Chapter Nine
Juniper
I hang the last strand of orange twinkle lights along the porch railing, stepping back to admire my handiwork.
The cabin is decked out for the Fall Harvest now.
There are pumpkins on the steps, cinnamon scented brooms by the door, and the wreath I made from foraged pinecones, dried leaves, and a stubborn little bow that refused to cooperate until Elias helped tie it.
Wren rolled her eyes when I suggested decorating, but she carved a pumpkin anyway.
And Elias? He didn’t say a word. Just handed me a hammer when I needed one, and reached the high places I couldn’t.
Now, with the golden light of late afternoon filtering through the trees and the scent of apples and cinnamon in the air, I feel like I’ve carved out a place here. In this home. In this life. Even if it’s not quite the way I want it to be yet.
I shake off the thought and head inside, where the warmth from the fire crackles. Wren’s curled up in the corner of the couch with her sketchbook, earbuds in. Elias is at the table, flipping through some county paperwork about Wren.
“Bonfire starts at six,” I say, trying to sound casual.
He grunts.
“Dottie said there’ll be cider and a live band with dancing.”
He glances up at that. “Dancing?”
I shrug. “It’s tradition.”
Wren pulls one earbud out. “Are we going?”
I smile at her. “I’d like to. It’s my first Pine Hollow Fall Harvest bonfire.”
She considers, then shrugs. “Okay.”
Elias raises an eyebrow. “You’re agreeing to a social event?”
“I like fire,” Wren deadpans. “And cider.”
I laugh, and even Elias’s mouth twitches.
“Guess we’re going,” I say.
* * *
The field behind the general store is glowing with strings of warm lights and paper lanterns. Hay bales circle fire pits, and the scent of wood smoke mingles with caramel apples and grilled sausages.
Dottie waves as we arrive. “You brought the whole Boone clan!”
I grin and link my arm through Elias’s. “Thought we’d give the town something to gossip about.”
He stiffens slightly, but lets me lead him toward the cider stand. Wren drifts off toward a group of teens hovering near the donut-eating contest.
Annie’s running the bakery booth, handing out hand pies and spiced cookies. She grins when she sees us. “You clean up nice, Boone.”
He scowls. I wink. “Doesn’t he?”
Annie hands me a cup of cider. “He let you dress him?”
“Not even a little,” I say. “But he shaved.”
“She’s a miracle worker,” Annie says, nodding solemnly.
Elias mutters something about escaping and disappears into the crowd. I sip my cider and mingle, chatting with the locals. They’re curious about me. About us. About how a bright, chatty city girl ended up with the town’s most reclusive bachelor.
I give vague answers and smile a lot. But the truth is, I don’t know either.
I spot Elias by one of the fires, talking to an older man I don’t recognize. The man claps him on the back, says something that makes him laugh—actually laugh—and I feel something warm bloom in my chest.
“Hey.”
I turn. Wren’s holding a sparkler, the light dancing across her face.
“Having fun?”
She nods. “This isn’t as lame as I thought it’d be.”
“High praise.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t leave. That, in itself, feels like a win.
The music kicks up. It’s a slow song. Couples drift toward the center of the field. I glance at Elias. He’s looking at me and my heart stutters.
He walks over slowly, eyes locked on mine. “Dance with me,” he says gruffly.
I blink. “Seriously?”
He holds out his hand and I take it. We move into the circle of lantern light, his hand settling on my waist, mine on his shoulder. We sway, the music low and sweet.
“You’re full of surprises tonight,” I whisper.
His jaw tightens. “Just trying to keep up with you.”
His eyes search mine. Something raw and open in them. He leans down and kisses me. It’s soft and so perfect…and public. When we pull apart, I hear a soft whistle from Annie’s booth, laughter, and Dottie cheering.
Wren is smiling, a real, open, happy smile. It’s the best thing I’ve seen all night.
We dance until the song ends, then he holds onto me for another. I’m dizzy with the lights, the warmth, and Elias’s arm around me like it belongs there.
Later, as the night deepens, Elias disappears to grab something from the truck. I take the opportunity to join Wren at a hay bale ringed around one of the smaller fires. She looks relaxed, jacket zipped up, fingers toasting a marshmallow on a stick.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. Better than being in a group home.”
My heart tightens at the flatness of her voice. “You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with family.”
She glances at me, brow raised. “You’re not family.”
The words sting more than they should.
But then she mutters, “Not yet,” and my breath catches.
I don’t respond. Just offer her a Graham cracker and chocolate. We build the s’more in silence. Small wins. That’s how we’ll get there.
I go looking for cider and pass by one of the fire pits. Elias is standing with the same man from earlier, talking low.
“She seems sweet,” the man says. “Didn’t think you’d go for a mail-order wife, Boone.”
“Wasn’t about me,” Elias replies. “It’s just for Wren.”
My heart stops…just for Wren.
I step back, heart pounding, cider forgotten. The night feels colder now. Harsher. I slip away before he sees me, before I break.
I was just fooling myself.
I wander toward the parking lot, trying to hold it together. My eyes blur with tears, but I blink them away. I won’t cry here where someone might see.
I sit on the tailgate of Elias’s truck, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. It doesn’t help. I’m chilled to the bone.
I’d let myself believe this was something more. That the kisses, the touches, the way he looked at me meant something, but I was just convenient. And my heart? Apparently, that was never part of the plan.
Behind me, the music shifts to something more upbeat. Laughter and clapping echo from the field. I close my eyes. I don’t belong here. Not if he doesn’t want me for real. Not if I’m just playing house in someone else’s life.