“Maybe.” I swallow, heart thudding. “About last night… I know I said it was just friends with benefits.”
“Yeah,” he says gently.
“I don’t want that anymore.” My voice wavers, but I press on. “I wantmore. Because I?—”
He cuts me off with that crooked, knowing smile. “I know,” he says softly. “I do too.”
Something inside me breaks and rebuilds in the same breath.
The boys’ laughter rings behind us. The fire crackles. The stars start to come out one by one.
And for the first time all season, I stop worrying about saving the farm.
Because somehow, somewhere along the way, I saved myself too.
EIGHT
VAN
The gate clanks shut with a finalthunkthat echoes through the quiet fields.
For the first time in weeks, the patch is still. No kids laughing, no tractors rumbling, no smell of cider thick in the air. Just a crackling fire, a sky full of stars, and the soft weight of Lanie leaning against me.
She sighs, melting into my side. “You hear that?”
“Silence?” I ask.
“Success,” she murmurs, smiling into my shoulder.
The flames throw gold over her face, catching the tired joy in her eyes. Around us, the pumpkin-lined paths glow faintly from a few leftover string lights. The place feels… content. Like it knows it’s earned its rest.
Boots crunch on gravel behind us, followed by Quinn’s voice.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our fearless festival director and her resident fire chief.”
Lanie groans, laughing. “Can’t I have one moment of Zen without you three spoiling it all?”
“Not when there’s a campfire and leftover pie.” Chase drops a box on the picnic table and starts divvying up slices.
Katelyn’s right behind him with thermoses of coffee.
Dylan and Taegen appear next, hands linked, cheeks pink from the cold.
Tricia and Quinn bring up the rear, still looking at each other like the honeymoon of their relationship hasn’t worn off.
I doubt it ever will.
Within minutes, we’re all crowded around the fire, passing plates and mugs, sharing that comfortable exhaustion only people who’ve survived the same storm understand.
Quinn raises his cup. “To our best season yet.”
“Damn right,” Chase says through a mouthful of apple pie. “And to my cronut-crushing nachos.”
Katelyn elbows him. “You lost that bake-off fair and square.”
“Lost with style,” he argues. “You can’t deny that.”
Taegen laughs. “Speaking of style—Dylan’s Enchanted Forest has been trending online all week. Did you see the new hashtag? #CarverMagic.”
