Chapter 13
Hannah
T he kitchen smells like garlic and butter, and for the hundredth time I question my decision to invite Levi over.
Dinner seemed like a simple thank-you when I said it on the phone.
Now, standing here with the skillet hissing and my stomach tied in knots, it feels like I’ve handed him a key to every locked door in my house.
Ivy bounces between the table and the porch, checking every few seconds for his truck. She’s been chanting, “Pumpkin night, pumpkin night,” like it’s a holiday she invented.
“Sweetheart,” I say, wiping my hands on a towel, “if you don’t settle down, you’re going to wear a path in the floor.”
Her grin is unstoppable. “We’ll have the biggest jack-o’-lantern ever.”
My heart stutters. He said yes. He’s on his way. Headlights sweep across the front window, and Ivy shrieks like it’s Christmas morning. “He’s here!”
I barely manage a smile before the door opens and Levi steps onto the porch, carrying a toolbox in one hand and a grocery sack in the other. He looks … big. Too big for this little place.
“Evening,” he says, his voice low and warm. “Ivy, you ready to wrestle a giant pumpkin?”
“Yes!” She darts forward and grabs his hand without hesitation, tugging him toward the porch where our orange boulder waits. My throat tightens at the sight – my daughter trusts him so easily. Why can’t I be open like that? Well, I know why.
I follow them out, rubbing my damp palms on my jeans. “Dinner’s almost ready. I figured you’d need fuel before taking on that monster.”
Levi lifts the grocery sack. “Brought dessert. Apple pie from Pike’s booth. Figured it might sweeten the deal.”
The man thinks of everything.
Dinner is loud with her chatter, the three of us crowded around the little table. Levi takes seconds of everything, murmurs that my cooking beats anything he’s had in months. I roll my eyes, but the praise warms me.
The three of us agree to wait on apple pie until after the carving of pumpkins.
We set up on the porch with newspapers, bowls, and knives for the smaller pumpkins.
Levi kneels beside the giant, pulling out a small hand saw from his toolbox.
“This one takes commitment,” he says, meeting my eyes like the words mean more than pumpkins.
Ivy giggles as he carves a lid big enough for her to climb through. Pumpkin guts spill across the porch, and she dives in elbow-deep, squealing with delight. Levi laughs, rich and unguarded.
“Think you can handle the medium one?” he asks me, nodding toward the pumpkin by my feet.
“I’ve faced tougher battles,” I say, sawing into the top. Juice runs down my wrist, and I make a face. He grins, shaking his head.
For the next hour, the porch becomes a battlefield of seeds and strings. Ivy designs a lopsided cat face. I attempt a crescent moon. Levi carves something intricate that makes us both stare in awe – a fierce, grinning wolf that looks alive in the candlelight.
When we finally light them, the row of glowing pumpkins casts a warm halo across the porch. Ivy claps her hands, beaming. “Best pumpkin night ever!”
We end by taking photos and I get Ivy headed toward the bath.
Her squeals of protest fade down the hall as I coax her toward the tub, promising bubbles and warm towels.
By the time she’s splashing behind the closed door, I step back onto the porch where Levi is gathering newspapers into a heap.
Pumpkin guts cling to the pages, sticky strings and seeds sliding across the ink.
“Got a trash bag?” he asks, glancing up.
“Under the sink.” I dart back inside, return with a roll, and hold one open while he dumps the mess in with a practiced sweep. His forearms flex as he shakes loose the last stubborn seeds, and for a second I forget I’m supposed to be holding the bag steady.
“Messy business,” I say, knotting the top.
“Worth it,” he answers easily. “Ivy’s grin was worth a whole field of pumpkin guts.”
We stack the bowls and knives on the little table, and the porch feels calmer without the chaos. Just the two of us, moving around each other in the soft light.
“Do you work in town?” he asks, not prying, just curious.
“Millie’s Mountain Café,” I say, brushing pulp from my wrist.
“I’ve been there since we moved here. Mostly baking and prep. Millie gives me some freedom with specials, so I get to try things out.” I shrug. “It’s a great place. Keeps us going.”
His eyes warm. “Explains the rolls at dinner. Best I’ve had in a long time.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. Compliments roll off most men like cheap lines, but from him they settle somewhere deep.
“What about you?” I ask, leaning on the porch rail. “You must know more about pumpkins than any sane person should.”
That earns a grin. He tips his head toward the garbage bag.
“Seeds alone could keep a man busy. Roast ’em for snacks, press ’em for oil, even grind ’em for feed.
I’ve got recipes and remedies from neighbors I haven’t dared try yet.
One woman swears pumpkin cures everything from coughs to heartbreak. ”
“Does it?”
He shrugs, still grinning. “Haven’t tested that last one. But if it works, I’ll let you know.”
Ivy comes out of the bathroom pink-cheeked and damp-haired, her pajamas sticking to her still-damp skin. “Pie time?” she asks, eyes wide.
“Pie time,” I confirm, cutting generous slices of the apple pie Levi brought. The sweet, spiced scent fills the kitchen, and the three of us crowd around the table again.
Levi digs in like a man who hasn’t eaten dessert in years, murmuring his approval around the first bite. Ivy chatters nonstop about her pumpkin cat face, her bath bubbles, and how tomorrow she’s going to tell her teacher that a wolf pumpkin lives on their porch.
“Wolf pumpkin, huh?” Levi chuckles, tapping his fork against his plate. “That one might be our masterpiece.”
“Best pumpkin ever,” Ivy says with all the seriousness of a judge handing down a verdict. Then she yawns so wide her eyes water.
“Bedtime,” I remind gently, rising to clear the plates. “Brush your teeth and I’ll tuck you in.”
She doesn’t argue, but before she leaves the kitchen she pauses at the doorway and turns to Levi. “Will you tuck me in too?”
The question freezes me in place. I open my mouth to protest, but she’s already reaching for his hand. He looks at me, silent, waiting for my call.
This is too much, too fast. It feels too intimate, like handing him a piece of my life I’ve guarded too fiercely. But Ivy’s eyes are shining, and Levi’s patience leaves me no excuse to refuse.
“Just this once,” I say softly. Levi and I make eye contact, holding our gaze for a few seconds more than what is normal. He senses this is big … and I may or may not be comfortable with it. But, we’re doing it for Ivy.
My little pumpkin princess returns shortly and announces, “I’m ready.”
Levi and I follow Ivy. Together, we tug the blanket up to her chin. Levi crouches at her bedside like he’s done it a thousand times.
“Goodnight, Ivy,” he says, his voice low. “Dream of pumpkin wolves guarding the porch.”
She giggles, eyelids already drooping. “Goodnight, Levi.”
Her hand finds mine, warm and small, and I squeeze it while he steps back. For a moment the three of us are caught in the soft glow of her night-light, like a picture I don’t dare imagine too long.
When we slip out of her room and pull the door mostly closed, my emotions feel raw. It was just a tuck-in, nothing more. But it feels like a line crossed, and I’m not sure whether to be terrified or grateful.