Chapter 16
Eric
The smell of coffee and cinnamon hit me before I even stepped into the main house.
The morning after a wedding always had its own kind of chaos: half laughter, half exhaustion.
Someone had music playing low, Braden’s giggles bounced down the hallway, and the kitchen table overflowed with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and enough pastries to feed half of Val-Du-Lys.
Sandy moved between the counters, with that practiced grace she somehow made look effortless, with a bright scarf tied at her neck, sleeves rolled up, and Dad following behind her with a coffeepot in hand.
“If anyone leaves hungry, that’s on you,” she said, flipping another pancake.
Harmony sat near the window, sunlight catching the copper strands in her hair. She looked tired but beautiful, in that quiet way she didn’t see in herself. A soft sweater hung off one shoulder when she laughed at something Elyna said. A sound that did something strange to my chest.
“Morning,” I said, sliding into the seat across from her.
Dad grinned. “Our volunteer firefighter finally wakes. Thought we’d have to send Sandy to bang on your door.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” Sandy said, winking. “I’ve got a full crew to feed.”
Phoenix balanced Braden on his knee. “Probably checking orchard fences again,” he teased.
“Something like that,” I muttered, reaching for my mug. Harmony’s eyes flicked toward mine, quick and warm, before she looked away. It hit like a punch and a comfort at the same time.
Elyna set down a bowl of fruit. “Harmony, everyone keeps talking about your arrangements. I don’t know how you pulled it off after that storm.”
Sandy nodded. “You saved the wedding, sweetheart. Petals and Pines has never looked better.”
Harmony smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks. Really.”
For a moment, the room felt normal, easy and familiar. Like the world outside these walls wasn’t shaking beneath our feet.
Then the door opened. Noah Tremblay stepped in with a box tucked under one arm and that easy, boy-next-door smile. It was the kind people trusted too quickly. Too easily.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he said. “Pierre, you asked me to drop off the festival signage.”
Dad stood, shaking his hand. “Perfect timing. Everyone, this is Noah, he’s coordinating the vendor layouts for the Harvest Festival.”
Noah’s gaze swept the room before landing on Harmony. “I heard the wedding yesterday was picture-perfect,” he said, setting the box on the counter. “Figured you had a hand in that, considering the floral setup.”
“Petals and Pines supplied everything,” Harmony replied.
“Not surprised.” His smile deepened. “You’ve got an eye for detail.”
Harmony tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. “I just help Sandy.”
“Still,” he said lightly, “it’s good to see someone making beauty out of Val-Du-Lys again.”
Most people would hear kindness. To me, something in it felt too… measured.
Like he was taking inventory.
Dad didn’t notice. Becket didn’t either. They were talking logistics, tent layouts, cider booth placement. But Noah wasn’t looking at the festival plans anymore.
He drifted toward the porch window, pausing just long enough for unease to slide down my spine. His gaze moved across the orchard in a slow, intentional sweep before turning toward the worker cabins in the distance.
The festival wasn’t on Maple Valley property. There were no tents to plan here.
He didn’t need to be studying anything.
“Mind if I walk the grounds?” Noah asked casually. “I love the crisp fall air and the grounds here are so beautiful.”
Dad nodded without hesitation. “Of course.”
Harmony stiffened almost imperceptibly. She didn’t look at Noah, but her hand curled into the hem of her sweater, knuckles white.
When Noah stepped outside, Sandy clucked her tongue. “Nice young man. Always offering to help.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Real helpful.”
Becket raised a brow. “Problem?”
“Probably nothing.” My grip tightened on my mug.
“He’s been back home about a year,” Becket said. “Should be harmless.”
Harmless.
Funny how the people who looked harmless were often the ones you needed to watch. The brunch broke apart in waves. Bean chased Braden around the table while Luc nursed a second cup of coffee. Dad and Sandy slipped onto the porch, laughing about something only they understood.
Harmony stood to gather plates too quickly and purposely, which told me she was nervous about something.
“I should get going,” she said. “Sandy, I’ll meet you at the shop in an hour.”
“Don’t rush,” Sandy insisted. “Festival prep can wait.”
“I’d rather keep busy,” Harmony countered.
Elyna hugged her. “You’re family now. That means brunch too, not just work.”
But Harmony’s eyes flicked toward the window Noah had stared through.
She hid it well; most people wouldn’t notice but I did.
Something twisted in my chest. Even after all these years I could read her.
As she reached for another plate, something clicked inside me.
It was a memory I hadn’t thought about in years.
The look she’d had just now, that tightness and guarded edge, was the same one she’d worn the night she showed up at Maple Valley covered in snow and shaking.
A different night. Different fear. But the same expression.
Snow had fallen thick that night, softening every sound. I’d just finished a late practice and was locking up the shed when her car rolled up beside the fence. Harmony stepped out, breath puffing in quick, uneven bursts, eyes rimmed red.
“He’s losing it,” she said before I could ask. “Nico saw me talking to you after school. He said I embarrassed him. Called me Harm, like it’s a curse.”
Her voice broke. I felt it like splinters under my ribs.
“He said everyone sees me the same way. Like I’m my father’s shadow.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Maybe he’s right.”
“You’re not your father,” I said immediately.
“You don’t get it.” She let out a broken laugh. “I’ll always be a Bellerose.”
She kicked snow off her boot. “Harm means trouble. That’s what he thinks I am.”
I stepped closer, the cold sharp between us.
“He’s wrong.”
She looked up, eyes too bright under the floodlight. “Yeah? What would you call me then?”
“Sunshine.”
The word hung in the air like a confession.
“Sunshine?” she whispered.
“Because you walk into places that have forgotten the light and make people remember.”
Something in her face softened, like the idea of being more than what the world expected was almost too much to believe.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“Because I might believe you,” she said, her green eyes were filled with warmth and happiness in that moment, and it sucked me under the spell that was Harmony.
Back in the present, Harmony moved toward the porch with Dad. I followed her out under the excuse of getting firewood.
“You shouldn’t walk alone,” I said as we reached the gravel path.
She stopped, the morning light turning her eyes a deep gold. “Eric… I can’t hide every time something scares me.”
“That’s not what this is,” I tried to assure her.
“Isn’t it?” she whispered. “You told me yourself. Olivier and Nico want to shake me. I can’t give them that.”
“I don’t want to find another note on your doorstep,” I said.
Her expression softened. “I’ll lock up. I promise.”
I wanted to argue, but the determination in her voice was steady, quiet, and stubborn. It was the part of her I’d always admired.
My fingers brushed a strand of hair behind her ear before I could stop myself. “Call me if anything feels off.”
“I will,” she assured, giving me a half smile.
Later, on Main Street, I slowed as I passed Petals and Pines.
Harmony stood behind the counter arranging bouquets, lost in her work.
Relief loosened something tight in my chest. She was safe, focused, and looking more like herself than she had in days.
I almost kept driving. Almost, until I saw a flicker of movement behind the upstairs window.
Too fast to name. Too deliberate to ignore.
I stared until my eyes burned, until the curtain settled back into place like it had never moved at all.
The feeling that followed wasn’t panic. It was memory.
Every moment I’d been too late. Every time she’d needed me and I hadn’t known it yet.
I stared at the upstairs window again, waiting for the curtain to move.
It didn’t, but that didn’t mean anything. Except I’d sworn I saw someone there.