Page 5 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

My chest heaved and my vision blurred.

Who was going to call Pops?

Meme would panic and Pops would blame himself for letting me make the drive alone. I needed to call them.

The airbag exploded from the steering wheel.

The impact snapped my head back, and darkness swallowed everything before I could so much as twitch.

Chapter

One

CARSON

Present Day – September 1st

I loaded the last crate of milk into Pops’s truck and slammed the tailgate shut. The sound echoed across Marigold Ranch.

Five years ago, the ranch would have been covered in pumpkins by now. Orange lights would have been hanging from the fence posts. Hay bales would have lined the driveway. Pops would’ve been arguing with Meme about where to put the scarecrows while pretending not to enjoy every second of it.

Now the porch sat empty.

No pumpkins.

No lights.

No decorations.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck smelled like leather, coffee, and the peppermint candies Pops always kept in the center console.

Some days I swore I could still smell him.

The engine rumbled to life beneath me as I mentally prepared myself for the day ahead.

Tuesday’s have always been milk delivery day.

Same route.

Same customers.

Same routine.

The predictability should have been comforting.

Instead, it felt like proof that Willow Creek had moved on while I was stuck in place.

Before leaving, I spent nearly an hour in the barn with Blueberry. Like I did every morning. I sat in the corner of her stall while she chewed hay and listened to me complain about things she couldn’t possibly understand.

The mortgage payments on the new barn that wasn’t so new anymore.

The broken fencing.

The tractor that needed repairs.

The fact that September 1st had arrived again.

Blueberry never offered advice. Not that I expected much from a horse, but she listened, and somehow that was enough.