Page 89 of Sugar & Shadows

“You hate this less than you expected, huh?”

Her arms fell to her sides and her shoulders sank. “I hate that you’re right.”

Sabrina was completely out of place here. But somehow, she fit in better by the hour.

“You’re different out here,” she said as we packed up equipment. “More confident, less…” She waved a hand. “Less like you’re waiting for someone to yell at you.”

I winced. Damn. That hit too close to home.

“This is the real me,” I said quietly. “Out here, I know what I’m doing. And I’m not expected to try to make everyone happy.”

She didn’t argue or hurl an insult at me. Instead, she just nodded, like she understood. And that somehow made me feel even worse.

“Can I show you something?” I asked. “It’s not far. We can come right back and finish our list.”

She searched my face, wearing a hesitant frown.

“It’s special. I promise.”

Leaving the ATV and the equipment, we trudged over the hill. This part of the property had belonged to my parents. I’d grown up here. I knew each tree. This had been our playground.

“Over here.” I headed for the old sugar shack. It had taken a couple of days, but I’d gotten the place looking presentable.

The metal roof still sagged, but I’d replaced the broken bits and patched holes, and I’d shoveled out the path. I’d stocked the shed with fresh firewood and I’d run string lights around the outside, thinking it would look cute in photos. I’d even replaced the broken windowpanes.

“It’s old,” I explained. “But…” Hands on my hips, I surveyed the structure.

She stopped beside me, studying me instead of the building, and a nervous hopefulness erupted inside me.

“This hasn’t been used in decades,” I explained. “But I thought we could boil a batch. Harper said we needed content.”

Inside, a few big, amber bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow.

I’d done some work on the inside of the place too, mostly cleaning out decades of soot and dust. A few beams were rotted and in need of replacement, and I installed new metal shelving units.

Sabrina shuffled in and slowly took it all in. She studied the old photos hung on the walls along with the antique tools and hooks.

It looked good. I couldn’t deny it, and I’d managed to preserve the history of this place.

“You did all this.” She spun around to face me. “For social media.”

“Yeah,” I said, too fast and too loud. I shoved my hands in my pockets and exhaled. Why the hell did this feel so emotional? “Just needed a few fixes. No big deal.” I took a step closer to the wall of pictures. “I used to boil sap with my grandparents here.”

Her face softened. I both loved and hated her reaction. This moment was bigger than I could have imagined. It was a wooden shack in the woods. Four walls and a roof. But my chest was tight, bursting with pride and nostalgia.

“And you fixed it up yourself?”

I nodded, focus fixed on the floor. “A little at time. I don’t want the history to disappear.”

When she didn’t respond, I looked up and found her watching me. Like she understood that this was about more than maple syrup. It was about this town, this state, this way of life.

And whatever was happening between us.

I had to break this spell, this tension, whatever it was.

“This is the evaporator,” I explained, shaking my head to clear it. “Most important piece of equipment.” I sounded strange, like I had switched into tour guide mode, but I wasn’t completely in control of my emotions at the moment, so I didn’t fight it. “We feed the wood here into the firebox. The most important part of this process is keeping it really hot all night long.”

She watched me silently, wearing a thoughtful look.