Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
BASH
She actually takes my hand in agreement to enter the maze. I feel like I’ve just been handed the winning lottery numbers.
As I lead Romilly through the entrance, I rack my brain for ways to make her feel more at ease. I did nearly scare her to death with that hot air balloon ride. Not my brightest idea, but it led to her trusting me enough to hold her close and protect her, so it was a win in my book.
I can’t stop thinking about the way her body relaxed as my arms wrapped around her, how she rested her hands on my chest, or how it felt like I’d gotten sucked into a timeless vortex of pure bliss.
Lining the maze entrance is a pair of cheerful orange string lights, their warm glow bouncing off the cornstalks, creating golden shadows.
The air smells like hay, earth, and the sweetness of cider from the tiny, nearby festival booths.
As we step into the labyrinth with walls of cornstalks towering above us, the faint crackle of dried leaves crunches underfoot.
I can’t believe the farm is advertising this maze as haunted. It’s way too cute to qualify, as if the person who decorated it happens to be as detesting as Romilly about such things.
Romilly’s hand tightens around mine as the first prop in the maze comes into view.
It’s a weathered scarecrow. The burlap head is tilted unnervingly to one side, and one of its straw-stuffed arms droops like it’s waving at us.
A real crow perched on its shoulder flaps its wings and caws, making Romilly jump.
I can’t help but stifle a laugh. If this is enough to make her nervous, I already feel bad for convincing her to do this with me.
“Did you know the owners of the farm go to Harvest Valley Church?” she asks.
“I didn’t. But it seems like all of Meadow Hills attends your congregation, so that doesn’t surprise me.”
She exhales a laugh. “All of Meadow Hills. Except you, right?”
“Well, I’m only here temporarily.” Saying that out loud makes my chest ache, but I ignore it.
“Still…I can’t really claim that anymore, can I?
” We turn a corner, where a section of the maze narrows, and a hanging skeleton swings gently in the breeze.
The dim lights strung through this area make the hollow sockets of its eyes look like they’re watching us.
“Not since you sucked me in with that pretty singing voice of yours.”
She blushes. “Thanks. But I hope—I mean I’d like to believe I’m not the reason you’ve been continuing to go. I’d like to believe God has more to do with it.”
“Romilly…” If only she knew the way I’ve wrestled with not going to church, hoping God wouldn’t be disappointed in me as long as I continued to deepen my relationship with Him.
“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “We don’t have to talk about this if it makes you uncomfortable.” The cornstalks rustle in the wind, their dry leaves brushing against each other with a sound like whispers. Romilly pulls closer to me, her hand clutching mine more tightly.
“No, it’s all right. When I said church wasn’t my thing anymore, it was because of my church back home.
Your church is nothing like mine.” I swallow, trying to decide where to start.
“I’ve honestly been so scared that avoiding church in general has disappointed God, and I’ve prayed about it a lot.
I don’t know if I’ve told you this, but my parents love to pressure me.
I never live up to their expectations, and they always try to get me to look a certain way to their church friends, so I don’t embarrass them because everyone there is crazy judgmental.
When I got my first tattoo, none of my friends were allowed to talk to me anymore.
And when I started smoking, which I admit was a huge mistake, there was only more judgment.
Never compassion.” My heart thuds as I rehash one of the many old wounds I still haven’t recovered from.
“Oh, wow,” she says, her voice laced with understanding and compassion. “I’m so sorry that happened. And during all that, did you ever blame God for what you went through?”
I consider her question carefully. Did I?
“I think I might have at one point, but not anymore. I know now that's not how God intended the church to be. It’s taken a lot to show me there are rotten people in every category of humanity, but also plenty of good people in those same categories. Including your Harvest Valley lot. And blaming an entire group for the actions of a few might not be fair.” I laugh sarcastically.
“In fact, it might be equally as judgy.”
When I turn to look at her, she’s staring back at me with an odd expression. “Well, I’m glad you changed your mind.”
We’ve stopped walking, and I can’t help but fully face her, lean in closer.
“Well, a huge part of that has been you. You’re nothing like the judgy people I’m used to, who treat religion as a status and a way to control people when it’s supposed to be a gift.
A place of community. You’re kind and understanding and so, so generous.
I’m convinced if love were a person, it would be you. ”
Romilly’s lips part. “Bash…”
“I’m sorry. Was that too much?”
She shakes her head, searching my face. Her lips press together in a faint, soft smile. “Those are very pretty words.”
“I meant every one of them.”
She places her hands on my cheeks and pulls my face closer to hers.
The distant sound of laughter from the festival fades as I focus entirely on her.
The earthy scent of the maze mixed with the faint floral notes of her perfume wraps around me.
My chest hammers like I’m fourteen, like this is my first interaction with a beautiful woman.
And this isn’t just any beautiful woman.
This is Romilly.
The most beautiful soul I’ve ever met.
When she gently presses her lips to mine, a warmth spreads through me, like curling up under a blanket on a cold night.
A tenderness for her makes me pull her closer so I can wrap my arms around her.
My chest swells with something unfamiliar—some unnamed emotion that makes me feel desperate and crazed, lightheaded and elated.
Infatuation, I tell myself. Genuine friendship at best. Because she's my boss and I'm leaving after my next fight. Getting attached to her is a bad idea because whatever’s happening between us can’t last.
But no matter what I tell myself, it’s clear I have feelings for her. What those feelings are, I’m not sure, but what I do know is I can’t deny them anymore.
Kissing her feels like breathing for the first time. And now that I’ve done it, I fear it’s become essential to my survival.
Romilly breaks away.
“Maybe we should sit down,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because kissing you makes me feel weak. And because it doesn’t seem like we’re getting out of here any time soon.”
I grin. “Are you finally accepting that this maze isn’t really haunted?”
“I’m coming around to the idea.”
I laugh and pointlessly dust off a bale of hay for her to sit on. The hay crackles under my hand, faintly prickling my skin. It might get her clothes dirty, so I remove the light sweater I’m wearing over my undershirt and drape it over the hay for her to sit on.
“Bash, no. You’re going to get cold. I already took your jacket.”
“I’ll be fine. Sit.” The chill in the air doesn’t faze me; I’m burning up just being near her. “ Sit .” I pull her down to sit beside me.
She takes out her phone, opening the camera and pointing it at our faces.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a picture with you. That way if anything happens to us, there will be evidence.”
I bark out a laugh. “Evidence of what? The fact that you faced your fear of mazes?”
She rolls her eyes but beams. “Fine. I may or may not be having fun, and I’d like to remember this day. Now, smile.”
I offer the camera a close-mouthed grin, leaning my face close to hers. Even in photos, Romilly’s beauty is absolutely radiant. Her eyes glow against her dark skin, and her jet black hair looks thick and shiny as a satin curtain.
She tucks her phone away, and we stay seated for a while, just talking. To my surprise, not a single person comes through the maze.
As she speaks, I can’t help but notice Romilly has a way of making even the smallest details feel significant, like how she’s convinced that Jasper, her grumpy little cat, has a secret soft spot for anyone who sneaks him people food, or how she used to want to be a foster parent.
“That was something I wanted when I didn’t have to work so much. But I’m way too busy now,” she says. “I wouldn’t even adopt a dog with my current schedule, but thankfully, Jasper doesn’t mind his solitude.”
Her eyes light up as she talks about her favorite things about autumn—carving pumpkins with her sister, the smell of cider with orange slices and cinnamon simmering on the stove, and the way Jasper attacks every stranger he meets, but lets her dress him up in any outfit she likes.
She even admits her lavender smell comes from the essential oils she puts in her early-morning baths.
I can’t stop watching her.
She gestures as she speaks, and every now and then, she tilts her head in a curious way, as if she’s rediscovering the joy in her own memories while sharing them. Her laughter is soft and infectious, tugging a smile to my face.
It’s early evening by the time we finally get back up and wander through the maze again.
The dimming sunlight filters through the corn stalks, painting them in shades of amber and honey, while their long shadows stretch across the ground.
The cool breeze rustles the leaves, making them whisper secrets only the autumn air seems to know.
Romilly points at a shape in the clouds, visible through breaks in the corn. “That looks so much like a bear eating an ice cream cone.”
“I don’t see it,” I tease, squinting up. “It’s obviously a dragon holding a sword.”
“You and dragons. You just want everything to be cooler than it is.”
“Oh, absolutely.”