologetic grin as she set the basket down on the kitchen counter. “Hate to break it to you Astrid, but we’re not done surprising you yet.”

I barely had time to process her words before surprise number two strolled right in. Steve appeared in the doorway, hauling a heavy wooden board that looked suspiciously like a bed's headboard. Outside, his truck was packed tight with even more furniture.

“Quick, Astrid! Where am I putting this bed?”

The bed.

I couldn’t accept this. It was too much, too generous. I would never take things from people. Sure, Kelly and I were best friends, and her family was close to me, but this felt different. Accepting something this big felt like stepping across an invisible line I wasn't sure I was ready to cross yet.

“Please, I can’t accept this—” I started.

“Nonsense,” Eleanor interrupted, her voice firm enough to close the topic completely. “I won’t have you sleeping on the floor.”

“I was planning to buy a bed tomorrow.” The words came out sharper than I'd intended. “Really, please, just take it back.”

“You two can argue about this later,” Steve grunted, adjusting the heavy board balanced on his shoulder. “Just tell me where to put this thing before it crushes my back.”

“Put it in the right corner, toward the window, Dad,” Kelly said. “It gets plenty of sunlight.”

I shot Kelly a sharp look, silently demanding if this was her idea.

“I swear it was Mom’s plan. Though maybe I encouraged it. Just a tiny bit.”

“Astrid.” Eleanor’s voice softened as she reached for my arm. “I know you don’t want to stay with us, and I won’t push. But please, at least let us do this for you. You’re family, whether you see it yet or not.”

My throat tightened, and I struggled to swallow. Family. It was a word I hadn’t let myself think about in so long. I didn’t have anyone anymore. But here they were, calling me family, offering something I hadn’t asked for, yet something I suddenly realized how desperately I'd needed.

“I promise we didn’t buy anything just for you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Eleanor added. “The bed was sitting in the guest room, and the rest of the furniture was in storage.”

“The laundry basket’s new. It still has the label,” I pointed out, hoping to lighten the mood. Steve had already gone back and forth twice, bringing in the remaining parts of the bed.

“Damn, Azzie,” Kelly grinned wickedly. “If I'd known you preferred a basket with a history of my sweaty socks, I would’ve happily brought mine.”

I laughed.

Eleanor put us all to work, taking over the kitchen and organizing utensils onto shelves. Steve paused mid-assembly, groaning when he couldn’t find the tool he needed. Eleanor, never one to miss an opportunity, teased him about his memory, pulling Kelly into the joke along with her.

She shared stories about Kelly’s childhood, calling her spoiled by Steve, herself, and especially by Kelly’s grandparents. Eleanor’s voice caught slightly when she mentioned losing three pregnancies before Kelly. Even the fourth pregnancy had been difficult, full of complications and close calls, but Kelly had made it through.

She was a fighter. I'd always known it.

Two hours later, the place actually felt like a home—bed assembled, kitchen stocked, plus a small dining table, a couch, and a recliner all in place.

By then, everyone was starving. When we opened the food basket, all the exhaustion from unpacking felt completely worth it. She’d packed more than enough food—crispy golden fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh, crunchy coleslaw, and sweet cornbread.

“Just so you know, Astrid,” Steve said, picking up a piece of chicken, “that chair has the perfect butt groove. Used to be my favorite nap spot. Try it. You won’t last five minutes without dozing off.”

“Oh, I definitely needed to know that,” I smiled. “And honestly, Steve, I'm surprised you stuck around this long to help with the furniture.”

“You can thank Eleanor for that,” Steve offered, suppressing a smile.

Eleanor’s expression soured. I met Kelly’s eyes, silently asking what I'd missed.

“Dad said he wouldn’t help unless Mabel signed off on the project, so Mom baked her an apple pie.” Kelly whispered. “Apparently, that pie sealed the deal. She signed right away.”

Contract approval in exchange for apple pie? Now that was negotiation. “You know, I really need to meet her someday.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kelly said. “You'll be seeing her a lot. She and Mom end up together at basically every town event.”

After dinner, Kelly’s family left, and I collapsed onto the bed. The day had been a rollercoaster but somehow, moving in didn’t feel so bad after all. Sleep pulled me under before I could think anymore.

Chapter 13

Astrid

One day before the wedding.

Being a wedding planner meant running a marathon in heals.

My phone had been ringing nonstop since six in the morning. I’ve answered calls mid-brushing, mid-changing, and this kept up, I’d soon be taking one mid-shampooing. Not that I’d get that far. My hair was already deep into its please wash me, I’m begging you phase, but unless the universe gifted me an extra hour today, I would have to embrace grease.

My phone rang again—the bride's mom calling.

“Amy’s under eyes look bad,” she began. I knew exactly where this was going. “She’s insisting on an emergency facial.”

“I wouldn’t recommend a facial the day before the wedding unless the bride wants to walk down the aisle looking like a sunburned tomato. I’ll bring some caffeine patches and ice rollers. She’ll be fine.”

I hung up before she could squeeze in another panicked request and tossed my phone onto the bed.

Amy’s mom had been testing my patience. One minute, she was freaking out because some Bob and Linda, who apparently had a bad divorce, were seated together. Funny enough, that’s exactly how Amy had given me the seating chart in the first place. The next, she was panicking over a ten percent chance of rain, cross-checking a hundred weather apps and demanding a backup plan. And just when I thought I’d survived the worst of it, she found some Pinterest wedding video of a couple showered in lavender confetti and decided we need fifty bags of it by tomorrow morning.

Because, clearly, I wasn’t already drowning in enough work.

One quickest-shower-of-my-life later, I dressed in five minutes flat and bolted into the kitchen. I pulled open the fridge, quickly scanning: apples, strawberries, eggs. Apple it was. I grabbed one, took a bite, and flinched as a honk blared from outside.

In my rush, I slammed straight into the wall, a sharp pain radiating through my shoulder. I hissed but didn't pause long enough to regret it. I grabbed my bag, stuffed a handful of caffeine patches inside, and ran outside.

Kelly was already waiting in the car.

I slid into the car, spilling my frustrations. “This bride’s mom is driving me nuts.”

I was halfway through buckling myself in, still mid-rant, when I realized Kelly hadn’t even started the engine yet.

I glanced at her. “What?”

She tilted her head toward my front door. “Are you not going to lock the door?”

“Door!” I repeated, giving her an embarrassed smile. “Right. Yeah…One sec.” I dug through my bag, grabbed the keys, rushed back, locked the door, and hurried back to the car.

Kelly stared at me.

“Don’t say it.” I panted, fastening my seatbelt.

“I will because you’re anything but calm right now. Azzie, you’ve handled dozens of weddings. Just pretend this is one of them.”

“This wedding is different, Kel.” I sighed. “I took it on without a solid plan. Every five minutes, something else goes wrong. Yesterday, the event rental company delivered wobbly chairs and tables. And the vineyard owner didn’t let me put arches—”

“Not the owner,” Kelly cut in. “The owner’s in Africa. The one you met is the vineyard caretaker—Ayden.”

“Oh. Why’s the owner there?”

My phone rang— Amy’s mom again. I pressed the side button, silencing it.

“I honestly have no idea. I heard he's tracking rare animals in the jungle. But Aunt Dee insists he’s studying soil, though knowing her, that could mean anything from some real research to poking the dirt with a stick. All I know is he left Orange Falls years ago and barely comes home anymore. Mabel's already panicking he'll never come back.”

Mabel Ashbourne.

I put the pieces together. “Her son?”

Kelly nodded. “Exactly. So, what did Ayden do?”

“He didn’t let me put the arches near the vineyard because flowers attract bugs, and bugs ruin his grapes.”

An amused grin immediately spread across her face—way too eager. “That’s actually really smart. Very… responsible of him.”

I squinted at her, suspicion creeping in. Kelly always took my side.

“I—I mean,” she stammered. “Farmers tend to be...very protective of their land.”

I didn't press, even though her lie sat right there. I'd come back to it later.

Chapter 14

Astrid

Rehearsals wrapped up by afternoon. Everything else clicked into place by evening, and now dinner was underway with guests arriving. Amy and Isaac invited me to join, but I declined. I still had a few last-minute checks to finish.

“Wow! This is breathtaking,” a voice drifted over, catching my attention.

A woman stood beneath the tiny umbrellas I’d suspended along the aisle, fingertips grazing one softly. Her curious eyes met mine. “You’re the one who turned this place into a fairytale?”

She was beautiful, undeniably so. The deep sapphire of her one-shoulder dress shimmered under the lights, diamond studs catching and sparkling like tiny stars. Her hair was swept neatly into a chignon, making her look like someone who could comfortably rule a small country.

“Fairytale might be overselling it, but I'll happily take the compliment,” I smiled.

She was here for dinner. A relative? Friend? Or a guest? Something about the way she carried herself, poised and regal, made me lean toward guest.

“I’m Astrid,” I offered, hoping she'd fill in the blanks and ease my curiosity.

Her smile brightened. “Astrid, such a lovely name. I’m Mabel.”

Yes! A proud little moment of victory for my detective skills. She'd taken the bait, and now I had my answer—Mabel Ashbourne, Eleanor’s nemesis.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Ashbourne.”

“Oh, please, call me Mabel. Ashbourne makes me sound far too grand.” She waved her hand. “You know, the entire town’s obsessed with this wedding. Your decorations are basically a local legend already.”

My eyes widened. “They knew already?”

She laughed. “Small-town gossip travel faster. And my son, he wouldn’t shut up about the decorations. Besides, my son couldn't stop raving about your decorations. He even drove me here himself for another look, which is practically unheard of given his severe allergy to socializing.”

Son? Her son was here? My gaze darted around, curiosity sparking to life thanks to Kelly and Aunt Dee’s colorful theories about this mystery man. But the only people I spotted were Eleanor and Steve.

“Astrid!” Eleanor’s smile lit up her face.

“You look stunning.” Her jade cocktail dress looked as if it had been designed specifically for tonight’s party.

“Thank you.” Eleanor turned to Mabel. “Mabel.”

Mabel tilted her head, matching Eleanor’s exact degree of forced politeness. “Eleanor.”

Steve glanced nervously between them. “Mabel, Eleanor, wonderful to see you two getting along.”

“Of course, Steve. We're friends.” Mabel beamed at Eleanor, sweetness dripping from her smile. “And thoughtful ones, too. Imagine my happiness when apple pies arrived at my doorstep?”

Eleanor matched her sugary tone. “Considering how long you’d stalled the project, I figured a little sugar might move things along.”

“Ah yes.” Mabel tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Nothing says friendship like apple pie bribery after running your mouth all over the town.”

“And yet you approved the project the second your plate was clean.” Eleanor's smile went sly. “Honestly, Mabel, talk about cheap taste.”

Mabel’s nostrils flared sharply. “Don’t start on my pie weakness. I’m sure Steve would love to hear about your steamy-duke-novels obsession from college. Has she ever called you ‘Your Grace’ in bed, Steve?”

I pressed my lips tightly, fighting the urge to laugh as Steve’s face turned a shade of cranberry.

“Don’t you dare bring them up now, Mabel,” Eleanor warned.

“Ladies, please. Behave yourselves. You're respected members of Orange Falls now,” Steve attempted diplomatically. But a matching set of icy glares drained his courage. Clearing his throat, he spoke again, softer this time. “Should we head inside? Dinner's starting soon.”

Both women huffed and marched away in opposite directions, leaving Steve standing there, looking exactly like a kid whose parents had just abandoned him at the grocery store. He gave me a helpless smile, shook his head, and hurried off after them.

I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud.

Mabel and Eleanor were college friends? How exactly had they ended up rivals, then? Kelly owed me their juicy backstory.

I made a final round of checks. The venue was quiet, except for a few helpers sweeping stray petals and tidying up the loose ends. Entrance? Check. Reception? Check. Aisle? I stopped short, eyes snagging on the flower arch. Its fairy lights drooped unevenly on one side. Not exactly a disaster, but now that I'd noticed, there was no unseeing it.

I dragged the stool into place and climbed onto it, only to have it wobble dangerously beneath me. Chairs, stools, everything here was faulty. That rental company was officially blacklisted. I stuffed a piece of cardboard under the short leg and tested it with a cautious step. Still shaky, but at least I wouldn't topple off.

Carefully, I stretched up to fix the sagging fairy lights and gave them a gentle tug. Instant regret. The other end popped loose, swinging freely. I reached out to steady the arch, but the stool beneath me wobbled again and tipped sideways, ending our friendship once and for all.

My stomach dropped.

I flailed helplessly, grasping at absolutely nothing, but gravity had already won sending me crashing backward, straight into the trash can. The fairy lights rained on me like confetti.

“Ow—my butt.”

I winced, wiggling helplessly, but my legs were jammed awkwardly inside. Plastic wrappers crinkled beneath me, and the scent of withered flowers, potato chips crumbs, and oh god, was that a sandwich? Something soft and squishy pressed against my hip, and I decided right then and there to live my whole life without ever knowing what it was.

I craned my neck, peeking cautiously over the rim of the trash can.

Please, let there be no witnesses.

Left. Right. Clear. Relief washed over me for approximately two glorious seconds until I looked straight ahead and locked eyes with someone watching me, brows lifted in amused curiosity. Not just any someone. A waiter or random guest witnessing my humiliation would’ve been embarrassing, sure, but manageable.

But him?

I sank deeper into the trash can, heart thudding like I'd ran up a hill. Maybe if I stayed perfectly still, he'd convince himself I was some weird stress-induced hallucination and walk away. That desperate hope shattered when a shadow fell across me.

I looked up to see him biting back a smile. “Cute hiding spot. Should I bring you a blanket?”

Because watching me fall into a trash can wasn’t entertainment enough, he needed to mock me, too. I snatched the closest weapon available: A bundle of tangled fairy lights. I hurled them directly at his smug face.

“Easy, easy.” He laughed, catching them. “I’ll take that as a no.”

He had to have some kind of built-in radar, or maybe a sixth sense that went off whenever I was at peak humiliation. Orange Falls was small, sure, but did he have to magically appear every single time I made a fool of myself?

“Please tell me you only saw the last few seconds,” I mumbled.

He leaned in, elbows propped comfortably on the edge of my trash-can prison. His fingers grazed my hair, plucking something free—a piece of cardboard. My pulse jolted sharply at his touch.

“So,” his voice teased lightly, “how much of that little show are you hoping I missed?”

Wonderful. He’d seen everything.

“It wasn’t that bad… right?”

“You want a rating?” He smirked. “Three out of ten. Seven points deducted for execution. I had my hopes set on graceful squirrel, but you gave me potato sack instead.”

“Thanks for the detailed feedback.” I gathered myself, preparing to stand.

He extended a hand into the trash can to help, but I ignored it. I wasn't that helpless. I pushed up, only to have the entire bin shift beneath me—boxes slid, cans rolled, and a rose stem jabbed spitefully into my ankle. The bin wobbled, my foot slipped, and I landed right back in the same humiliating heap.

Fine, maybe I was a little helpless.

I reached out my hand, but it met only air. I frowned, glancing up to find him eyeing my outstretched palm like it was the least interesting thing he'd seen.

“Offer expired.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

Betrayed by a man and a trash can, all in one day.

But then, just as quickly, he reached down again, hand extended.

“I’d rather not earn another colorful nickname,” he muttered, mostly to himself—but loud enough for me to catch.

Aww, so he did care. Cute.

Warmth spread through me as his fingers tightened around mine. One clumsy scramble later, I was standing upright, brushing stray bits of garbage from my dress.

“How many odors did you pick up there?” He wrinkled his nose.

I glared at him. “What did you expect from a bin—lavender and roses?”

“You owe me for a third time now.”

I smiled sheepishly, pointing toward the flower arch. “Want to make it four?”

He fixed me with a firm don't-even-think-about-it look.

“I really can't do this alone,” I complained, sounding about eighty years older than I was. “My butt already hurts. There’s a wedding tomorrow—if I fall again, you’ll be personally responsible for my—”

He held up a hand, cutting off my desperate plea, and climbed onto the stool himself. Behind his back, I did a silent fist-pump of victory. Just to ensure he didn't fall too, I held the stool firmly as he fixed the arch.

“So that’s four favors now,” I said as he hopped down, brushing off his hands. “I hate the number four—it's notoriously unlucky for me. So, I’ll clear one now.”

He studied me with narrowed eyes, questioning my logic, but decided to humor me anyway. “Maybe start with your name first. It'll help me keep track of all these debts you're piling up.”

Oh, he's curious? Might as well have some fun.

“Mallow,” I said, straight-faced and entirely serious. “Marsha Mallow.” Finally, these fluffy cubes were good for something besides fuelling my lifelong hatred.

His expression stayed perfectly neutral. Either he thought I'd completely lost my mind or he simply didn't buy it. Perfect. I pressed further. “What, you don't believe me? My mom really loved marshmallows. Who was I to crush her sugary drea—”

“Astrid!” A frantic voice carried across the venue, shattering the moment like a dropped wineglass. “The staff needs to know if the aisle lights stay on overnight!”

Perfect. Moment. Ruined.

I spun around, determined to track down the criminal responsible for murdering my marshmallow moment. One of the helpers stood there, clueless and expectant, waiting for instructions. When I turned back, I saw Iceberg's amused smile.

“Your marshmallow story just melted, Asstrid.”

“Astrid,” I corrected pointedly. “Not Ass-trid.”

He nodded slowly, pretending to understand. “Right, Dizzytrid.”

“Astrid,” I huffed. Seriously, how many creative ways could he butcher my name?

“Pack some marshmallows next time, Dizzytrid. Might save you from another dive into the bin.”

“It wasn’t because of sugar,” I insisted stubbornly.

“Sure.” He didn't even pretend to believe me as he turned to leave.

Curiosity got the best of me. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name, now that you’ve gotten mine?” Iceberg needs a name now.

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Holmes.” Voice perfectly serious. “Sherlock Holmes.”

Now it was my turn to stare blankly, thoughts buffering in slow motion. Sherlock freaking Holmes? He'd matched my marshmallow nonsense with detective nonsense.

“Copycat,” I muttered under my breath, smiling to myself.

Chapter 15

Astrid

Wedding day…

“......you may now kiss the bride.”

Cheers erupted as the groom leaned in and kissed his bride. Cameras flashed. Laughter bubbled. Groomsmen whistled. Guests jumped to their feet, some clapping, some dabbing at their eyes, and I slipped away to a secluded corner. The celebration was theirs now.

I sat on the vineyard wall, wiping my forehead with the edge of my sleeve, the shade doing a bad job of keeping me cool when Kelly appeared, two cocktails in hand, looking way too annoyed for someone holding drinks.

“Answer your damn phone.” She sat down beside me. “I was searching the entire venue like a headless chicken.”

I threw my hands up, laughing. “Sorry, my dearest Kel, but I had to keep it on silent for the I do part.” I took the glass she handed me and quickly turned my phone’s ringer back on, just in case. Better to not miss anything important.

She clinked her glass against mine. “Next time, maybe install a headlight.” She winked. “To another wedding.”

“To another wedding.” I smiled. “Thank you, Kel.”

She took a long sip. “For?”

“Pulling me back in. I didn’t think I’d ever do another wedding after…” My throat tightened, fingers clenching around the glass. I still couldn’t say it.

People usually talked when they lost someone. They shared their grief, finding comfort in speaking it out loud. I wanted to—I tried. But the words never came. My mind wouldn't allow it. I'd cry, breaking down when no one could see, but I never admitted how I truly felt, not even to Kelly. Maybe because if I let myself go there, I'd have to live through it all again.

Kelly squeezed my hand, probably sensing my struggle. “I know. You don’t have to.”

We sat in silence.

“Oh, by the way,” Kelly perked up, breaking the silence. “Mrs. Parker from the grocery store is officially your biggest fan. She wouldn’t stop raving about the gold butterflies you added to the aisle and insisted on getting your number. So congrats. You’re booking new clients before the current wedding even wraps up.”

“I guess I’ll need my own studio.” Yesterday, someone from LA had reached out, mentioning Amy’s mom had recommended me. That caught me completely off guard. I'd been juggling a hundred tasks at once, so I told her I’d get back to her after the wedding.

I was worried about whether moving here had been the right choice, if I could really pull this off in a town I barely knew. But two inquiries before I even wrapped up the first wedding? That was definitely a promising start.

“I’ll help you with that,” Kelly offered. She eyed me up and down. “And can we please talk about your dress? You’re wearing a dress. No oversized shirts, no baggy pants, and no bun. If weddings do this to you, we're booking one every weekend.”

I burst out laughing, “Don’t get used to it.”

Kelly always says I'm too lazy to dress up and use my job as an excuse.

She wasn't exactly wrong.

My usual look was comfort-first. Shirts tucked into pants, sleeves rolled to my elbows, oversized tees and shorts when it got too hot, hoodies when it got too cold. Always sneakers, always glasses, and the ever-present bun because hair in my face was a no-go. Wedding planners had to be ready to run, climb ladders, and crawl under tables, none of which went well with high heels or floaty dresses. Except for actual wedding days, when I grudgingly compromised for a dress, swapping glasses for contacts, strictly for photographic evidence.

I glanced over to follow Kelly's gaze, landing on a small wooden cabin tucked inside the vineyard. She was staring at it a little too intensely. “Is that vineyard guy's?”

“His name is Ayden.” Her voice had that familiar note of annoyance, as if I'd deliberately gotten his name wrong again.

Every time I messed up a detail about him, she pounced like a human autocorrect. Part of me was tempted to call him Lord of the Grapes just to see how quickly she'd jump in to correct me.

“You’re awfully invested in accuracy when it comes to Ayden.” I teased. “Secret crush? Or a secret marriage I don’t know about?”

“God, I don’t even think about him. You’re reading into things.” She waved it off. “Drink your cocktail, Azzie.” But the way she avoided my eyes suggested otherwise.

Kelly didn't keep secrets from me. I knew about every date she'd ever been on—though, admittedly, they were few and mostly mild disasters. Still, she always told me.

Whatever was going on with Ayden, she wasn't sharing. If I pressed her, she'd change the topic or conveniently pretend not to hear. I'd just have to get creative, set a little trap and catch her red-handed.

I rolled my shoulders, wincing at the ache as I stepped away from the DJ booth, the final notes of the last song fading out behind me. Amy spotted me and threw herself into my arms, squeezing tight. “Thank you, Astrid. Seriously, I don’t even have words. You were incredible.”

Isaac leaned in next, offering a hug. “You really made today perfect, Astrid.”

“Oh, come on,” I teased. “You two did the hard part—falling in love.”

Amy sniffled, laughing. “I know planning all this in a week was a nightmare. We weren’t exactly easy clients.” She gave my hands an appreciative squeeze. “Honestly, thank you. Now go home, please. Rest.”

Rest.

Even the word sounded dreamy. If someone handed me a pillow right now, I'd curl up on the dance floor and fall asleep without a shred of dignity. That's how exhausted I was.

Chapter 16

Astrid

There had to be something I’d done wrong in Orange Falls. Either that, or maybe, by some eerie telepathic sense, Mabel had overheard Kelly and me talking about her son.

Those were the only reasons I could think of for why she called me the next morning, just as I was shaking off post-wedding stress, and out of nowhere invited me to her house.

I didn’t get the chance to say yes or no. She decided we were meeting at five.

In 500 feet, take a left onto Emerald Street, the GPS instructed, pulling my focus back to the road.

Even the maps had Ashbourne's house listed as a landmark.

The road was cleaner, wider. Rich people perks. Cypress trees lined the entire stretch, standing tall beside the thick compound wall, looking as pampered as the rest of the neighborhood.

The security guard approached as I pulled to a stop, giving me the kind of once-over that came with his job. I didn’t have a physical invitation, just Mabel Ashbourne’s word, which wasn’t proof enough. He asked for my name, walked back to the booth, probably checking a list or making a call. A few seconds later, the gate opened.

I didn’t know where to look first, afraid I’d miss something if I turned my head too fast. The road curved through the estate, lined with trees—lemons, berries, walnuts, and others I couldn’t name. Pink flowers were everywhere.

I parked at the front where a woman stood waiting. Mid forties, crisp blouse, pencil skirt, hair tightly pulled back, makeup sharp. She offered a polite nod as I stepped out. “Isabel, estate manager. Mrs. Ashbourne is expecting you. This way please.”

No chitchat, no unnecessary talking. She led me inside.

A Victorian-style house on the outside, and the interior was a mix of everywhere all at once. A Persian rug sprawled across the marble floor, Chinese porcelain vases sat on what looked like a French side table. Mabel decorated like a seasoned traveler, or at least someone who shopped like one, gathering pieces from every corner of the world and arranging them as if they were meant to be roommates.

“Astrid!” Mabel called as she stepped down the stairs, all smiles. “I’ve been waiting to see you again.”

So had I, though mostly to know if this was a friendly visit or if I’d somehow landed myself in trouble. “Likewise. Mrs. Ashbourne,” I lied with a straight face.

“Please, call me Mabel.” Her expression fell slightly, as if I'd added a decade to her age. “Hearing Mrs. Ashbourne from someone your age makes me feel like I should be at home baking pies and complaining about my knees.”

She was talking to me as if we were long-lost friends, despite having barely exchanged a handful of sentences. Fair enough. Being addressed that formally would probably send me searching for grey hairs too.

“Deal.” I grinned. “I’ll save Mrs. Ashbourne for when I really need favors.”

“I like you already.” Mabel laughed brightly. She glanced at Isabel briefly. “Isabel, have the staff bring some drinks and snacks for Astrid.”

The stiff woman nodded curtly and left.

Mabel leaned toward me, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “She didn’t scare you, did she? Isabel’s harmless, really, just terrifyingly good at her job.”

She led me toward the sofa.

“I straightened my spine on instinct the second she looked at me,” I admitted with a sheepish smile. “She definitely gives off that principal’s office vibe.”

“Believe me, you’re not alone.”

A servant placed a tray with coffee, tea, and fruits—melon slices, berries, and peaches. I reached for the fruits. Hot drinks in summer felt like trying to fight fire with fire.

I took a bite of a watermelon as Mabel proudly explained the fruits had come straight from her garden. It was nice, genuinely nice, to see her so passionate about gardening, but the nervous voice in my head was getting louder by the second, wondering if she planned to explain why she'd invited me here or if we'd keep talking about fruits until I collapsed from curiosity.

“Well, listen to me, going on and on.” She smiled, almost apologetically. “Honestly, Astrid, the reason I called you here was...” Mabel put down her tea.

Finally.

“To discuss an event,” she finished.

“An event?” I echoed, curiosity fully piqued.

She nodded eagerly. “The summer festival, it’s the last weekend of June. Orange Falls' first big event of the year, and the town's expectations are sky-high.”

I nodded, and she took it as signal and continue. “Last year, I gave the contract to Honeycomb Events but between you and me, they thought festival meant bake sales and glittery banners. It didn’t exactly scream summer magic. Needless to say, the town wasn’t happy.”

“At our last town meeting, I went through plenty of proposals, but none of them felt quite genuine.” She paused, a small hopeful smile appearing. “I saw your work at the wedding, and afterward, I went through your website. It has a soul. You capture something real. I thought you might be exactly who I need this year. Would you consider taking it on?”

My stomach did a tiny flip. She'd gone through my website. So, apparently, I hadn’t messed up. Mabel didn’t secretly possess super-hearing to eavesdrop on my gossip with Kelly about her son, nor was she planning to blackmail me into silence about the apple-pie fight with Eleanor.

Planning a festival meant knowing Orange Falls—its history, traditions, and right now, I barely knew more than the quickest route to Aunt Dee’s. Maybe this was exactly the opportunity I needed to learn about the town.

I tapped my fingers absently on my phone, considering. Weddings were one thing, charity dinners and anniversary parties were another. But planning a festival, an entire town breathing down my neck, meeting their expectations, and having only a month to get it right?

I'd be under a lot of pressure. But pressure and I had always gotten along just fine.

“I'd love to, Mabel, really. I just—” I paused, hesitating. “Fair warning. I’m new to Orange Falls. I might need a little guidance to make sure I don’t accidentally offend half the town.”

“Oh, Astrid, thank you so much.” She squeezed my arm, her smile bright enough to power the entire town. “And don’t worry about being new. We can fix that easily. Isabel, could you bring the summer festival file?”

Isabel returned promptly, handing me a neatly labeled folder.

“This has all the details from previous festivals. Take your time going through it. We also have a town meeting coming up in three days. If you're free, it would be great if you could join us. I can introduce you officially to everyone. And don't worry, you won’t be working on your own. There’s someone I have in mind to partner with you, but we can talk about that later.”

Someone? Was Mabel herself not planning to work with me?

“I’ll look into it.” I wondered who exactly my partner in crime was going to be.

“Perfect.”

Mabel was already standing up. Apparently, a house tour was next on the agenda, though, to be fair, if my home looked like an art gallery, I'd probably insist on showing it off too.

She led me through the house, telling me about the Persian rug and how she'd struggled to bring it home. We later moved to an embroidered throw she'd bargained for in Jaipur draped over an armchair. We paused in front of two beautiful cream-colored hand-painted vases.

“These were from Shanghai,” she explained. “I spent two hours in a tiny shop negotiating with the owner. She pretended not to understand a single word I said until I offered her double the price. Then she spoke English.”

I laughed. “Smart businesswoman.”

“She definitely knew what she was doing.”

A small crystal swan figurine glittering near the window caught my eye. “It’s lovely.”

“That little thing nearly got me detained at an Austrian airport, you know. Security was convinced it resembled an explosive on their scanner. Tell me, Astrid, do I really look like someone who'd smuggle dangerous swan figurines?”

I pictured the scene and laughed. “Airport security thinks so.”

She grumbled something under her breath. We moved toward a small wooden box on the table. She lifted the lid, and a soft melody trickled out. Her expressions softened. “My husband picked this out on our last trip to Switzerland. He fell in love with it immediately.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “He has wonderful taste.” Though, now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen her husband around. Maybe he was traveling or away on business?

“He did.”

Her voice was soft. But it wasn't just her voice—it was the quiet look in her eyes, the way her fingers brushed over the box that told me everything I needed to know.

I didn't want to press something painful, so I glanced away and moved toward the next item: a framed photograph. It was beautiful, clearly taken by someone who knew their way around a camera.

The lake was still as glass, reflecting everything above it. Trees closely lined the shore, their branches thick with soft blossoms in muted pinks and whites, gently blending into the deeper greens beyond. Mist curled softly through the branches, softening their edges. The water mirrored it so clearly, I couldn't tell where the trees ended and their reflections began, as if the lake itself was keeping a quiet secret.

It looked like a scene pulled straight from a dream.

At the bottom corner was a name: Phantom Spring.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a nature picture this beautiful,” I murmured, fingers itching to touch, as if that could somehow make it more real. Even the name matched: Soft, intriguing, perfectly capturing the quiet mystery of the image.

“Aeron took this picture,” she said.

“Aeron?”

“Oh, right. I forgot you haven’t met,” She clarified. “My son, Aeron.”

What? Photographer?

“It got featured in Nat Geo. He doesn’t usually let me keep any of his photos, but I made a fuss about this one until he finally gave in and had it framed for me.”

“Nat Geo?” I echoed, stunned. “Your son is—”

“National Geographic photographer,” she finished proudly.

That escalated quickly.

Photographer? Nat Geo?

Holy cow!

I'd been picturing him out there with a shovel, knee-deep in dirt, when in reality he was actually photographing lions and elephants. Leave it to Kelly to feed me another half-baked story. Though, to be fair, Aunt Dee was the culprit who’d started this rumor in the first place. And I swallowed it whole.

Thank God I hadn’t opened my mouth in front of Mabel.

We stepped into the garden. I glanced around, taking in the flowers, the plants, and the balcony directly above the garden.

Though honestly, part of my brain was still stuck on Mabel’s son. Finding out he was actually a wildlife photographer had made me about a thousand times more curious. At this point, I’d settle for even a quick glimpse of him, just enough to overwrite Kelly’s ridiculous image she had planted in my mind.

My attention wandered up again, and this time, I caught movement. A silhouette shifted slightly behind the curtains, just enough for me to notice.

Was that her son?

Mabel's voice drew my attention back. “So, Astrid, starting to feel comfortable in Orange Falls?”

“Still settling in. This week has been a mess with planning the wedding, mostly me running around, mildly panicked, but it’s fine, I think. Kelly’s been a huge help.” I realized how comfortably I was rambling to Mabel, the way I usually did only with Kelly. Something about her warmth pulled me in. I felt comfortable around her.

“That’s good to hear,” she said. “No trouble with anyone around here?”

I shook my head. “People have been amazing here.” I reconsidered, grimacing slightly. “Okay, amazing might be a stretch. There’s exactly one person who seems to have made his life’s mission to annoy me. Every day.”

Mabel’s eyebrows rose in amused curiosity. “Who's that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know his name. We’re not exactly on friendly name-sharing terms.” Well, actually, he does know mine, annoyingly enough. “Imagine Loki from the Avengers—that smug smile, and taunting people for fun. Now remove the filter between his brain and mouth, and add about fifty percent more attitude, and you'll get pretty close.”

“Oh, Astrid,” Mabel’s tone softened protectively. “I had no idea you were dealing with such a troublemaker. What does he look like? I can ask around and give him a warning to stay away from you.”

I swallowed hard.

My joke had landed wrong. I hadn't expected her to jump straight into town-wide interrogations. “It’s fine, Mabel.” I assured her. “Really, he's harmless. I can handle him.” Besides, it wasn't like he'd only caused trouble. He'd helped me, too.

“But he might cause trouble again.” She was worried. “What if you can’t handle—”

Someone cleared their throat behind us. “Mom.”

I turned.

My breath caught sharply.

No way. NO WAY.

I must have willed him into existence with all my overthinking because now I was staring straight at the last person I'd expected or wanted to see right now. Especially considering I'd just described him as the Orange Falls Loki-with-extra-attitude.

Chapter 17

Astrid

My mouth had no filter, and his timing had no mercy.

What were the odds that he and he were the same person? In my world, pretty high. I should have memorized the entire town’s names and family trees to avoid this surprise.

“Mom, I can’t find the keys to the attic storage.” His eyes locked on mine, watching me. My face flushed, guilt written all over it, despite my desperate hope that he hadn’t heard a thing.

“It’s on the key rack,” Mabel said absently, already turning her attention back to me. “So, Astrid, about this Loki you mentioned.”

Abort mission, Mabel, please. Don’t ask about him. He is standing right in front of you.

“Oh goodness, I didn’t even introduce you two.” Mabel said. “Astrid, meet my son, Aeron. Aeron, this is Astrid. She’ll be handling the summer festival this year.”

“Hi, Astrid.” He smiled, eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “Good to see you.” He paused just long enough for his lips to shape one more word—silent, subtle, and meant only for me. “Again.”

“Mom, the keys,” he reminded her again. “Even Isabel can’t find them.”

“Astrid, give me a minute.” Mabel apologized. “I'll be right back.”

“That’s fine.” My voice came out roughly two octaves higher than normal. “Actually, I should probably get going—”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Aeron interrupted smoothly, his eyes on me. “I’ll keep your guest entertained.”

Entertained. The way he said it, you’d think I was some rare animal he’d been tracking for weeks and finally caught in his lens.

Mabel walked into the house, leaving me alone with him.

Silence.

“Hi!” I greeted, maybe a little too brightly. “We meet again.” I even added a wave for extra cringe points. A smile, possibly the most awkward in the history of awkward smiles, stretched across my face. “Nat Geo photographer huh? That's really cool. I saw Phantom Spring. It’s beautiful.”

His deadpan stare froze me mid-smile.

I’m in trouble. I needed to escape, preferably now.

“Nice meeting you. I have to go. Busy stuff. Planning and all. Bye,” I rambled, awkwardly sidestepping him in to make my escape. I'd barely made it two steps when strong fingers curled around the sleeve of my shirt, pulling me back, face-to-face with him again.

“Loki, really?” He crossed his arms, leveling me with a serious look.

“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?” I shot him an accusing look. My mind served up a picture of him leaning against a door, ear flattened like a cartoon spy, gathering gossips.

His mouth curled into an infuriatingly lazy smile. “Didn’t have to. Your voice alone could wake the dead”—he paused just long enough to land the blow—“Dizzytrid.”

Anger prickled my skin.

Partly because, my voice waking the dead? But mostly because he’d called me Dizzytrid, the nickname he used after my unfortunate trash can fall. For the record, I hadn’t been dizzy. The stool was defective. But he preferred his own diagnosis, insisting I had low blood sugar.

“Still, you still shouldn't listen to people's conversations. It’s rude.”

“Rude as in letting half the town think I’m some kind of villain?” He asked.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” I quickly justified myself. He gave me a pointed look—the kind reserved for guilty toddlers and puppy-eyed criminals. “Okay, fine. One person. Kelly—my best friend.” I paused, mentally recounting my crimes. “Actually, two. Your mom knows now too, but she doesn’t know it’s you.”

“If I'd waited five more minutes,” he said dryly, “you probably would've given her enough details to sketch my portrait.”

If I'd actually known his name, I'd probably have blurted it out—no sketch artist needed—and landed myself in even deeper trouble. For once, my complete ignorance of the town’s family trees had worked in my favor

“The keys were on the rack, Aeron.” Mabel returned. She handed him the keys. “They even had a label on it. And Isabel said you never asked her.”

“Oops,” Aeron said, sounding zero percent sorry. “I checked the kitchen cabinets. Isabel looked busy. I didn’t want to bother her.”

I shot him a sharp glare, strong enough to drag his eyes right back to me. You sent your mom away so you could corner me on purpose, didn’t you?

His lips curved into a slow, smug smile, the kind that you’d see on a guy who stole parking spots. He held my gaze just long enough for me to read the message clearly: Yep, guilty. And not even a little sorry.

And then he turned around.

I stared after him, speechless at his total lack of shame. He hadn’t even bothered trying to deny it. I should've been annoyed—fine, I was annoyed—but a laugh snuck out anyway.

He was already stepping away when Mabel called after him.

“Aeron, wait.” She glanced between us. “Now that you two have officially met, introductions are out of the way. Aeron will be working alongside you on the summer festival, Astrid.”

What?

“Partners for the festival, Astrid. I'll do my best to make it enjoyable for both of us.”

And he left.

My mind barely registered anything Mabel was saying. All I could focus on was how I'd manage to survive an entire month working side-by-side with Aeron. She even suggested I lean on him to handle Loki—oh, the irony.

When we stepped back inside the house, my eyes immediately found Aeron. His gaze met mine, making something flutter nervously inside me—restlessness I couldn’t quite deny. Mumbling a quick excuse to Mabel about needing to leave, I hurried out.

Relief washed over me until my neck prickled, betraying me. I sensed Aeron behind me. Great. My body had even developed an Aeron-specific radar.

“Astrid.”

My breath caught as I turned around slowly, bracing myself for whatever scolding awaited me. “I didn’t tell your mom anything this time,” I blurted defensively.

“I know,” he said.

He knew?

I realized he hadn’t even accused me of anything yet.

Then why did he follow me?

He lifted his hand, holding out my phone. “You forgot this.” His voice was gentle, almost soft, completely unlike his usual mocking tone.

“Sorry.” I gave him a sheepish smile and quickly took the phone. Our fingers brushed, and a small jolt rippled up my arm.

I turned toward my car, but my feet didn't move.

Aeron’s didn't either.

I waited, half-expecting him to say something, hoping he would, even. When he didn't, I considered filling the silence myself, but my mind turned frustratingly blank. Should I thank him? Talk about the summer festival we'd be working on together? Nothing felt right. Giving up, I took a hesitant step toward my car when….

“Marsha.” A pause. Long enough for my pulse to trip. “Mallow.”

I let out a breath, heart thumping harder. Marshmallow. The silly name I'd given him before he knew my real one. He brought it back up to tease me again? Or was he reminding me of that awkward moment?

I glanced at him over my shoulder, pulse stumbling, waiting.

“Your phone case, it’s beautiful.”

I gripped my phone tighter, fingers pressing into the cartoon frog. My face turned beet red. He’d called me a talking frog. “Thank you, Sherlock,” I said, slowly and deliberately stretching out the pause to mirror his teasing tone. “Holmes.”

It was the same name he’d given me when I’d introduced myself as Marshmallow. Clearly, he wasn't the only one who remembered that moment.

I stepped into the car without looking back, hoping I looked far cooler than I felt.

Chapter 18

Astrid

I thumbed through pages, scanning last summer festivals’ attendance numbers, vendor profits and losses, and notes on the town’s complaints, and survey notes.

“There was nothing cool for us. Just kids' stuff and boring competitions” - Jacob, Ashbourne High School

“I saw someone literally dump sugar into their lemonade last second, and they still won. Judges are being unfair” - Matilda, baker

“The prizes for the competitions were lame—just cheap gift cards” -Tyler, sack race winner

“The food was way overpriced. $6 for a hotdog? - Wendy, resident

“My friends and I volunteered to help, but the organizers didn't assign us any tasks” - Lisa, Ashbourne High School

“Loki?” Kelly teased, walking out of the kitchen holding up the ice cream tub I’d stashed in the freezer. She sat on the couch beside me. “You seriously called him Loki?”

I’d called Kelly the second I got home from the Ashbourne’s, asking her to come over the minute she was done with work, but I’d avoided mentioning anything that happened there. If I had, she'd instantly have switched into interrogation mode before I could even catch my breath.

Aeron had already left me breathless enough. I didn’t want another.

Of course, Kelly being Kelly and completely unable to hide her curiosity, she was knocking on my door barely five minutes later, demanding answers.

I reached for a scoop, but she jerked the tub out of my reach, clutching it like it was the last pint on earth. Gluttonous bear. “Leave some for the person who actually bought it!”

“I needed this whole tub of ice cream just to recover from the Aeron-is-No-Talk-Timmy reveal,” Kelly said, brandishing her spoon like a tiny weapon. “But Loki, Azzie? Really? You couldn't have stretched your imagination just a tiny bit more?”

“Still better than you confidently assuring me he was out in the jungles digging up soil,” I shot back. I wondered if Aeron had any idea that half of Orange Falls cooked up their own stories about what exactly he was doing in the forest. A Nat Geo photographer reduced to digging soil. I almost felt sorry for his profession.

Kelly waved her spoon. “Hey, blame Aunt Dee for that. I’m just repeating what I heard.” She scooped another bite into her mouth. “Honestly, Aeron’s always been the type who says three words when you expect ten. He has been a closed book, even back in school. When you’re that secretive, and an Ashbourne, no less, people fill in the blanks however they want.”

Orange Falls had exactly two schools, so it wasn’t particularly surprising that Kelly and Aeron attended the same one.

A closed book since school. It wasn't hard to picture Aeron that way, quiet and reserved.

“Why secretive?” The question slipped out absentmindedly, before my mind could catch up. But I did want to know. Those eyes of his, they seemed to hold a hundred secrets all at once, yet they revealed nothing.

“Hard to say. He’s just always been that way.” Kelly shrugged lightly. “After his dad passed away, he rarely came back home. If he hadn’t given us that ride, and if you hadn’t told me today that No-Talk Timmy is Aeron, I wouldn’t have even known he was back in town.”

Now that I thought about it, I remembered Mabel’s eyes going soft and sad when she mentioned her husband. I wanted to ask Kelly more about Aeron’s dad but held back. Knowing how private Aeron was, prying into his family life, even indirectly, felt like stepping into a room I'd never been invited into.

I turned my attention back to the file. “Last year’s summer festival seems to have left a bad taste.”

“Don’t even remind me.” Kelly shuddered. “I'm still traumatized from the lemonade. It tasted like dish soap.” She scrunched her nose to emphasize the horror of the memory. “Hang on, my comment has to be in there somewhere.” She peered into the file, but no matter how hard we looked, her review was nowhere to be found.

“Obviously, they removed it,” Kelly rolled her eyes. “Guess the town council couldn’t handle a little brutal honesty.”

“You’re the mayor’s daughter, Kel,” I pointed out. “Pretty sure the council considered your honest review as bad PR.”

Kelly groaned. “Rookie mistake. I should've gone under a fake name. Maybe something believable like Lemonade Victim.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “What exactly does the town expect from a festival?” I muttered, clicking my pen on and off. Sure, the complaints told me plenty about what went wrong but nothing about what people actually wanted, what would genuinely make them excited again.

Kelly was the place to start.

“Alright, Kel,” I glanced at her. “As my unofficial festival ambassador, tell me, what’s on your festival wish list this year? And don’t start with lemonade. I promise it won’t taste like dish soap this time.”

“Something different.” Kelly set the ice cream tub down on the table, her face shifting into one of seriousness. “I’ve tossed rings onto bottles and popped balloons at the same carnival booths since I was six. It’s like living the same summer on repeat. I want creative games this year.”

“And?” I prompted, already mentally scribbling down notes.

Kelly rattled off her list of complaints: pancake-bland food, carnival games older than both of us combined, cheap stuffed animal prizes, music at eardrum-shattering volume. And then she talked about the overcrowded Ferris wheel, and some Orange Falls legend….

I paused, thumb stilling mid-click. “Legend?”

“Oh, you haven’t heard this yet?” Kelly’s eyes brightened, savoring the chance to educate me. “If a couple kisses at the very top of the Ferris wheel and it starts raining at that exact moment, they're destined to stay together forever, or so the town’s legend says.”

I stared at her for a second, processing. “That legend sounds…odd. What happens if it rains but you’re alone up there? Eternal loneliness?”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Azzie. No singles—or soon-to-be-exes—are climbing onto that Ferris wheel.”

I nodded. Kelly was right. Nobody wants to gamble with ending up as the cat lady. “Who started this?”

“I think.” Kelly folded her legs beneath her and scooping another bite of ice cream, “it started maybe a hundred years ago. There was this couple right on the edge of divorce, who decided for whatever reason, to take one last ride on the Ferris wheel. Sort of a bittersweet goodbye. When they got to the top, they kissed, and it started raining. They never went through with the divorce and supposedly lived happily ever after. The whole town took it as a blessing from heaven. Aunt Dee, though, says the Ferris wheel operator cooked up the story just to sell more tickets.”

Silly town myth. Not that it mattered to me. It wasn’t like I’d be kissing anyone on that Ferris wheel.

“Azzie, are you sure about working with Aeron?” Kelly eyed me skeptically. “A whole month with him? I'm worried you'll turn just as grumpy and mysterious. I don't think Orange Falls can handle two Aerons.”

“Even if I tried my hardest, I could never achieve Aeron-level grumpiness, Kel, so don’t worry.”

He’d helped me a lot, offering us that ride, saving me from the train, rescuing me from my trash-can humiliation, even quietly covering for me when I was bad-mouthing him in front of his mom, but not before making sure I suffered enough first.

He wasn’t bad. Just moody. And prickly. And had loads of attitude. Okay, fine—a truckload of attitude. If I accidentally lit a match, he'd return fire with a flamethrower.

How was I supposed to survive a month with him?

After Kelly left, I stayed up absorbed in the festival file. An hour later, I put it aside and grabbed my phone. I checked Aeron’s website until my eyes gave up and shut on their own.

The next day flew by: Researching, planning out what to discuss with Mabel, handling a call from the LA mom about the wedding, and then meeting another couple who showed up at my place, making me realize my table setup wasn’t going to cut it as an office anymore.

By evening, I'd emailed Mabel the festival proposal and quote. I texted her just in case emails weren’t her thing.

After that, I crashed into the bed.

I forced my heavy eyelids open at the sound of the doorbell, silently cursing the inventor of doorbells and whoever was currently abusing mine.

Kelly. Of course. I'm going to kill her. Maybe I should give her the spare keys, or else she'd torture me every morning, ringing at the doorbell like a woodpecker.

I dragged myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes, and stumbled toward the door.

I opened the door mid-yawn, silently promising myself I'd give Kelly an earful the second I stopped yawning. Eyes still blurry with sleep, I squinted at the figure standing there and immediately snapped my hand up to hide the rest of my yawn. Even through my blurry vision, it was painfully obvious the person standing there wasn't Kelly.

My brain needed a solid five seconds to process what I was seeing.

First, Kelly grew a foot taller.

Second, my stomach dropped.

Third, Realization that it’s no Kelly.

OH MY GOD, IT’S AERON.

I'd just given him a front-row seat to my tonsils.

He knew my house!

“Your eyes seemed to have baked some fresh crust overnight.”

My hands immediately flew up in panic, and I scrubbed my eyes.

“And some drool,” he added helpfully.

I don't drool. I know I don't, but my hand shot up to my mouth anyway, panic overriding logic.

No drool.

“Aeron!” I yelled, furious at being played. I spun around, shouting over my shoulder as I ran to my room. “You’re such an ass. I hope you step on a Lego!”

“And also fix that Medusa hair, Dizzytrid.”

I grabbed the closest thing, my pencil binder, and hurled it straight at his smug face. “Go to hell.”

I slammed the bedroom door shut, his voice still echoing in my ears.

My hands flew to my hair in horror.

What state am I in?

Chapter 19

Astrid

I went to bed last night expecting a quiet and stress-free day—taking a long shower, finally sending off that quote the LA mom had been chasing me about for her daughter’s wedding, and maybe later dropping by Kelly’s so we could scout out studio space.

I definitely hadn’t included Aeron in my morning plans. Him at my doorstep, highlighting every embarrassing detail of my face like an auctioneer at a humiliation sale.

I deserved a medal for not slamming the door in his face.

“You showed up without a heads up,” I accused, watching him settle comfortably onto my couch, eyes leisurely roaming the living room. I should give him credit, though. He'd stayed by the door when I'd bolted back into my room, giving me time to become a reasonably acceptable human.

“I rang the doorbell.” He looked at me as if I was the one not making sense.

I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut. Was he…was he serious? I’d meant without heads up as in without warning. Not a ding-dong, surprise!

“But it’s morning. Morning-morning, you know, the part of the day universally accepted as Do Not Disturb time by all sane sleep-loving humans.”

People like me, I added thoughtfully to myself.

“It’s nine.” He tapped his watch like a disappointed coach signaling a timeout. “Your morning-morning expired three hours ago.”

Nine o'clock wasn't morning?

I was offended.

Kelly and I used to roll out of bed at noon on weekends, skipping breakfast like it was a sport. But fine. Maybe he was jet-lagged and his internal clock still stranded between here and Africa.

“How did you find my house?”

“You don’t exactly live on the other side of the planet.” He picked up the file from the table. “The festival one?”

I nodded, eyeing him suspiciously. Clever move, answering the question I hadn't asked and ignoring the one I had. He opened the file and flipped through it slowly, thoughtfully scanning each section I'd marked. “I read the plan you sent last night. It’s…” He paused, eyes lifting to mine.

I narrowed mine right back.

I'd spent an entire day researching.

If the next words out of his mouth were “It's bad” or “This is ridiculous”, that thick, shampoo-commercial hair of his was about to receive the worst DIY haircut of its life. With my kitchen scissors.

“…Good.”

I exhaled and unclenched my fists. Abort mission. His hair would live another day.

“Relieved?” He smirked, looking too satisfied for my liking.

My stomach did something stupid, sort of a half-somersault before I shoved it firmly back into place. No! I refused to develop a single feeling for this menace. “Why would I be?”

“I could see you mentally sharpening your knives during that pause.”

My eyes widened a fraction. “Are you a mind reader?” I asked, skeptically.

“So you're openly admitting to plotting my murder? Noted.”

Oh my god! Oh my god! This man is unbelievable.

I strongly suspected that if photography hadn’t been his passion, he’d have made a brilliant detective, the kind who could coax a confession out of you before you'd even committed the crime.

“Aeron.” I folded my arms. “Did you roll out of bed today and think, ‘Hmm, too early to terrorize the neighbors, guess I'll go and irritate Astrid instead,’ or do you actually have a real reason for being here?”

He studied me silently for a second, expression carefully blank, though I caught the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth—the closest Aeron had ever gotten to an actual laugh. Apparently, even his ironclad poker face had its breaking point.

“Tempting idea,” he said. “And as much fun as annoying you is, I’m actually here about your note. You mentioned needing deeper research into the town’s history. I know a place that might help.”

My heart skipped strangely at the quiet sincerity behind his words. He'd noticed that tiny, throwaway detail? I'd added it to the email after talking to Kelly, just a quick note about needing to understand the town better to give the festival some authenticity. An afterthought really. And here he was, in my house, early in the morning, treating that little note like it mattered.

“Where?” I asked curiously.

“Ashbourne Hall,” he answered, as though I should've known that already.

“And where here exactly is that?”

“152 Riverview Drive.”

I glared at him. “I asked for a landmark, not GPS coordinates.”

“Orange Falls,” he deadpanned.

Seriously? An entire town as a landmark?

“Get ready. I’ll take you there.” Aeron’s gaze traveled from my hair down to my oversized bubblegum-pink shirt, which hung loosely like a curtain over lime-green shorts. A housewarming gift from Kelly proof that she was either secretly mad at me or utterly colorblind. His eyes paused at my slippers: pineapple-yellow with tiny smiling fruit faces.

Aeron’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Although, unless escaped zoo animal is your preferred look, you might want to reconsider this outfit.”

Escaped zoo animal?

“You really have an annoying habit of comparing me to weird things.” I resisted the urge, barely, to fling my pineapple-colored slippers right at his smug grin. Instead, I settled for kicking his shin. Not gently.

“Astridd!” His pained grunt was music to my ears. He doubled over, jaw tight, hissing through gritted teeth. “How does someone built like a toothpick kick like a rhino?”

“I eat my vegetables!” I called over my shoulder, flashing him a triumphant grin. It probably looked smug, but I’d earned it.

There was silence in the car. We crossed the town square without exchanging a single word, like two kids locked in a silent contest where the first one to speak loses. Aeron was probably still sulking over the kick, or maybe he’d switched his brain back to default mode: Respond only when poked. I voted for option two. It made me feel less guilty and it made him much easier to predict.

“Where did you take the Phantom Spring?” I broke the silence.

“Here.”

“Orange Falls has scenery like that?” The town was pretty, sure, but that photo looked like something out of a fantasy, a pinch-me-to-make-sure-it's-real kind of place—somewhere unicorns might sip fruit smoothies and pretend to blend in with the locals.

“There’s so much hidden beauty in Orange Falls that most people never see.” He glanced at me for a brief second. Something in his gaze softened, melting an edge inside me. “Want to see it?”

“Can I?” Just thinking about visiting that dreamy, impossibly perfect spot Aeron had captured sent tiny, fizzy bubbles of excitement racing through my veins.

“Sure.” He nodded, voice calm, and serious. “I’ll send you the coordinates.”

My excitement instantly evaporated into a sharp glare aimed at him.

Give me exactly two seconds to think something nice, and he'd ruin it. “You know, my foot is already ready for another round,” I said sweetly. “And you’re giving me plenty of reasons.”

“Don’t.” His eyes darted nervously to my legs, as if they were ticking bombs. “I’ve already reached my violence limit for today. I’ll take you there someday,” he surrendered.

Panicked Aeron was adorable. It was a shame he kept that side of himself hidden.

“When did you start practicing photography?”

“Ten.”

“Ten?” I gaped. “At that age, my biggest achievement was winning rock-paper-scissors, and you know, I cheated.”

“Starting your criminal career early, I see.” He chuckled. “Not everyone has a childhood like that.” Then softly, almost under his breath, he added, “Wish I had.” His words were barely audible. If we'd been anywhere louder, I would've missed them completely.

For the first time, I saw Aeron’s eyes without their usual armor—but just as quickly, the shutters came back down.

“Do you like capturing places or people?”

“Depends,” he said. “Places are peaceful. But people...there’s something about capturing them unguarded. Every face tells a different story. Take a hundred shots, and you’ll end up with a hundred different truths.”

A photo could tell a story? Reveal a truth?

I wasn’t sure. My experience was limited to wedding photographers snapping away at carefully choreographed poses—first dances, cake-cuttings, romantic dips under fairy lights, all perfectly timed for Instagram likes.

But Aeron was talking about something else: capturing glimpses of truths people didn’t even realize they were revealing.

It made me wonder what truth he saw when he looked at me.

Though, now that I thought about it…

“I didn’t see many pictures of people on your website and Instagram. Mostly it's landscapes. Forests. Majestic birds. Lots of wild animals.”

He shot me a sideways glance, eyes sparkling with barely contained amusement. “Have you been stalking my page?”

Shit. Caught red-handed. “I—No,” I said quickly. “It’s not stalking if you posted it for everyone. Stalking involves binoculars and hiding behind bushes. I used Wi-Fi. And maybe a little curiosity.”

“Curiosity, sure.”

For God’s sake, Astrid, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“So, what's your all-time favorite photo you've ever taken?”

His expression said I'd just pulled off the world's most awkward conversational U-turn, but thankfully, he was feeling generous enough not to call me out on it.

“A girl.” He surprised me by actually answering. “She was laughing, carefree…” His eyes held mine, quietly intense, unexpectedly deep. “Completely lost in the moment. No masks, no pretense. Just her being her. It felt like capturing joy at its purest.”

Suddenly, I had an urge to see her. “Is it on your website?”

“That one’s just for me.”

Irritation prickled under my skin. I wasn't sure why his words bothered me so much, just that they did.

“We’re here.”

I shifted my gaze to the tall, vintage building. I stepped out into the sunlight, and immediately squinted. Between the AC at home and in Aeron's car, I'd almost forgotten how heat felt.

I looked up at the bold letters carved above the doors: Ashbourne Hall, established 1908.

“Astrid.” Aeron’s voice broke through my focus.

“Hmmm?” I murmured, absently, still reading the inscription: Official Gathering Hall for the Citizens of Orange Falls.

“Astra Studios.”

I turned to him, confused. That was my website. Why was he randomly mentioning it now? And more importantly, how did he even know the exact name?

“I found your home address there.” He walked past me towards the steps, without looking back.

My cheeks went from cool to blazing-hot in two seconds.

Did he just admit he’d visited—no, stalked, according to our twisted dictionary—my page?

Hypocrisy, thy name is Aeron Ashbourne.

I bit my lip, but the ridiculous smile still danced across my face anyway.

“Such a copycat.”

Chapter 20

Astrid

The manager, his hair neatly combed away from his face, revealing wrinkles at his temples, led us down the corridor, filling the silence with endless questions directed mostly at Aeron—how long he'd be staying, if he'd arrived for the summer festival, and about ten other things that would’ve fit nicely into an interrogation.

Aeron answered him with short, crisp responses: yes, no, maybe. Occasionally, the manager remembered I existed and turned to ask where I was from, and if I'd moved to Orange Falls. When I said yes, his eyes lit up instantly. “Found a place yet?”

He began pitching his rental house on Bridge Street, just behind some bakery that was supposedly the best in town. He barely paused for breath, leaving me no space to politely decline. Aeron interrupted, telling him I’d already settled, and steered the conversation back to the festival.

On the way to the Archive Room, we passed a closed door labeled Town Hall Meeting Room—the very room I'd be sitting in tomorrow. We continued upstairs until we reached the Archive Room door.

The manager fiddled with the lock before pushing it open. Dust and stale air puffed out, tickling my nose.

I sneezed.

“This room hasn’t been opened in ages,” he said, looking mildly embarrassed.

Aeron glanced at me. “Allergic to dust?”

I waved a hand, suppressing another sneeze. “I'm fine.”

He wasn’t convinced. My eyes watered, and as I lifted a hand to remove my glasses, Aeron took the file from my other hand and stepped between me and the dust.

The manager handed Aeron the register and disappeared down the hall.

Rows of metal shelves climbed toward the high ceiling, stacked haphazardly with piles of yellowed documents, heavy ledgers, worn-out folders, and many more things. I opened the register, skimming down the page until I reached row 140. “Orange Falls Festivals. Rack B1, shelf seven.”

I glanced up at the impossibly high shelf. No way could I reach that. Spotting a ladder in the corner, I dragged it closer and had just set one foot on the bottom rung when Aeron’s hand stopped me.

“Let me,” he said. “You’ve already proven your talent for falling.”

Of course he had to bring that up again.

“It wasn’t dizziness—it was the stool. It wobbled. Not my fault.”

“Tell that to the trash can.”

Aeron climbed the ladder, and I eyed his perfectly positioned butt, tempted—so tempted—to give it one satisfying kick. Payback for all his teasing. But I behaved myself. Barely.

I'd find another way to settle the score.

He pulled out a heavy, worn-looking book and had one foot already on the way down when I stopped him.

“Wait,” I said, eyes glued to the register. “I need row 146 too. Festival Memories. Same rack, shelf six.”

“Rack D4, shelf six: Orange Falls Traditions.”

“And rack E1, shelf two: Festival Grounds Maps.”

I barely paused to breathe, flipping through the register faster. “Oh, and while you're at it, rack F1, shelf four: Orange Falls Traditional Food Recipes.”

Aeron moved from rack to rack, climbing up and down the ladder until he'd grabbed every last book I'd asked for without complaint. Finally, he stepped down and dropped the heavy stack into my arms, giving me a pointed look. “Planning to read these, or just building a fort?”

“Read.” I grinned.

“That’s all?”

“Absolutely,” I promised, smiling like a saint.

He was halfway to the floor, knees bent and ready to finally relax, when I called out, “Aeron.”

His body froze mid-sit, eyes shutting tightly like he was silently counting to ten.

“One more.” I said sweetly. “Rack A1, shelf six: Orange Falls Townspeople’s Pictures.”

He gave me a sharp glare, not quite murderous but definitely in the same neighborhood, but grabbed the ladder anyway. I fought to hide my smile as he turned away, grumbling something about patience and the things he had to put up with.

I cleared a small space on the dusty floor, placing a sheet down for both of us. Bundles of papers and stacks of records surrounded me. I began reading Orange Falls Festivals.

The festival began in 1910 as a celebration of the….

Aeron walked over, dropped the book onto the floor, and grabbed one for himself. He settled down beside me—close, may be a little too close—and stretching out his legs comfortably.

His hands brushed against my knee.

My heartbeat skipped.

His warmth soaked into my skin. The soft woodsy scent of his cologne drifted over me, warm and comforting. I could count every steady, calm breath he took, while mine turned embarrassingly short and shallow. Passing out onto his lap would only give him more evidence to support his Dizzytrid theory.

I flipped through the pages with the intense focus of a bomb defuser, though by now, the words barely registering.

Aeron leaned in closer. “Are you reading or just turning pages?”

My fingers froze. “I’m a fast reader.”

He snatched the book from my hands. I reached out to grab it back, but he easily held it beyond my grasp.

“Glad your long arms are good for something. Now, give it back!” I reached for the book, hopelessly outmatched.

“Not yet. Let's test those genius reading skills. When exactly did the festival tradition start in Orange Falls?”

My brain promptly went offline.

All I could think was: Who knows, you idiot? If you weren’t here turning my brain into a bowl of melted ice cream, I’d probably be able to remember.

I offered my best fake-confident smile. “The year they decided to have one?”

To my complete surprise, he laughed. Really laughed, warm enough to melt ice cream and probably a few of my brain cells along with it.

I stared at him, forgetting how breathing worked. First because I’d never heard his genuine laugh before. And second, being annoyingly attractive wasn't bad enough, he had to reveal dimples, too.

“Your history teacher must’ve loved grading your exams.”

I snatched the book back. This time I genuinely started reading, even as he began grilling me about my grades, asking if I'd slept through classes or drawn cartoons on my exam sheets. Oddly enough, it was easier to concentrate when he was busy annoying me.

The festival began in 1910 as a celebration of the summer. It started as a fair, soon followed by the annual harvest festival—and after that, Orange Falls kept adding more festivals.

It has so much detailed information about the town that my earlier Google search on Orange Falls' history felt like scattered breadcrumbs in comparison.

Aeron had stepped out when the manager called him, but half an hour had passed, and he still wasn’t back. Without him around to annoy me, or even just his presence, I found myself surprisingly bored.

I never imagined that spending two hours in a dusty archive room researching town history could actually be fun. Strangely, Aeron's crankiness had finally broken something in my brain. Because, annoyingly enough, I was enjoying myself. He'd clarified things I didn’t understand and even suggested bringing back the outdoor movie screenings, the ones Orange Falls had stopped hosting nearly thirty years ago.

Right on cue, my stomach reminded me it was lunchtime.

And there was nothing to eat nearby.

I'd either have to go to the town square or, worse, head home and cook something myself. Neither was ideal when I needed every minute to finish this research. As I was starting to convince myself that water could totally pass for lunch, Aeron walked back in, holding out a bag that smelled suspiciously, and wonderfully, like actual food.

“You bought lunch!” I grabbed the bag before he'd even fully offered it. “Thank you!”

“You hadn't eaten all morning. Thought I'd save us both the trouble of you fainting again.”

“People might think you’re actually nice.” My attention quickly shifted to the contents of the bag. Sandwiches, pasta salad, fruits. They were all deliciously packaged and clearly homemade.

“Not if you keep it to yourself.”

“No promises. Your mom sent this?”

He nodded, already clearing space at the table.

I set down the bag and glanced at my hands. My fingers were coated in enough dust and grime to pass for a ghost crawling out of a horror movie.

“Restroom’s in the far-left corner.” Aeron’s tone suggested he'd already noticed my grimy hands.

I quickly washed up and returned.

“This pasta is incredible. Does your mom have magic hands?” I scooped another forkful, savoring the way the creamy sauce and perfectly tender noodles melted on my tongue.

He chuckled, taking a bite of his sandwich. “I'll let her know you said that. Fair warning, she considers compliments as an invitation to dinner.”

“If dinner’s anything like this, I’ll be there every night.” My phone started ringing. It was Kelly. I tapped ignore, not wanting to answer with Aeron sitting across from me, but she persisted, immediately calling again.

Sighing, I picked up. “Kel, I’ll call—”

“I saw your message!” she screamed. “I cannot believe this!”

“You have to,” I whispered urgently. I'd sent her a message while Aeron stepped out.

“Why are you whispering? You're starting to sound exactly like that grump. Please tell me it's not contagious.”

Her voice was loud enough to have been on speaker. Aeron looked up at the exact moment, eyes meeting mine. Yep, he’d definitely heard that. I quickly mumbled an excuse and hurried out.

“Kel, calm down,” I hissed. “He’s right here.”

“You can’t just drop a message like that and expect me to chill!” she shot back. “How does he even know your house? I need details. Now.”

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Not now. I’m working.”

“At least text me!” she pleaded.

“Impossible,” I whispered as if Aeron could somehow hear me through solid walls. “I promise I'll fill you in the second I get home.” After sitting for two hours, stretching my legs felt

“Kel, calm down,” I hissed. “He’s right here.”

“You can’t just drop a message like that and expect me to chill!” she shot back. “How does he even know your house? I need details. Now.”

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Not now. I’m working.”

“At least text me!” she pleaded.

“Impossible,” I whispered as if Aeron could somehow hear me through solid walls. “I promise I'll fill you in the minute I get home.” After sitting for two hours, stretching my legs felt so good.

“God, Azzie, I’ll die of curiosity before you get home. Please tell me he is at least halfway tolerable. I don't have bail money ready.”

I laughed.

He'd patiently helped me with the books and even brought lunch. But admitting I was enjoying Aeron's company would trigger Kelly’s detective mode. So, I settled on “Manageable.”

“I was hoping for a war.” She sounded disappointed. “But I’ll settle for peace. Call me the minute you’re home.”

I walked back inside. Aeron was scrolling through his phone. Quietly, I returned to my pasta, carefully avoiding eye contact. Asking if he'd overheard our conversation felt like poking a sleeping lion.

“Was that Motormouth?” Aeron asked, eyes still glued to the screen.

I paused, fork halfway to my mouth.

Motormouth? Who was he—

He glanced up, catching my confused stare. “Kelly.”

I laughed.

“You have a name for her?”

“She was the school’s human loudspeaker,” he said. “You could track her exact location from three hallways away, just by her voice.”

“Oh, come on. She wasn’t that loud,” I protested, then admitted to it. “Okay, maybe just a little. But she’s my best friend. I have to defend her big mouth.”

Kelly would lose it if she ever found out Aeron had nicknamed her Motormouth. Not that I planned on telling her. Besides, she had her own nickname for him: Grump.

“Right, best friend code. Defend your loudmouth friend, even when she can shatter windows with her voice.” He paused, lips curving slightly as if recalling something funny. “Though I’ll admit, she is persistent—got every senior to sign her yearbook. She chased me around the entire school before I finally gave in.”

The mental image of Kelly chasing Aeron through the hall with her glitter pen, refusing to stop until he signed her yearbook, made me laugh harder than I probably should have.

Now I was curious. What exactly had he written?

“It must’ve felt like a personal victory for her.” I rested my elbow on the table. “Getting an autograph from the school’s famously quiet boy.”

His gaze flicked up, meeting mine with quiet amusement. “Kelly told you?”

“I asked her,” I admitted, not bothering to hide it. After we'd both confessed to stalking each other, hiding anything now seemed pointless. It felt strangely comforting to realize neither of us was innocent here, that this silent curiosity went both ways.

Aeron’s eyes softened. “I do talk, Astrid.” He leaned in just enough to narrow the space between us. “But only around people I like.”

People I like.

My heart skipped. I lowered my gaze, trying not to let him see just how deeply those words had affected me.

“Finish your food quickly.” He stood up. “We’ve still got work left.”

I watched him walk away, wondering how he managed to act so normal while I was still fighting to steady my breathing.

Chapter 21

Astrid

It’s funny, honestly, how the festivals happened at Ashbourne Park until 1980, when someone got the bright idea to squeeze them into Ashbourne Town Square, a space half the size and twice as crowded. Looking at the festival ground’s map, I noticed so many traditions and games like the tug-of-war, pottery, and Maypole dance had completely disappeared.

I stood up, my legs stiff from sitting on the floor for so long, and went to see if there were any records related to Maypole dance. At last, the ladder was mine.

Aeron had gone to talk with the manager about the volunteer meetup I'd mentioned would be our next step after the research.

One step at a time wasn't his style.

I finally found the record after way too much digging through the shelf, even though the register had pointed me directly to it. Now I realized how impressive it was that Aeron had managed to pull out so many books with ease. I flipped through the pages, yawning. After nearly six hours straight, my research was starting to feel close to bedtime reading when my eyes caught on a photo. The same photo I'd seen earlier on the festival ground’s map—Maypole dance.

It's a traditional folk dance performed around a tall wooden pole decorated with flowers and colorful ribbons. Dancers form a circle around the pole, moving clockwise and then counterclockwise.

I snapped a few pictures, saving the details for later. My brain wasn't up for processing any more information right now. But I did catch the bit at the end mentioning the Ashbournes, who'd brought this tradition with them when they moved here from their hometown—Ashbourne in Derbyshire, between 1845 and 1848.

I put the record aside and leaned back against the rack, suddenly realizing how tired I was. I considered calling Aeron to ask if we could head home, but quickly realized I didn't even have his number. The sun was dipping lower, turning the already-dim room into something straight out of a ghost story, minus the ghosts—hopefully.

I could’ve sworn I felt something gently tug at my hair—a soft, barely-there touch. My eyes snapped open, my heart racing. It took me a second to realize I'd been leaning against a solid shoulder. I pulled back, breath hitching as I glanced sideways at Aeron.

He was calmly reading. “Done with the nap?”

“When did you come back?” The lights were on now. Exactly how long had I been asleep? I'd only meant to close my eyes for a minute. And when exactly had I turned his shoulder into my personal pillow?

He glanced up, face perfectly neutral. “Around the time you started snoring like a baby bear, mouth wide-open.”

“You don’t need to describe exactly how I sleep,” I glared at him. “And I don’t snore.”

For a second, his calm, skeptical look made me question myself. Again. Ever since I’d met this idiot, I’d started doubting basic facts about myself that I’d comfortably believed for twenty-five years.

“You want to include the Maypole dance?” Aeron asked, nodding toward the record I'd left open when I fell asleep.

“Don't you think it'd be great to bring back the authenticity the town lost forty years ago?” I said. “But the town square isn't going to cut it. It’s way too crowded.”

“The park's a good option.” He considered it for a moment. “But we'd have to sort out electricity, restrooms, basically everything from scratch. It won't be easy.” He paused, and for a second, I was convinced we'd have to drop the idea. “But it's too good an idea not to try.”

“Really?” I squeaked, caught off guard by my own enthusiasm. “Thank you!” But just as quickly, doubt crept back in. “How do we convince the people? They've been celebrating in the square for two generations. What if they're not interested in moving?”

“If we frame it right, highlight the history, and round up the right volunteers, we could create enough buzz to convince everyone,” Aeron suggested. “Think you could pull together a social media campaign?”

“Absolutely.” After five years of hyping up weddings on social media, I could handle this part even half-asleep.

“Good. I'll talk to Steve about getting approval for the park.” He paused, clearly debating something, then added casually, “And maybe involve that motormouth. She's got a pretty big network around town. Might as well put her chatter to some actual use for once.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re mean.”

“So was she,” he grumbled.

Oh god, was he seriously still salty about Kelly chasing him around the school for his autograph? “You ever wonder what she calls you behind your back?” Not that I’d tell him. He could go right on suffering, knowing a nickname existed but not what it was.

“Cranky? Moody?” he asked calmly as if he'd known about it forever.

My eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“I've known since school. She wasn't exactly quiet about it.” His eyes moved over the scattered mess around us. “Finished with your research yet?”

“Mostly.” I glanced down at the chaos on the floor. Orange Falls Pictures caught my eye, practically screaming pick me! from beneath the mess. I grabbed it, holding it up sheepishly.

“Except for this one.”

“It’s just pictures,” he remarked. “Nothing useful there.”

“I want to look at the faces,” I insisted.

“You barely know people here,” he pointed out.

“I know you. Maybe I'll find your photo here.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Good luck. You’ll have better chances spotting ghost.”

What a shame. A photographer who hates being photographed.

I flipped through dozens of photos, some old, some recent. I spotted Aunt Dee, young Aunt Dee, looking like the villain from a vintage movie. Eleanor and Mabel stood side by side at a pie-baking contest, somehow managing to look like best friends, though I suspected that closeness was strictly for the camera.

A picture of Kelly, probably around eight or nine, throwing water balloons at someone, and another picture of her picking her nose. Aeron, unsurprisingly, didn't miss the chance to poke fun at that one. These photos were supposed to help me understand about the town, but did they have to be this entertaining?

I paused at a picture of the Ashbourne family from 2001. A boy stared directly at the camera, familiar dark-brown eyes fixed somewhere between boredom and annoyance.

“Is this you?”

“This wasn't supposed to be here.” He reached for it , but I hid behind my back.

“Your eyes look exactly the same,” I teased, glancing between him and the photo. “How old were you here?”

“Five.”

I studied the photo closely. There were some faces I didn't recognize, but Mabel was easy to spot. She looked almost exactly the same now. Beside her sat a man who had to be Aeron's father. The resemblance was striking. Aeron was right in the center, with two slightly older girls beside him.

“Your sisters?”

“Yes.”

Something twisted painfully inside me at the sight of the picture, at the easy smiles and closeness. Losing Mom in fourth grade had opened the first wound in my heart, and Dad’s death had made that emptiness permanent. Seeing Aeron’s family together intensified that ache. It wasn’t jealousy exactly, more like longing for something I'd wanted but could never get back.

I pushed away the sting. “You have such a big family.”

Aeron looked at me for a long moment, as if he was piecing together all the things I couldn’t bring myself to say. “Sometimes, even a big family can make you feel lonely, Astrid.” He gathered the files and folders from the floor and stood up. “Let’s go. It's getting late.”

Aeron was already a mystery. But now, I wanted more. I wanted to peel back those careful layers one by one, until I understood exactly who really was.

Chapter 22

Astrid

I parked my car outside Ashbourne Hall, the sky fading into that gentle purple that comes just before night fully settles in.

Three women stood near the steps, chatting quietly with a man, their expressions suggesting someone had definitely done something worth discussing.

One of them I recognized immediately—Aunt Dee. She was dressed in a yellow-and-black zebra-striped outfit, her matching satin jacket was cinched with a wide golden belt. To her left was a blonde woman in a pink dress, short curls pinned back neatly by a matching headband. On her right stood a woman wearing a polka dot dress and red glasses.

These two had to be her minions. Kelly had mentioned they were glued together at every event.

“Astrid! Come here, come here!” Aunt Dee called, flashing her full set of pearly whites. Her minions eyed me curiously.

I walked toward them just as Aunt Dee leaned in to whisper something to the man, who nodded quickly and hurried away. “Betty, Lou, you haven’t met our town’s new girl, have you?” She nodded toward me. “This is Astrid.”

“Oh, it's you.” Betty’s blonde curls bounced as she grinned. “Ever since Amy’s wedding, you've become Orange Falls’ celebrity. I’ve been waiting to meet you. You know, Lou's even thinking of asking you to decorate her dog’s next birthday party.”

“Absolutely not.” Lou shook her head. “Tom isn't getting a birthday party, not after he chewed up the sofa.” She turned towards me, eyes curious. “I heard Mabel convinced you to take on the summer festival. Is that true?”

Seriously?

It had been only three days.

Did they have secret agents all around Orange Falls?

“She did.” I kept my voice neutral. “But we’re still figuring things out.”

Aunt Dee shot a meaningful look at Betty and Lou. “Oh, don’t worry, dear. Take your time. Though I’d hurry up if I were you.”

“Was there a problem?” Mabel and I had talked it over, sure, but the council still needed to approve. And Aunt Dee’s tone was landing a little too close to ominous for comfort. It wasn’t about the money—it never had been. I genuinely loved the festival idea. I hadn't been this excited about planning something since my first wedding project.

“Nothing….” Lou shook her head, leaning closer as if revealing top-secret intel. “But watch your back at the meeting. Rosalind, you know, the lady who ran last year’s event might show up with brownies to sweet-talk the council.”

“I wouldn't support her this time, brownies or no brownies.” Betty huffed, adjusting her pink headband. “She rejected my watermelon stall last year. If summer isn't about watermelon, what does she think people are even coming for?”

“You worry too much, Betty. Our Astrid will make sure your stall gets approved this time.” Aunt Dee smiled at me in a way that managed to feel both comforting and filled with expectation.

I'd planned to deliver a smooth political reply, but somehow landed squarely in diplomat territory instead. “As long as it fits nicely into the festival, I’d love to include it.”

Aunt Dee leaned toward me again, lowering her voice. “Between us, Astrid, you might have some competition. Certain people, no names, of course, think these events should stick strictly to local talent. You know how it is, tradition and all.”

So, the meeting wasn’t going to be a relaxing evening. But at least I had these three backing me.

“What trouble are you stirring up this time, Della?” came a voice from behind me. Mabel appeared at my side, giving the trio a skeptical glance. “Should I be worried for Astrid?”

Worried? More like terrified. These three had practically been interrogating me.

“We were just talking, Mabel. You know, welcoming Astrid to the town,” Aunt Dee said. “I heard Aeron’s back in town.”

“With you and your friends around, I'm surprised there’s anyone left who doesn't already know my son’s back,” Mabel replied dryly.

I pressed my lips together, fighting back a smile as the trio’s expressions went from sugary to sour in record time.

A handful of people had already gathered inside the town hall. Some smiled warmly and a few even asked how I was settling into town. My attention snagged on a woman seated in the front row, who kept sneaking glances at me, not frequently enough to be obvious, but definitely enough to trigger my inner alarm bells.

Kelly arrived a little while later. We’d planned to come together, but she’d gotten tied up with a few customers. I’d assured her seventeen times that I was perfectly capable of handling it on my own, but she'd insisted my first town hall needed some emotional backup.

“Thank you for coming,” I whispered, squeezing her hand.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t miss my best friend’s town-hall debut for the world. This is like your first day of kindergarten, but with more judgmental adults.”

I laughed. “Kel, calling it a debut is a little—” My voice died out as the familiar laser-focused stare landed on me again. I dropped my voice. “Don’t look right away, but there’s a woman in a purple dress who’s been staring at me like I’m the most wanted criminal.”

Kelly, being Kelly, turned instantly, completely ignoring my warning. Two seconds later, she was giggling. “That’s Rosalind. She owns Honeycomb Events, the one who organized last year’s town festival.”

Oh, crap. No wonder she’d been glaring at me like I was her arch-nemesis. In her mind, I'd stolen the summer festival right out from under her.

Steeve and Mabel arrived, Steeve heading straight to the dais while Mabel sat in the front row. Aunt Dee and her minions breezed in just behind them. They'd been here before anyone else, and I still had no idea what they’d been doing outside all this time.

“All right, folks,” Steeve began, clearing his throat. “Let’s get this meeting started with—”

“Steeve, can we talk about the potholes on Maple Street first?” someone shouted from the back. “I take that road every day to my office. At this rate, my tires won’t even survive until Christmas.”

“Just take Oakwood Street instead!” another voice shouted helpfully from the front, earning a round of laughs.

“Sure, if you’re cool with driving by Miss Silvers’ creepy mansion every day.”

“Miss Silvers lives alone in that big old house.” Kelly dropped her voice to a whisper. “Half the town thinks she’s into witchcraft.”

“We’ll have to stop by sometime and introduce ourselves,” I whispered back, grinning.

Kelly’s eyes lit up as she muffled a laugh. “It’s been on my bucket list forever.”

Our attention shifted back to the meeting as someone jumped in with another issue. It was my first town hall, and honestly, it felt less like an official gathering and more like a chaotic street market. People threw out complaints left and right: one woman was frustrated over a library book that was overdue for an entire year, another was annoyed about faulty streetlights, and Aunt Dee was offended that some Parker's dog was using the park as its personal bathroom.

Steve nodded patiently, jotting down everything.

Mabel stood, exchanging a quick nod with Steeve as she stepped up to the dais. “All right, everyone, let’s move past potholes and faulty streetlights to something more thrilling. As you know, the summer festival is coming up, and this year we're going bigger and better than ever.” Her gaze landed on me. “Astrid, would you join me?”

Kelly squeezed my hand with enough enthusiasm to cut off circulation. I stood up nervously, and made my way to the front.

“Please welcome Astrid to Orange Falls. She’ll be organizing this year's festival.”

There were plenty of friendly smiles and nods welcoming me, but a few faces in the crowd looked less thrilled.

“How can we just hand this over to a complete newcomer?” a woman sitting next to Rosalind called out, sounding personally offended. “She doesn't even know Orange Falls yet.”

“Exactly!” another voice piped up. “The summer festival is our pride. We can’t survive another disaster like last year.”

My palms turned clammy. This wasn't exactly the ride I’d hoped.

Aunt Dee added fuel to the fire. “They’re right. We’ve got Matilda and Jessica, locals who’ve done so much for this town. Astrid’s been here, what, all of a week?”

Seriously, Aunt Dee? Weren’t you the one who pinky promised you'd be on my side? Talk about betrayal.

“You all saw what Astrid did at Amy’s wedding,” Mabel said, giving my hand a supportive squeeze. “She pulled off something beautiful in just a few days. Imagine what she could do for the summer festival. Besides, Orange Falls thrives on tourism. If we're happy to welcome visitors, shouldn’t we extend that same welcome to someone who’s chosen to make Orange Falls her home?”

The crowd quieted down, exchanging murmurs as a few heads nodded in agreement with Mabel's point.

“Astrid’s been doing her homework, too,” Steeve said. “She spent a day in the archive room researching Orange Falls’ history.”

“I think she knows more about the town than half of us at this point.” Kelly added helpfully.

“Oh God, that archive room is basically a dust museum,” Lou piped up. “How did Astrid spend a whole day there without allergies?”

Aunt Dee cleared her throat loudly. “Personally, I’ve always said we should give Astrid a chance.”

I blinked. Since when?

Soon, heads bobbed in agreement around the room, as if they'd all spontaneously decided it was safe to jump on the Team Astrid bandwagon.

Chapter 23

Astrid

It had only been a day since we'd posted the Summer Festival flyers around town, at markets, coffee shops, schools, and far too many at Auntie D's café. Already, we'd received over eighty volunteer applications, most of them from Orange Falls High school and the college.

We obviously couldn’t take everyone, but rejecting people randomly felt unfair. So we’d invited them all for an interview, just casual friendly questions to figure out who was genuinely excited and who’d show up for the free snacks.

Kelly and I were setting up the tables when Aeron walked in, his presence instantly filling the room.

“Refreshments are on their way.” His eyes caught mine for a heartbeat. “I'm off to meet Steve to talk about fundraising campaigns. Anything else before I go?”

“I think we’re good.”

He turned to Kelly. “It’s an interview, not your personal TED Talk. Let them also talk.”

“She’s not even handling the interviews.” I fought hard to keep a straight face at Aeron’s deadpan tone and Kelly’s rapidly boiling temper.

“She isn’t?” Aeron asked at the exact moment Kelly demanded, “I’m not?”

“Last-minute change,” I said. “We’re running low on hands, so—”

“And you're telling me this now?” Aeron interrupted, his voice deceptively calm but edged with steel. “Eighty interviews by yourself. Even if each lasts five minutes, that's nearly seven hours nonstop. Do you realize what you're getting yourself into?”

I blinked, taken aback.

Underneath that harshness, was that a genuine concern I heard? Aeron didn’t openly show concern, or openly show anything, really.

My heart tripped, then sped up, not sure what to do with this unexpected softness.

Even Kelly glanced at me, eyes wide, surprised by his sudden protectiveness.

“They come in batches.” I managed. Seven hours without a break wasn’t a good idea. My back would definitely protest after sitting that long, but I needed to finish it today so we could finally start preparations. We only had three weeks left. Aeron was already buried under logistics. There was no way I could dump this on him too.

“What time are they getting here?” Aeron asked.

I glanced down at my watch. “First batch at eleven. That gives us about an hour.”

“And me?” Kelly waved her hand. “What task have you assigned me?”

“You’ll be welcoming them. Smiling, handing out snacks, and sending them to me for interviews.”

“So basically, I'm the entertainer,” Kelly said, her expression suggesting I’d downgraded her from piloting the rocket to selling souvenir mugs at NASA.

“Isn’t it perfect? You've finally found your true calling,” Aeron called over his shoulder as he walked off.

Kelly stared after him, jaw clenched in anger. “The absolute nerve. That's twice he's messed with me now.”

If I hadn’t grabbed her arm, she would’ve chased after him.

“I am not letting this go,” Kelly crossed her arms defiantly.

“You’ve said that ten times already,” I arranged the pens in a neat line.

“Azzie, picture Aeron running these interviews. Actually, don’t picture it. I’ll show you.”

“Oh god, no,” I laughed. “Please don’t—”

But she was already straightening her shoulders, eyes narrowing in a perfect Aeron impression. “What’s your name?” she intoned flatly. “Age? Skills?” She glared at an imaginary volunteer. “You…less talking. Actually, no talking would be good.” Then she turned sharply at another pretend volunteer. “And you..do you even talk? No? Congratulations. You’re hired.”

I laughed so hard I sent the pens and notepads off the table. Hearing Aeron’s carefully reserved, speak only when necessary tone coming so perfectly from Kelly’s mouth made it a hundred times funnier.

Kelly sank down onto the floor beside me, giggling uncontrollably now. Every time I laughed, her eyes lit up even brighter. Wait…wait,” she wheezed through her laughter. “Do you want another one?”

“I can’t…I cannot handle more,” I gasped, clutching my stomach, desperately trying to breathe.

But Kelly wasn’t finished yet. She stood up and began pacing the room, imitating Aeron’s stiff, serious walk.

If he were anywhere within earshot, I wouldn’t dare to laugh this hard.

But speak of the devil, and he appears, because he was standing in the doorway at the exact moment I was busy correcting Kelly’s imitation: “Shoulders straighter, Kel. Stop smiling. And don’t swing your arms.”

“Should I come back later?” His voice was dangerously calm, which somehow made my panic skyrocket.

Suddenly, faking amnesia felt like a brilliant idea.

“Yes—I mean no,” I blurted, nearly slipping on the pens scattered at my feet. “We were just...arranging the things.”

Kelly, who’d been babbling like a parrot two seconds ago, went silent and stepped quickly to my side. She stared hard at the floor, looking every bit like she'd been caught red-handed pocketing diamonds at a royal palace.

All bark, no bite.

Aeron strode into the room and set the water bottles on the table with a heavy, deliberate thud—not aggressive exactly, but loud enough to make it clear he wasn’t thrilled about what we were doing.

“Next time.” He didn’t look at me. “Maybe imitate how I breathe. I'm sure you've perfected that, too.”

I was this close to digging a hole in the floor and burying myself.

“I’ve brought the refreshments and snacks you have asked for. Come, and double check the list.”

Kelly and I didn't dare glance up, until his footsteps had faded down the hallway. Only then did we finally let out an exhale, and risk glancing at each other.

“I told you to stop after the interview imitation,” I whispered. “But no, you had to copy his walk, too.”

“Oh, please.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “You’re hardly innocent. You were cackling like a hyena on helium the whole time.”

“Because you wouldn’t stop even when I begged!” I raised my tone.

“Because your hyena-laugh was cheering me on, thank you very much,” Kelly shot back.

“That’s exactly my point! You got so carried away, you didn’t even notice him walk in. Don’t you know it’s the imitator’s job to keep an eye out for the person they're mocking?”

Her eyes widened. “He came in like a cat, Azzie! How am I supposed to notice his—”

Over Kelly’s shoulder, a shadow moved at the doorway. My heart stumbled, and I stomped down hard on her foot.

“Ow!” she yelped, and followed my frantic gaze and froze.

Aeron was standing in the doorway again.

His expression looked exactly like someone who’d returned home to find two mischievous cats knocking valuables off shelves, mildly irritated, but long past being surprised.

“I came to see if you needed anything else,” he said. “But please continue.”

He walked away, leaving silence in his wake. That anger of his was terrifying.

Kelly headed off to receive the volunteers. A few minutes later, I heard footsteps and straightened up, ready to greet the first volunteers, but instead of eager teenagers, Allen and Ayden appeared in the doorway, the absolute last people I expected to see.

“Astrid?” Allen was surprised to see me as I was to see him. Ayden’s expression wasn’t far behind. “What are you doing here?”

“Pretty sure that's my line. What are you two doing here?” Their names were not on the list I'd checked at least six times this morning. Kelly had given me a tour of Orange Falls a couple of days ago when I'd wanted to get a feel for the town. We'd stopped by Allen's cozy chocolate café. I met his daughter. Oh my god, that kid was the cutest little whirlwind—talking a mile a minute in the most adorable, broken toddler-speak. I loved her immediately.

“We came for pizza,” Ayden glanced skeptically at the tables. “And drinks. Why are there pens and notepads?”

“Because I’m holding interviews.” I watched their baffled expressions grow even more baffled.

“Interviews for what?” Allen asked blankly.

Seriously? Had these two been sleepwalking through town? I’d wallpapered Orange Falls with flyers, including Allen’s own chocolate café

“There’s one guy who just arrived—” Kelly froze. Her eyes were on Ayden. I watched her ears turn bright red. Ayden’s gaze flickered to hers, just long enough for me to catch the startled blink and the way he quickly found something extremely interesting to look at: the wall.

”We got scammed, Ayden!” Allen said.

“I knew something was fishy the second he said drinks at Founders Hall.” Ayden said. “I left my grapes unsupervised for this. I’m going to kill that asshole.”

“You can plot my death threats later.” Aeron walked into the room. “Right now, snack duty at reception is calling your names.” He turned toward Kelly. “Take the interviews.”

Aeron wasn’t looking at me, not even the tiniest side-eye, even though I was openly staring at him, and he one hundred percent knew it. Sure, he was mad at me, but I didn’t miss that softness, that protectiveness, that gentleness he was trying so hard to hide. Did he seriously think I wouldn’t notice he'd dragged Ayden and Allen here just so I wouldn't have to endure seven hours of interviews alone?

The plan was for Kelly and me to handle interviews together, but I made a last-minute switch, pulling Allen to my side for interview duty and pushing Kelly to snack duty. I was scheming, just a little, absolutely a little, to let her spend time with Ayden.

What else were best friends for?

For reasons I couldn't quite figure out, Aeron gave me a death stare.

The interviews took five hours. When I came out, Kelly was nowhere in sight. Ayden was also suspiciously missing, which felt like a promising sign.

After chatting with the selected volunteers and collecting their numbers, I made my way back, only to find Aeron and Allen deep in conversation, loud, laughing in a way I rarely got to see.

I stared at him, not bothering to interrupt. Just stared. He noticed me, because I saw the slight flicker of his eyes in my direction, but he stubbornly pretended I wasn't there. Maybe realizing I wouldn't give in first, he stood up, and came over.

“Tell me.”

A thought slipped out before I could think better of it. “I need some records from the archive room.” I absolutely didn't, but it was the only excuse my brain could invent to keep him talking to me.

“There’s a ladder.”

“You’re the one who named me Dizzytrid and won't let me near ladders just because I fell once.” I stubbornly held my ground.

His jaw tightened. Without a word, he turned on his heel and headed straight for the archive room. I followed, grinning shamelessly. I knew exactly how to push his buttons.

“Legends and local lore.” I randomly picked a name from the register.

He picked the book, and placed it in my hands.

“Town traditions.”

Again, he handed it to me, no complaints. I asked book after book, and each time he silently complied with every demand I threw at him.

“Anything else?”

“Your smile.”

He nodded automatically, already halfway turned before my words fully registered. He stopped mid-step, freezing for a heartbeat, then turned back around. “You…” he started, fighting hard to keep his face hard, but lost the battle. The smile he'd been holding back broke free. “You’re unbelievable.”

The exhaustion from six hours of interviews vanished watching him smile. It was probably dangerous, letting myself get swept away by this feeling, but I didn’t care. All I could see right now was that I made him smile.

Chapter 24

Astrid

“The lights are still off,” I yelled out from center stage, squinting at Jason, the volunteer I'd put in charge of lighting. Dance rehearsals were starting in an hour, and the lights still weren’t working.

He adjusted something, and the spotlight flickered weakly.

“It's on!” My hope lasted about half a second before it blinked right back out. “Never mind. It’s off again.”

Jason fiddled with it once more.

“Okay, it's on now,” I called up. “Don’t touch anything! Let’s see if it stays.”

Out of nowhere, a neon-colored throwing ring flew toward the stage, no doubt tossed by some overly energetic kid. I caught it in midair, nearly saving the spotlight we'd spent the last half hour fixing.

“Lisa, the kids and their parents are coming, right? No last-minute surprises?”

Lisa, our dance volunteer, and a teacher from Orange Falls High had been helping both kids and their parents learn the dance steps. We’d added a special parent-child dance, giving families a fun way to bond.

“Yes,” Lisa said. “And they're all really excited, especially the parents.”

I tossed the ring back to the kid waiting by the stage, his puppy-dog eyes staring at me hopefully. “Careful where you throw this, okay?”

I caught a glimpse of Aeron at the far end of the park, despite the sea of heads blocking my view. Too many people, too tall, yet somehow I found him anyway. I wasn't sure if my eyes had intentionally searched for him, or if they'd finally stopped pretending otherwise. My heart gave that small, ridiculous stutter it always seemed to when he was near.

He stood beside the half-built Ferris wheel, a folded manual in one hand, pointing something out to the operator under the scorching sun.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I told Lisa, already half-turning. “Make sure the kids stay away from the stage.”

I walked toward Aeron, past tables packed with snacks and water bottles. Halfway there, I stopped, took two quick steps back, and grabbed a bottle. Aeron still hadn't noticed me. He was busy pointing at something in the manual.

“Who was it again that said breaks were important?”

He looked up from the manual and my breath caught in my throat.

The evening sun touched his face, catching the faint trail of sweat that traced from his temple down to his jaw. All I could think was how unfair it was for someone to look that ridiculously good after spending hours under the scorching heat.

“I don't know who that is.” He reached out, fingertips grazing mine as he took the bottle from my hand. “But he sounds pretty smart. You should listen to him more often.”

I tried not to stare, but my eyes had a mind of their own, shamelessly following the sweat trickling down his throat, and the distracting bob of his Adam’s apple. My throat went dry. I swallowed hard, regretting all the times I zoned out in biology class.

Who knew a human throat could be so incredibly fascinating?

“...rid?”

Coming here had been a terrible mistake. Dealing with the main-stage chaos would have been a hundred times safer.

“Astrid?” Aeron’s voice broke into my thoughts, pulling me back to present.

“Yes,” I said, too quickly, too loudly.

“You zoned out.” He fought back a smile. “Mind sharing where you went?”

Straight into a daydream about your stupidly distracting Adam’s apple, thanks for asking.

“I wasn’t zoning out. I was just thinking about work—kids, dance rehearsals, lots of things. I’ll get back to work.” I turned to leave, but his fingers wrapped around my wrist, pulling me back toward him.

He studied my face. Leaning in close enough to set my heart beating too loud, he murmured, “You always blabber nonsense when you're lying.”

I didn't know that, or maybe I did, but no one had ever looked close enough to notice. Except Aeron. Over these past two weeks, sorting through vendors and taste testing recipes, he'd gotten way too good at reading me. He noticed how my mood shifted before I realized them myself, smiling whenever I rolled my eyes, letting me win whenever I argued, or pulling my hair when I got stubborn, pretending to be annoyed but agreeing anyway. And somewhere along the way, I'd started craving more than just those tiny moments.

“What were you thinking?”

I snapped out of my thoughts, scrambling for an escape route. “Will the Ferris wheel be ready by tomorrow?”

“Nice try.” He didn’t fall for my distraction.

“You have to be—” A small kid, giggling like a sugar-loaded chipmunk, crashed straight into my butt and ran away. I stumbled forward, and Aeron’s hands found my waist, steadying me. The warmth of his palms sank straight through my shirt.

My lungs forgot their only job.

“Careful.”

“I’m f—”

The same kid—my butt could absolutely confirm the culprit—bumped me again, this time from the left, giggling wildly as she ran away. Aeron's hand tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer. One more hit-and-run, and I’d basically be wearing him as a sweater.

“I’m okay,” I managed, sounding exactly like someone who definitely wasn’t. “You..you can let go now.” The words were supposed to come out easy, but instead they came out breathless.

“What did you say?” His voice dipped lower, distracted enough that I wondered if he was paying attention to my words at all.

“You can let go now,” I repeated.

He nodded once, completely serious, but his fingers stayed exactly where they were, clearly having no intention of cooperating. One second ticked by. Two. Three. I started wondering if his brain even knew what his fingers were doing.

“Aeron.”

“Yes?”

“You’re still holding me.”

“Right.”

“Astid!”

A bubbly little voice startled me. I quickly stepped back, feeling Aeron’s hands slip away from my waist, and turned to find Kaia standing a few feet away, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Me and Poppy were wunning fast, and I bumped you bwak. Sowwy!” She shifted on her toes, smiling sheepishly.

So, this tiny, giggly tornado was the culprit. Her words were messy in that adorable five-year-old way, but I caught her meaning just fine. “Sorry accepted.” I smiled at her.

Kaia's grin widened, flashing tiny rabbit teeth. She tilted her head toward Aeron. “Are you pwaying a game?”

Aeron crouched down to Kaia’s level, gently ruffling her hair. “Yep, we're playing a game called Don’t Fall, but Astid’s losing pretty badly.” He dragged out my name, mimicking Kaia's adorable pronunciation perfectly.

Kaia giggled, her eyes sparkling as she glanced eagerly between us. “Can I pway too?”

Aeron's gaze drifted slowly back to mine, a teasing smile playing at the corner of his lips, daring me to say something.

I knelt down to Kaia’s level, holding Aeron’s gaze for an extra second, making sure he knew I wasn't backing down. “Actually, we're playing another game called Who Can Annoy Astrid More, and right now, Aewon is winning by a lot.”

Kaia bounced on her toes. “I wanna pway that!”

Aeron and I exchanged a glance, sharing the same silent thought: Kaia would jump at any game we made up.

“Where is your dad, Kaia?” She had been so eager to join the Maypole dance, but since it was limited to the seven-to-twelve-year-old kids, I'd put her in the parents-and-child dance, even though she wasn't quite old enough for that either. I couldn’t see her disappointed.

“Dad’s busy. He will come late. Gwandma’s busy too. She lost her gwasses. So, I came with Poppy’s mommy.”

“Gwasses?”

“Glasses,” Aeron translated.

“How did you even get that?”

“I speak fluent Kaia.”

I rolled my eyes. “Impressive.” I took Kaia’s hand. “Come on, let’s get you to the stage.”

The kids and parents crowded around the stage, the noise and excitement pulling me straight back to my childhood. Dad used to follow me to every school event.

Beside me, Kaia was complaining about her dad in that impossible-to-decipher language of hers, probably annoyed because he hadn't arrived yet. Aeron should've been here. Only he could properly translate Kaia's frustration.

Allen came at the absolute last second, as Lisa began ushering the kids onto the stage.

Kaia planted her hands firmly on her hips, and fixed him with a stern glare. “Wemembe the spin! You don’t do it cowectly. Spin, awms up, stop! Okay?”

Allen stood straighter, offering her a salute. “Yes, captain.”

She nodded and dashed off toward the stage.

“Thanks for putting her in the dance, Astrid.” Allen’s eyes fixed on his daughter with a proud smile as she bossily arranged the boy next to her into a straight line.

“No thanks necessary. I just couldn’t bear seeing her disappointed.”

Allen shook his head, laughing. “It’s not just that. Ever since she started practicing, her energy has been channeled into dance. My house will probably write you a thank-you note.”

This father-daughter, honestly.

Lisa was announcing for the parents to line up. Allen hurried to the stage.

The music started. The kids looked irresistibly cute—tiny feet tapping offbeat, little arms waving freely. Some hit the beat, and some missed by a mile. The parents joined their kids for the next song.

Kaia and Allen danced side by side, his large hands guiding her tiny ones, both of them laughing.

Suddenly, I was back in fifth grade, my feet glued in place because I'd forgotten the steps. Tears burned behind my eyes until Dad appeared. He ignored the teacher’s warnings, jumping onto that stage and taking my hand. “Come on, Astrid. This is your day.”

We were dancing, badly, offbeat, the kind of dancing that probably shouldn't happen in public, but I was laughing too hard to care. Soon other parents also joined their kids. Dad had always been good at turning my worst moments into my favorite ones.

My fingers automatically reached for my wrist, searching for the familiar comfort of Dad’s watch, but they touched only bare skin. It was the one piece of him I always kept close, and now it was gone. It had broken when a volunteer accidentally dropped a box on my wrist. When I got home and emptied my bag, the leather strap and glass pieces I'd collected had disappeared.

Tears blurred my vision. I turned and walked away—away from curious eyes, away from the noisy crowd. I didn’t stop until the voices faded behind me and I found myself alone, standing near the tree.

I pulled off my glasses, wiping tears away with the back of my sleeve, suddenly aware of footsteps crunching leaves behind me. They stopped just inches away—close, too close. My body stilled, a quiet, traitorous part of me recognizing him even before my mind caught up.

“Astrid.” My name was soft, gentle enough to crack something inside me. “Turn to me.”

I shook my head, blinking furiously at the ground to keep my tears contained. I wasn't ready to let anyone, especially him, see the mess I'd become.

When I still didn’t turn, Aeron stepped around to face me

I kept my eyes stubbornly glued to my shoes, silently begging him to turn around and walk away. But he didn’t move. When I finally glanced up, just barely, his gaze was already waiting for me—soft, concerned. Before I could look away again, he closed the space between us and pulled me in to his arms.

His arms wrapped securely around me, holding tightly, yet gently.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he whispered, carefully, like I might shatter if he spoke any louder. “Let it out. It’s just me.”

Something inside me loosened, cracked, and opened. Wide opened. I pressed my face harder into his shoulder. Tears spilled out like they’d been waiting for this moment. They soaked into his shirt, but he only held me tighter

“I’ve got you,” he murmured softly. “I’m here.”

And those words made me cry even harder.

For the first time, I let myself lean fully on someone, and it didn't scare me.

Chapter 25

Astrid

I sprawled onto the grass, tired, watching someone fiddle with cords beneath the outdoor movie screen. There was no movie playing yet, no blanket beside me, but the whole scene already felt nostalgic and a tiny bit magical—exactly the sort of night we'd talked about when planning bonfire night.

My heart skipped—that sudden, tiny jolt phones do when they find their matching frequency somewhere nearby. Right on cue, the frequency itself settled down beside me. I shot upright, startled and way too aware of him all at once.

“Ferris wheel all good to go?” I asked.

He nodded, his eyes flicking down to my wrist with a gentleness that made my chest tighten. “How’s your wrist feeling?”

I rolled it lightly for him. “See? Completely fine now.” My wrist had hurt like hell for a couple days after that box landed on top of my hand. Aeron had given the poor volunteer an earful. He refused to let me do anything since, even tasks that had nothing to do with my wrist.

He caught my wrist mid-air, fingertips circling it. My heart turned into a drunk drummer, missing every beat, hitting all the wrong notes. “Do you even feed this wrist?” he teased.

“I've got bones of steel,” I said proudly. Sure, I was lean, but I'd crushed plenty of opponents in tug-of-war matches, boys included.

“Bones of steel, but stools still defeat you.”

I wasn't even going to argue. He always managed to circle every conversation back to my epic stool fall incident.

Our conversation eased into a comfortable silence. It felt strangely nice to sit here in the park, summer breeze lazily ruffling my hair, Aeron so close beside me. I was getting used to him being close, maybe too used to it.

“Aeron,” I called, surprising myself with how gently his name came out.

“Hmm?” he murmured back, voice just as soft, like we’d agreed on this tone ahead of time.

“Nothing.”

“Astrid.”

I turned, meeting the questioning look in his eyes.

“What’s it?” he asked.

I smiled a little. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For yesterday. I hadn’t cried in front of anyone since Dad died.” The memory hit me—Aeron hugging me, letting me cry it out. With him, my walls had always come down easily.

He took my hand, thumb moving over the empty spot on my wrist where my watch normally sat. “Was it your dad’s?”

“How did you know?” I was pretty sure I'd never mentioned it to him.

“I noticed,” Aeron said. “The dial was cracked, and the strap never fit your wrist, even tightened all the way, but you wore it anyway. And when it broke, your tears said it wasn't just any watch.”

He noticed everything, always caught the little details everyone else overlooked. Everyone around me that day assumed I was crying over my wrist, but the truth was, losing that watch hurt a thousand times worse.

“It was the only thing I had left of him, and now it’s gone too,” I said. “I gave him that for his birthday, and he wore it every single day. One minute he was on the phone, telling me he’d won the case, and the next—” my voice faltered,“—the next, all I heard was a gunshot. And he was gone.”

Aeron didn’t speak, just tightened his fingers gently around my wrist, holding on like he knew I needed it. Sometimes he said everything without words.

“He was the only family I had.” I forced a bitter smile. “Now there's no one left.”

He let go of my wrist, his fingers coming up to tilt my face toward him, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Don’t ever say you’re alone, Astrid. You’re not,” he said, voice firm, eyes burning into me. “You hear me?”

My thoughts went fuzzy, tangled in what he’d just said. Was he—was he saying he’d be here for me? Or was my desperate, messy heart turning his kindness into something it wasn't?

I suddenly realized how close we were. Only inches separated us, his gaze dipping from my eyes down to my lips. I thought he'd close that tiny gap between us.

A breath away, and my heart was already leaning in, but my mind hesitated unsure if I was ready to cross that line yet. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing deep like it hurt him to pull back. “It’s late.” He stood up. “Let’s go. I’ll drop you home.”

Aeron called someone, handed my car keys off, and insisted on driving me home himself. When he pulled up outside my house, I reached for the door, but his fingers closed softly around my wrist, stopping me. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out—a small, watch-shaped box, and my heart skipped. My watch. Dad’s watch. The shattered dial had been repaired, faint metallic lines now tracing the cracks, almost as if they'd been intentionally designed. How had he gotten it? I’d thought I’d lost it for good after emptying my bag and finding nothing.

“I fixed it to fit you exactly.” He fastened it securely around my wrist. “It won’t slide around anymore.”

And it did fit, sat perfectly on my wrist, just as he'd said.

He met my eyes. “Even if it breaks again, you’ll know someone can put it back together—even more beautifully.”

Even more beautifully.

Chapter 26

Astrid

Your call cannot be completed at this time. Please try again later.

The robotic voice repeated the same annoying words the second time I tried calling Aeron today.

I tossed my phone onto the bed. I hadn't seen him since last night, hadn't heard his voice even once.

The entire morning had been a storm—volunteers to coordinate, endless checklists to tick off, last-minute arrangements to finalize, and me left juggling it all alone. Festival day was tomorrow, and he had disappeared, leaving me to handle everything alone.

I tucked one leg under me, the other bouncing anxiously, unable to keep still.

Idiot!

Irresponsible idiot. Careless idiot. Impossible idiot.

How many shades of idiot could one person be in a single day?

Are you mad because he ditched his responsibilities or because you're missing him? The little devil fluttered onto my right shoulder, swinging his legs lazily, flashing me an annoying grin.

Stop being dramatic, Horns. The angel fluttered onto my left shoulder with a sigh. She is just worried about tomorrow’s festival.

I gave Angel an appreciative nod. At least someone was Team Astrid—ten points to Angel for loyalty.

For Lucifer's sake, Wings, you are still denying her feelings? Devil groaned. She blushes like a tomato whenever he's nearby. I'm embarrassed on her behalf.

For heaven’s sake, Horns. It’s called worry. Angel sighed. She's just worried something might have happened to him. He hugged her when she missed her dad. He fixed her dad’s watch and gave it back. If she didn’t worry at least a little, she’d be a cactus.

Devil perked up instantly. Then go to his house! Knock on the door, make sure he's alive, or at least breathing, he said, giving his horns a lazy, self-satisfied polish.

Angel’s wings drooped like balloons a day after the party. That's an awful idea, and exactly why no one ever listens to you.

“That’s actually a good idea.” My eyes sparkled, as I sided shamelessly with Devil.

Angel gave a defeated groan, shaking her head as Devil’s grin turned obnoxiously proud. Don’t tell me you’re actually falling for his nonsense.

I ignored Angel’s nonsense. I could say I needed that permit file he took home. I jumped off the bed, smiling to myself when Devil grinned. Bake him something. You still haven't thanked him for your dad’s watch.

“You’re such a life savior, Devil,” I grinned, silently thanking him.

Angel gasped. Why stop there? Go ahead and bake heart-shaped cookies and wrap them with—what's it called—that adorable little red ribbon.

Why not? Devil shot back, hovering inches from Angel’s face. She has feelings for him. Big marshmallow soft feelings that give her adorable pink cheeks you love to pretend don’t exist.

She absolutely does not—

She totally does.

Does not.

Does!

“Oh my God, enough, you two!” I swatted them both off my shoulders. Their bickering faded mid argument. I opened the pantry, already reaching for the ingredients for dark chocolate cookies. Aeron’s favorite dessert, which Mabel had unintentionally let slip during one of our conversations. While working on this summer festival, I'd ended up at their house so often that I'd grown very close to her.

But there was no cacao powder. Running to the grocery store would waste too much time, so I called Kelly. She answered on the very last ring.

“IambusyIwillcallyoulater,” she muttered stiffly, barely opening her mouth.

“Why do you sound like your mouth's glued shut?”

“Because it is,” she whisper-hissed. “This stupid bentonite mask turned into concrete. If I even breathe too hard, it cracks like dried up mud. I have been talking through eyebrow wiggles, and now even my forehead hurts.”

I laughed. “Well, look at that. It literally took cement to shut you up.”

“Laugh it up—ah!” Her attempt at her usual loud voice turned into a whimper. “You better have a good reason for calling me right now.”

“Got cacao powder at home?”

Her voice brightened. “Are you baking something?” she asked, suddenly forgetting her face was cemented shut.

“Yeah, I—” I bit my tongue just in time. If Kelly knew I was baking cookies for Aeron, she'd either faint from shock or start squealing loud enough to crack that cement mask off her face. How could I explain going from hating him to quietly noticing all his little habits, to secretly baking his favorite cookies?

Knowing Kelly, she would have us married in her imagination by the time the cookies even cooled. Telling Kelly would make it complicated, and right now, things were complicated enough in my head. I had no clue if Aeron felt anything close to this, if his heartbeat spiked when I was near the way mine did or if I'd gotten stuck in his head the way he'd gotten stuck in mine.

“Trying on a face mask,” I lied, mentally apologizing to Kelly for stealing her skincare disaster. Fingers crossed—karma wouldn’t seal my mouth shut in revenge.

“I have some at home. Let me scrub this off, and I'll bring it over.”

“Don’t, Kel. I’ll come over,” I grabbed my car keys.

Five minutes later, I was standing in Kelly’s kitchen, biting my lip so I wouldn’t burst out laughing. Her face was splotchy and red, as if she'd managed to sunburn on a zero-sun day.

Kelly started venting about her mom suggesting the mask, and Eleanor interrupted to clarify she'd said to use just a tiny bit, not slap it on like she's fixing a hole in the wall.

Before I left, Kelly pulled me aside and insisted I wear the powder-blue dress, the one dotted with tiny white butterflies, to tomorrow’s opening.

The suspicious sparkle in her eyes, the deliberate way she kept pushing blue, like a shady salesperson selling sunscreen in December, set off tiny alarm bells, especially since she knew blue wasn’t my color.

Anyway, it didn't matter—I had already made up my mind about the yellow sundress.

I headed home, finished up the cookies, taste-tested one before packing them. Surprisingly, they were delicious, but that didn't settle the butterflies in my stomach because with Aeron, you never knew. I slipped into a coral shift dress, left my hair loose, and drove over to his house.

The security guard saw my face and opened the gate immediately. By now, they knew me well enough to wave me through before I even stopped the car. I parked outside, took a deep breath, and triple-checked that the cookies hadn't turned into crumbs during the drive.

As I approached the house, quiet, urgent whispers pulled at my attention.

“I’ll wish for butterscotch ice cream,” a little girl’s voice declared.

“That’s all?” replied another voice. “You finally get a magic lamp, and all you want is ice cream? I’ll wish for Captain America.”

There was a brief pause. “Fine. Barbie, then.”

“It doesn’t work like that. This is exactly why I said you have to be careful with your wishes.”

Intrigued, I followed the hushed voices, leaning carefully over the neatly trimmed boxwood bushes. Two kids—a boy and a girl—were crouched low, whispering. As soon as they noticed me, they jumped to their feet, blinking up with startled, saucer-wide eyes.

“Relax,” I whispered. “Your wishes are safe with me. Promise.”

The little girl, about six, with two lopsided ponytails eyed me cautiously. “You heard us?”

“Just a bit,” I leaned closer like we were exchanging spy secrets. “I actually got a wish from a magic lamp once too.” I studied their faces closely. I’m no expert in DNA mapping. All I knew for certain was if these two pint-sized negotiators were hiding out in the Ashbournes' garden, they likely belonged to one of Aeron's sisters, or someone closely related to his family.

“Really?” Their eyes ballooned. “Did Genie appear?”

I nodded seriously. I loved messing with kids. “But promise you won’t tell anyone. I’d rather not get on Genie’s bad side.”

They exchanged serious glances, nodding eagerly. I asked their names—the girl said she was Zoe, and the boy was Max.

“So, what did you wish for?” Max asked.

A thought. A hesitation. And “—a home.”

“You don’t have a house? You can live with us,” Zoe offered. “We have a big house.”

I laughed at her sincerity. The home I wished for wasn’t made of walls or bricks. It was someone who'd let me cry on their shoulder, even if I soaked their shirt. Someone who'd fix an old watch because they knew how much it mattered to me. Someone who made me feel like coming home.

“Did Genie give you a home?” Max asked.

“I’ll tell you soon,” I promised. “But first, you two should head inside. It’s getting dark, and mosquitoes are coming out for dinner.”

Zoe shook her head, pigtails bouncing vigorously. ”Grandma said we can’t go in right now. Mom’s really mad because grandma forgot to say Aero was here.”

Aero? Aeron?

“We came here for summer festival,” Max said, his voice disappointed. “But Mom says we have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Why?” Something uneasy brushed the back of my neck.

“Because Aeron is here.” Zoe said.

Max scrunched up his small face. “Mom said Aero is bad. We shouldn’t talk to him. But I like him. He gives me candy.”

“Yeah,” Zoe agreed. “Mom’s yelling a lot, so Grandma said we should stay out here and play.”

Since when had Aeron become someone they needed protection from?

An uncomfortable knot tightened in my chest. Why was his sister painting Aeron as some kind of bad guy in front of the kids? I told Zoe and Max I'd be back soon and hurried toward the house.

The voices got louder as I moved closer, still quiet enough that I couldn't quite catch the words. Everything inside me screamed to turn around, to pretend I'd heard nothing, but I couldn't. My feet dragged me forward.

Then I heard it. Mabel’s voice.

“It’s been five years, Nora. Enough already.” Mabel looked drained. “He's finally willing to stay. Can’t you just let it go?”

Aeron’s eyes were bloodshot. His fists clenched tight at his sides as if he was holding back anger and sadness he refused to show.

“And then what, Mom?” Nora laughed bitterly. “We just hug and go back to pretending to be a happy family?”

She looked like the kind of woman you'd cross the street to avoid.

“It was never his fault!” Mabel snapped sharply, her voice shaking. “You're the only one who can't let it go.”

“Not his fault?” Nora shouted, voice loud enough to split the ceiling in two. “He’s the reason Dad died, Mom. How can you forget that?”

How is it Aeron’s fault?

“If it makes you feel better, blame me, Nora. I killed him. I will carry that guilt forever.” Aeron walked to the door.

“Isn't that what you always do?” she shouted after him. “Never fight back, and walk away when it hurts too much.”

Aeron stilled.

Our eyes met.

The mask he always wore slipped away. I saw pain. Say something, I pleaded silently. But he didn't. He walked past me without a word.

“Aeron. Wait!”

He didn’t slow down.

I followed him to the far end of the garden. He stopped, his back still turned, silence settling taut between us.

Why wasn’t he talking to me?

Did he even want me here?

I moved closer, fingers an inch away from brushing his hand—

“Why are you here?” His voice stopped me cold.

“I—”

“I don’t need your sympathy if that’s why you’re here.”

I swallowed hard, gripping the cookie box so tightly I thought it might crumble in my hands. Sympathy? Was that all he thought this was? How could he not see that I was here because I wanted to be. Because it was him?

“Leave.” His voice cracked.

I flinched.

“I don’t need someone else feeling sorry for me. Least of all you.”

Least of all you.

It hurt. Hurt in the way only he could.

He turned, as if realizing how deeply his words had cut.

“Astrid.” He took a cautious step toward me, his hand reaching out—gentle, careful, unsure if I'd let him close again.

Instinctively, I pulled my hand away, taking a step back. “Don’t,” I whispered, the sound coming out broken and small. “Just…don’t.”

I'd been wrong. He didn't need me. I turned and broke into a run, determined not to let him catch up, not trusting myself if he did. Behind me, something metal crashed sharply against the ground, harsh and angry. I didn't turn to see what he'd kicked.

I opened the car door, but felt a small tug on my dress. Max’s little fingers held tight to the edge of my dress. “Did Genie give you a home?”

I managed a faint smile, reaching down to ruffle his hair. “I guess some wishes are too big, even for Genie.”

Chapter 27

Astrid

It hurt. More than I thought possible.

A few hours ago, I was fussing over cookie dough and worrying myself over a hundred tiny details. Were they too sweet or not sweet enough to his liking? Would he be surprised?

The irony.

I laughed bitterly. I had baked my feelings that he never wanted to taste.

I grabbed my phone, desperate for a distraction from the noise in my head. I stared at Kelly’s number, but when I saw it was half past midnight, I dropped the thought, knowing she'd be asleep by now.

I fell asleep eventually. I wasn’t even sure when exactly. Maybe my mind just wore itself down, exhausted enough to give me a break.

The next morning, my alarm startled me awake. Eyes still heavy, I reached for my phone, instinctively checking for signs of him. No calls, not even a message. Just as the familiar ache settled in, reminding me that he hadn’t even bothered to talk to me, three tiny dots appeared beside the name Grumpzilla.

Heart pounding, I panicked, locking the screen and tossing my phone onto the bed.

I counted. One second. Two...three…five. Still, no ribbit-ribbit. Had I accidentally muted my phone?

I grabbed my phone again—no message, no dots. A beat later, the dots appeared, danced a little, and vanished. They appeared again.

What on earth was he typing? It felt exactly like someone holding out candy, only to pull it back just as you reached out.

I put aside my phone, brushed my teeth, and even got ready, and still his message hadn't arrived.

Day one of summer festival…

Ashbourne Park glowed in that evening sun, warm and golden, like the soft tint of an old Polaroid. Bunting flags zigzagged overhead, swaying in the breeze. Vendors stood under the candy-striped canopies as they set out trays of snacks, bottles of summer drinks, racks of summer clothes, handmade souvenirs, and many other things.

The townspeople had already started coming in, dressed in bright, summery shades we'd requested: sunshine yellows, popsicle oranges, watermelon pinks, sky blues. Kids ran all over the park, tiny tails bobbing behind them, butterfly wings fluttering, animal ears bouncing.

Pretty much everyone stopped near the photo booth at the entrance, painted with fruit cartoons with a hand-painted banner: Welcome to Orange Falls Summer Festival.

Right below that was a cutout with a handwritten note—Put your head through and say “Summer!” People squished together, ducking awkwardly to fit their faces into the hole, giggling and shouting “Summer!” at the camera.

Kelly and I had taken our picture already. Ours was the very first one.

“I just tasted the lemonade,” Kelly said, walking back over. “It’s delicious. No traces of dish soap.”

“Thank me.” I caught a kid running toward the generator area and guided him back toward the games. “I sampled at least ten vendors to find one you’d love.” Which was technically true if you rounded way, way up. I'd tasted exactly two before Aeron took cup number three and every cup after that.

Speaking of him, where had he gone? I’m not counting—definitely not—but it had been exactly thirty-four minutes since I'd last seen him. I’d been dodging him since morning, hiding in groups, chatting with volunteers, or conveniently remembering something urgent whenever he came too close. Twice already he'd nearly caught me alone.

Playing hide-and-seek with Aeron was exhausting.

And now I missed him.

“I know. You’re the best.” Kelly hooked her arm through mine. “Seriously, Azzie, this is the best summer festival ever.”

“Are you really impressed, or is this just your obligatory best-friend hype?”

“Absolutely not,” Kelly said. “Look around. Everyone’s happy. The photo booth is adorable. The theme is cute, and there are kids running around in tails. Actual tails. Tell me you don’t want to pull them.”

“Oh my god, especially that red-fox one. So soft, so pullable.” I swear, every time that thing bounced past me, my fingers twitched. It was oddly satisfying to know I wasn’t alone in this weird urge. Best friends for a reason.

“My favorite’s the dinosaur one.” Kelly laughed wickedly. “Before tonight’s over, that tail is mine.”

“Her dad is going to hunt you down. He has been watching everyone like we’ll snatch his kid. And, Kel,” I added, glancing sideways at her. “Maybe chill with the smiling? Your face looks like you’re permanently flustered. People are gonna think you have a thing for Dinosaur’s dad.”

Her shoulders immediately dropped. “Wait, is the redness still obvious? I layered on three coats of concealer.”

“Painfully obvious.”

“Astid! Kewy!” Kaia shouted, waving her little hands as she ran toward us, Allen trailing close behind.

She looked adorable in a sky-blue dress, butterfly wings fluttering behind her. As if that wasn't cute enough, she'd also attached a squirrel tail, so fluffy, so tempting that Kelly and I had to clasp our hands tightly behind our backs. She had even painted tiny oranges on her cheeks.

Orange Falls pride.

“bue bue matching!” Kaia squealed, pointing excitedly back and forth between our dresses.

“Wow…looks like fate dressed you two today,” Kelly teased, nudging Allen’s arm lightly. “Don’t you agree, Allen?”

Weird.

Allen stared blankly for a second but then nodded fast as though afraid to disagree. “Yes, absolutely.”

Last night, Kelly had insisted I wear a blue dress. I’d planned on yellow, at least until my fight with Aeron ruined that color for me. Why was she suddenly pairing me off with Kaia?

“Who dressed you up, Kaia?” I steered us out of the awkward zone.

“Dad and gwandma,” Kaia said proudly.

“We were only assistants.” Allen clarified. “All creative direction was hers. No sane adult would mix wings with tails.”

Kaia glared fiercely, and launched herself at Allen, pummeling his legs with tiny fists. “I’m cute. I’m cute.”

Allen laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! You’re the cutest hybrid animal. Happy now?”

And she was all smiles again.

I suggested Allen take Kaia to the games we'd set up for kids under five, but Kelly immediately jumped in, insisting the tacos were the best and we absolutely had to try them together. I tried to refuse, reminding her I needed to stay available in case the volunteers needed help, but Kelly waved away my excuses, looping her arm through mine and dragging me along, promising we'd be back in five minutes.

We'd placed our taco orders and were waiting when Kelly scooped Kaia into her arms. “There's a face-painting booth! Want an orange painted on your chin, Kaia?”

Kaia’s eyes went wide, sparkling as if she'd hit a kid’s jackpot. “Thwee owanges?”

“Yes, three oranges!” Kelly agreed.

“Kelly, no ice cream!” Allen called after them. “She’ll trick you into buying.”

“I promise she won’t.”

Kelly was definitely acting weird today.

“Does Kaia have any allergies?” I asked Allen, remembering how strict he’d been about letting her anywhere near chocolates the first time I’d visited his café. I almost asked about her mom, too, but caught myself just in time. It wasn’t my place to pry.

“Not exactly allergies, but she catches colds easily. Her immune system has always been weak, so I have to be careful about sweets and anything cold.” Allen smiled helplessly. “That little troublemaker is an expert at getting her way. All she has to do is flash her puppy eyes and Grandma’s handing over chocolates behind my back.”

“It’s impossible keeping her away from sweets when you run an entire chocolate café.”

Our tacos arrived, and they tasted fine, definitely not the life-changing experience Kelly had promised.

“I have a feeling chocolate runs through her veins instead of blood.” He laughed. “Where’s Aeron? I don’t see him.”

“Busy I guess.” Forty-six minutes, my brain offered helpfully. I wasn’t counting. I was definitely not counting.

“Did you two have a fight?”

I didn't have time to wonder how Allen had guessed correctly, or even pretend he hadn't, because right then Aeron appeared in the corner of my vision, holding Kaia, who was sobbing into his shoulder.

How did she end up with Aeron when Kelly was the one who'd taken her?

Allen immediately shifted into protective-dad mode. “Kaia, what happened?” he asked, already reaching out and carefully lifting her from Aeron’s arms.

Kaia hiccupped, squirming in Allen’s arms as she reached around to pat her empty back. “My tail’s gone,” she wailed burying her face into Allen’s shoulder.

Was it Kelly’s work? I shouldn’t have been laughing while Kaia was sobbing her heart out, but I just couldn’t stop myself.

Allen narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Aeron. “How did this happen?”

Aeron held up Kaia’s fluffy tail, casually dangling it like he'd discovered evidence from a murder scene. “I wasn’t around when it happened. Just found this. Go fix it before she starts crying again.”

Allen snatched the tail, giving Aeron a skeptical look before walking off. I turned to follow, but Aeron was quicker, catching my wrist.

“We don’t have anything to talk about.”

“I do.” Aeron leaned in. “There's something I need to confess.”

A confession? Was he going to apologize for yelling at me? I wasn't going soft on him. Still, my breath betrayed me as I glanced over my shoulder, aware of how his lips hovered just an inch away from my ear.

“I broke Kaia’s tail.”

I blinked.

This was a confession?

“W..why did you?”

“I don’t like sharing your attention.” He snatched the half-eaten taco from my hands and walked away, leaving me staring after him, speechless and taco-less.

Chapter 28

Astrid

Day two..

I’d never seen a festival quite like this, or maybe I’d never noticed people actually enjoying themselves this much. Everywhere I looked, the townspeople were laughing and relaxing like responsibilities were a tomorrow problem. Even the old people were jumping into games with the sort of enthusiasm normally reserved for kids.

“Did you have a fight with Aeron?” Kelly asked.

Funny, Allen had asked me the exact same thing.

“Did he complain about me?” It felt silly to ask this, but letting Kelly believe Aeron was annoying me seemed safer than giving her a reason to suspect why I'd been pretending to avoid him.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, an innocent enough gesture to disguise the fact that I was sneaking yet another glance toward the barbecue stand, or rather toward Aeron. The soft, flickering glow from the grill danced across his face, highlighting the annoyingly sharp line of his jaw as he chatted with Ayden.

And then, as if I'd whispered his name aloud, he turned.

My heart slammed to a stop. His eyes immediately found mine. Sharp, intense, and silently accusing: Caught you.

Heat flooded my cheeks, giving me away. I turned, to the nearby basket-weaving stall, pretending that this lady's craft was, without question, the single most interesting thing I'd ever witnessed.

I hated that I kept looking. Hated more that he kept noticing.

Just one explanation, that’s all I wanted. He could’ve admitted he snapped at me impulsively or even a simple sorry. And yes, I would've milked it a little, staged some Oscar-worthy drama, tossed out a few accusations, maybe even let him suffer for some three or four days before forgiving him. But no. He didn’t explain, didn’t apologize. All he did was pull Kaia’s tail and say he didn't like sharing my attention.

“Attention, Orange Falls.” The volunteer’s voice from the speaker pulled my attention back. “I hope you all came hungry! Our watermelon-eating contest is about to begin. Contestants, please make your way to the old oak. We've got melons waiting! And the rest of you, pick your favorites and cheer them on.”

“Oh shoot, that's my cue!” Kelly shouted, already moving toward the oak. “You better scream your lungs out for me, Azzie. I want your full shameless support.”

“Make me proud!” I shouted after her. Kelly hadn’t eaten a thing all morning. Her reason was, the hungrier she was, the faster she’d devour her watermelon slice.

The first round of contestants lined up behind the long wooden table, hands clasped behind their backs, each staring down at their watermelon slice. Kelly stood right at the center.

The judge shouted, “Go!” and Kelly attacked her watermelon as if it had offended generations of her ancestors.

I hadn't meant to, but somehow my eyes caught Ayden standing away from everyone else. He was watching Kelly, shaking his head to himself, a helpless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, the kind of look you wear when you're sure no one's paying attention.

Interesting.

Kelly secretly crushed on him. Ayden secretly watched her. Exactly what secret was going on between these two?

The crowd went wild, shouting out their favorites.

Of course, I'd created a Kelly fan club, and our self-appointed President Kaia was bouncing beside me, screaming loudest of all.

If I hadn't been stuck playing responsible organizer, I'd have been competing alongside them. Speed eating was my one and only athletic talent. Half the contestants stopped mid-way, laughing or choking on seeds, but not Kelly. She ate her slice in forty-one seconds, while everyone else wasn't even halfway finished.

I had zero doubts Kelly would win because no one else had even come close to her impressive forty-one seconds. At least, not until Aunt Dee showed up and devoured her watermelon in thirty-five seconds. The crowd went wild, gasping and cracking up as she wiped her mouth, dropped the rind onto the table with a loud thud, and walked off as Orange Falls’ official watermelon queen.

Pacifying Kelly was no easy task—she hadn't even been this devastated when she'd scored badly on that soil-something exam back in college.

“Kel, it’s just a ten second difference.” I suppressed my smile to sound sympathetic.

“I was so close, Azzie,” she whined. “Aunt Dee had this whole thing planned. She was definitely targeting my record.”

We both glanced over at Aunt Dee, who was busy snapping selfies with her minions, clutching her prize like she'd snagged Olympic gold. Kelly groaned again, louder this time. Losing wasn’t even the worst part. It was having to watch your rival flaunt their victory right in your face, like an extra scoop of humiliation piled high on an already bruised ego.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “There’s always next year. You'll beat her record.”

“But I’m still upset.”

“That’s allowed,” I said. “Now come on, let’s go drown your sorrows in ice cream. On me.”

She hesitated.

“Kel, come on. You’re giving Aunt Dee way too much satisfaction with this self-pity.” I dragged her away by her hand.

The evening air turned cool. People sprawled lazily on the blankets. Aunt Dee and her minions had secured the ideal spot right in the middle, sipping fruity drinks, chattering nonstop, and occasionally interrupting their own conversations to call in anyone unlucky enough to wander into their gossiping distance. Apparently, my luck had run out, because she found her target.

“Astrid!” Aunt Dee called, waving me over with the enthusiasm that only three cocktails could inspire. “Come here, come here.”

“Hey, Aunt Dee.” I smiled, nodding to Betty and Lou. “Having fun?” From where I stood, I had a clear line of sight to Aeron, who was standing just opposite me. He was talking to the DJ, his face clouded with irritation.

My feet itched with the urge to walk over and ask if everything was okay, but I stayed put, stubbornly reminding myself I wasn’t supposed to care. A lie I was getting worse at believing.

“You bet,” Aunt Dee grinned, lifting her fruity drink. “You and Aeron gave us the perfect start to summer. I knew I was right to back you, even when some people,” she added knowingly, “had their doubts.”

Classic Aunt Dee. My number one fan when I'm within earshot, and my number one gossiper when my back was turned. Still, I nodded along.

“So, Astrid, you haven’t gone once near the Ferris wheel.” Lou leaned in. “What, no hot date to test out the legend with, honey?”

What the hell!

These three are keeping a tab on my Ferris wheel attendance? I rubbed my temples, feeling a headache brewing. “I’m not interested—”

“My niece’s son is single,” Betty jumped in. “Recently went through a breakup. He lives just two streets over from downtown. Nice hair, no signs of balding yet! Good teeth, too if you’re into hygiene. Only flaw is he tends to cry over emotional songs.” She was already scrolling through her phone gallery. “Hold on, I’ve got a picture somewhere. Here he is.”

From the corner of my eye, I felt Aeron's gaze shift from the DJ to here.

Aunt Dee leaned in. “Graham is the handsomest guy in the town, hands down. Lucky you, Astrid, he’s at the festival. Betty, hurry up and call him. Tell him to come over.”

Seriously? Now they were matchmakers?

Graham was okay, definitely not the handsomest man they were selling him as, and besides, my stomach wasn’t exactly handing out butterflies for just anyone. Those seemed reserved for someone else. Unfortunately.

I shook my head, keeping on a smile that was approximately 90 percent polite and 10 percent panic. “Please don’t call him. I’ll think about it later. I need to handle something at the DJ booth. Sorry, gotta run.”

I hurried off before they could push again, or worse, call Graham and put him on speaker.

I was slipping away to a spot where their eyes wouldn't follow when Aeron's “Astrid” reached my ears.

I stopped, pulse skittering at the sound of his voice, but forced my feet forward, pretending I didn’t hear. Unfortunately, Aeron's legs were annoyingly long, and he was right behind me in seconds, fingers gently curling around my waist.

I stopped.

I didn’t turn.

He moved in front of me, forcing me to look at him.

He sank to one knee, and my heart forgot how to beat.

His fingertips brushed down my leg to the ankle. Goose bumps broke out on my arm, goose bumps I knew he felt, because his thumb moved over them softly, slowly, making my face heat with embarrassment.

I squeezed my fists tight, willing my body not to betray me any further as he untied my shoelace, then retied it, slowly.

He rose to his feet, his fingertips skimming that same spot again, as if he was double-checking the goose bumps he'd put there.

Asshole.

What was he trying to prove?

His intense eyes stared at me. “Go now.” He stepped aside.

I sucked in a breath and forced my feet forward. Only once he was out of sight did I finally exhale.

Which was exactly when I spotted Aunt Dee and her minions, eyes wide, mouths hanging open.

They'd seen everything.

Just what I needed.

Day three…

If day two was bad—him kneeling to tie my shoelace, which costed me an entire night’s sleep, tossing, and turning, and replaying every agonizing second, day three was just cruel. Because he won me a frog plush toy, my favorite.

Kelly and I had played the duck shoot game. Calling my game bad would have been generous. She knocked over six ducks and won a stress ball, while I hit exactly one, not even enough to qualify for the lowest-tier prize. My darts flew everywhere: Past the ducks, out of the booth, and even came close to the owner's eye. He’d given me a shooting glare.

I’d been disappointed honestly. But later, when I found a frog plushie sitting beside my bag, my heart did a little flip. I didn’t even have to wonder who’d put it there. The culprit's name was practically stitched across the frog’s stupidly adorable face.

The Ferris wheel slowed to its final stop. Vendors clicked off lights and started packing up their stalls. The crowd moved toward the lakeside for the fireworks, the festival’s last farewell.

I stretched my legs, stiff from standing so long, and walked over to the Ferris wheel, settling onto one of the empty seats to wait for the crowd to thin out.

It was the last day.

I drew in a long breath.

The last day for Aeron and me.

Tomorrow there'd be no festival. No reason to bump into each other. Would we even talk again? The thought settled into a heavy ache in my chest, becoming too much to bear, and then the Ferris wheel shuddered.

It started moving.

Panic shot through me. This thing wasn’t supposed to move. I glanced down—the empty ground stared back at me as the wheel carried me higher. And then, as if the ghosts wanted to enjoy the view, the wheel stopped at the top.

I swallowed hard. I hoped it wasn’t haunted.

I looked down, about to shout for the operator, but the only person down there was Aeron.

Of course.

The culprit.

“Aeron,” I shouted down.

He didn’t respond, doing an Oscar-worthy performance of a guy who’d suddenly lost his hearing.

“I know you can hear me.” I tossed a pebble. It missed, landing about a hundred feet away from him.

I called him, and he took his own sweet time answering, like his phone was halfway across town instead of right in his pocket.

“If you don’t get me down from here right now, I swear I’ll edit your Wikipedia page to say you built your photography career on blurry animal photos. I’m not even kidding.”

He chuckled, tilting his head up to look at me. ”Oh no. My entire fanbase of two people will be heartbroken. Anyway, that’s still not how you ask for a favor.”

“Right. I forgot making me beg was part of your weird little fantasy.” I toned down my voice. “Could you please let me down now, Mr. Blurry Photographer?”

He raised a brow. “You owe me. No questions. Just yes.”

“Yes,” I said, already making a note to ditch that.

He crossed his arms, his gaze lazy and infuriatingly stubborn. I knew that look; he wasn’t moving a muscle until I gave him exactly what he wanted.

“I, Astrid Sanders owe Aeron Ashbourne a favor!” I shouted into the phone, loud enough for the whole world to know. “Satisfied? Now get me down from here.”

The Ferris wheel eased down, and the second my feet touched solid ground, I was ready for war. I stormed toward him. “Were you seriously going to leave me locked up there until I said yes to your stupid favor?” I slammed my fists into his chest. He didn’t even flinch. “What kind of satisfaction does this give you, idiot?” Another hit. “I thought that damn thing was haunted.”

I swung again, but he caught my wrists, pulling me close enough that I could feel his warmth.

“Had to lock you in the Ferris wheel to talk to me?” His voice was half-teasing, half-accusing.

Well, fine. I had talked, but only because fear had short-circuited my brain.

I tried pulling free again, but he just drew me even closer, until barely a breath separated us. “Not yet. That favor’s still valid.”

”I have no memory of that,” I muttered.

“Innocence isn’t your best look, Dizzytrid.”

“Until proven guilty.”

Without loosening his hold on my wrists, he tapped the screen on his phone. My voice echoed back at me: I, Astrid Sanders owe Aeron Ashbourne a favor! Satisfied? Now get me down from here.

My eyes widened. “You recorded me?”

“Had to. You’re a professional escape artist when it comes to promises.”

When had I ever done that?

This was the first time he'd asked me for anything. I eyed him suspiciously. “What torture am I agreeing to, exactly?”

“Ride with me.”

My brain needed soap, holy water, or both, because he was pointing toward the Ferris wheel, not the kind of riding that first popped into my head.

“The ticket booth’s already closed for the year,” I said.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out Ferris wheel tickets for two. Had he bought these ahead of time, counting on me saying yes?

“Shall we?”

I stared out at the sky as the Ferris wheel carried us skyward. The air was cool enough that I should've been crossing my arms, maybe rubbing some warmth into my shoulders, but my body completely ignored that message. It was too busy burning up from the way Aeron stared at me as if he'd forgotten the rest of the world even existed.

Taking a calming breath, I finally met his eyes.”If all you're going to do is stare, remind me again why you dragged me up here?”

“So you'd stop running away the moment I look at you?”

“I’m not running away.” I stared pointedly away, anywhere else but him.

He caught my chin, startling me, and tilted my face up until my eyes had nowhere else to go but his. “Don’t. I hate it when you look away from me.” His voice was rough, his fingers on my chin more pleading than demanding.

How could such simple words affect me?

“So you’re allowed to push me away whenever you feel like it, but the minute I do, you get angry?” The memory of his rejection was still painfully fresh.

He laughed bitterly. “Why would it matter to you if I pushed you away? Aren’t I just someone working on some damn project with you? Why do you even care?”

His words felt like a thousand tiny knives twisting in my chest. I hated how far I'd let him into my heart, hated that I’d given him the power I'd sworn I'd never let anyone have.

“You’re right. I shouldn't have gotten angry.” All that pent-up anger I'd kept bottled inside burst out. “I shouldn't have panicked when you didn't pick up my call and rushed over to your house like a complete fool just to make sure you were okay. I shouldn't have imagined ripping your sister's hair out because she hurt you. I shouldn't have chased after you when you’re hurt. I shouldn’t have cared about you because you’re nobody to me.” My voice trembled. I silently begged the Ferris wheel to end this torture, desperate to run far away from him and all the ways he made me lose control.

“Then why are you still angry?” His voice was infuriatingly calm, testing every shred of my patience.

“I don’t know,” I snapped.

“You still don’t know?”

“No!”

“Let me make it clear, sweetheart.” His hand slid to the back of my neck, and his mouth crashed onto mine.

Chapter 29

Astrid

My eyes widened at the sudden, unexpected intrusion.

His lips were soft, like chocolate left too long in the sun, but his kiss was rough, burning like a shot of whiskey down my throat—

My thoughts shattered when his fingertips brushed my temple, hooking a finger under the frame of my glasses. “These,” he murmured against my parting lips, sliding my glasses off, “are in my way.”

He tossed them aside. I barely heard the sound of them landing, not when his mouth came back crashing onto mine like a starved man.

His one hand wrapped around my waist, fingertips pressing at the small of my back, while his other hand found the curve of my neck, tilting my mouth perfectly under him.

I closed my eyes, giving in, and he took it as an invitation, pulling me close enough that I could feel his erratic heartbeat matching mine. Liar. He wasn’t in as control as he was pretending. His hands told one story, his heartbeat a completely different one.

My vision blurred, and for once, it had nothing to do with the glasses he’d tossed aside. It was partly from the kiss, and partly from the way the Ferris wheel kept dipping and lifting us.

A small moan escaped, totally out of my control, when he squeezed my waist. That tiny sound must have lit a match to the gasoline. He groaned and bit my bottom lip, just enough to send sparks through my bloodstream.

“Aer...n,” I managed, pulling back. “I can’t…I can’t…breat—”

When I opened my eyes, I was met with his hungry eyes. He didn’t wait. His mouth was back on mine again.

He squeezed my waist, and when my lips parted on another gasp, he slid his tongue past my lips, tasting every inch of my tongue.

Oddly, he tasted like coffee, mint, and entirely too much impatience for someone I'd mistaken as the king of patience.

I was lost in the kiss, lost in Aeron. Something cool brushed my cheek. Another drop tapped my forehead. More droplets spilled from the sky, soaking us completely.

Three whole days without rain. Three days of couples riding the Ferris wheel, hoping for that legend—if you kiss at the top of Ferris wheel and it rains, you're bound forever. But the skies had never opened.

And now, with the Ferris wheel closed for the year, everyone else gone, and Aeron kissing me like he had no intention of stopping, the rain finally arrived, as if it had been saving itself for this moment.

And because I was me and Aeron was Aeron, and because he had this impossible way of turning me into a hopeful kind of fool, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe the universe was picking sides—and we were its favorite kids.

I kissed him back, clumsily, eagerly, our noses bumping, rain mixing on our mouths. He made this sound, somewhere between groan and desperation, and my stomach was free falling. Physics had lied to me—gravity wasn't holding me down anymore.

He pulled back only when I, desperate for some oxygen, started hitting his chest,. He gave me a second, just long enough to catch two breaths, and his mouth was on mine again and he was pulling me into his lap.

The kiss wasn't gentle like before. It was demanding. His tongue stroked slowly against mine, teeth tugging at my bottom lip, not quite a bite, not quite a kiss as though he was punishing me for something I’d done wrong.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead gently against mine, both of us breathing unevenly.

“Now do you get it?” he whispered, his thumb softly brushing my jaw, leaving a trail of fire.

“Hmm?” My voice was barely a whisper, my mind still lost in the kiss. I blinked, realizing the Ferris wheel had stopped sometime ago. Even the rain had softened into a lazy drizzle, and somehow, I hadn't even noticed.

My phone rang, startling me. I had absolutely no clue when, or where, I'd lost track of it. I reached blindly, fumbling to find it, but Aeron caught my wrist. He didn’t speak a word, but the grip on his fingers spoke loudly: That phone call wasn’t getting picked up.

“You get it now?” he repeated.

“Maybe?” I mumbled, finding my shoes incredibly interesting all at once.

He tilted my face up, his skin still damp, wet hair dark and clinging to his forehead. “Still at maybe?” he asked, that softness in his eyes shifting back into that slightly irritated territory I knew far too well. “Let me prove it again.”

Prove it? Pretty sure that kiss had already done permanent, irreparable damage. Still, the devil sitting on my shoulder said one more round sounded like an excellent idea.

He leaned toward me, lips dangerously close to mine, but I pushed him back.

“You’ll have to try harder than that.” He chuckled.

“I’m not pushing you away. I’m reminding you.” His soaked shirt clung to him, outlining every tempting muscle. My fingers itched to sneak a touch, just to see if whatever inside matched my shameless imagination.

“Of what?”

“It rained.” I waved a hand at the soaked ground, just in case he had been too… distracted to notice.

“So?” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss against my left cheek. My heart did that stupid fluttery thing again. Of course, he noticed because Aeron never missed a single embarrassing detail about me. A smile curved his lips as he moved to my right cheek, pressing a kiss there too.

“It rained when we kissed,” I reminded him again stubbornly, but this idiot clearly wasn’t listening. He was too busy brushing the wet strands of hair away from my face.

“Aeron.”

“Hmmm….”

I cupped his face, forcing his gaze back to mine. “Are you even listening?”

“You said it rained when we kissed,” he repeated.

“And?” I looked at him hopefully.

“It doesn’t matter.”

My heart sank. Didn’t matter? It wasn’t about him believing in some legend. It was that he didn’t seem even the tiniest bit excited about us, about whatever this was becoming. Was this, was I. was I the only one building castles on our kiss and he had already forget—

He pressed a thumb between my eyebrows, smoothing out a worry line. “Your imagination really should come with an off switch.”

I swatted his hand away, refusing to fall for whatever charm he was trying to use, even if my heart was melting into a puddle. “I am being serious.”

“I’m serious enough for the both of us, Astrid.” That teasing smile slipped away. “Ferris wheels or rains or legends, none of them decide what I feel about you. If it hadn't rained today, I would’ve kiss you next year. And if it didn't rain then, I'd kiss you the year after that, and the year after that, hell, I’d kiss you until the universe admitted you’ve been mine—always.”

God! This man!

Could he stop melting my insides for two whole seconds?

“Why?” I whispered, desperately needing answers. Why was I special to him? Aeron was very stingy with his words. He treasured them like precious coins. Yet around me, he threw them out freely as if he had been saving them just for me.

“You’ve got a pretty wild imagination. Figure it out.”

“Figure it out?” I shook my head, half-laughing, half-frustrated. “I’m still figuring out why you pulled Kaia’s tail.”

“Want to hear the truth?” His voice dipped low.

I nodded, breathless and waiting.

“Because”—his gaze intense enough to ignite the air between us—”I couldn’t stand Allen being the one putting that smile on your face instead of me.”

Allen? I didn't even see him that way, not even close, and I was pretty sure he didn’t either. He would be mortified if he knew he was trapped in Aeron’s rivalry fantasies.

“So you took it on Kaia.” I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You're so jealous, you know that?”

“Jealous?” He chuckled. “You haven’t yet seen me jealous.”

“Oh really?” I teased.

“When I’m jealous, everyone will know, especially you,” he promised.

A sudden memory flashed in my mind. Aeron kneeling at my feet, undoing and redoing my shoelace while Aunt Dee and her minions watched. I’d brushed it off back then, convinced he was above petty jealousy. I’d been wildly mistaken.

My phone rang. Kelly. He didn’t let me answer again. She might soon launch a search party if I didn’t.

“We need to get down.” Hopefully the operator had left to watch fireworks by now, instead of wondering whether we'd fallen asleep, or worse, died up here.

“No.” He pressed his face into my neck, his nose tracing the dip of my collarbone.

“Aeron—” I tried, but my protest died in my throat.

His only reply was to tighten his arms around me, as if he planned on staying there until the Ferris wheel rusted under us.

“My butt hurts sitting in this position.” I put on my best suffering face.

That finally made him loosen his grip, though he muttered a string of curses under his breath. I moved to stand, but he immediately tugged me back down.

“What now?” His clinginess was contagious.

He leaned down, searching for something under the seat. A moment later, he straightened up, holding my glasses, which I’d genuinely forgotten existed. A first time for me, honestly.

He slipped them onto my face. “Glasses on, sweetheart.” His thumb brushed the apple of my cheek.

Sweetheart.

That name curled in my chest like a purring cat settling in for a nap.

Dizzytrid had some sweet company.

Chapter 30

Astrid

The kiss replayed on loop like a song I discovered on Spotify and had zero intentions of stopping anytime soon. My face burned hotter each time. Any warmer and I’d be bright enough to replace the lamp on my bedside table.

After we got down from the Ferris wheel, Aeron still wouldn't let go of my hand—not even to let me go find Kelly, who was blowing up my phone with calls, and definitely not to let me go home. I had to shove him into his car, shout out a bye, and make a run.

I grabbed the frog plushie lying next to me, hugging it close and fiddling with its tiny squishy hands. One day, I was absolutely going to roast him for this. First, he mocked my phone’s ribbit-ribbit notification tone, then said I croaked like a frog. Later, he'd flirted his way into admitting my frog phone case was kinda cute and now he's gifted me a frog plushie himself.

Karma was team frog.

Kelly’s name lit up my screen. It was twelve past midnight. Why was she still awake? I'd called her on my way home, but she hadn't picked up. I answered, expecting her usual rapid-fire chatter, but she was silent.

“Kel?”

Still silence.

“If you've sleep-called me, snore once for yes.”

“Mmmmm,” she mumbled miserably.

“What’s wrong?”

More silence.

“Did something happen at the festival?”

She'd called me a bunch of times, probably needing to tell me something, and I'd ignored every single one. Friend of the year award went straight to me.

“Azzie.” Her voice was utterly grave, as if she was confessing murder. “I need you to be brutally honest.”

“Zero filter honesty. Now spill.”

“Do I have small boobs?”

I’d thought it was an emergency when she’d called, yet here we were, midnight boob crisis.

“I hate to break it to you, but you've never arranged a meet and greet between me and your boobs,” I pointed out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “I’m not asking you to whip out a measuring tape. You see me every day—just make a guess!”

“Okay, fine. Yes. No. Maybe.”

“Astrid, pick one!”

I sighed. “Did someone bully you into this midnight boob interrogation?”

Ayden's name popped into my head immediately. Kelly never took petty comments to heart, but I had a sneaking suspicion she might if they came from him. Though honestly, Ayden didn’t look like a person who insulted people based on appearance.

“No,” she said firmly. “I just need validation. Now spill.”

“Fine. They’re flat,” I admitted, ignoring that I’m pretty much sailing in the same boat.

She let out a wounded sigh. “How flat?”

I bit back a laugh, deciding to twist the knife a little deeper. “Like pancake flat. Like, you could pour maple syrup and it wouldn’t drip off flat.”

“Argh! I hate you.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” I laughed, tracing the froggy’s goofy smile, “We’re both breakfast material.” Which made me wonder, did Aeron prefer pancakes or waffles? Either way, he had a terrible taste in girls. He's into me.

“Wow. Breakfast material? With friends like you, who needs enemies?”

“Come on, Kel,” I said. “Enemies don't go around telling you how beautiful your face is or how ridiculously cute that little nose is or how unfairly adorable those almond eyes are.”

I was sure that’d sent her straight to cloud nine because she immediately snorted. “If I'd known you were gonna drop Shakespeare-level poetry, I would've asked you to save it for my funeral.”

“Correction,” I said loftily, “Shakespeare wishes he had my level of talent.”

“They totally missed out by not throwing you on stage at the festival,” Kelly said. “Way more entertaining than that band. And speaking of that, where the hell did you disappear to instead of watching the fireworks with me? I only called you about a thousand times.”

In the middle of a deep kiss, I almost blurted out, but I didn't need Kelly fainting on me tonight. “I…I was with a kid. She's afraid of loud noises. Her mom wanted ten minutes of romantic firework time with her husband and threw me the babysitter tag,” I lied. “Anyway, Kel, there's something really important I need to tell you.” Before Aunt Dee or anyone else spilled it to Kelly, I needed to tell her first. My best friend deserved to hear it straight from me.

“What’s that?” Her tone perked up with interest.

“Not now, tomorrow. I want to tell you in person.” I want to see Kelly’s reaction. Would she squeal, pull me into one of her bone-crushing hugs, and declare Aeron her favorite human?

“Oh no, tomorrow’s no good,” she cried. “I’m going to Pine Heights. The cranky nursery guy finally agreed to show me some advanced greenhouse tricks, or at least how to keep my rare plants alive. I can't miss my chance.”

“Fine, then the day after tomorrow,” I bargained. One more day wasn’t going to trigger the zombie apocalypse.

“Can’t happen,” she said stubbornly. “Day after tomorrow, I’m picking up lemon verbena and chamomile plants. Customers have been demanding my herbal teas, and I'm running out of believable excuses. Spill it now.”

“Absolutely not. Trust me. The longer you wait, the juicier it gets.” My phone vibrated with another call waiting.

“You’re sounding suspiciously shady right now. Fine, I'll hold my curiosity.”

I tilted my phone slightly away from my ear to sneak a glance at the screen. My heartbeat went from zero to sixty at the name flashing there. Already rehearsing my best sleepy half-yawned excuse to tell Kelly we’d catch up tomorrow, I opened my mouth—but her next words made the lie die right on my tongue.

“Did you hear those elderly ladies at the bonfire talking about Aeron being so handsome? They’re actually calling him boyfriend material.” She let out a dry, mocking laugh.

“Isn’t he?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Guilt prickled at me for making Aeron wait, but one more minute wouldn’t hurt. I had to hear the unfiltered version of Aeron that Kelly had painted in her mind.

“Of course not. Those women need glasses to see clearly.” She cackled. “Sure, he has got a charming face, but imagine his girlfriend having to learn telepathy to figure out what’s going on in his head.”

I clenched my phone tighter, wishing it could transport my hand through to give Kelly a smack on her head. Funny how I’d happily sat through Kelly’s roasts for years, right until they landed on him. Yes, she was my best friend, my partner in crime, and co-owner of my snack stash, but hearing her mock Aeron stirred something oddly possessive in me. If anyone was going to scold, mock, or annoy him, it was going to be me. Only me.

“Enough bashing innocent people, Kelly Jones,” I snapped. “It’s way past midnight. You attacked the eyesight of those sweet ladies, and stripped Aeron of his dignity—he wasn’t even here to defend himself. Now go to sleep. You’ve committed enough crimes for tonight.”

“Hold on. Since when am I the villain in this story?”

“Since about two minutes ago. Good night,” I tapped the red button.

I straightened my spine, stared down at Aeron’s number, sucked in a breath, and tapped call. Four rings passed, and my anxiety started kicking in. Maybe I should've hung up on Kelly the second I saw his name pop up on call waiting. On the fifth ring, his voice filled the line, deep and warm, and my anxiety tripled.

“Took you long enough.”

“I was talking to Kelly,” I clarified way too fast considering he hadn’t asked. It was past midnight, and we'd just confessed our feelings. I couldn’t bear the thought of him jumping to the wrong conclusion.

He laughed softly, the sound low and rich, brushing warmly against my ear even through the phone. “Relax, Astrid. You don’t have to explain yourself. I figured it was her anyway.”

“How?” My heart warmed a little at how easily he trusted me.

“Because if it wasn’t her, I’d already be at your door,” he drawled.

I bit my lip, smiling foolishly. “Then I’ll have another midnight call tomorrow,” I teased, pressing his buttons.

“Even better. Leave the window open.”

“My neighbor wakes up if someone sneezes two streets away,” I said. “She won’t appreciate you jumping in the bushes.”

“Yet, Motormouth’s midnight call doesn’t trigger her superhuman hearing?” he scoffed.

I burst out laughing, pressing my palm to my mouth to muffle it. “Why are you always picking on her?” Though, to be fair, Kelly wasn't exactly innocent. She took just as much pleasure picking on him.

“Because she clings to you like a needy boyfriend,” Aeron said.

Jealousy colored his voice so vividly I could practically see it. “Are you seriously jealous of Kelly?”

“Like I said, you haven’t seen my jealousy yet.”

Aeron stubbornly insisting he wasn't jealous, even while his voice gave him completely away was becoming my new favorite entertainment.

“Aeron.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” His voice was velvety and warm.

I covered my eyes with my free hand, hiding from absolutely no one. “Stop calling me that.” I wasn’t even pretending to mean it. I was blushing like an idiot.

“If you want me to stop,” he said, voice teasing gently, “then stop sounding so damn cute.”

“I sound totally normal,” I grumbled, sheepishly doodling nonsense patterns on the blanket.

“It sounded pretty cute from here,” he said.

And I’m becoming toast.

“Why did you say my name?” he asked, steering us back to earlier.

“Hmm…” I pretended to consider. “Because I felt like calling you.”

“Astrid.”

I bit my lip. “Hmm?”

“Felt like saying your name, too.”

“You’re such a copycat,” I accused.

“It’s called inspiration, Dizzytrid.”

I didn't remember when I'd started yawning, when I’d switched my phone to speaker, or exactly when Aeron’s voice had transformed into the softest lullaby I'd ever heard.

I definitely didn’t remember when I drifted off, but when I woke up the next morning, I yawned and groggily fumbled for my phone, eyes barely open.

I froze.

I shot straight up in bed, eyes going wide as I stared at the screen.

5 hours, 36 minutes.

Last night came rushing back.

I'd fallen asleep on Aeron.

“Oh my god!” I tugged at my hair, ruining my already messy bun. “How could I be such an ass?”

“You’ve got ‘ass’ built into your name, Dizzytrid,” Aeron muttered, voice raspy with sleep. “Now stop shouting and let me sleep in peace.”

“Aeron!” My eyes snapped wide open. “You’re awake? Why didn’t you hang up?”

Silence.

Then a soft rustle, like maybe he'd rolled onto his back.

My imagination filled in the blanks a little too vividly: Shirtless Aeron, hair deliciously messy, face soaking up the morning sunlight.

His breathing was slow, and when he finally spoke, voice thick and sleep rough, it felt like he was close enough for me to feel his lips brush my ear. “Never crossed my mind.” A pause. “I liked hearing you breathe. It made you feel close—”

I liked hearing you breathe.

I pressed my hand to my chest. I felt butterflies—hell I felt an entire zoo.

“Until you started snoring like the cutest baby dinosaur I've ever heard,” he added, humor creeping into his tone.

My cheeks burned hotter. How cruel of him to give me butterflies, then ruthlessly stomp on them.

“I do not snore!” I shot back defensively. I really didn’t. Kelly always marveled at how quietly I slept, like I wasn’t even there, but one sleepy mumble from Aeron, and I was having second thoughts.

“You do, sweetheart,” he said. “But I don’t mind it. I like you anyway, even when you snore.”

He mumbled he was going back to sleep.

I collapsed into my pillow, eyes squeezed shut and legs kicking in midair. This topped my list of most humiliating mornings ever, and that included the day Aeron showed up at my door to witness my bedhead, drool marks, and crusty eyes.

Chapter 31

Astrid

I reopened the wedding planner files today after almost a month. Sure, I’d been in touch with the clients, but if they'd asked for specifics, I'd have been the kid flipping blank notebook pages, desperately avoiding eye contact with the teacher.

I spent the morning sorting through updates and adding timelines into my tracker. Mabel’s call came in, unexpected, pulling me into a much-needed break.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your morning.” Her voice came through, bright and cheery.

“Not even close,” I said. “Your call came at the perfect time. I needed a break.”

“Look at me, being all helpful.” She laughed warmly. “Honestly, I still don’t understand how your energy stayed high throughout the entire festival. I tried something like that for just a day and spent the next two flat in my bed.”

At least you recognize my energy levels—now, if you'd clue in your son, I'd owe you big-time.

“I don't know, I guess I'm just wired weirdly,” I admitted. “Once I start moving, I just keep getting more energy.”

“If I had even half your energy, I swear I'd be Wonder Woman by now,” she said. “And Astrid, thank you. You brought back the joy Orange Falls had been missing. I've never seen everyone this happy.”

Compliments always made me squirm because the second someone praised me, my brain immediately jumped to the hundred things I'd probably messed up.

“You gotta give Aeron more credit.” I’d have been a mess without him. While I managed the events, Aeron took care of logistics and all the crucial behind-the-scenes stuff. It surprised me how effortlessly he handled the business end of things, given he'd never dipped his toes into that side before.

“Oh, you should’ve seen him.” Mabel sighed. “I tried complimenting him, and he just gave me a blank stare and said, “Mom, are you feeling okay?” I swear, Astrid, praising a cat would’ve been easier.”

“Sounds exactly like Aeron.” I loved this mother-son duo. Mom was the puppy on a sugar rush, while son was the lazy cat sprawled on a windowsill.

“Are you free tomorrow? Come over for lunch?”

“Only if you promise pasta,” I bargained. The doorbell chimed right on cue, and I headed over to answer it.

“Deal. Extra cheese just for you,” she said happily. “And clear your afternoon. We’ve got plenty to talk about.”

Lots to talk about, absolutely. Though half of it would circle back to Eleanor. Not that I minded. Kelly and I would have our own little recap call afterward anyway. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I promised.

I opened the door, y smile froze for half a heartbeat, then widened fully.

Aeron.

His gaze dropped pointedly to the phone still pressed to my ear. I gave him a caught-in-the-act smile. Yep, guilty again. After a quick bye to Mabel, I ended the call and opened the door wider to let him in.

He pulled me into his arms. “Tie that phone to your ear.” He clicked the door shut. “It’d save you time.” He pulled me even closer.

“It was your mom.” I smiled into his chest as his warmth melted through me. Just being this close to him, hearing his voice, feeling his arms around me, turned my brain into complete mush. “She called me to say thanks.” I didn’t mention her lunch invitation. I’d give him a surprise.

“She likes you more than me now.”

I tilted my face up to his. “Does that bother you?”

He tightened his arms. “Not even a little.”

I grinned to myself, then suddenly straightened, eyes wide. “Oh shit, I just remembered something really important. I haven’t given you a home tour. Welcome to my home.”

I tugged him along, channeling every YouTuber I'd ever watched give a house tour. Aeron nodded patiently, letting me drag him through the kitchen, past the storage room, then into the guest room, and then we finally stopped in front of my bedroom door.

“And this,” I said, opening the door, “is my room.”

His eyes roamed over the soft lavender-and-lilac walls, pausing a beat too long on the framed photo of Kelly and me laughing. His expression shifted, as if he'd just spotted his least favorite vegetable. His eyes moved on to the bed buried under a pink fruit-print bedspread, matching pillows, and the frog plushie proudly sitting in the center.

“Are you sure an adult sleeps here?”

“Yep.” I grinned shamelessly. “A very mature adult.”

I dragged him toward my closet and opened the door—instant regret. Clothes were stuffed inside, looking like survivors of a wild night.

I slammed it shut, and moved to the other closet, somehow managing to expose an even bigger disaster. Hair accessories thrown around, skincare bottles uncapped, scrunchies and rubber bands scattered like confetti. I tried shutting the embarrassment, but Aeron’s arm shot out, a teasing smile spreading, like he'd just stumbled onto blackmail material.

“The confidence you had to give me a full home tour without a hint of shame, I’m impressed.” He chuckled, reaching to the far corner of the shelf. He picked the Cryptex code box, eyebrows raising in amused suspicion. “Why do you have a spy box in the middle of your hair ties?”

My hands went clammy as he shook the box, something rattling inside. He was already turning it over, searching for the combination, when I swiftly snatched it from his grip. “There’s nothing important inside. Just some childhood stuff,” I lied.

“Childhood stuff?” Aeron echoed, his eyes searching mine. “You’re shaking like I pulled the pin on a grenade, Dizzytrid.”

“No…I-I’m not.” Panic made my words stumble. I wrapped my arms around him. Whether the hug distracted him or he chose not to pry, he didn't push it.

I still needed time—time to figure out a way to tell him that inside the box were five years of memories that I’d shared with someone I’d never actually met, somehow become my first love.

Chapter 32

Astrid

I stayed wrapped in his arms, my heartbeats counting the seconds.

With Aeron around, my heart finally let go of the five-year-old memories. My mind stopped searching for the face from the train, and my fingers no longer felt that familiar ache holding this Cryptex box—still resting in my hand but no longer pulling me the way it did once.

He had emptied its meaning.

My stomach growled into the silence, like a bear cub whining for its mama.

Aeron tilted his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “Nice soundtrack.”

“It's because I didn’t eat anything since morning.”

He shot me a skeptical look—the kind that said, You, of all people, forgetting food? Unlikely.

“I was too lazy to cook.” I admitted sheepishly.

“What do you want to eat?”

“You’re cooking?” My eyes widened, excitement bubbling up. He didn't answer—just took my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen.

“Salad. Roasted potatoes,” I began. “Fried chicken. A sandwich. Maybe some soup? Honestly, everything.”

Aeron shot me a sideways glance, probably questioning whether asking me was his worst decision of the day.

“I haven’t eaten since morning,” I defended myself.

“And I’m your personal chef now, am I?”

My wish list was ambitious. My fridge? Not so much. A sad head of lettuce, a block of cheese, some lonely looking veggies, and thank goodness plenty of potatoes.

Aeron chopped the veggies, tossed them with a squeeze of lemon, and slid the bowl toward me, fork already in place. “Start with this.”

I took a bite. Damn. It tasted ridiculously good. I wasn’t sure if it was my hunger talking or Aeron secretly had magic hands, but either way, I made a mental note to hand over cooking duties to him in the future.

As Aeron sliced the veggies, completely focused, I had this irresistible urge to sabotage that concentration. I took a bite of salad, and held it temptingly in front of his mouth. Just as he leaned forward, lips parting, I pulled it back.

He silently dared me to try it again.

Obviously I did.

The second time, I brought the fork even closer, baiting him just enough, and quickly popped the bite into my own mouth.

My grin hadn’t even settled before his fingers caught my jaw, tilting my face up toward him. He leaned in, lips brushing softly, stealing back the salad... and every thought from my head.

“That’s cheating,” I protested, breathless.

He looked far too pleased with himself. “You're giving me cheating lectures? Remind me, who started this?”

I scoffed. “Big talk from someone who missed the fork, not once, but twice.”

“I didn’t say I was aiming for the fork.” He slid the potatoes into the bowl.

He was really good at making me lose arguments. I took the bowl from him and rinsed the potatoes under the faucet.

“Astrid.”

“Hmmm?” I glanced at him over my shoulder.

“Do you want to go to the place we first met?”

I stared at him in horror. “Hitchhiker’s Bend? Absolutely not. That creepy lady still makes guest appearances in my nightmares.”

He chuckled. “No, sweetheart. I meant the Orange Falls Express.”

“Wouldn't that make it meeting number two?” I reasoned.

He brushed my cheek, his touch lingering, like he was memorizing me. “Our first real meeting.”

“That’s right.” I nodded along. “We didn’t talk face-to-face at hitchhiker’s bend. so, it can’t doesn’t count.”

Also you were a jerk to me. But I kept that thought to myself. Why reopen old wounds and douse them with peroxide.

He gave me a half-smile, leaned in to kiss my forehead. “You’re right, we didn't talk.”

His actions and words were completely out of sync. His voice carried a joke, but his eyes hinted at something deeper. Wherever Aeron’s mind was wandering, I didn’t have the key to that secret world. And honestly, this wasn’t the time to crack the mystery—it was already past two.

“Oh shoot. Train starts at four. I need to get ready by_”

I started to walk off, but his fingers curled around my oversized orange tee.

“You look beautiful.”

Really? I glanced down—loose orange shirt, baggy black pants. I was practically swimming in fabric. But Aeron, persistent as ever, hadn’t let me change, saying he loved this shirt. So I gave up and decided to show up in whatever outfit he liked.

He started preparing the roasted potatoes and the soup simultaneously, multitasking like a masterchef contestant. I watched, amazed, and also offended by how effortlessly he made it look. It usually took me an hour just to decide where to start.

His phone rang. With his hands full, I slid my hand into his pocket, fingers strictly on a phone-retrieval mission, definitely not wandering into any dangerous territory.

“Nosy M.” I snickered, waving the screen at him. “What kind of shady spy name is this?

“The painfully accurate kind. Cut it.”

I didn’t.

“Astriiiiiid.” He dragged out my name, exasperated yet fond, like I were a puppy chewing on his favorite shoes.

I tapped the red button. Two seconds later, Nosy M was calling again. Aeron looked ready to dropkick the phone straight into the soup pot. I hit silent, now genuinely curious about this brave soul risking death by vegetable soup.

The potatoes came out of the oven, golden and crisp. Aeron leaned over the tray, testing them gently. Honestly, there should’ve been laws against looking this attractive while doing something as mundane as checking potatoes.

Was cooking always this enticing, or was this exclusively an Aeron thing?

I slid my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek softly against his back. He jolted just slightly, enough for me to notice.

“Where did you learn to cook?” Not that he’d ever really need the skill. He could get a Michelin-star dinner delivered with just a snap of his fingers.

“I have lived in the wild and cold places for five years. Picked up a few survival skills.” He blew on the potato, then handed it over to me. “Careful. It’s still hot.”

I took a bite, and my taste buds immediately threw a party: crispy edges, tender center, absolute deliciousness. My eyes fluttered shut, and I let out a hum that unintentionally slipped into moan territory. Aeron’s body stiffened.

“It tastes delicious,” I murmured into his back, unable to resist teasing him just a little more. “Just like you.” I sprinkled that last bit in, earning myself another satisfying stiffening.

“Keep talking like that,” he rasped, his control slipping, “and the next thing in your mouth won’t be potatoes.”

“Oh?” I murmured, tracing slow circles over his shirt. “And how exactly am I talking?”

He set the potato tray onto the counter and raised his arm just enough to reach back, catching my waist. With one swift motion, he spun me around and pressed me against him. Our eyes locked in a heated stare for just a breath before his lips captured mine.

He frenzied our lips perfectly, nothing like last night’s clumsy attempt. He kissed me like he'd spent forever underwater and I was his first gasp of air.

Breaking away from my lips, he trailed kisses along my jaw, over my chin, then down to that sensitive spot on my neck that made my knees weak. His stubble scraped against my skin, rough, and prickly sending shivers racing through my body.

The counter pressed stubbornly into my back, frustratingly holding him out of reach. Aeron clearly felt it too, because with an impatient growl, he grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the countertop. The cool marble offered no relief—not compared to the heat of his mouth, driving me insane.

He bit gently into that tender spot between my neck and shoulder. I moaned. His tongue soothed the sting, leaving my skin tingling. Just when I thought I couldn't fall apart any further, his hands found my breasts, squeezing firmly.

I shuddered against him.

His thumbs brushed slowly, deliberately over my top, teasing me. I arched desperately toward his touch, craving more, so much more, and that's when I felt it. His hardness pressed firmly against my thigh.

Aeron must've realized I'd felt him, because he pulled back—his lips leaving mine reluctantly, his hands retreating to the safer territory of my waist, as if staying another second might push him over the edge.

He rested his forehead on mine, eyes closed, taking slow, uneven breaths.

My pulse pounded loudly in my ears. I wondered just how much control it was taking for him to hold himself back—probably as much as it took for me not to whisper, please don't stop.

Chapter 33

Astrid

I stood near the platform waiting area, shifting from foot to foot, letting my eyes wander from passengers stepping onto the train, down to the cracks in the pavement that resembled poorly drawn maps, up to the birds flying overhead, and finally over to Aeron, waiting patiently in line at the ticket counter.

The line was longer than usual, summer festival traffic, no doubt. He could've played the Ashbourne card and parted that line, but instead, he waited in line like someone who actually paid taxes and did laundry.

My eyes wandered again, continuing their sightseeing tour, and stopped on the conductor, clipboard in hand, busy ticking things off. Might as well say hi.

I walked over, waving like a kid spotting her grandpa at the park. “Hiii,” I sang, grinning. He reminded me of Dad, not in age or looks, really, but something about him felt familiar, comforting.

He looked up from his clipboard. “Ah, it’s you.” He recognized me this time. “My granddaughter’s twin.”

I laughed at his greeting. “You remember me clearly this time.” I’d half-expected a confused squint or have we met before expression.

“Looks like my memory’s gotten better lately.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled, though he looked a bit worn today. “I see you’ve fully embraced our little town.” He nodded at my outfit.

I glanced down at my orange T-shirt, suddenly aware I'd unintentionally dressed like the town mascot: Orange. “Well, guess I’m officially a local now,” I joked, crediting Aeron.

Even with my back turned, I could feel his gaze pinned on me, warm and annoyingly distracting. He could admire my butt all he liked—it was encouraged even. But if he was sulking because I was chatting with this friendly conductor, he was definitely earning himself a solid kick later.

“You certainly look the part. A few more years, people will think you grew up here.”

“They’ve already started saying that after the festival. So much for going unnoticed.” Tilting my head, I studied him closely. “Busy day? You look like you could use a break.”

“Just sorting through paperwork. Gotta help the new fellow settle in.” He ran a wrinkled hand along the worn edge of the clipboard, gaze distant for a brief moment. “Retirement day’s coming faster than I thought. Guess I should tidy things up before I hand over the keys.”

“That sounds wonderful. Soon you can ride the train as a passenger instead of checking tickets.” He seemed a little down, so I did what I usually do in these situations—tried to lighten the mood. It's my emotional version of offering a cookie.

His eyes brightened, sadness lifting slightly. “Exactly my plan. First thing on the list—take the Orange Falls Express everyday, and see what I've been missing all these years.” He glanced around. “You going solo?”

“Actually,” I started, my voice betraying me. I'd wanted Kelly to be the first to hear about Aeron and me, but clearly, my mouth had zero loyalty. “I brought someone sp—”

“Aeron! My boy!” The conductor’s enthusiastic Aeron my boy crashed right through whatever sweet, romantic thing I'd planned on saying.

Aeron was beside me.

“Hey, old man. Your wrinkles have become pretty obvious.” He slid a hand to the small of my back. For him to joke around like this meant the conductor had earned a rare spot on his limited inner circle.

“Just wait, you'll catch up soon enough.” The conductor's eyes moved between Aeron and me, his lips curving into an amused smile at how closely we stood. “Girlfriend?” Simon asked, curiosity evident.

“Special someone,” I said, looping my arms around Aeron’s waist and glancing up at him through my lashes, offering my very best, hopelessly smitten smile. “Right?”

“Special someone,” Aeron echoed, voice a low chuckle as he pressed a gentle kiss into my hair. “I like the sound of that.”

“Glad you finally found someone.” Warmth softened the conductor’s voice. “For a while there, I worried you'd keep coming back every year, hoping to find that gir—”

“You’ve got a train pulling in, Simon.” Aeron’s voice cut sharply. His hand tightened against my back, knuckles pressing through my shirt—like he was bracing himself, not steadying me.

The conductor's gaze darted between me and Aeron, regret immediately shadowing his face, as though he wished he hadn't spoken at all. “Right.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I'd better go.”

There was a loaded silence. I searched Aeron’s face for an answer—any answer—about who the girl the conductor almost mentioned if not for his intervention. But he said nothing. He simply closed his hand around mine, pulling me along. I stumbled, not from my shoes, but from the weight of what was going unsaid.

He had cut off the conductor’s words, but my mind had already filled that silence with questions. He was hiding something—a big secret. Realizing he didn't trust me enough to share it stung worse than knowing he had a secret.

The train started moving. I'd imagined this ride so differently—teasing him about not pulling me up last time, laughing it off, maybe even burying the memories I'd hidden away five years ago by making better ones with him. Instead, all I got was silence—awkward, heavy, and painfully loud.

As if it had finally gotten to him, he squeezed my hand. “Astrid.”

He sounded cautious, ready to drop the truth. Funny how desperately I'd wanted the truth minutes ago, but now wished he'd keep buried.

“About the girl—”

I didn't let him finish. Grabbing his collar, I pulled him close, pressing my mouth to his—urgent, possessive, wanting to drown out any thought of her with only me. He quickly took over, deepening the kiss until we broke apart, both breathless.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Whoever she was, whoever had kept him coming back every year, she was his past. I was here, his present. And I wasn’t letting anyone else into this moment. Into our moment.

“You’re the only thing on my mind right now. I promise.”

His words coaxed a smile I couldn’t hold back. Aeron didn't know casual sincerity. If he said I was the only thing occupying his mind, I’d bet my last breath on it. I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face into that warm crook of his neck, clinging like a Koala who’d finally found her favorite tree.

“You went from angry to feisty to cuddly in about ten seconds, you know that?”

I tilted my head up. “My period’s almost here. I get mood swings.”

“I thought it was your default setting.”

“Don’t encourage me.” His phone rang just then, vibrating close to my hand resting against his thigh. I slipped it out of his pocket, stifling a laugh when Nosy M flashed on the screen. He deserved a medal for his persistence. Before Aeron could even glance at the phone, I pressed answer.

“Aeron! How dare you ignore my calls—”

Aeron swiftly took the phone from me, and with an I’ll call you later, cut the call without even acknowledging him.

“Who is he?”

“My editor,” he said. “He’s been pushing me to take on a project I’ve been avoiding.”

“Why?”

“Mom needs me here. I have a choice to make. Besides,” he added. “I doubt I could survive more than a week without seeing you.”

The butterflies in my stomach multiplied.

I pushed them away, focusing entirely on him. “It’s your passion, Aeron. You’ve loved it since you were a kid. I know the business needs you here, and that you feel responsible, but you don’t have to choose. You can do both

Promise me you won’t let it go.”

He still hesitated.

“You’re taking it,” I said firmly, leaving no room for debate.

He sighed. “Yes, your Highnes.”

My mood was back and happy.

All that gloomy tension had lifted, replaced by a rush of excitement as we stood together on the footboard, the vineyards speeding past us. Aeron kept pulling me back whenever I leaned out too far.

“You were an ass to me last time,” I reminded him.

His lips twitched into a small, annoyingly attractive smile. “I held your hand to stop you from falling, remember?”

I turned my full glare at him. “My head was about ten seconds away from being sliced off.”

“I pulled you back twenty seconds before that.”

I looped my arms loosely around his neck, tilting my head up at him, teasing. “If I’d never said sorry?”

He tightened his hold, pulling me flush against him, his eyes serious despite our playful tone. “I still would’ve pulled you in.”

“Why?” I studied him. “You hated me.”

“I never hated you. Not even then.” His tone was sincere.

Never hated?

“When did you start liking me?” I'd wondered about it before. Was it back in the archive room, or after that interview when I'd made him laugh? But his answer made everything inside me pause.

“At first sight.”

I blinked at him. “You sure had me fooled.”

He only smiled, not giving me a clear expression to make my assumptions. “It’s just…an Astrid thing.”

Astrid’s thing

I love the sound of that.

Chapter 34

Astrid

Mabel herself came down to greet me as soon as I stepped out of the car as if we still bothered with official welcomes when I practically knew this house well enough to give tours. She looked gorgeous in a sage-green tea dress dotted with tiny flowers, sleeves fluttering at her elbows, channeling some serious vintage Hollywood energy.

“Astrid.” She wrapped me in a hug, and eased back slightly, giving my outfit a once-over. “This looks lovely on you.”

“You sure?” I’d wanted something different, my usual clothes had started feeling like a uniform. After a mild closet meltdown, I'd settled on a floral top and a pink pinafore, a mismatched gamble I hoped said effortless style rather than first grader on picture day.

“Absolutely. Ask Isabel.” Mabel glanced at Isabel, who stood two steps behind her, posture stiff, expression unreadable.

She gave a single nod, the same nod she used for hello, goodbye, and every emotion in between. Forgive me if her nod wasn't quite enough to boost my confidence.

“How I wish I could wear these kinds of outfits now.” Mabel sighed.

“You absolutely can. Even now.” We headed inside. “Put on that pinafore, take one stroll across a college campus, and I promise you’ll have at least a dozen of those freshmen trying to score your number before lunch.”

“Oh, Astrid, I’m definitely too old to be playing pranks,” she said, but the tiny sparkle in her eyes said she'd probably be first in line.

“This is for you.” I held out the box, and she took it eagerly, already peeking inside. Her face instantly brightened.

“Oh my God, apple pies! You didn’t have to do this, but please always do.” She took a bite, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Heaven. Seriously, these are amazing.”

Mabel handed Isabel a pie, going on about how crispy the crust had turned out, while I let my eyes drift around the room, desperate to see my favorite face.

I looked up to the first-floor hallway, staying a bit too long on the left-side door, silently willing him to step out, surprised, maybe even happy to see me. Instead, the door stayed stubbornly, disappointingly shut.

Mabel cut into my thoughts, excitedly mentioning she'd started painting after attending a class at the festival, and she was already dragging me toward her bedroom, eager for my expert critique.

I stared at the canvas, squinting like adjusting my vision might help. The creature had a strong neck and mane of a horse, but also the sleepy eyes and rounded spotted body of a dairy cow. Like it wasn’t sure whether to moo or neigh.

A crossbreed?

“How is it?” she asked again, eyes hopeful, paintbrush at the ready as if preparing to jump right in and change this masterpiece at the slightest hint of criticism.

“Um,” I started, glancing between her and the painting, “love the cow. It’s very cute.”

Mabel’s smile dropped. “Astrid, that’s not a cow.”

Oh! Neigh. Not moo.

“Horse!” I corrected quickly, nodding with confidence. “I meant horse. Very majestic—”

“It’s a llama, Astrid.” She sighed, looking at me like I’d failed a basic zoology exam. “The long neck, fluffy body, those judgmental eyes. It’s a llama.”

A llama? Seriously? Here I'd been trying to decide if it was a horse, a cow, or their secret love child, and Mabel had created a llama.

I nodded along, or at least gave a convincing impression of it. One should never discourage artists, especially llama artists.

Mabel eagerly showed me another painting, the one she'd made at the festival workshop, marked with an A in the corner. She didn't miss the chance to mention Eleanor's B, her smile brightening like she had won a lottery. I still didn't understand why these two signed up for the same classes when they were rivals who couldn’t stop scowling at each other for a second.

We headed out to the garden while lunch was finishing up, and I did another quick sweep of the house.

“I don’t see Aeron?” I asked, trying to sound casual and not at all like I'd been wondering for the last twenty minutes where on earth he'd disappeared to.

“He went to meet Ayden,” Mabel said, stretching onto her tiptoes and giving a little bounce to reach a peach hanging from a top branch, “to talk about the new harvest equipment Ayden suggested.”

She passed the fruit to me, and I took it, nodding absently.

Was he seriously considering stepping into the business?

“How close are they?” I asked, recalling Aeron with Ayden and Allen at the volunteer interview day. It was the first time I'd seen Aeron like that—not distant or reserved.

“They grew up together.” We settled onto the stone bench in the shade, brushing a fallen leaf aside. “Ayden’s mom worked for our family, so he was always around, playing with Aeron. She passed away when he was about seven—she’d been sick for a long time—and after that, we took him in. He’s been ours ever since.”

I rolled the peach between my palms, thinking how thoughtful it was of the Ashbournes, not sending Ayden away when he was small and alone, but bringing him in, making him theirs. Giving him a family.

“Astrid, thank you.” Mabel squeezed my hands.

“You already thanked me, but I’ll happily accept another round.”

“Oh, please. I can thank you a thousand times for the apple pies alone.” Her eyes twinkled before her smile softened into something deeper. “But this one’s special. Thank you for bringing the smile back on my stubborn son’s face. You know, it’s been years since I have seen his real smile.”

“Aeron told you?” My voice shot up about two octaves, my eyes embarrassingly wide.

“I’m his mom, Astrid. Moms can see right into their sons’ hearts,” she said. “Don’t tell him I said this, but lately he’s been smiling to himself. He’ll just be walking along, then suddenly stop, smile at nothing, shake his head, and move on. I've caught him doing it more than once.”

“He seriously does that?” I pressed my palms to my eyes, half-laughing, half-hiding. I absolutely couldn’t imagine Aeron stopping mid step and smiling at himself like an idiot, but I was imagining it anyway, my brain moving at a million miles per hour, and oh my god, he was cute. Way too cute.

“He did! Believe me,” she said. “After his dad died, he just...pulled away. Left home, came around once a year, and even then, barely stayed long enough for me to really see him. I'd worry myself sick wondering if he'd lost weight, if he was even taking care of himself. I have no idea what convinced him to stay this year, but whatever it was, I'm grateful.” She paused, her eyes softened, almost tearful. “Because now there's you, Astrid. I haven't seen him smile like this in forever. You're good for him.”

My throat tightened. Was I really the reason he’d started smiling again? I didn’t know if it was true, but I liked the thought.

When Kelly told me Aeron rarely came home, I’d figured it was because of his demanding job as a wildlife photographer. But I realized now he wasn't chasing anything, he was running away—running away from everything he didn't know how to face.

“Why does… his sister blame him?” I picked my words carefully for Mabel's sake, though what I really wanted was to let loose every ounce of irritation I felt toward that woman.

Mabel took a deep breath. “Aeron doesn’t like anyone talking about that incident. He'd probably hate that I'm telling you even this much, but…” She looked at me as if she was passing something precious to me. “When he’s ready to talk, it’ll be with you.”

I internally scoffed. Last time I tried, he’d shooed me away like I was some raccoon.

“I’m sorry, Astrid. This was supposed to be our fun little catch-up, but look at me, dumping my emotional baggage all over you,” She sighed.

“You can make it up to me by telling me about your secret ingredient in your pasta.”

“Deal.” She grinned. “Let’s go.”

We made our way back inside, and soon we were side by side in the kitchen, Mabel stirring the sauce, me chopping veggies. As we cooked, she entertained me with the town gossip and town hall dramas, Aunt Dee’s dramas to be specific. I quickly forgot our age gap. She felt less like someone’s mom and more like a friend I'd always had.

While the pasta boiled, she added a splash of red wine, then revealed her secret weapon: anchovy paste.

I wrinkled my nose on instinct, even with her warning. Sure enough, when she squeezed it in, a strong briny smell filled the kitchen, but seconds later, it was replaced by a mouthwatering aroma.

“Is Aeron coming back for lunch?” I asked, resisting the urge to sneak a taste from the saucepan. Self-control, Astrid. Civil people use plates.

Mabel smiled knowingly. “Why don’t you call and ask him yourself? He’d probably set a new land-speed record getting here.”

Even his mom could see exactly how obvious he'd become.

“That would ruin the surprise. Besides, I’m having fun hanging out with you, and collecting all of his embarrassing secrets.”

“I’m glad my company’s been entertaining,” she said, smiling slightly, “but if you need more of Aeron’s secrets, there’s a better place to dig.”

My curiosity perked up. “Where?”

She gave me a knowing look. “His room.”

I glanced toward the stairs, then back at her. ”Exactly how much trouble would I be in if I just...?”

“Not even a little,” she said, waving me off. “Hurry, before he comes back. I’ve got your back.”

I pushed open his bedroom door, stepping into a room washed in warm browns and muted taupes—the walls, the furniture, even the floor all matching that attractive shade of his eyes.

I flopped onto his bed, sinking into the softness. My fingers brushed over the sheets, and my traitorous brain offered up an entirely inappropriate image of Aeron right here, bedhead hair, half-asleep eyes, very shirtless.

My face went hot.

Focus, Astrid. You’re not here to daydream.

I got up from the bed and glanced around. Plants lined the balcony. To my right, a shelf was stacked with photography books that made about as much sense as IKEA manuals when I skimmed the pages. Camera lenses sat on the table beside his bed, and his closet was filled with clothes I’d already seen him wear a hundred times.

What kind of secrets had Mabel thought I'd find here?

I opened the drawer anyway, finding stacks of photos inside. I flipped through them: animals, nature, busy markets, kids laughing which made me pause. Something clicked in my thoughts.

The memory rushed back, the girl Aeron had mentioned, the one he'd taken a photo of, the one whose smile he'd said had seemed to be only meant for him. I skimmed through the pictures desperately to find hers, but no luck. Apparently, Aeron wasn’t making this easy.

I tugged at the drawer below—locked.

I found a tiny key in the first drawer. I hesitated, my moral code whispering something about privacy, but curiosity shouted louder. Sliding the key into the lock, I felt a satisfying click and eased the drawer open just far enough to glimpse a gray box. That’s when I sensed someone standing behind me.

Mabel must've come to whisper-shout that Aeron was pulling into the driveway, or worse, already halfway up the stairs.

“You didn't tell me you were coming.”

Shit!

He was already firmly in caught-you-snooping territory.

Was I about to get lectured on personal boundaries?

I spun around, flashing my calmest, not-guilty smile. “Surprise?”

His eyes flicked briefly, almost too fast to catch, toward the half-open drawer before returning to me. “Try harder.” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe, a teasing smile curving his lips as he slowly scanned me from head to toe.

“Should I give you a little twirl?” I smirked.

“I was surprised to see you actually have legs under all those oversized outfits.”

I grabbed the first thing my hand touched, a pillow, resisting the temptation to toss the lens that sat closer, and threw it at him. I'd been expecting a compliment, something sweet like Mabel had offered. Aeron dodged it, and it went through the door, and fell to the floor. He closed the distance, planting his hands on the table, trapping me in place. “Find anything suspicious, Sherlock?”

“Your color choices.” I pointed at the walls. “They scream nothing is happening here. A nice haunted-forest green or maybe a bloody-murder maroon would sell that suspicious vibe.”

“If you move in with me.” He leaned in close enough to sabotage my normal breathing. “I'll repaint everything. Pink, orange, or whatever color makes you happy.”

My heart gave an unsteady thump because the way he said it, certain and achingly sincere, had me suddenly craving those crazy colors. “Any color?”

“Any,” he promised.

“How about…” I rose onto my toes, opening my arms. Aeron leaned toward me, his hands sliding naturally to my waist as I looped my arms around his neck. “Traffic-cone orange, Barbie-dreamhouse pink, glow-stick green?”

He snorted, fingers tracing idle circles on my waist. “What’s next? Crime-scene tape yellow?”

“That’s awesome. We’ll save that for the ceiling, and please can we add some orange polka dots?”

His laugh rumbled, vibrating between us. “You’re insanely insane, you know that?”

“And you’ll still repaint?”

“I’ll repaint. Neon stripes, glitter…polka dots…hell, I’ll even hold the ladder while you string up fairy lights.”

I blinked. Fairy lights? The man whose entire closet was one single color palette now wanted to pick paint swatches.

“Aeron, are you compromising?”

“No, sweetheart, I’m surrendering.”

This man! How could I not fall for him?

I tightened my hold around him, hoping he could somehow sense everything I wasn’t ready to say out loud. Aeron’s hand moved gently up my spine, his silent way of letting me know he felt it too.

I pulled back just enough to see his face. “Matching outfits?”

Aeron groaned. “Don’t push it, sweetheart.”

I laughed, burying myself right back into his chest, my safest hiding spot. Even if I went completely overboard and asked for matching heart pajamas, he would shake his head and still say yes anyway.

“I am so happy right now.”

I stepped back from Aeron’s embrace to see Mabel standing in the doorway, eyes bright, grin huge.

“And you, my son.” She narrowed her eyes accusingly at Aeron. “I’m still mad at you for keeping this.” She gestured between us. “A secret.”

“So, you sent her here on a secret revenge mission?” Aeron asked.

“And you forgot to warn me he was already home.” I feigned a betrayed tone.

“Please…” Mabel gasped. “He snuck in like some cat burglar. I didn't even know he was here until Isabel told me he’d gone upstairs. I rushed up immediately, but by then, the damage was already done. Anyway, now that the mystery’s solved, get your butts downstairs. I'm starving.” Halfway out the door, she paused, glancing back at me with sympathy. “Good luck handling him. You’re going to need it.”

I glanced at Aeron, feigning concern. “Is there like a discount code or some emotional support fund available for handling you?”

“It’s strictly volunteer work for you.” He smiled, leaning in for a kiss.

I pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him. “As tempting as it was, my stomach is moments away from eating itself.”

He muttered a curse and took my hand. As we moved to leave, my gaze flicked back to the drawer. It was closed now, although I didn't remember seeing him shut it.

When had he done that?

Chapter 35

Aeron

I’d survived jungles, storms, and even animal attacks, but this harmless grey box in my hands terrified me more than all of them combined.

I slid open the box. There in the middle, buried under five years' worth of untouched memories, was a photo of a girl—head thrown back, holding on the railings, yellow dress fluttering to the breeze, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Exactly as she is now, exactly how my heart never forgot to skip a beat, even five years later, on that haunted road.

One glance at her picture, and I was right back there: five years ago.

The passing scenery, the rhythmic rumble of the train, they anchored me, offered me a temporary escape. But pain isn't something you leave behind easily, not when you're the one who caused it.

It had been six months since Dad died. Mom was slowly adjusting to life without him. My older sister seemed to have forget he existed the moment the funeral ended. My other sister remembered him only when she wanted to blame me for his death. They've all moved forward, but I'm still exactly where he left me.

My train of thought snapped at a burst of laughter—loud, and more hyena than human.

Curious, I leaned forward slightly, my gaze catching movement on the footboard of the compartment ahead: first, the flutter of a yellow dress, then hair dancing in the wind, and finally, a head thrown back in laughter.

Her hair whipped across her face like a curtain, but between those restless strands I saw her eyes—bright, sparkling like sunlight on water and heard that carefree laugh, as if the world had stopped existing just for her.

I couldn't look away, couldn't even blink, afraid I'd miss even a second of it. Almost without thinking, I grabbed my camera and pressed the shutter, capturing her mid-laugh, hair whipping everywhere, that yellow dress fluttering in the wind.

“...le... me... have my T_tanic mome—” her voice came in bursts, broken by the wind.

I couldn’t catch every word clearly, but I caught the drift.

Titanic moment?

Without realizing it, I found myself smiling, a smile I’d almost forgotten I still had in me.

She leaned out even farther, recklessly arching her back. She was being so careless, I felt a sudden spike of anxiety at how easily she might lose her balance and fall.

“I…ll haunt you inst..d….”

“...what—you’ll personally toss me…”

The scattered words from her conversation reached me, enough to realize she was responding to someone inside. A hand appeared, gently pulling her back into the compartment, but not before her eyes flicked toward me, curious as if she sensed my gaze.

Instinctively, I pulled back.

I stared down at my camera screen, at the image of her laughing, alive, and completely unguarded. I'd captured hundreds of faces, countless sunsets, wildlife, but none had felt as intensely personal as this. Something stirred inside me, a possessiveness I didn't recognize. I didn't want anyone else to see this laugh, this moment. It was foolish, but I wanted it to belong only to me.

A fierce knock came at the compartment door. I ignored it. Seconds later, another knock followed louder, and more insistent. I opened it, already knowing who I'd see. Sure enough, a tall figure stood in the doorway in navy blue uniform, nostrils flared in irritation.

“Aeron Ashborne,” Simon called. “How many times do I have to remind you? Passengers aren't allowed in the guard’s compartment. You Ashbournes might own half the town, not this train. Out.”

“That's my family, not me. I'm just here for the view.” I said distractedly, gaze sliding past him through the half-open doorway to catch another glimpse of that yellow dress, her hands animatedly gesturing above the bench.

“You’ll leave before the tunnel, or I’m banning you permanently from the train,” he warned.

I’d lost count of how many times he had caught me in the guard’s compartment, and how many times we'd repeated this exact exchange.

“Yes,” I answered as always.

He was already turning away. “Simon, lend me your pen.”

He frowned suspiciously but handed it over anyway.

“Thanks. I’ll vanish before your tunnel does.”

I rolled the pen between my fingers and pulled the ticket from my pocket, staring at the blank space on the back. My mind hesitated, but my hand moved anyway, scribbling words before I could second-guess myself: Careful, Rose. Titanic had lifeboats. This train doesn’t.

Darkness swallowed the train whole as we entered the tunnel. A sudden impulse I didn't fight pulled me toward the compartment door, a stubborn gravity guiding me exactly nine seats away—yes, I'd counted—to her. As I passed, I slipped the ticket onto her seat, feeling a bit like a spy, or perhaps just an idiot. Secret admirer wasn't exactly my style, yet here I was, leaving cryptic notes in the dark.

All I'd intended was for her to read my message, pause, and maybe smile, curious about who'd been secretly watching her. But I certainly hadn't expected a reply, scrawled across the window panel in what looked suspiciously like chocolate.

Are you perhaps a secret agent? If I wake up in another country, I’ll assume that it was you. And by the way, Rose survives, but she still lets go of Jack.

I shook my head. Another smile escaping.

Crazy girl.

Day two.

The next day, I placed a box of chocolates on the same seat, along with a note, confident she'd return.

If I were really a secret agent, you'd already be halfway across the world by now. But since you're still here, what’s it take to see your laugh again? Chocolates enough?

She left a small pocket notebook, a pink unicorn one with her reply.

I had to sneak the chocolates into my bag before my friend caught sight of them and demanded her share. I don't usually get secret gifts, so thank you. The chocolates definitely worked. But who exactly am I smiling for?

Day three.

For someone who never thought he’d be writing in a pink unicorn notebook, here I am, leaving cryptic notes for a girl with the most distracting smile I’ve ever seen and handwriting that resembles chicken scratch. Still not a secret agent. But I’ll keep the code name. Now that we're trading secrets… What's your name?

I smiled reading her message.

Chicken scratch? Excuse me! You try writing with honey or melted sugar sometime, then we’ll talk about whose handwriting looks like a crime scene. But since you said my smile is beautiful I'm not declaring a war. You know, my friend won’t stop grilling me about why I've started taking this train ride every single day. I said I found a pen pal. She didn’t buy it. She said only lonely librarians, and convicts have pen pals.

As for my name, I'll let you guess. Here’s your clue.

She tucked a tiny star pendant between the pages

Day four

I placed a miniature jar of honey bottle the next day.

Challenge accepted. Now put your chicken-scratch skills to the test. Convict or lonely librarian? I’m honestly offended that she left out secret agent. Tell your friend pen pals aren’t half bad. At least mine has good taste in chocolate.

I have thought about your names.

Twinkle.

Starfish.

Starlight.

Asteroid.

Does any one of them match your name?

I can’t believe its day four already with her. Reading her messages are like a breath of fresh air.

Your naming skills are atrocious. Starfish? Really? I'd dive headfirst into the ocean if I had to live with that. Though Asteroid is a little closer.

As for the chocolates, they’re torturing me nightly. I stare, they stare back; it’s becoming a problem. Eating a gift feels wrong, but resisting chocolate feels even worse. They’re probably going to give me anxiety. Tomorrow is our last ride. My last day in Orange Falls. It’s funny how I started this for fun, but now I’m hoping it's more than that. Tell me I’m not alone in this.

Can I... meet you?

Day five

Meet me here next year, Asteroid, on the same day we first met. I'll be right here, waiting for you. Next time, I'll make it right—no notes, no hiding. Just you, me, and the date we should’ve had. And maybe those chocolates. We'll eat them together if they haven't expired by then.

Just say yes.

A year later.

I realized I was the only one who'd been counting days. I could still see her perfectly on that day, the anger in her eyes as she stood outside, unaware I was watching her from afar.

Asking her to wait a full year must've hurt, but back then, it was the only choice that made sense. I had too much baggage, too many shadows I didn’t want anywhere near her brightness. Because I knew, deep down, that the moment I saw her face-to-face, I’d never let go.

“Aeron!” Simon’s voice cut through my thoughts. “How’ve you been? It's been way too long.”

Exactly one year since I'd last stood here, yet everything still reminded me of her, fresh and vivid as ever.

“Simon,” I skipped past the small talk. “Did you happen to notice a girl waiting around here today? Someone who looked like she was meeting someone?” It was probably pointless, but I wasn't leaving any stone unturned.

“I don't think so.” Simon shook his head. “I haven't noticed anyone waiting around today. Were you expecting someone?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Yet, I still held onto a faint hope that she'd come.

Hours dragged by. Afternoon turned into evening. Passengers came and went, the station emptied, but I stayed there, waiting.

“I don’t know who you’re waiting for,” Simon said. “If she intended to come, she'd already be here. Don’t waste your night.”

“There’s still time,” I insisted, refusing to budge. She could still come. And I wasn't about to leave and give her any reason to think I hadn't waited.

The next summer, I came. She didn’t. Another summer passed, and then another, but she never came back. She’d probably forgotten about me years ago, yet I still showed up, year after year. Maybe it was just habit by now—or maybe I was afraid that the one summer I finally stopped coming would be the summer she'd choose to remember.

And five years later, there she was, standing at Hitchhiker's Bend, waving her arms and shouting curses at me.

I had no intention of stopping—she was just another stranger looking for a ride I wasn't planning to give. But one quick glance in the rear-view mirror, and my foot hit the brakes.

Hard.

Call it a miracle, call it fate, I felt everything at once: happiness at seeing her again, anger because she'd never shown up all those times I'd waited, and relief that somehow, after all this time, I still existed in her world.

But reality hit harder. She wasn’t here for me.

She’d given me one summer to fall in love.

Five summers I’ve waited, hoping she’d return.

Now she’s finally back, and this time, I’m never letting her go.

Chapter 36

Astrid

Exhausted didn't even come close as I dragged myself out of the bathroom and collapsed face-first onto the bed, savoring just a few precious seconds before my stomach started its revenge tour.

Halfway to the bathroom, Aeron’s call came at precisely the worst possible moment. I stopped short, caught between answering him or dealing with my stomach’s furious demands. With a resigned groan, I surrendered to my stomach and ran for round three.

I sat there quietly, reconsidering every choice that had landed me here—mainly my lack of self-control around food, as an eggy burp escaped, smelling like it had been airlifted from a dragon’s ass straight into my nostrils.

I wanted to puke.

When Mabel said she'd prepared every dish specially for me, my heart and my stomach took it very personally.

Aeron had eyed my dangerously overloaded plate warily, even warning me I'd upset my stomach, but I confidently bragged about my ironclad digestion. Ironclad, my foot. Now here I was paying with diarrhea and sulphur burps.

It started somewhere around nine O clock, the first round emptied my stomach, the second drained all my energy, and by the third round my stomach was just making painful bursts of gas.

Nothing was left inside now.

Aeron’s call was ringing again when I made it back. I answered with a weak, exhausted hmm and something in that sound must’ve slipped right through my defenses, because his voice extra softened. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, his sweetheart somehow making even my stomach’s angry rebellion seem tolerable now.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured softly. “Now try it again, minus the obvious lie.”

Neither were my intestines, considering round four was already knocking at the door. I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my fist. Come on, digestive system, give me a break.

“I—I’ll call you back in a minute. I just…need to finish something first.” I gingerly sat on the bed; Standing only made the situation worse.

“Don’t hang up,” he ordered, the sweetheart gentleness instantly swapped for a no-nonsense tone that left zero room for argument. “Whatever it is, do it while we talk.”

“I can’t multitask this!” I squeaked.

“Why not?”

“Do I have to tell you everything? Read between the lines for once in your lifetime, Aeron Ashbourne. I swear, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.” I yelled, sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m hanging up now!”

He was mid-Astrid when I tapped the red button, threw the phone on the bed, and bolted to the bathroom. Some sounds, like the volcanic eruptions my stomach was seconds from unleashing, should never have an audience, and preferably a soundproof room.

I wasn’t about to tempt fate, even if I felt slightly relieved. Sprawled across the bed, I debated calling Aeron now or waiting until he'd forgiven my earlier tantrums, but my thumb had zero impulse control, calling him anyway. I was counting on voicemail, instead, he answered, catching me off guard.

“I…am sorry,” I blurted out, hugging my frog plushie a little too aggressively. “Infinity times.”

“Call me back when you reach infinity plus one.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?” I had expected guilt-tripping or even silence, but instead he sounded amused, affectionate, pretty much everything but angry.

“Should I be?” He asked.

“I called you a brick.” I admitted, sheepishly.

“You called me a dick, asshole, pain in the ass, even Loki,” he added helpfully, sounding entirely too pleased to fan the flames.

My cheeks burned in embarassment. “How many sorry’s do you plan on milking from this?”

“Enough to remind you there are better ways,” His voice dropped, warm and husky, “to say sorry.”

My pulse skittered wildly. “Better ways?”

His voice turned warm, almost velvet, slipping through the phone. “You, at the door in five seconds, kissing me until you forget why you ever apologized.”

“You’re here?” I dragged myself off the bed, ignoring every bone-deep plea from my body to collapse right back down and never move again.

Aeron’s concern was immediate when he saw me. I probably looked like I'd crawled out of a swamp, pale and dishevelled. He stepped closer to brush the sweaty strands of hair away from my face. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s just an upset stomach.” I said weakly.

“Were you ever planning to tell me?”

I shrank under his furious stare. He looked like a pissed-off demon who'd crossed realms to let me know I'd screwed up. But then something flickered across his face, like he'd caught himself being the villain, and the anger dissolved into something achingly gentle. He shut the door behind us, and scooped me into his arms.

“Aeron,” I protested faintly. “I can walk. It’s just my insides that are screwed up, not my legs.” even as my arms betrayed me and slid around his neck.

“Sure. And pigs fly.”

His warmth seeped into my exhausted body as he carried me back to the bedroom, lowering me onto the bed gently, careful and slow, like I was something fragile, something precious.

“Need to run?”

I laughed weakly, covering my face with my hands. “If I do, and you overhear even a second of the horror show going on in there, you’ll be drafting your breakup text before I even flush.”

He lowered my hands from my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Breaking up isn’t even an option, unless you figure out how to erase me completely. And sweetheart, I dare you to try, because I’m going to leave marks on every inch of you, until forgetting me is impossible.”

That was definitely a warning. But instead of alarm bells, I felt butterflies, soft, fluttery wings brushing under my ribs. I liked it, maybe even loved it, this quietly possessive side of Aeron that made me want to set up a cozy little camp right in the center of his heart, and curl up there.

I smiled up at him. “I can live with that threat.”

“Glad we agree,” he brushed his thumb across my cheek. “Now rest. I'll make you something.”

“Nope.” I grabbed his hand quickly, shaking my head so hard I nearly made myself dizzy. “Food and I are on a break tonight, even tomorrow also.” Just the mention of eating brought back the memories of those rotten egg smelling burps and its merciless partner-in-crime, diarrhea, which was finally considering leaving me in peace.

“Relax, Astrid. I’m not feeding you a steak dinner,” he said gently. When I still hesitated, his voice softened even further, turning quietly persuasive. “I promise, sweetheart, I’m not trying to torture you. But dehydration's worse than food poisoning. Just a few sips—for me?”

I gave a small nod. When he asked like that, for him, my heart didn’t know how to refuse. He disappeared and came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug of ginger tea and a small pill. I had absolutely no idea where he'd gotten that, since I definitely didn't keep a stash of medication around.

One sip and nausea twisted my stomach, immediately killing any desire to keep drinking. But this stubborn idiot sat right next to me, eyes never leaving mine, making sure I finished every drop.

“I hate this,” I put down the mug and gave him the saddest eyes I could muster.

Aeron laughed. “You’ll feel better soon. Just rest,” He adjusted the temperature, and pulled the blanket up to my chin. “I’ll be in the living room. If you need anything—”

But as he pulled away, the warmth went with him, replaced instantly by a chill I didn't like at all. I reached out and caught a few of his fingers. “Stay.” I held him firmly. “Please.”

“I really can’t say no to you, can I?” he teased, sliding under the blanket beside me. I immediately moved closer, stealing all the warmth he'd taken away seconds ago.

“You're making things really difficult for me,” he said, even as he opened his arms and pulled me into his embrace. This was the closest I'd ever been to him. On the same bed, curled into his side, breathing in his scent, something distinctly Aeron.

It felt comfortable.

“Aeron.”

“Hmm.”

“You know why I got an upset stomach?”

“Because you had zero self-control over food?”

I shook my head, too drowsy from the pill to properly retaliate. “It’s your mom’s fault,” I mumbled into his shirt. “If she hadn’t told me she made everything especially for me, I wouldn’t have formed an emotional attachment to the food.”

“I’ll let Mom know she’s banned from emotionally manipulating you through food.”

I nodded. “Aeron.” I murmured again.

“Tell me.”

“You know whose fault was that I ended up with upset stomach?”

He tilted his head down and looked at me. “My mom?”

“It’s you,” I accused him. “If you’d actually stopped me from eating instead of being all nice, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Entirely your fault.”

“You're clearly past the point of reason. Go to sleep before you find more crimes to pin on me.”

My eyelids grew heavier, the nausea pill already pulling me into unconsciousness. I drifted off halfway through accusing Aeron, his warmth wrapping around me as sleep took over.

Chapter 37

Aeron

The soft click of the door snapped me awake, alerting my senses. My eyes went to Astrid, still asleep on my arm, her breathing soft and even.

Footsteps slipped quietly inside the house. I'd locked the door, I was sure of it. Someone had broken into the house. Who, why, or how didn’t matter right now. All that mattered—the only damn thing I'd let matter—was protecting this precious wrapped securely in my arms.

The footsteps shuffled in the living room, pausing every few steps. Cabinet doors opened—kitchen clearly, followed by the sound of someone rummaging through boxes and then slamming the doors shut with something suspiciously like a disappointed sigh. Next, the fridge opened. A wrapper rustled, tore, and then a loud crunch.

Chewing.

Another crunch.

A rhythm of crunch and chewing filled the quiet.

Really? A snack burglar? And zero worries about being caught raiding someone else's kitchen.

The footsteps came closer now. I drew the blanket higher over Astrid, covering her all the way up to the top of her head.

The snack burglar moved to the window, pulling open the blinds. Pale early morning sunlight spilled into the room. Footsteps resumed, slower now, more careful, almost wary. The moment fingers touched the edge of the blanket, my hand shot out instinctively, grabbing the wrist.

Soft skin.

A slender wrist.

And a startled wince.

Not exactly the hardened criminal I'd expected.

I pulled the blanket down from my face and was greeted by Kelly’s wide-eyes, shock written all over her face.

“Aer—Aeron?” Her voice shook slightly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Astrid stirred slightly at the sharp tone, mumbled something sleepy and incoherent, then drifted back to sleep.

“Shh, lower your voice. She’s still asleep.” I warned her, carefully shifting my arm beneath Astrid without waking her. My arm had gone sore from holding her in the same position all night. Even the slightest shift would stir her awake and judging by how she'd curled into me, breathing softly, she obviously loved this spot. So I stayed still, ignoring the relentless pins and needles. If my sweetheart was comfy, I’d put up with a thousand sleepless nights.

“You and Astrid? How?” Kelly’s voice rose up three octaves. “Did you, oh my god, did you force yourself—” She was already pulling the blanket off Astrid, frantically checking her from head to toe, her clothes, her condition, before finally letting out a loud breath of relief.

I appreciated her protectiveness. But that barely-there sneer she gave when she noticed Astrid sleeping soundly in my arms—that, I definitely didn’t appreciate, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

Her eyes snapped back to me, fierce and narrowed. “Either you start explaining what's going on, or I'm waking her up right now.”

I didn’t want to disturb Astrid, especially since her chosen pillow happened to be me, but clearly, I needed to deal with this motormouth first. I eased Astrid onto the bed, slipped a pillow under her head, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

“Outside,” I told Kelly.

“You don’t get to order me around when you’re the one sneaking into bed with my best friend.” Kelly scoffed, crossing her arms.

I raised an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch a beat. “Interesting moral stance from someone who was raiding that same best friend’s kitchen.”

“Stealing from a best friend’s kitchen is called love—selfless love.”

Her voice was loud, but then again, expecting this motormouth to keep her volume in check was unrealistic at best. Astrid jolted awake, blinking at us in sleepy, startled confusion.

I knelt down beside her, searching her face carefully. “How are you feeling?” She looked better, the ghostly pallor from last night that had scared the hell out of me was gone now

“Much better.” she gave me a gentle, sincere smile. “Actually, I feel good now.”

“What is he doing here?” Kelly demanded, narrowing her eyes accusingly at Astrid.

“Better question.” I tilted my head toward Kelly but looking straight at Astrid. “Why does she have a key to this house?” First thing on my to-do list: confiscate that damn key and make sure it stayed permanently in my possession.

“I’m her best friend,” Kelly snapped, eyes narrowed at me. “I’ve full access to everything in this house.”

“Your friendship ends at her bedroom door,” I replied calmly. “Mine continues into her bed.”

“Did you hear that?” Kelly turned to Astrid, voice climbing to peak complaint mode as she pointed accusingly at me. “He’s crushing our friendship under his boots!”

“He’s just making fun of you, Kel. Don’t take him seriously.” Astrid reached for my hand. “She’s mostly upset because I haven’t told her about us yet. Let me talk to her first?”

“Don’t take too long,” I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be outside.”

She smiled, giving me a nod so cute it almost made me reconsider leaving. Kelly stared at us, eyes widening, jaw dropping slightly, looking at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted three heads.

Chapter 38

Astrid

Hearing it from the Orange Falls gossip squad would've still been bearable—at least rumors have a way of softening the blow. But catching me in bed with him, as if I'd been secretly hiding a lover? That was the emotional equivalent of walking in on a husband tangled up with his mistress.

“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” It had been ten minutes since Aeron left us alone, and Kelly had spent every single one quietly seething, cartoon-level smoke practically puffing from her ears, even stubbornly pretending I didn't exist.

“Sorry.” She stared pointedly at the wall. “Still busy processing my friend’s secret double life.”

There it was. The guilt-trip, Kelly-style, pouring salt into an already raw wound. I wondered if making her favorite chicken wings might earn me some forgiveness, but she interrupted my silent bargaining before I could even finish the thought.

“Since when?”

“Summer festival,” I confessed sheepishly, the memory hitting me like a sugar rush: Ferris wheel spinning, Aeron’s lips on mine, the rain soaking us as if the legend existed solely for us. That kiss had still replayed shamelessly in my mind. Did Aeron ever think about it too, or was I alone in this sweet torture?

“You were together during the festival?” she asked, sounding hurt. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Near the end,” I clarified quickly, hoping to sidestep another round of guilt. “Right around when the fireworks started.”

I reached out, taking her hands. “Kel, remember our late-night call? When I said I had something big to tell you?” She nodded, and I went on. “This was it. I wanted to tell you face-to-face, not over the phone. I wanted a full Kelly reaction. Your wide eyes, squealing, everything. But then you said you'd be swamped for two days, and instead of me telling you properly, you walked right into—well, us.”

“Well, I guess I can forgive you, technically you did put me first, and I was the one who wasn’t around.” She finally cracked a smile, and the tightness in my chest loosened a little. “Wait. He didn't blackmail you into dating him, right? Blink twice if you need me to plan a rescue mission.”

I blinked twice, slowly, deliberately, dramatically, and then shook my head with a laugh. “No rescue necessary, unfortunately. It was completely mutual. Can you believe I would’ve confessed first if he hadn't gotten there before me?” I buried my face in my hands, eyes squeezed shut. That was literally the only thought running laps in my brain when I was sitting alone on that Ferris wheel.

Kelly leaned closer, squinting at me suspiciously. “What happened to my real Astrid?”

“Aeron happened,” I squealed, literally squealed, and two seconds later realized just how thin these walls were. I prayed that he wasn't listening, because if he was, he'd tease me mercilessly, and I'd probably die right then and there from sheer embarrassment.

“I still can’t wrap my head around how someone who smiles once a year got you this smitten.”

“Can you stop picking on him every chance you get?” To be fair, Aeron picked on her just as much as she picked on him. Still, I couldn’t help jumping to his defense whenever anyone called him out, even if that anyone was my best friend.

“Look at you, already taking his side.” She pressed her hands over her heart, faking betrayal. “Eight years of friendship kicked aside for, what—” she paused to count on her fingers, “—a boyfriend of exactly three days?”

“Stop being dramatic, Kel.”

“Uh, I think drama’s much needed,” she said. “You dated Shawn for a month, and never got this gooey-eyed.”

“Okay, fair warning, never ever bring his name in front of Aeron.” It wasn’t like Shawn had ever been important enough to talk about, but Aeron’s jealousy tended to go from zero to sixty, and I had no intention of tossing matches anywhere near that fire.

“You just gave me an idea.” Her grin slid dangerously close to evil-genius territory.

“Kel,” I warned.

“Okay, okay.” She wiped the mischief off her face. “Now, spill. When exactly did you start liking him? Because either I'm blind, or you've been playing top-secret spy with your feelings.”

When exactly? I combed through my memory, trying to pinpoint the moment. Was it at the founder’s hall, spending time together and seeing a side of Aeron no one else saw? Or maybe it was that spark of jealousy I felt when he told me about a girl's smile he'd captured, and wanted to keep only for himself. Or maybe when he comforted me while I broke down, or when he fixed Dad’s watch and gave it back to me? Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it started even before all of that. I hadn't kept count.

“I wish I knew, Kel,” I said softly. “One moment he was just Aeron, and the next, he was..he was everything.”

“Oh, Azzie!” She threw her arms around me. “Stop being so cute. You're going to make me cry.”

I laughed, hugging her as tightly. “If you start crying, I’ll start crying, and then Aeron will think we’re nuts.”

“That might actually work out great. Maybe it'll scare him off, and I’ll finally get you back all to myself.”

“Hate to break it to you,” I said, “But you're stuck sharing me now.”

“You know I hate that. But if my best friend’s happy, I’m happy, even if the reason for her happiness is a grumpy bore who hardly talks,” she said.

I wasn’t sure about the grumpy, boring version of Aeron that Kelly described. That wasn’t my Aeron.

Because with me, he was different. He teased me all the time, cared too deeply, got openly possessive, and laughed without holding back. He even let me see the anger he usually kept bottled up. Hell, he showed me every emotion he usually hid from everyone else.

“You know,” she confessed guiltily, “in my head, I'd already picked out your wedding cake flavor with Allen.”

“What?” I burst out laughing. “Allen? Where did that come from?” Even Aeron had jumped to that conclusion. Sure, Allen was good-looking, and a great dad, but I’d never thought of him like that. And I was pretty sure Allen had never seen me that way either.

“You asked him to sit with you for the interview,” she said defensively. “I just connected the very obvious dots.”

I was trying to get you alone with Ayden, you dumbo.

Clearly, my matchmaking attempt had backfired spectacularly. Now I understood exactly where Aeron's jealousy had come from. I'd waved a red flag right in front of him, and poor Kaia had gotten caught in the crossfire.

Kelly interrogated me like she was digging for state secrets, squealing loudly when I mentioned the Ferris wheel kiss. She went on proudly about how we'd single-handedly kept the town legend alive this year.

I smiled, nodding along, but my eyes kept drifting toward the door.

“I should go check on Aeron,” I said, getting to my feet. He was probably feeling abandoned, I thought guiltily.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said, stepping in front of me. “I need a word with him first.”

I sighed. “Is that necessary?”

“Absolutely,” she said, with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “No talk, no blessing.”

“You said you approved,” I reminded her.

“Approval is entry-level,” she said. “Blessings are VIP.”

“Kel,” I pleaded, trying my best puppy-dog eyes on her, “try not to scare him too much.” I wasn’t sure who to feel sorrier for—Aeron being interrogated by Kelly, or Kelly facing Aeron’s zero-filter responses.

She flashed a wicked grin. “Anyone else, I might have. But him? Not a chance.” She spun around, marching off like a woman on a mission—then paused, doubled back, and narrowed her eyes at the photo frame on the table.

It was a picture of us, flipped backward, facing the wall. She fixed it quickly, nodding once with satisfaction. “There. Now it's perfect.”

Why did my gut keep insisting this had Aeron's fingerprints?

Kelly had even bolted the door from the outside. Too bad for her, I had other plans.

Chapter 39

Aeron

Kelly sat across from me, doing her best impression of intimidating me. She'd picked the wrong opponent.

“My best friend said I have to approve you,” she said, with the confidence of someone holding all the cards. “So, I’m your final boss.”

“Is that her rule or yours?” She’d probably bullied Astrid into submission.

Kelly opened her mouth, a scowl halfway formed, but I cut her off. “Get to the point.”

She crossed her arms, her expression sharpening protectively. “You’re not allowed to scold her. Like ever.”

“I’d never let it go that far.” The thought had never even crossed my mind.

“No cheating,” she warned. “You're not even allowed to accidentally dream about another girl.”

I'd been daydreaming about Astrid for five years—by now, she'd taken up every inch of space in my head. “There’s no room for anyone else.” I made sure my voice left no space for doubt.

“If you ever hurt her, I’ll burn your Ashbourne house down.”

I wasn’t even angered by her threat. If anything, I admired how fiercely protective she was over Astrid. “If it ever comes to that, I’ll hand you the match myself.”

She stared, eyes widening. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“With Astrid, I’m always serious,” I said.

Kelly opened her mouth, clearly ready for another round, but I wasn’t about to humor her. “Interrogation’s over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I’d much rather be talking to.” It had been an hour—already an hour too long. I opened the bedroom door, and Astrid jumped back, eyes wide, guilt written all over her face. I raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Eavsdropping, sweetheart?”

“I… didn’t hear anything.” Her cheeks flushed. “Your voices were too low.”

“Thank God you missed that,” Kelly chimed in from behind me. “He refused to promise he wouldn’t nag you, micromanage your life, or otherwise drive you completely insane.”

I shot her a glare, and she flashed back a toothpaste-commercial ad grin, but pure evil. Who forgot to install a mute button on this motormouth?

Astrid laughed, pressing closer into my side, her fingers slipping between mine. “I wouldn’t buy that story, even in an alternate universe.”

My heart did something ridiculous at her words. It wasn’t a confession, not even close, but it felt deeper, louder, and far more real. Right then, I knew it didn't matter how many universes existed—given a million chances in a million different worlds, I'd always choose the one where she believed in me, where she looked at me exactly like this.

Every damn time.

Chapter 40

Astrid

I’m going to Congo tomorrow.

The words looped endlessly in my head, impossible to shut off. Sure, I’d pushed him to accept after his manager’s relentless calls—I didn't want Aeron to give up his passion. But I never imagined it meant filming Mount Nyiragongo, one of the deadliest volcanoes in the world. And he'd said it so casually, as though he was planning a weekend hike, not the deadliest hike of his life.

Every post, every video of that angry orange fire bubbling and spilling from the volcano's mouth sent a sickening chill through me. I tossed my phone aside, heart racing. The more I saw, the harder it was to breathe.

That resolve lasted roughly three seconds before I grabbed my phone again, thumb hovering anxiously over Grumpzilla, stopping just short of tapping.

What if he thought I was clingy?

The faint sound of the front door unlocking snapped me out of my thoughts.

I'd locked it, hadn't I?

Only Kelly had a spare key until this morning. Aeron had demanded one for himself, shamelessly making it clear he'd prefer Kelly's key over a new one.

Heart racing, I hurried to the door, half worried it was Kelly, half hoping it was him. The door opened, and there stood Aeron, the fruit of my silent prayer.

I threw myself at him, knocking him slightly off balance. He stumbled back, startled, but quickly recovered to wrap his arms around me. “I have no idea what I did to earn this,” he said, equal parts amused, and confused, “but I could get used to this.”

I tilted my head back slightly, meeting his gaze. “I missed you.”

“I’ve been checking my phone all evening, hoping you’d say exactly that.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek, just below my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I almost called,” I said, giving him a playful little pout, “but I figured you’d be busy. Didn’t wanna bug you.”

His expression pulled a full one-eighty, from sunshine to storm clouds in a blink. He cupped my face, eyes serious enough to melt me into the floor. “Listen, sweetheart. You can call me anytime. You're never bothering me. If anything, it drives me nuts when you don't”

I searched his face, still hesitant. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He traced an X over his chest.

If anyone was going to be the death of me, it'd be Aeron—death by an overdose of love. After he left this morning, I’d called Kelly and demanded she spill every detail of their conversation. She refused to say anything useful, only cryptically repeating that Aeron was a keeper, and if I ever let him go, I'd need my head examined.

I hugged him tighter, possessively, pressing myself close enough to hear the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. Letting go never even crossed my mind. “I watched some videos,” I said. “That volcano looks seriously terrifying. Why would Nosy M send you into something like that?”

He chuckled, tipping my chin up until I met his gaze. “There's a whole team going with me, I promise if anything dangerous happens, I'll throw one of them into the volcano first.”

I laughed. “Offer Nosy M up first.”

Aeron nodded, considering. “Did you have dinner?”

“Ice cream,” I said. He shot me that look, the one that said, you can't possibly think that counts.

“It absolutely counts as dinner,” I argued. “Milk, calcium, fat, carbs, protein, it checks all the dinner boxes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Nice try Sassytrid, but no.”

“Sassytrid?” I giggled. “I had no idea my name was so nicknameable.”

“It is,” he teased, already steering me toward the kitchen. “And I've got plenty more. Tell me, what do you want to eat?”

I told him mushrooms—anything mushroomy would do. I had no idea what Aeron was up to when he opened the refrigerator, pulling out mushrooms, veggies, and even chicken, but at this point, my taste buds trusted him completely.

As he chopped veggies, refusing to let me help, I leaned against the counter, folding my arms. “Since I won't be there to babysit you in Congo, you're going to follow every instruction I give you now, understood?” My voice left zero room for argument.

He firmly nodded.

“Number one: stick to your guide like glue. He moves left, you move left. Two: no close up shots of the lava—you're there to take pictures, not become one.” I paused, waiting until I saw his obedient nod. “Three: stay hydrated. Four: call me every single day, even if you have to climb a tree for a signal.” I turned him fully toward me, forcing him to set down the veggies. “And this last one, listen carefully. Trust your instincts. If something feels even slightly off, get out immediately.”

“Roger that. I’ll stay out of trouble.” A playful smile tugged at his lips

Halfway through cooking, he asked for oregano, and without thinking, I told him it was in the third cabinet on his left, a slip I instantly regretted. He opened the cabinet, his gaze landing on a fancy box that didn't belong with the spice jars. Recognition flickered across his face, sending my heart into a messy little panic. I lunged forward, but Aeron was faster, grabbing it first.

“Give it back,” I demanded, jumping uselessly as Aeron effortlessly lifted it higher, obnoxiously taking advantage of the extra inches his six-foot-two had over my five-foot-seven.

“Not until I see what’s in here.”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Doesn’t it?” he drawled. “Looks exactly like the box you brought along the day you fought with me.”

“Oh, so you do remember? For the record, you fought with me, not me with you.” I'd almost thrown those cookies into the trash that day, but the devil on my shoulder reminded me that I'd spent two hours making them, and even my anger had limits.

“And you made sure we stayed in that fight for three days and seven hours.”

“You counted?” My voice shook a little.

“Every damn second.” He lifted me onto my feet, bringing the cookie box easily within my grasp if I bothered to reach, but his gaze pinned me in place, my pulse hammering in response. “You asked if I remembered this box? I haven't forgotten a single detail about you from that day—no glasses, hair down, orange dress—”

“It’s coral,” I corrected. Even during a heart-racing, soul-baring moment, my stubborn side couldn't resist poking at him. But really, the fact that he remembered any detail at all—even the wrong shade of my dress—was turning my heart mushy.

“So the takeaway here is that I got the dress color wrong?” He chuckled.

“The takeaway is, you pushed me away.” He needed to understand—his words had cut me just as deeply as whatever pain he'd been feeling.

He took a deep, steadying breath, forehead pressed firmly to mine, voice rough with suppressed emotion. “I didn’t push you away to hurt you, Astrid. I did it because seeing even a hint of pity in your eyes would’ve ripped me apart.”

“Oh my God, you thought that was sympathy? It’s called caring, you absolute idiot.” I gave his chest a gentle shove, exasperated. “Honestly, your EQ is negative.”

“I’ll gladly own my awful EQ if you show me what's in here.” He didn't bother with permission, already lifting the lid, eyes lighting up with smug satisfaction at the sight of dark chocolate cookies. He knew exactly who I'd baked them for.

He bit into it slowly, gaze never leaving mine.

“How are they?” I asked, that familiar, nervous flutter returning, the same I’d felt back then, waiting a little too eagerly for his response.

He swallowed, and took an unnecessarily thoughtful pause. “I need a dentist appointment soon.”

I shot him a death-by-chocolate glare.

“That's the last of my cookies you're ever getting.” Would it kill him to pretend they tasted good, just for me? I made a grab for the box, but he easily held it out of my reach again.

“You made these for me.” He took another cookie, biting into it slowly. “Which makes them mine.”

“Do whatever you want.” I turned to leave, but he stubbornly tugged me back by my shirt.

“Not enough cocoa, sweetheart. And a touch more salt—”

“Aeron!”

“And vanilla,” he added. “It definitely needs more vanilla.”

That was my cue. I spun around and stomped my foot sharply onto his.

He groaned in pain.

“Any other complaints about my cookies?”

“You’re the devil wearing an angel’s smile,” he ground out, teeth clenched tight.

The tiny devil on my shoulder nodded approvingly.

Chapter 41

Aeron

I loved adventures—the riskier, the better—especially when it meant capturing something breath-taking behind my lens. I'd pushed myself to extremes: freezing cold, scorching heat, even brushing close to death out in the wild. But right now, I'd made a promise to the girl leaning on my shoulder—I’d follow every word she said, no exceptions. If making it home safely meant sharing another moment like this, then risk-free was exactly how I'd stay.

“Who’s this dumbo taking selfies in front of lava?” Astrid squinted at the screen. “He’s sticking his tongue out like it’s a theme park. One wrong move and he'll be a human marshmallow.”

I took the phone from her hands. “Keep watching them, and you'll imagine a hundred ways for me to die before I even get on the plane.”

She smacked my arm, her eyes narrowing even as worry softened her voice. “Don’t say things like that. I swear, Aeron, you're going to give me a heart attack before you even leave.”

“Relax, sweetheart, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She’d found her way to me twice without even knowing it. I wasn’t letting anything take her away.

“You'd better keep that promise.” Her mouth turned into an adorable pout.

I swallowed hard, my breath catching sharply. That damn pout—it wasn't fair how easily she could unravel every shred of my restraint. She didn't even have to try. I forced myself to hold back, fighting the urge to push her down right here, knowing that once my lips touched hers, I'd lose any hope of stopping. If I didn't have to leave in five hours, she'd already be beneath me, and I'd be too far gone to stop.

“Do Ayden and Allen know about you going to Congo?” She slipped her arm through mine, pulling me back from the edge of dangerous territory.

“Ayden knows, so Allen probably found out five minutes later. Those two track me more closely than the CIA.” Ayden had shot me a skeptical look when I told him, convinced I'd vanish again and reappear a year later like I usually did.

“With your track record of disappearing, I would've put on a GPS tracker,” Astrid teased, laughing as she intertwined her fingers with mine. She flipped my hand over, comparing the size of our hands. Everything she did was adorable. “How close are you to them?”

It felt good—too good—that she wanted to know more about me.

“Ayden moved in with us after his parents passed away, so we grew up together. He’s been family ever since, though he's always preferred the vineyard to our house—those two are inseparable. Allen was a school friend. His family moved away when we were in ninth grade, but we've stayed close.”

She looked up at me, curiosity written all over her face. “Why’d he come back to Orange Falls? Where’s Kaia’s mom?”

“He never talked about her. Never explained why he moved back here, either. Kaia was a month old when he returned with a woman he introduced as his grandmother. I'd met both of his grandmothers, and Margaret wasn't either of them. He seemed hesitant to say more, so I didn't pry.”

“I always thought Allen was the normal one in your group, but now I’m seriously reconsidering.” She turned toward me, a playful accusation in her eyes. “Were you three always this mysterious, or was being mysteriously complicated the basis of your friendship?”

Mystery. The word sat heavy. The irony was that mine was right in front of me. I brushed my thumb along her cheek. “If I'm the mystery, then what does that make you?”

Her smile slipped, barely noticeable, but I saw it. “I don’t have any.” Her eyes were guarded, hinting at a story her lips weren’t telling.

I knew I should stop—let it go, just like I had before—but logic didn’t stand a chance when it came to Astrid. “That Cryptex box.” The words slipped free before I could reconsider. “What’s in it?”

Her body tensed, the subtle reaction giving her away. If she thought I'd forgotten, she was only fooling herself. I remembered every detail about her—every reaction, every gesture, every little thing she did. From the moment I'd seen that box—the panic in her eyes, the swift way she'd pulled back—I'd known she was keeping something from me. Nobody used a puzzle lock unless the secret inside mattered deeply.

Was it something related to her dad?

No—she wouldn't have reacted like this. We'd already crossed that bridge.

Or was it someone else’s—someone who mattered more deeply than I was ready to admit?

I shut down the thought, refusing to even consider another man holding that kind of importance to her. Even the possibility burned bitterly at the back of my throat.

“You still don’t trust me enough to tell me?”

She opened her mouth, searching for words that never came, and then shut it again. Stubborn one. I wanted all of her—the parts she hid, the pieces she guarded—but clearly, I was alone in that desire. A bitter frustration rose sharply in my chest, pushing me to my feet.

Astrid caught my hand, her voice soft, breaking slightly. “Aeron, hear me—”

“Are you going to talk about it?”

Silence stretched between us.

“Not now. You’re not in—”

“I have a flight to catch. We’ll talk later.” I peeled her fingers from mine.

It tore me apart—the way she’d forgotten our five days, something I could never erase, yet clung fiercely to a Cryptex box belonging to someone who mattered more.

I opened the door and left without turning back. If I looked at her now—if I saw those eyes—I knew I'd lose my resolve. I'd let it go, forget the Cryptex, forget the hurt, and stay.

Chapter 42

Astrid

I stared at the open door, foolishly hoping he'd walk back through it, even as the sound of his car drifted into the distance. But all that returned was silence—my empty house whispering the truth I didn't want to hear.

Part of me ached to run after him, but my stubborn pride held me back, rooting me in place. I knew he was angry, but seeing him leave without even one glance at me hurt more than the anger itself.

“You know, the Orange Falls government charges extra taxes for working on weekends.” I lifted my head from my file to see Kelly strolling into my studio. I moved into my new studio a week ago, just a short walk from Kelly’s greenhouse.

“I’ve got eleven weddings booked this season. I have to get busy.” One wedding became two, two ballooned into six, and now here I was at eleven, because I was allergic to saying no.

“I have observed a pattern to conclude you aren’t busy but pretending to be busy.” Kelly snapped the file shut.

“Humor me?”

“You’re missing Aeron,” she grinned.

My heart did a traitorous little flip. I hadn’t mentioned the fight to Kelly yet, mostly because Kelly never just accepted information—she excavated it, layer by uncomfortable layer. It was already complicated enough between me and Aeron.

It had been two weeks since he left for Congo. Two weeks without hearing his voice. He called two days after leaving, but I missed it. I was stuck with a client, and my phone was annoyingly out of my reach. Seeing his missed call sent my heart into a frantic, foolish dance. I immediately called him back, but it went straight to voicemail.

Every time I called for the next three days, it slipped straight to voicemail. Except once, when fate took pity and the call miraculously connected for about ten seconds of broken static and a barely-there whisper of sweetheart. Now that single, fractured word kept echoing through my head

I opened the file, desperate to drown out the noise in my head, but Kelly promptly snapped it shut.

“Kel—”

“You’ve been working nonstop like a bull for the past two weeks. It’s starting to freak me out.”

I sighed. “I’ve put in longer hours during deadlines.”

“Exactly,” she said pointedly, grabbing my hand and tugging me up. “But you don’t have deadlines right now. Today is officially relaxation day—no files, no clients, no exceptions.”

I gave in to Kelly’s stubbornness and let her drag me back to her house. Eleanor had lunch ready. Kelly and I settled in, ate way too much, chatted about everything, watched a movie, and laughed until my sides ached. I probably needed this.

I suddenly had the ridiculous urge to call Aeron, thinking—hoping, really—that luck would spare us a minute to talk. But then the time difference sank in: it was three in the morning there. I didn't want to ruin whatever little sleep he was probably getting.

Kel?” A thought about him popped into my head, something I'd wanted to ask for days. “Do you still have your school yearbook?” Ever since she mentioned Aeron’s autograph, I'd been dying to see it.

She squinted thoughtfully, glancing at the ceiling. “Probably buried under a decade's worth of dust in the attic.”

“Can we go check?”

Her eyes lit up. “Are you finally taking an interest in my glamorous teenage days?”

“No, genius.” I laughed. “I want to see Aeron’s.”

She scrunched her nose, pretending I'd crushed her feelings. “Would it kill you to lie just a little?”

“Oh come on. Your ego can handle that.”

We climbed up to the attic, digging through piles of dusty books. Kelly had saved every textbook right from first grade. She pulled out the yearbook, flipping through it at an infuriatingly slow pace. Impatient, I snatched it from her and skimmed faster.

On one nearly empty page, Aeron’s name jumped out at me.

Your persistence is impressive. Consider this my one-time contribution. Don’t chase me down again next year—Aeron

His message made me laugh, but something strange tugged at my chest. “Is this really Aeron’s handwriting?”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Kelly said, peering over my shoulder. “I had to read it three times just to figure out what it said.”

But I barely heard her. A vague familiarity stirred in me, like I'd seen this handwriting somewhere before.

I stretched my shoulders, shut the office door behind me, and dragged myself home, bone-deep exhaustion weighing down every step.

When I turned to my street, my eyes snagged on a familiar black car parked at the curb. My heartbeat was tripping all over itself. I glanced around, searching, until I spotted him leaning against a wall, one leg bent up, hands tucked in his pockets.

Chapter 43

Astrid

He wasn't supposed to be here for another week. Seven more days—I’d counted them on my way home.

Now that I saw him, every part of me wanted to run straight into his arms, but my pride held me back. Again. He hadn't called even once since our abrupt, ten-second conversation. 

I turned toward my door, refusing to look his way. If he was really watching, he'd see exactly how deeply he'd hurt me.

Three steps forward, and he matched each one right behind me. My fingers trembled as I clicked the lock. He waited silently, his warmth brushing the back of my neck. When the door opened, I stepped inside, fighting the urge to shut him out, but his foot was already through, demanding his place.

His restraint vanished the moment we were inside. He locked the door, stepping close enough to press his chest against my back. His arms came around my waist, keeping me exactly where he wanted me—no chance of escape.

“Let me go.” My voice came out icy.

“Look at me.” His voice was calm, melting right through my defenses.

“You left without even looking back at me.” If he wanted to demand that I look at him now, I'd remind him exactly how it felt when he didn't.

He turned me in his arms, forcing me to face him. His eyes moved slowly over my face, like they needed to memorize every detail. I stubbornly looked away, but he caught my chin, tilting it back toward him, gently. Firmly. “What did I say before?”

I hate when you look away from me.

“You got what you wanted. I looked. Now just go.” His skin had turned a shade darker—probably from working too close to the volcano, and that tiny difference irritated me, because I liked it too much.

“Curb your anger, sweetheart.” He caught my wrist, thumb rubbing over my pulse there.

“You think I was angry for no reason?” I snapped. “Ten seconds. That’s all I was worth to you?”

He drew in a tight breath, regaining control. “Astrid, listen to me—”

“No, you listen,” I cut him off sharply. “I called you multiple times, and every single call went straight to voicemail. You called me once—for what, ten seconds? And you didn’t even bother trying again. All those promises about calling me were just talk.” My eyes met his, vulnerable. “Tell me, did you even miss me at all?”

His expression darkened. “Did I even miss you?” he repeated, voice rough. “I’ve thought about you every single day. Counted down every damn hour. Worked like a madman just to get back to you a week early.” His eyes burned into me. “If you still don’t believe me… I’ll show you. Every inch of how much I’ve missed you.”

His mouth crashed onto mine—rough, hungry, possessive, stealing every bit of air from my lungs. He backed me up until my back hit the wall, the chill sending goosebumps under my shirt. His hands tightened on my waist, drawing me in until I was pressed right up against him—hearts beating together, barely room to breathe.

I parted my lips without thinking, and he took advantage, his tongue slipping inside as he reached up to pull off my glasses. Everything blurred around me as he deepened the kiss, tasting me until I was dizzy, and gripping his shoulders tighter to anchor me. 

No matter how much I wanted to stay angry at him—for the silence, for every call I waited for that never came—this kiss erased everything else. All I knew now was how desperately I needed more.

He captured my lower lip between his teeth, sucking gently, just enough to draw out a breathless moan from me.

His mouth moved lower, finding my sensitive spot between my neck and shoulder, biting it gently, earning another moan. He soothed away the sting, licking the same spot. He repeated the torture again and again, hands pulling my top off. My pants followed, and within seconds, I was completely naked.

His eyes were dark, hungry, as his hands closed around my breasts. His thumbs slowly circled my nipples, teasing me until I was shivering, desperate and unsure—torn between pushing him away and pulling him even closer.

His mouth moved lower, teasing one nipple with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth. Heat rushed through me as he sucked it slowly and surely. He brushed the other nipple with his thumb, and I almost lost it—I wanted that mouth there instead. Impatiently, I grabbed his hair, pushing him exactly where I needed him.

He continued the sweet torture, hands moving down to firmly grip my hips. His fingers dug into my thighs as he dropped to his knees in front of me, spreading them apart.

“A…eron…” I breathed, barely audible. It wasn’t a protest—I wanted this, wanted him, but his intensity left me trembling, weak and helpless.

His mouth was already between my legs, tongue flicking slowly, then faster, driving me insane. I lifted my hips, grabbing his shoulders to keep from falling. My thighs tried to close on instinct, but he held them apart firmly, making sure I felt every slow lick of his tongue.

He'd promised to show me just how much he'd missed me, and now I was feeling every second of it.

Without warning, he slipped a finger inside me. My breath hitched, hips jerking toward him from the sudden, toe-curling rush. He matched his finger to his tongue, moving faster, deeper, until I couldn’t hold it anymore. My head fell back, thighs shaking as I came hard into his mouth, his tongue catching every drop.

My knees trembled, barely holding me up. He kept a firm grip until I steadied, then stood up, kissing me deep enough to taste myself on his tongue. 

I felt him then, hard and insistent, pressing against my thigh. I had no idea how he was keeping himself together—how he was fighting what every part of me was already willing to surrender.

“I've been imagining your fantasies every single night. This,” he breathed, forehead pressed against mine, “is how you drive me crazy.”

He must've seen it in my eyes, the insecurity I couldn’t hide, because he cupped my face. “The place I stayed was remote, right on top of a hill. Signals barely worked. Most days, I was up at the volcano, shooting. The few times I got reception, it was so late I knew you'd be asleep. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up, even when I was desperate to hear your voice.”

“You’re such an idiot, Aeron!” I snapped. “I was waiting here every night for your call, and you were worried about waking me up?”

“You were really waiting for my call, sweetheart?” he asked, eyes teasing.

“Every single night,” I said, hitting his chest lightly. “So don't you dare do that again. Next time, either I’m coming with you, or, worse, I’m never letting you leave at all.”

“I’ll happily take option one.” He lifted me up easily, carrying me toward the bedroom. Halfway there, it hit me—I was stark naked, and he still had all his clothes on.

He lowered me onto the bed. I made a clumsy grab for the blanket, but Aeron beat me to it, pulling it up around me. He kept his eyes exactly where they belonged, not letting them wander anywhere that might embarrass me. He disappeared briefly, then returned, glasses in hand, and put them on the bedside table.

“I’ll get LASIK.” My glasses always ended up interrupting our kisses, making him stop to pull them off every time.

“You don’t need to.” He settled in next to me. “I like you in glasses. They’re cute.”

I smiled, cheeks warming. Every little compliment from him did this to me. Maybe I'd buy more glasses—red, brown, green, even neon if they had them, just to keep torturing him.

A comfortable silence thickened between us. My mind wandered to the Cryptex box—the root of this fight. “I didn’t talk about the box before because you were already angry. You weren’t in the right headspace, and I didn't want to make it worse. But if you still want to know, I’m ready to tell you everything.”

He shook his head, tightening his hold on me. “Forget that damn box. I’ve thought about it, about our fight, how I’d messed it up. That thing isn’t worth hurting you. I won’t let it come between us again.”

“Promise?” My eyes fell to the dark circles under his. Had he slept at all? I remembered him mentioning how he'd pushed himself hard, rushing through work to come home early, back to me.

“Promise,” he murmured, burying his face into my chest, the exact opposite of how I usually curled into him.

“Aeron.” I tested him.

He hummed sleepily.

I giggled.

I called his name once more, just checking. Only the soft rhythm of his breathing answered me. How tired must he have been to fall asleep in seconds? 

Tonight, it was my turn to tuck him in.

Chapter 44

Astrid

I looked at myself in the mirror, the red dress hugging me and stopping just above my knees. Aeron said we were going on a date, but he conveniently left out the where only teasing me with it’s a surprise. My brain filled in the blanks with every romantic scene playing in the background: Candle lights, roses, heart-shaped chocolates.

I heard his footsteps, but I resisted the urge to rush out. The dress demanded a moment of its own. I waited until his presence filled the bedroom doorway, the gentle heat of his stare pressing against my back like a physical touch. Only then, feeling a little smug, did I turn around.

Aeron stared at me without blinking.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I teased, shamelessly admiring how effortlessly handsome he looked in that white shirt. I love white.

He strode over to my closet, grabbed a tissue, and handed it to me. “Wipe your drool.”

I laughed. Karma really did love her job.

“You look beautiful.” His gaze slid down my body, slow and deliberate, leaving fire in its wake.

I stepped closer. “How beautiful?”

A shiver slid down my spine, my heartbeat quickening. I don't think I'd stop him—I don't think I'd want to. Somehow, though, I managed to whisper, “Save it for later.”

“Later,” he echoed, his voice husky, and promising.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, forcing myself out of the spell he'd wrapped around me.

“Patience, sweetheart.” His hand settled possessively on the small of my back, steering me toward the door.

There was only so long one can stay patient.

Aeron opened the car door for me, closed once I was settled inside. He rounded the car, climbed in, and soon we were headed south, past the town square. The farther we drove, the quieter everything became.

He handed me his phone to pick the music, but of course it was full of those intense instrumental tracks.

Since the phone was already in my hands, and it’d be rude not to, I tapped into his gallery. There were stunning lava shots and wildlife animals. One photo caught my attention immediately: a lion, mid-headshake, mane so beautiful, as if he’d just stepped out of a fresh shampoo shower. I stared in awe. Shampoo companies needed to call this beast immediately.

There were even pictures of me from the festival. Most looked suspiciously like revenge shots: me scratching my head, biting my nails, or in my resting bitch face. “You took my pictures?”

“Blackmail material,” he said, smirking.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You could have least made me look cute.”

“You haven’t even seen the best ones yet.”

I started scrolling again, desperate to see what other embarrassing moments he’d immortalized, but Aeron’s, “You won’t find them here,” crushed that hope.

Aeron took a left, the road narrowing into a dirt path framed by tall trees. Another turn, and we broke through into an open clearing. He pulled the car to a stop at the edge of what looked like a forest trail.

He came around, opened my door, and reached for my hand.

My confusion must have been obvious, because he squeezed my hand gently. “It's only a fifteen minute walk from here.”

Walk in this forest? In this dress?

“You conveniently left out the part about trekking through the forest.” I stuck my leg out. “I’m in heels, Aeron.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He bit back a smile. “One look at you, and I forgot practical thoughts existed.”

“If anything jumps out at us, I’m collapsing right here—it’ll definitely find you tastier.”

“For you, I’d gladly get eaten alive.” He chuckled, dropping into a crouch. “Get on.”

As comforting as his closeness would be, carrying me the whole way couldn’t be comfortable for him. "I'll be okay walking."

He stood up, gently cupping my face in his hands. “I don’t know if I'll have this moment fifty years from now, but I have it right now, with you. And I want all of it. Every small thing, every big thing. So when I look back, there’s not a single thing I should regret about us.”

My heart wasn't ready for this sweetness, but it took it all. I'd never felt more wanted, more precious. I leaned into his hands, nodding rapidly, helplessly. Words weren't enough.

I hopped onto his back, arms looping around his neck, suddenly hyper-aware of how close we were, how warm he felt against me. Aeron didn’t seem even slightly out of breath after a few steps, but still, I had to ask, “Am I too heavy?”

“Pancakes don’t weigh much, Dizzytrid,” he drawled.

Pancakes? He did not just—I glanced down at exactly how cozy my breasts were pressed against his back. Heat flooded my cheeks. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and gave it a sharp tug.

He groaned, laughing despite the pain. “I love pancakes—absolutely love them.”

“How'd you find out about this place?”

“Dad used to bring me here when I was a kid.” There was a faint catch, a tiny fracture, in his voice. “It was his favorite spot. When he realized I was into photography, it turned into my practice ground.”

I wanted to ask him more, but the memory of how he’d shut me out the last time held me back. I didn't want to ruin this moment.

“He died in an accident.” His voice cracked.

I tightened my grip on him just a little, letting him know I was here if he wanted to keep going.

“It was his birthday,” he began. “He loved car rides—long drives to nowhere. That day, we were out driving and I saw a puppy, injured, lying helpless in the middle of the road. I stopped to help. Dad was a few feet away, taking a call. I was so focused on helping the puppy, I didn’t hear a truck, failing brakes coming towards me.”

I touched his shoulder, wanting him to stop, to breathe, but he continued.

“Dad saw it first. He shoved me aside just before hitting me. His head was injured badly. He still fought for three days, but..” His breath shuddered. “He didn’t make it. Every single day, I ask myself. What if I hadn’t stopped for that puppy? Maybe he'd still be here.”

I knew what it felt like to lose someone, but hearing Aeron carry this blame felt worse. “Aeron,” I whispered, pressing my cheek to his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. Don't blame yourself.”

“I'm trying, Astrid,” he said. “I don’t think it ever fully goes away. The guilt’s still there. The pain’s still there. But I’m changing. For better. I’m trying to hold on to the good memories instead.”

“I’m glad you’re trying.” I smiled. “What was your dad like?”

From the way Aeron still missed him, I already knew the answer had to be good.

“He was amazing,” Aeron said, warmth easing back into his voice. “And he would’ve loved your kind of crazy.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not crazy.”

“No.” A gentle tease slipped into his tone. “You’re totally insane.”

The trees parted to reveal a pond framed by trees and pink blossoms. My heart skipped a beat. I knew this place from pictures. “Phantom Spring,” I breathed

He tilted his head slightly, eyes softening as they met mine. “I promised I’d bring you here.”

Chapter 45

Astrid

I’d assumed he’d mentioned it just to avoid getting kicked in the shin—my go-to threat at that time. I'd forgotten all about it, but he'd held onto it like a promise. Now, with moonlight gently pooling over the pond, standing here beside Aeron felt almost too intimate.

Across the lake, a tiny wooden cabin sat, looking exactly like the sort of place people fell in love.

“I built this,” he said. “It’s where I come when I need to disappear for a bit and now—” his eyes met mine,“—it’s ours.

I smiled. Ours. One little word, and my heart went soft. Funny how yours to ours could feel so deeply personal. “It's beautiful. Can we?” I slipped my arm through his, and pulled him along until we reached the pond's edge. A narrow path stretched ahead, leading straight to the cabin.

“You’ll fall. Let me carry you.” He moved to lift me, but I swatted his hands away.

“Calm down, Hercules. I've got legs.” He acted like I’d snap if the wind blew too hard.

I stepped onto the narrow path, balancing carefully one foot at a time. Would it have killed Aeron to add just one more plank?

Miser.

“Careful,” he warned from behind me.

I made it halfway across without any trouble. Somewhere between realizing I was dead center over the water and Aeron’s endless careful warning from behind, my foot slipped. Before I could steady myself, my leg slid right into the pond, and a moment later, the rest of me followed.

I gasped as the cold water soaked through my clothes, head to toe.

Aeron crouched down, doing a terrible job at hiding his smile. “Didn’t someone just say they had legs?”

“Why would I need enemies when I’ve got you?” I brushed wet strands from my face.

Aeron’s expressions shifted—intense, hungry.

He jumped into the pond, water splashing around him and rising halfway up his thighs as he walked toward me. The soaked white shirt clung to his chest, revealing every hard line and muscle, leaving nothing, and everything, to my imagination.

He’d undone his shirt buttons by the time he reached me, sliding it off and letting it fall carelessly into the water, revealing every inch of skin I suddenly, desperately wanted to touch.

One arm slipped around my waist, pulling me close, his fingers tipping my chin up. “Enemies wouldn’t chase you into water just to see how irresistible you look soaking wet.” His lips crashed into mine—hungry, restless, demanding—turning the cold water impossibly hot.

I pulled back, breathless, desperate. “How irresistible am I?” My fingers slid possessively down his bare chest.

“One touch from you makes me lose my damn mind,” he murmured roughly, tugging impatiently at my soaked dress. I guided his hands, helping him slide it away until I stood naked, trembling beneath his hungry gaze.

“How are you even real?”

“Feel me. I promise I’m real.”

His hands roamed down my body, fingertips grazing over my breasts. My own hand moved lower, boldly, and cupped around his hardness, squeezing gently.

A deep, throaty sound escaped him. “Don't test my control, sweetheart.”

I rose onto my toes, gently biting his earlobe. “What if I'm craving your wild side tonight?” I guided his fingers down and pressed them exactly where I ached for him.

His control snapped.

He slid a finger into me, curling it perfectly, pulling a sharp gasp from my lips. Another finger followed, moving deeper, quicker, until my knees buckled and I clung desperately to him. One more stroke, and pleasure slammed through me, his name spilling from my mouth as I fell apart against him.

He didn't give me a second to catch my breath, grabbing my wrist, pressing my palm urgently against the waistband of his pants.

“Take them off,” he ordered, voice rough. “Condom—my wallet. Now.”

I swallowed hard.

His eyes had turned fierce, any trace of gentleness gone. My heart raced as I slipped my fingers into his pocket, quickly finding his wallet, the foil cool between my trembling fingertips.

“Put it on.”

My eyes jumped from his demanding eyes down to the condom.

My hands shook a little as I tore it open and tossed the wrapper into the water. Reaching under, I slid it onto him, deliberately brushing him with my fingertips. He jerked, muttering a low curse.

He lifted me, my body flush against him. I felt every inch of him pressed against my body as he carried me out of the water and gently laid me down at the pond’s edge.

“Why are you so beautiful?” he whispered.

“So are you.” I arched under him as he settled between my legs, spreading my thighs wider with his own. We'd been close these past ten days—exploring every inch—lips, hands, pleasure—but this was different.

“Relax,” he rasped softly, brushing his lips over mine. “Just feel me.”

He pushed into me slowly. I pressed my eyes shut at the sudden, sharp stretch of him. Aeron captured my lips, kissing me deeply, easing away the pain with tender strokes of his tongue.

I gripped his shoulders tightly, breathing hard. He wasn't doing any better, his breaths uneven, sweat beading on his forehead, muscles tense as he held himself back, waiting for my body to take all of him.

“I’m fine now.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded desperately.

He thrust fully into me, burying himself deep and pulling a gasp from my throat. Pleasure replaced the ache as he started to move. My legs wrapped around him, nails pressing into his back as I pushed my hips up, meeting every thrust, hard and fast.

I came hard, his name tearing from my lips in a desperate cry. Aeron growled deeply, losing himself completely as he followed me over the edge. He collapsed onto me, both of us sweaty and breathless, hearts pounding wildly together. The night closed around us, moonlight the only witness to our messy breaths and tangled bodies.

My eyes blinked open, taking in the unfamiliar walls—the cabin, I assumed. Memories of last night hovered vaguely: Aeron lifting me up by the pond, my sleepy head against his shoulder.

I reached for him instinctively, panic flaring when I found the bed empty beside me. But then, I saw him, holding a steaming cup. Relief flooded me, and my pulse slowed to something closer to normal.

“Morning.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead before setting the mug on the bedside table.

“Morning,” I shifted a little so he could settle into the tiny bit of space beside me.

“How are you feeling?”

Memories from last night came flooding back, warm and vivid, sending a pulse of heat straight down my spine. “Good.” Too good. Incredible.

I lifted my blanket and peeked. Shit. My dress. It was probably still floating sadly in the water. I turned my best pitiful eyes toward Aeron. “My dress…”

“Relax,” he said, mouth quirking into an easy smile. “I rescued it already.”

"How the hell did I get so lucky?" I pouted. He kept beating me to my own thoughts, like he had secret access to my brain’s private chat.

“I ask myself that every day.” He leaned in, kissing the pout right off my lips.

My phone rang from somewhere nearby. He grabbed it from the bedside table, his expression souring as he glanced at the screen. He silenced it and set it back down, irritation flickering in his eyes.

“Who is it?”

“Nobody,” he said, voice clipped.

It started again. He reached for it, silencing it swiftly, but before he could put it down, I snatched it out of his hand.

Kelly.

Mystery solved. No wonder he looked like he'd swallowed something bitter.

“Don’t answer.”

“It might be important,” I insisted.

He made a grumbling noise deep in his throat. “She just wants your attention.” The jealousy in his voice was adorable.

“I promise I'll keep it short.” I answered the call.

“I’m doomed,” she cried dramatically. “I can’t live on Earth anymore. Mars is my only hope.”

“Okay, breathe,” I said patiently. “Mars isn’t exactly welcoming new residents yet. You'll still have to find a spot on Earth. Now tell me, what did you do?”

“I liked a photo on Insta,” she confessed miserably.

“Whose?” I asked carefully.

Silence.

My suspicion spiked instantly. “Ayden’s?”

She let out a guilty hum.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” I warned, remembering how many times she'd insisted Ayden meant absolutely nothing.

“I promise I will, once I’m out of this. Please help.”

“First, go like about thirty random posts, then put up a story saying your account got ha—” My words evaporated into a startled gasp when Aeron bit softly at my neck.

“You okay?” Kelly paused suspiciously.

“Yeah, totally fine. Just… bug attack.” I shot Aeron a glare that promised murder. “Anyway, put up a story—you account got hacked—”

His hand slipped beneath the sheets, thumb slowly circling my nipple. My head fell back, completely betraying me as my thoughts turned into useless mush.

“Astrid?”

One more second, and Kelly would hear my moans. “I'll call you back later,” I rushed out breathlessly, hanging up before she could protest, then turned fully to face him. “How am I supposed to look at her face if she'd heard?”

“With pride. Your moans are delicious.” he whispered, voice deep and raspy, pressing closer until every inch of me trembled beneath him.

“You’re impossible.” The blush on my face ruined any attempt at seriousness.

“I don’t like you giving attention to anyone other than me, especially her.”

I laughed. “You’re about to go down in history as the boyfriend jealous of his girlfriend’s best friend.”

“You haven’t seen my jealousy yet, sweetheart.” he drawled, all cocky confidence.

I'd throw out all my money to see the day Aeron finally admitted to being jealous. I'd probably frame the moment, too.

Chapter 46

Astrid

Aeron was out of town, meeting with an architect about converting the old abandoned theater into a vintage resort. It had started as just a silly, throwaway idea I'd tossed out during one of our random conversations, but by morning he'd somehow turned it into a full fledged plan.

I'd finished going over some last-minute wedding details with soon-to-be newlyweds whose big day was only a month away when Allen’s call came through.

“Astrid.” His voice was tight and strained. “Has Kaia been by your studio? Or, I don’t know, have you seen her anywhere?”

My stomach dropped. “No…Did something happen?”

“I don’t know where she is.” His voice cracked with panic. “I went to pick her up at school, but her teacher said she hasn't seen her since snack break. I’ve called everyone I can think of. I’m starting to freak out.”

What kind of school loses track of a five-year-old after snack time? “Allen, breathe. She’ll be okay.” I grabbed my keys, already halfway to the door. “We’ll find her. I’m on my way.”

I hung up and was about to call Kelly so we could search together when her call came through.

“Kaia’s missing,” she said.

“Allen just called me. I’m coming to pick you up now.”

Kelly was already waiting by the time I pulled up. We hurried to the town square together. It was a relief to see Ayden there with him. Allen looked as if he'd aged a decade in minutes—eyes red, worry lines carved deeply into his face. Nothing Kelly, Ayden, or I said seemed to get through to him.

We split into two teams: Kelly and I took the toy and ice cream shops, guessing Kaia would make a beeline for anything sugary or fun, while Allen and Ayden covered the streets. I tried Aeron’s phone on the way, but it went straight to voicemail, so I left a quick message asking him to check in on Allen when he could. Allen looked like he was barely holding it together.

We'd already searched through half the shops, but there was still no trace of her.

“Where could she have gone? We've been through every place she'd go.” Kelly sounded as lost as I felt.

“Do you think someone took her?” I asked, hesitant but unable to shake the thought ever since we started searching. Kaia had vanished straight from school. The teacher’s complete lack of concern had set off alarm bells in my head.

“Now that you've said it.” Panic edged Kelly’s voice. “We can't ignore the possibility. Kidnappings don't happen here, but...” She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m calling Dad.”

Allen’s call came in just in time, sounding hopeful yet desperate. When I told him we still hadn’t found Kaia, he went painfully silent. His voice strained, as he told me he was heading to the police station.

It was just a glimpse—a little girl through the window as I drove past. I couldn't be sure it was Kaia, but those lopsided ponytails screamed her name. I braked so fast my seatbelt locked.

“I think I saw Kaia.”

I reversed the car, stopping in front of the tiny ice cream shop. This time there was no doubt.

It was Kaia.

She was sitting inside, legs swinging as she scooped a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, talking to a woman I didn’t recognize. Pretty, dressed in red, the woman smiled warmly, and Kaia looked completely at ease. Nothing about her seemed dangerous, but appearances could be deceiving.

“Her dad is turning the entire town upside down looking for her, and she's here eating ice cream with a stranger.” Kelly clicked her tongue. “I've never seen this woman around before.”

“Whoever she is, we can't trust her. We call Allen first. Then we go in and get her.”

When I told Allen we'd found Kaia, I heard him release a breath he'd probably been holding all day. I texted him the address, told him to hurry, and headed inside the shop.

“Kaia.” I walked over to their table. “What are you doing here?”

“Astid, Kewy!” Kaia’s face lit up. She waved her spoon at me excitedly, flinging little drops of ice cream onto the table. “This pwetty aunt helped me when I fell down. She put a band aid on my ouchie.” She held out her elbow, showing off the tiny bandage. “See? It’s not huwting now!”

“Don’t you know you're not supposed to go with strangers?” I said softly, trying not to sound too stern. When I looked at the woman, her face tightened slightly, obviously irritated that I'd interrupted.

“And definitely don’t eat anything they give you.” Kelly added.

Kaia's eyes dropped, her tiny shoulders shrinking a little.

“Come on, let’s go.” I reached to help her up, but the woman in red caught my wrist.

“Let her finish her ice cream,” she said firmly, stepping protectively closer to Kaia.

“Kaia.”

Allen hurried toward us, relief filling his face at the sight of Kaia—until he spotted the woman next to her. He hesitated, surprise slipping briefly on his face before his expression turned guarded. He bent down and scooped Kaia into his arms.

“Don’t you know you’re supposed to stay at school until Grandma or I pick you up?” Allen’s voice rose sharply, startling even me and Kelly. Kaia flinched, shrinking into his chest.

He turned sharply to the woman. “Shouldn’t you at least ask if a kid has allergies before giving them something? My daughter can’t handle cold food. If something happens to her, are you going to take responsibility?”

I’d expected Allen to demand who she was or at least confront her about taking Kaia without permission. Instead, he jumped straight into ice cream allergies, as if that was somehow more pressing.

“I’m sorry.” Worry crossed her face. “I didn’t realize. She fell at school and wouldn't stop crying, so I thought ice cream might calm her down. Will she be all right? I’m a doctor. I can take a look at her if you’d like.”

She reached for Kaia, but Allen instinctively pulled her closer and stepped back. “That won’t be necessary,” he said sharply, and walked away.

I could feel there was tension between Allen and the woman in red.

And now, as I took a closer look at her, I couldn't shake the quiet realization. The similarity in the shape and color of their eyes, the way hers were a near-perfect match to Kaia’s.

Chapter 47

Astrid

I shut the car door with my hip as I made my way toward the studio. Aeron had only been gone for an hour, for something about legal paperwork for the theater renovation, and I was already pining like a sad puppy. I was missing him, missing his warmth, his cuddles, missing just him. Ridiculous, really. I'd forgotten how to survive without his hugs for more than sixty minutes.

My phone lit up with a message from Orchids, the cake company I’d reached out to, sending photos of their themed cakes.

Mabel’s birthday was only a month away, and since Aeron had missed the last five, I'd talked to him into celebrating this year. I even tortured him into inviting his younger sister, Nora Snora.

Let her burn with a little jealousy.

And he agreed.

I scrolled through the pictures. They looked nice enough to go ahead with. I texted back asking for a garden theme with lots of plants, set my phone aside, and got back to work.

Later in the afternoon, Mary, my landlord, called asking if I’d like to pitch in for the train conductor’s retirement gift. They were throwing a send-off party for him.

I felt weirdly sentimental all of a sudden. I wanted to say goodbye to him in person, but there was also something else I needed to ask. Mind made up, I grabbed my keys and drove over to the station.

Simon was clearing out his desk.

“Astrid,” he smiled. “Well, this is a surprise. Come on in. You’re actually the first one to come from Orange Falls. I was betting Aeron would drop by.”

“He’s out of town. But he’d have definitely come if he’d known.” Simon’s shelves were lined with awards and shiny glass trophies, nothing like my participation certificates.

“You two good?” he asked hesitantly.

“We are. Don’t worry.” I assured him. I knew he hadn’t forgotten that little slip-up. I could feel the guilt dripping from his voice. I hadn’t asked Aeron who she was, even though he’d brought it up himself, but that tiny, stubborn curiosity just wouldn't leave my mind alone.

“Have you…have you seen her?” I asked, my voice coming out hesitant, like I wasn’t even sure if I should be asking.

“Some things are best left where they are,” he said softly. “I know you're curious, but it's better not to go there.”

I would’ve let it drop if it had been about anyone else.

“I promise I won’t tell Aeron.” And even if I did find out, it wouldn’t change anything between us. She was his past, and I am his present.

“It’s not about telling Aeron—”

“Please.” My voice strained painfully. “I just..I can't go on without knowing who she was.”

“You’re stubborn, just like my granddaughter,” He sighed, shaking his head. “He's been looking for this girl for five years. Every year he comes here hoping to meet her, but she never does. Yet he never stopped coming back.”

Five years.

The truth was worse than I'd imagined. Knowing she'd been stuck in his head for five years made my chest ache, someone squeezing all the air right out of me.

I regretted asking.

I forced myself to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Let me help you pack.” I needed a distraction to keep my mind off this. Reaching up, I grabbed a tray from the top shelf, sending a cloud of dust into the air.

I sneezed.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “It’s gotten pretty dusty over the years. Just some personal stuff I tossed in there. It’s been forever since I actually cleaned out that tray.”

There were coins, emblems, probably service badges, and a few random personal items. Mixed in with all that was something that definitely didn’t belong: a pink unicorn notebook.

My heart started pounding fast, recognizing that familiar notebook.

“This…” My voice came out shaky, more breath than words. “How do you have this?” It should’ve been with him. I'd asked, on our very last day, if we could finally meet, but he never replied. Worse, the notebook wasn't even in the seat where we’d spent five whole days swapping notes. So how, exactly, had it found its way into Simon’s tray?

“Someone lost it,” he said. “One of the cleaning staff found it under a seat and brought it to me. I only read the first few words and realized it was something personal, so I didn’t want to pry. There were no names anywhere, so I couldn't return it.”

Under the seat?

I remembered seeing the cleaning staff moving around the train that day.

I turned the page, my messy handwriting staring up at me. Chicken scratch, he'd called it, and even now, that memory brought a small smile to my lips.

I flipped slowly through the pages, my thoughts slipping five years into the past. I wasn't sure if my mind was messing with me today, because the more I read his responses, the more I noticed this handwriting strongly resembled the one I'd seen in Kelly's yearbook.

No. It couldn't be.

It couldn't possibly be him.

My mind was still spinning from this realization when another hit me, stealing my breath entirely.

Meet me here next year, Asteroid, on the same day we first met. I'll be right here, waiting for you. Next time, I'll make it right—no notes, no hiding. Just you, me, and the date we should’ve had. And maybe those chocolates. We'll eat them together if they haven't expired by then.

Just say yes.

He’d wanted to meet me.

“Simon.” I pushed the words past the lump in my throat. “What date does Aeron come here every year?”

“Astrid, I told you to leave—”

“Please,” I begged. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t remember the exact date,” he said. “He comes back to Orange Falls once a year. Every time, he visits this station. Every time, he takes that ride.”

We’d met for the first time on Hitchhiker’s Bend—the day he came back.

The realization sank in slowly, then all at once.

It had always been him.

I hugged the notebook to my chest, tears blurring my vision, though I wasn’t entirely sure if they were happy tears or sad tears or something inconveniently in between. I ran, barely registering Simon’s voice shouting after me, warning that I couldn't just take someone else’s book. But none of that registered, or mattered, because that someone was me.

I drove straight to Aeron’s house, marched through the door like I owned the place, and stormed into his room. I opened the drawer, and sure enough, there sat the grey box he’d tried hiding from me.

I flipped the box open, patience long gone, hands moving faster than my brain.

Inside was the star pendant I'd given him—the clue to my name when he’d asked. But it was the photo beneath that stole my attention—me, in that yellow dress, head thrown back in laughter. I picked it up, fingers tracing the heart he'd drawn around my face, pausing on the handwriting beside it. Two words stared back, hitting me like a comet.

My Asteroid.

I pressed my hand to my mouth, the name ringing loud enough in my head to drown out everything else. I had to see him—to shout at him, maybe shake him by the shoulders and demand why he'd never told me. My feet were already moving, running downstairs. I nearly collided into Mabel.

I threw my arms around her, hugging her so tightly it startled her.

“What happened?” she asked, startled but already laughing with me.

“I’m just—” I pulled back, laughing like a total idiot. “I’m just really, really happy.”

I hurried out of the house, calling Aeron on the way. Of all the times for him not to answer, he chose now. I tried again impatiently.

“Sweetheart,” he answered quickly. “I'll call you back in—”

“When are you coming back?” I interrupted, patience clearly not my strength today.

“Probably this evening, or later tonight, if things—”

“Four o’clock. Train station.” I cut in again. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Chapter 48

Aeron

She was acting incredibly secretive today. After abruptly ending our call with a vague demand— “Four o'clock, train station. I'll be waiting for you”—she ignored every call I made afterward. Confused and worried, even panicked a little, I called Mom, hoping she'd know something. She was just as clueless. All I heard was Astrid had stopped by the house, hugged her tight, said she was very happy, and left without explaining a thing.

When I got to the station, Astrid called me and told me to board the last compartment, and hung up. It felt like I was starring in some kidnapper’s game, waiting cluelessly for the next instruction. I stepped onto the train and spotted her near the footboard, standing with her back to me.

I hugged her from behind, pulling her back to a safe distance.

She startled, but relaxed quickly. I ran my thumb over her hand, feeling something hard clutched in her hands. I tilted my head for a better look, but she tugged her oversized shirt over it, blocking my view entirely. “You’re being very secretive today.”

The train began to move.

She tilted her head back slightly, eyes playful. “What, I can't be Aeron for a day?”

“No.” I kissed her hair, breathing her in. “I’m already missing my Astrid.”

She laughed, soft and warm like late afternoon sunrays, my favorite music.

“What did you want to tell me?” Sometimes it still hit me out of nowhere, that she was here, in my arms, that this was real, that she was mine.

She leaned her head against my chest. “Want to hear a story?”

“I’m all ears.” I had a hunch it was going to be about some client who’d driven her crazy.

“Two strangers met on a train,” she began. I circled my thumb over the back, encouraging her to continue, a signal, I was listening even as curiosity burned wondering what she was hiding in her hands.

“They exchanged notes for five days.”

My thumb stilled.

She continued. “He saw her for the first time in the guard’s compartment. He captured her picture he still keeps.”

It began to click, it wasn’t a random story. It was ours.

She’d opened the grey box—that was the only explanation. Nobody else knew about that picture. I'd never breathed a word about it to anyone. Suddenly, everything made sense. This little culprit must’ve snuck into my room when she went home. I'd assumed she'd forgotten all about it, but I'd clearly underestimated her determination.

“On the last day, she asked if they could meet...”

She paused.

“And then?” I knew exactly where the story stopped. I’d lived that ending, revisited it every year. But I still wanted to hear her finish it, to know how the ending sounded from her side. Had she remembered only after opening the grey box?

She turned to me, eyes loaded with longing. “Your note never reached me, Aeron.” All pretence fell away—she wasn't narrating a story anymore. She was telling me ours.

“W..hat?”

Her voice cracked. “I never got your note.” She repeated.

“If it had?” I had to know her answer. Would she have said yes to a date? Would she have wanted to see me, not just as strangers exchanging notes, but as something more?

The tunnel closed around us, pulling us into darkness. Astrid opened my fingers and placed something small—a tiny notebook—into my hand. “My reply’s in there.”

I never thought I’d see this tiny notebook again. I turned the pages, breath catching hard at the words staring back at me in that chicken scratch handwriting.

A thousand times yes. I’ll go on a date with you.

The thought that she hadn’t forgotten, that we’d been in this together all along, ignited a fire in my body. My fingers found her hair, pulling her closer, rough but gentle, exactly how I felt about her. I kissed her hard, deep, all the patience of five years had snapped.

She was breathless when we broke apart. I pressed my forehead gently against hers, breathing her in. “Where did you find this?”

The explanation she gave—that she'd found it in Simon’s personal belongings, I didn't know if I should shake my head at her sneaky curiosity or kiss her senseless. She’d gone sneaking around behind my back, digging for truth, and ended up finding our secret. If it wasn’t for her, this would've stayed hidden forever. I never would have brought it up again, and she never would have asked.

“I have one more thing for you.” She walked over to the seat where she'd left her bag, and returned holding the Cryptex box. She placed it in my hands. “You asked what my secret was, right? The password is the date we met.”

The box clicked open once I set the date. Inside was the ticket, edges a little worn, along with the tiny honey bottle I’d given her. The irony hit me square in the chest—I’d spent all this time jealous over a secret that was mine all along.

A smile pulled at my lips. “What happened to the chocolates?”

She bit her lip, looking adorably guilty. Wrapping her arms around me as if she'd committed a serious crime, she confessed. “When your reply never came, I got so upset that I ate them. All of them, in one night.”

“You didn’t even spare the wrappers?”

She hit my chest. “I’m not a goat.”

I was glad she'd eaten them. There was no way I would've let her touch five-year-old chocolates anyway.

Chapter 49

Astrid

I don't know if I've ever felt euphoria before today, maybe I have, but nothing could ever touch this. “Why didn't you tell me sooner? You made me jealous of myself.”

“So, you could’ve told me about the Cryptex box instead of letting me burn with jealousy over myself. Maybe then I’d have cracked and confessed sooner.”

It’s true.

If I’d just shown him the Cryptex sooner, maybe things would’ve been simpler. But we were both stubborn. I was worried Aeron might feel jealous, which was the last thing I wanted, and he didn’t open up because he was hurt, thinking I’d forgotten him.

The train pulled gently to a stop. Our story began with a secret on this train, and now, on the same train, that secret was finally free.

“Where were you planning to take me on our date?” I asked as we stepped onto the platform.

“Anywhere you wanted. The only destination I cared about was you.”

“I thought you were bald, and that's why you didn't want to meet me,” I confessed, eyeing his unfairly thick hair.

Aeron threw his head back, laughing loudly. “What else did you imagine about me?”

“Plenty.” I slipped my hand into his as we walked. “You were trapped with a girlfriend who laughed like a hyena.”

He nodded seriously. “I have to agree on that part. Your laugh is pure hyena territory.”

I scowled, elbowing him sharply. Five years ago, I arrived reluctantly and ended up meeting him. Now, five years later, I’d returned reluctantly, only to find him again.

Aeron’s sudden “Astrid, wait,” stopped me cold. I turned, pulse jumping as I saw him down on one knee. My eyes widened, my heart missing several beats. I squeezed my eyes shut. Was this—was he seriously proposing?

Except, that never came.

When I opened my eyes, he was tying my shoelaces and then straightened up.

“Why’s your face red?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

“It’s nothing,” I mumbled quickly, turning to walk away, but he knew better.

“Don't tell me you thought I was proposing.”

“I didn’t,” I insisted, speeding up to escape the embarrassment.

“Your face says otherwise.”

“I didn’t,” I repeated stubbornly.

“Astrid,” he called after me, teasingly.

“Sweetheart.”

“Sasstrid.”

I ignored his playful taunts, but he caught up easily, wrapping an arm around my waist before I could escape.

Acknowledgments

Thank you for investing your time in reading Lemonade Love. I have poured countless months of my passion into its creation which wouldn’t be possible without the support you. This is just the beginning. There are many more stories waiting to be told, many more hearts waiting to be connected. I can't wait to share them all with you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rees Aurin writes swoony romance, plays detective in thrillers, time travels through historical books, and escapes to fantasy worlds where she and unicorns sip drinks, discuss household dramas, and avoid responsibilities together. You can find her on Instagram @authorreesaurin.