Page 98 of Fall Over You

“Or jump out the window into a truck bed and we drive you away,” Caleb offers.

“Becca will kill us all and wear our skins as a winter coat if we do that during her fall fest.”

Dusty purses his lips. “Mm. True.”

“I need y’all to man up and pluck them off me and give them a piece of cracker,” Jake says through a strained smile while cupping one of the babies to his chest and stroking its head with the back of his gloved finger. “And hurry up, their nails are pokey.”

“You have to wear the mask or they’ll know it’s us.” Dusty dangles a ski mask in front of my face.

“We’re in your truck. They’re going to know anyway.”

He huffs, bunches up the mask, and throws it at me. “Just put it on!”

He’s been nice enough to help me get the raccoons out of Becca’s room. The least I can do is put up with his antics. Caleb and Jake dipped already, and I don’t blame them. If I wasn’t already on the Dentons’ shit list, I wouldn’t want to start now. Dusty and I don’t have much to lose in that department.

“So we’ll just open all the cages? Do we wait for them to run out?”

“Shouldn’t have to wait long,” he says, looking in his rearview mirror to the source of all the rustling noises. “They seem ready to go. Let’s do this. Three, two, one?”

I pull the ski mask over my head and pound his fist. “Three, two, one, go.”

We jump out of the truck and reach into the bed of the truck, piling the animal traps under our arms. We line them up where a field of sweetgrass backs up to the lumberyard. One by one, we open the hatch on each cage to release the raccoons.

And they don’t move.

Dusty cusses and I scratch the back of my neck. “Well. That’s not what I expected to happen.”

“Where’s Jake when you need him?” Dusty asks.

“He probably kept that baby one,” I muse.

“Nah, Darcy would divorce him.”

My throat tightens when I think of what I caught them doing not that long ago. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Okay, but y’all gotta get.”

I toe under one of the cages and gently lift to see if the raccoon will run out. It just stares at me like I’m disturbing its lovely time. “Buddy, I’m trying to be nice. Please go. It’s nice here. Maybe. I think.”

A light flashes our way, and we don’t hesitate. Dusty and I are in the truck and headed back the way we came seconds later, leaving our raccoon friends behind with open cages.

After we catch our breath, I ask, “They’ll be okay, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah. They’re fine.” Dusty keeps checking his mirrors. “I just hope we are too.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

BECCA

Record attendance.

Eight hundred and six people passed through my farm today.

My pumpkins are gone, even the ones I had to order from outside my farm. And according to Dusty, our animal roommates are off my property.

Tyler gave everyone an “oh my stars” moment by making an appearance at the pumpkin painting tent while he was all sweaty and blue collar yummy from taking over a few of my farm chores. He covertly snuck the pack of Nicorette into my back pocket while he kissed me like it was nothing. He tucked me into his body and I rested my head and hand on him, still surprised by the sparkly rings on my left hand and this typically grumpy man being willing to help me.

I carry that warm, toasty feeling with me while I close the gates and turn the entry code back on. It was a monumental day, so I won’t feel sorry for myself that my room is still in shambles. Instead, I’ll celebrate that I have to sleep in my husband’s bed again tonight. I’m already warm at the prospect.

When I step into my kitchen, I find my mom on her way out with her caddy of cleaning supplies in her hand and her graying blonde ponytail swishing behind her.