I turned back toward the farm stand, drawn by the faint smell of warm cider drifting on the breeze.
Elodie was behind the counter helping again, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she filled a customer’s order. The ease in her movements struck me—like she was born for this, the hum of a busy farm, the laughter of kids climbing hay bales, the sound of coins clinking in a cash box.
“Hey, Austin,” she said as I stepped up, already reaching for three paper cups. “Cider?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Three, please.”
As she filled them from a steaming kettle, I let my gaze wander back to the barn.
“You know,” I said casually, “Wes and the crew have done amazing work on the inside so far. The attention to detail—hell, even the beams feel like art. Wes’s vision really made the place feel alive.”
Elodie’s easy smile faltered slightly. Her hands stilled on the cups.
“It does,” she said. Then her brow furrowed as she sighed. “It breaks my heart, but he’s ... really not doing great lately. Cal said he stopped coming out to jobs altogether. Won’t answer calls. Says he won’t even leave his house anymore. We’re all worried about him.”
The words settled heavily between us, the steam from the kettle curling lazily in the cool air.
“He was always the first one to show up for everyone else,” she added, almost to herself.
I nodded slowly, the weight of her concern pressing into my chest. Wes had been the guy who threw himself in front of a moving car to save Hayes—the guy who never hesitated to help.
Now he’s the one who needs showing up for.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring down the happy mood.” Elodie handed over the cups with a small, distracted smile. “Thanks for saying something, Austin. Not many people have.”
“Of course,” I said quietly.
I walked toward Selene and Winnie with the warm paper cups balancing in hand, the sweet-spiced smell of cider curling around me like a hug.
Selene looked up as I approached, her lips curving into a smile that melted my insides. Winnie’s eyes lit up at the sight of the paper cups.
“Cider! Yes!” she cheered, reaching for one.
“Careful. It’s hot,” I warned, crouching to help her hold it steady.
Selene’s fingers brushed mine as she took hers, and our eyes caught.
The air between us felt warm in a way that had nothing to do with the cider.
We started walking the rest of the farm, Winnie skipping ahead with her cider cup clutched in both hands, the steam swirling around her flushed cheeks.
The path wound past rows of late-blooming mums, their colors like spilled paint—deep burgundy, burnt orange, buttercream yellow. I kept my pace slow, matching Selene’s without even thinking about it, every few steps scanning ahead to make sure Winnie didn’t trip over a root or wander too close to the small pen of goats without one of us close by.
The air smelled like hay and something sweet—baked apples, maybe—and it sank deep into my bones. I felt steady, like that was where I was supposed to be—with them.
“Think you can handle this place without me for a few minutes?” I asked, glancing over as we reached a split in the path.
Selene tilted her head, her wavy hair glinting in the afternoon light. “Depends. Where are you off to?”
“I see my brother over there,” I said, nodding toward Brody, who stood near the tractor shed, his uniform catching the light as he spoke to one of the farmhands.
Selene’s gaze followed mine. “Go on. We’ll check out the corn maze. If we’re not back in fifteen minutes ...”
She let the warning hang with a faint smirk.
I grinned. “I’ll come in after you, but only if I get to carry you out like a heroic farm rescue.”
Her laugh curled around me, warm and unguarded. “You’re ridiculous.”
