27. Adam
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Adam
Medford’s town square had gone full postcard—banners in deep reds and burnt oranges, hay bales stacked high, the whole place buzzing with small-town charm.
I adjusted my sleeve, surveying my stall.
Solid setup. Griddle sizzling, sandwiches stacked high, the scent of slow-roasted meat and caramelized onions thick in the air. Just the way I liked it.
I was going to kick Samuel and Kai’s asses.
The three of us had set up close to each other, a little unspoken competition brewing between us.
Not that we’d admit it.
After all, we're all here to represent The Foundry.
Kai had gone all out with his setup. Sleek display cases filled with miniature cakes, each one a bite-sized masterpiece. He had the whole aesthetic thing down, crisp white boxes tied with twine, little handwritten labels.
Classic overachiever.
Samuel, on the other hand, kept it simple. A heavy-duty grill, the kind you’d find in a professional kitchen, sizzling with perfectly seared fish. No frills, no gimmicks… just damn good food. The kind that made people close their eyes after the first bite.
Nancy Hayes glided toward us like a queen surveying her kingdom, her long, tailored coat cinched at the waist, auburn hair swept up into some impossibly elegant twist. She had the kind of presence that made people instinctively straighten up, even if she never asked them to.
“Oh, this is delicious.” She sighed, stopping right between our stalls. “Three fine young men, each with their own specialty. A true dilemma.”
Kai leaned against his display, smirking. “Yeah? What do you think, Nancy? We gonna do well today?”
She placed a hand over her heart. “Kai, of course you are!”
Samuel chuckled. “We all know you already have a favorite. Just put us out of our misery.”
Nancy tapped a manicured finger against her chin, looking between our stalls like she was choosing a wine pairing for a five-course meal.
“Let’s see… Samuel, your fish is divine. Perfectly seasoned, cooked with the precision of a man who understands balance.”
Samuel inclined his head, ever the professional. “Appreciate that, Nancy.”
She turned to Kai next. “And you? Your cakes are practically art. The lemon poppyseed I had last week at the inn? I dreamed about it.”
Kai gave her a knowing grin. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Then she shifted her gaze to me, and I braced myself.
“And Adam,” she murmured, taking a deep inhale of the roasted meat and buttered bread scent surrounding my stall. “You appeal to something primal. The kind of hunger that comes from the soul.”
I smirked. “That so?”
Nancy let the moment stretch, savoring the anticipation. People around us had started paying attention, whispering, chuckling at the theatrics of it all.
With a dramatic sigh, she turned to me. “I have no choice but to follow my heart… and my stomach.”
She picked up one of my sandwiches with reverence, holding it aloft like she’d just chosen the holy grail.
“Adam Reid’s decadent, slightly sinful, life-affirming sandwich it is.”
The small crowd watching burst into amused applause, and I shot Samuel and Kai a victorious look.
Kai groaned. “You bribed her, didn’t you?”
Nancy took a slow, indulgent bite, closing her eyes as she chewed. Then she smiled. “Darling, he didn’t have to.”
I leaned on the counter, satisfied. “What can I say? Some things just sell themselves.”
The moment hit like a perfectly aimed gut punch.
One second, the festival was its usual lively chaos.
The next, silence.
It wasn’t absolute, not really, but in our little corner of the square, conversation faltered. Heads turned. The world seemed to pause for a fraction too long.
And then, there she was.
Sadie Collins.
I barely recognized her.
She walked toward us, flanked by Lila and Aurora, their respective broods in tow, looking like something straight out of a daydream.
The firelight from the festival lanterns caught in the waves of her hair, deep auburn, gleaming like polished mahogany.
Her dress, a soft, flowing number in a shade somewhere between cinnamon and burnt sugar, hugged her in all the right places. Boots laced up her calves added just enough edge to the otherwise romantic look.
But it wasn’t just the clothes.
It was her.
There was a confidence to her stride, a tilt to her chin, a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Like she’d stepped into herself fully, owning every inch of space she took up.
Kai, for once, had nothing smart to say.
Samuel, who could usually keep his cool in any situation, stared like he’d just been blindsided.
And me?
I forgot how to breathe.
Lila smirked, clearly enjoying the effect Sadie was having. “Well, would you look at that. The festival’s got itself a new main attraction.”
Aurora laughed, adjusting baby Evie on her hip. “Should we be worried? You three look like you’ve been struck dumb.”
Sadie arched a brow, a slow, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “What? Something wrong?”
It was a challenge. A tease. And damn if it didn’t make my blood hum.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to snap out of it. “You just, uh, clean up nice, Collins.”
Kai finally found his voice, albeit a little rough. “Yeah. Didn’t realize this was a gala.”
Sadie’s grin widened. “Hey, if I can’t look nice for the Harvest and Hearth Festival, then when can I?”
Samuel rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaling a laugh. “Yeah. Well. Mission accomplished.”
Her gaze flicked between us, and her expression softened. Like she saw exactly how wrecked we were and found it amusing.
Then she stepped forward, eyes locked on mine, and plucked a sandwich straight from my display.
“Hope you don’t mind,” she said, all saccharine innocence. “I’ve worked up an appetite.”
I could only watch as she took a bite.
Then she moaned.
Not a quiet, polite sound… oh, no. A full-on, sinful hum of appreciation.
And just like that, whatever semblance of composure I had left?
Gone.
The pumpkin-carving contest was a big deal in Medford. People took it seriously. Too seriously, if you asked me.
But when Sadie strolled in, grinning like she had this in the bag, I knew I had no choice but to win.
The town square was packed, the air thick with cinnamon, roasted nuts, and woodsmoke. Overhead, dark clouds gathered at the edges of the horizon, a low rumble of thunder barely audible over the festival noise.
Nothing urgent yet, but a storm was brewing.
Tables were set up under a giant banner proclaiming the “Harvest and Hearth Festival Annual Pumpkin Carving Contest." Kids and adults hunched over pumpkins, knives in hand, tongues sticking out in concentration.
I cracked my knuckles and sized up the competition. Kai had that locked-in, I’m-gonna-win-this look. Samuel was stretching like he was about to run a marathon.
And Sadie was eyeing her pumpkin like it had personally insulted her.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” she teased. “I don’t want to embarrass you guys in front of the whole town.”
I scoffed. “You sound pretty cocky for someone who probably hasn’t carved a pumpkin since middle school.”
“Confidence is key,” she shot back, grabbing a knife. “Let’s do this.”
Marlene, my mother and one of the judges, gave me a pointed look. “Now, Adam, I don’t want to hear any whining if Sadie beats you.”
“Wow. No faith in your own son?”
She patted my cheek. “Oh, honey. None at all.”
From the next table over, Lila Harper called out, “We’re betting on Sadie!” Colt grinned, holding up a twenty. “Don’t let us down, sweetheart.”
Sadie winked at them. “I won’t.”
I shook my head. Traitors.
The timer started. Game on.
I thought of going classic at first —a simple jack-o’-lantern. Then I glanced over. Sadie was carving something detailed.
My competitive streak roared to life.
“What is that supposed to be?” Samuel asked, peeking over.
She smirked. “It’s a cat.”
Kai snorted. “That looks like a gremlin.”
Sadie gasped. “Rude! You just don’t appreciate modern art.”
“I appreciate things that don’t look cursed.”
Samuel was going way too ambitious, a haunted house scene, but miscalculated and knocked out an entire window—then part of the roof.
He groaned. “No one look at mine.”
Naturally, we all looked.
Kai choked back a laugh. “Dude, that pumpkin has been condemned.”
“Shut up, Kai.”
Kai’s pumpkin was a perfectly symmetrical, ridiculously detailed wolf howling at the moon. Show-off.
I glanced at mine.
Not good enough.
In a panic, I switched tactics, carving fast, adding detail. The wind picked up, rustling banners, shaking leaves loose from the trees. A few vendors started tying things down, just in case.
Hattie Cooper, along with the other judges, made her rounds.
Samuel turned his pumpkin around. Silence. Then my mom, trying to be kind: “That’s… abstract, dear.”
He sighed. “Just say it. It looks like a disaster.”
Frank, always blunt, nodded. “Yeah.”
Kai’s wolf got impressed murmurs. Sadie’s… well, it still looked like a gremlin.
“It’s a Halloween goblin,” she said quickly. “Totally intentional.”
Then they got to mine.
Hattie gasped. “Adam! Is that… Medford’s town square?”
I smirked. “Sure is.”
Not perfect, but all the details were there: the clock tower, the fountain, the bakery’s storefront.
Sadie groaned. “That is so unfair. How did you even have time to do that?”
I leaned in. “You should’ve planned better.”
She huffed, but there was laughter in her eyes. “This is a travesty.”
The judges deliberated, and finally, Marlene stood up. “The winner is… Adam!”
I threw my arms up in victory while Sadie flopped against the table. “Rigged. It’s rigged.”
Kai chuckled. “You can demand a recount if you want.”
She sat up, narrowing her eyes at me. “Fine. You win. But I demand a rematch next year.”
I grinned. “Looking forward to it.”
Sadie leaned in. “Don’t think this means you’ve won anything else, Reid.”
I tilted my head. “Oh yeah?”
She smirked. “Yeah. Because when it comes to actual competition, I don’t lose.”