My bruises are gone. My lip is almost healed. I still see the girl Mark tried to break, but she doesn’t look shattered this time. She looks like she might be piecing herself back together.
Downstairs, the kitchen hums with life. Lily is already at the stove, apron dusted with flour, something bubbling and sweet filling the air. Cinnamon, sugar, and butter. It smells like home, the kind of home I thought I would never have again. I take a deep breath, letting the warmth and familiar scents sink in.
“Well, good morning, Penny,” she says, turning with a bright smile, wooden spoon still in her hand.“Sleep well?”
“I did, thank you. It smells amazing in here.”
“Pumpkin spice muffins.” She winks, sliding the pan into the oven.“Thought I’d bake a few batches for tomorrow. I’m so excited.”
I tilt my head.“The Pumpkin Patch starts tomorrow?”
“That’s right.” Her smile widens.“We’ve been doing it every fall since the kids were little. From the first of October until Halloween. Families from all over town come by. There are hayrides, horse rides, pumpkin carvings. We set up a stand for pies and cider too.” She glances around the kitchen, eyes sparkling.“It’s always a little chaotic, but it’s so much fun.”
She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.“But this year, I want something extra. A fall photoshoot station.”
My heart skips.“A photoshoot?”
Lily nods, eyes twinkling.“You take such pretty pictures, Penny. I’ve had so many compliments on the ones we hung on the walls at the B&B and the ones in the brochures. Would you like to run the booth?”
I nearly drop my coffee. My hands feel warm, my chest tightening in excitement.“You would let me…? I mean, yes. Yes, I would love to!”
“Good.” She presses the spoon into my hands as if sealing the deal.“Now you’ll need some props. Blankets, pumpkins, crates. We can find some of that in the barn.”
My chest swells. A rush of happiness fills me, and I can’t help the small grin tugging at my lips.“I’d love that,” I whisper, and I mean it.
???
The whole day hums with energy. The Hawthornes are buzzing around the ranch, setting up hay bales and scarecrows, hammering signs into the dirt drive. Grace strings lights along the fence, humming under her breath, while Ethan and Jude drag out pumpkins the size of small boulders. The place feels alive, like fall itself has decided to put down roots here.
I wander the barn and the attic, gathering props for the photo stand: plaid blankets, wicker baskets, an old lantern, a stack of well-loved books. Every time I add something, I picture how it will look in a shot. My fingers itch for my camera.
Cas appears at my side while I’m carrying a bundle of pillows.“You know,” he drawls,“I’ve got just the thing that might tie all this together.”
I raise a brow.“Yeah? What’s that?”
His smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.“Red truck. She’s sittin’in my garage at home. Old, but polished up nice. Thought we could park her by the patch, throw some blankets in the bed, let folks pose.”
My heart jumps.“Cas, that’s perfect.”
“Thought you’d like it.” His eyes gleam.“Come on. Let’s go get her.”
The road winds through trees already blazing orange and red, until the view opens to a wide stretch of lake, water shimmering like glass. His house sits on a rise above it, country style but modern, tall floor-to-ceiling windows catching the light, a wide porch wrapping around the front.
Before I can take it all in, Cas opens my car door with a grin.
“Here we go,” he says, and I step out, stretching a little.
A blur of fur barrels toward us, a German shepherd, tongue lolling, tail wagging like mad.
“Max,” Cas calls, laughing.
The dog leaps up, ears perked and eyes bright, brushing against my legs as I stumble slightly, laughing.
“This here’s the real sheriff of Fremont County.”
I hold out my hand as Cas lets Max sniff. The dog approves instantly, pressing his head into my palm.“He’s beautiful,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears.“Hi there, Max.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Cas says softly.“He’ll lick you to death before he ever scares you.”
