Page 69 of Forbidden to Fall

I stole a glance at him. James’s relationship with his mom was one of the most attractive things about him in a list that was getting longer and longer—impressive when you considered that I’d made an actual bullet-pointed list of his best qualities my freshman year of high school.

“I just found out the bakery decided to do a festival booth,” I said. “Something I’ve been suggesting for years.”

“They finally listened.”

I gave a short laugh. “Oh, it had nothing to do with me. In Mrs. Keller’s mind, I’m still a brace-faced sixteen-year-old. She only agreed because Morgan suggested it. Anyway, I don’t even care about that at this point. The problem is that it complicates our plans. They scheduled me to run the bakery booth.” I’d been thinking I’d try to make it work to do both, but walking here with James made me realize how little I wanted to do that. I wanted to sell the stuff I’d made. “I’m thinking of telling them I can’t.”

“Don’t do that.”

“But I committed to our booth first.”

“The bakery pays your bills, Sadie. Don’t worry about it. We’ll make it work. I can take over at our booth.”

I thought of James as the face of the Carver Maple Farm booth and wondered how he felt about that, especially if he’d experience more of what had happened in the hardware store.

I hated that thought.

Beyond that, the farm booth was where I wanted to be. Festival week would be the culmination of what I’d been working toward.

But James was right. I couldn’t afford to antagonize Morgan or Mrs. Keller if there was an alternative solution. Morgan seemed to appreciate my value more than her mom did, which meant my future at Keller’s might not be in as much jeopardy as I’d thought.

That could easily change if I did something to show I cared more about my little side project than about the bakery.

“I don’t like foisting all that work onto you—or your mom,” I said.

James stopped in the middle of the trail.

I did too.

The flashlight was still directed at the ground, but against the pitch-black backdrop of never-ending trees, James’s face was dimly illuminated. Without our footsteps and voices, the woods were silent, reminding me how far we’d come and how alone we were.

“You’ve been working your fingers to the bone for this, Sadie,” James said. “You have no idea how grateful Mama and I are.”

My cheeks warmed, and I forced a laugh. “Wait to be grateful until we see whether we sell enough to make it worth it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

My pulse fluttered.

“You didn’t have to help us—anyone would’ve understood if you’d decided not to. But you did help. You could’ve stopped when you found out I was sticking around. But you didn’t.”

I broke my gaze away, but the only place to look was the dark abyss or the beam of light illuminating the forest floor. “It’s not as selfless as you make it sound.” Had I wanted to help May? Sure. But I’d also been worried for my own future.

I could feel James’s eyes on me, but he didn’t say anything.

He turned back to the path. “We’re almost there.”

I hurried to keep up. “Where is ‘there’?”

He took a few steps before answering. “Dad and I found this spot when we were putting up tubing one year. We decided to come back and fix it up a bit.”

It was the first time I’d heard James mention his dad since he’d been back—since his dad had died, even. After it had happened, he’d been different. Quieter. More withdrawn. He’d even gotten into a bit of trouble with the mayor, who’d been a cop at the time.

I breathed in. The scent wasn’t the fresh, crisp air we’d had so far. It smelled like…food and smoke.

The trees opened up, and the light fell on a pit with smoke billowing upward. It was surrounded by stones—smooth ones of differing sizes that must have been taken from the river that ran through the farm and Autumn Ridge. Two camp chairs faced each other across the fire, a blanket draped over the backs.

I breathed in again and closed my eyes. “What is that divine smell?”