Chapter 28
A banner flapped in the breeze just outside the entrance to the community garden, its bold letters proclaiming, “Founder’s Day Community Garden Revitalization.” The garden itself was clinging to memories of its former glory—overgrown beds, patchy soil, and flowers that had long since given up.
At the podium, Alex stood with confident poise, addressing the gathered crowd with her usual blend of charm and enthusiasm.
Her voice carried warmth and purpose, drawing in even the most distracted onlookers as she spoke of growth—not just in the garden’s soil, but in the heart of their community.
She painted a picture of what could be: bright blooms, fresh starts, and neighbors working side by side.
Will watched from the sidelines, a small smile tugging at his lips as she brought the garden—and the town’s spirit—back to life, one hopeful sentence at a time.
Something about the way she spoke, so full of conviction and joy, stirred something in him.
He wasn’t just watching a speech—he was witnessing someone quietly rally a town with nothing but her words and heart.
As the crowd dispersed and the ribbon-cutting applause faded into memory, the real work began.
Side by side, with sleeves rolled up and dirt under their nails, Alex and Will dove headfirst into the garden’s revival.
They tugged at stubborn weeds, raked up forgotten debris, and tucked fresh blooms into the soil with the kind of care that made even the tired ground seem hopeful again.
It wasn’t glamorous by any stretch, but something was soothing about the rhythm of it all—the quiet cooperation, the soft crunch of rakes against gravel, the occasional thud of a clumsy elbow into a wheelbarrow.
Will pointed out a streak of dirt smudged across Alex’s cheek, his brows raised in amused disbelief.
She tried to swipe it away but only managed to smear it worse.
“You missed a spot,” he said with a grin, and before she could protest, he swiped a matching streak across his own face in solidarity.
She gasped, then burst into laughter. He joined in, the two of them laughing loud and unfiltered, their joy bouncing off the garden walls and mixing with the scent of freshly turned earth. It was a mess, but it was their mess—and in that moment, it was perfect.
Meanwhile, not far from the compost pile, Lou and Betty Jean were knee-deep in disagreement and ankle-deep in topsoil.
“I’m telling you, the hydrangeas can’t go there,” Betty Jean insisted, pointing like a general directing troop movement. “They’ll crowd the roses.”
Lou rolled her eyes and jabbed her trowel into the earth. “The peonies are the problem, not the hydrangeas. And the roses will be fine. They’re tougher than they look—unlike some people.”
“Resilient doesn’t mean invincible.” Betty Jean fired back. “They need space, Lou.”
“So do I, but here we are.” Lou muffled under her breath but loud enough for Betty Jean to hear.
Betty Jean gasped and took a step closer to Lou. “Yours are moving.”
Lou placed a hand on her hip. “Oh, I’m sorry, did someone elect you garden queen when I wasn’t looking?”
“Someone has to bring order to this horticultural chaos,” Betty Jean shot back, prim as ever.
Lou snorted. “It’s a garden, not the Pentagon, Sergeant Pain in the?—”
“Ladies,” Will interrupted smoothly, stepping in before Lou could finish what was sure to be a colorful ending. “How about we all take a breath and let the flowers do the fighting?”
Both women blinked at him, startled—but not entirely displeased.
Betty Jean straightened her gloves. “I won first prize for my flower garden at last year’s Founder’s Day fair, just so you know.”
Lou crossed her arms, not missing a beat. “And I won first prize for my vegetable garden. I would have won first prize in the flower garden category for the twenty-fifth year in a row, but somebody deadheaded all of my flowers in the middle of the night.”
“Sounds like… a juvenile prank. Silly teenagers.” Betty Jean said, looking anywhere but at Lou.
“Juvenile sounds about right, Betty Jean. ”
“You’d be the expert, Lou .”
Lou shook her head in frustration. “Expert! You’re right. If anyone knows spacing in a garden, it’s me. Ever tried crowding zucchini?”
Will chuckled. “Sounds like we’ve got two champions in one garden. Maybe let’s blend beauty and bounty without starting a civil war?”
Betty Jean let out a reluctant humph and bent to adjust the placement of her prized hydrangeas. Lou mumbled something about "bossy rose lovers" but followed suit.
A few feet away, Alex observed the scene from behind a row of lavender, grinning as she shook her head. Somehow, Will had managed to do what most of the town couldn’t—survive a garden debate between Lou and Betty Jean with everyone still on speaking terms.
* * *
By nightfall, the lights of The Word Well Bookstore cast a warm glow onto the sidewalk. Alex paused just outside the door, glancing sideways at Will.
“You sure you want to do this? You saw how Tori was the other night,” she asked, raising a brow in question.
Will looked undeterred as he reached for the door handle. “It’ll be fine. I’m used to dealing with fans. I mean, how many could there really be?” he said, confident as ever.
But the moment the door creaked open, dozens of heads swiveled. Gasps rang out, followed by the shuffle of excited movement. A giant screen displayed remote viewers tuning in from all over. Apparently, this book club didn’t believe in small gatherings.
Tori appeared out of nowhere, practically vibrating with excitement as she hustled them inside. “Oh wow. You came,” she exclaimed.
The room erupted in applause before she even had the chance to say Will’s name. “Ladies, I’d like you all to meet...” Tori began, then laughed. “I guess he doesn’t need an introduction here.”
Will took it all in with a sheepish smile. “So, this is your small-town book club,” he said, glancing around.
“Smaller than you expected?” Alex asked, her grin barely contained.
“Exactly,” Will replied.
“Tried to warn you,” Alex teased.
“That you did,” Will said, nodding.
Will sat front and center, fielding questions like a seasoned pro. He signed books, posed for selfies, and somehow remembered everyone’s names—or at least pretended well enough to impress the crowd. Tori and Alex watched from the sidelines, one beaming, the other... trying to process.
“He’s good at this,” Alex said, slightly in awe.
“You really have no idea how big of a deal he is, do you?” Tori asked, folding her arms smugly.
“I’m learning,” Alex admitted.
“You haven’t read any of the books, have you?” Tori asked.
“Books?” Alex replied, feigning confusion.
“The series I gave you last week,” Tori said pointedly.
“Oh... those. He’s... yeah,” Alex said, clearly caught.
Tori checked her watch with an exaggerated sigh. “Time to rescue your writer,” she said, then sashayed off to Will’s side, leaving Alex standing next to the book display.
Curiosity finally got the better of her. She reached for The Heart of Fate, her fingers brushing the glossy cover. She read the blurb aloud under her breath, “Epic, heartfelt, and utterly captivating.” Her brows lifted.
Next, she picked up Hearts Entwined. “A beautifully woven tale of love,” she murmured with a reluctant smile. She shot a glance across the room, finding Will mid-laugh with a fan.
Her hand hovered over the third book before picking it up—the Heart’s Desire.
“A powerful love story that will leave you breathless,” she read softly.
Flipping it over, she found his photo on the back cover. The author’s bio was there too—but she hardly noticed. She was too busy staring at that familiar grin in the photo, one she’d come to know pretty well.
“Sure to be the best one yet,” Lou’s voice came from behind her.
Alex jumped and nearly dropped the book. She set it down like it had caught fire. “Oh, I’m just killing time,” she said a little too fast.
“Sure you are, honey,” Lou replied with a low, knowing chuckle.
She wandered off, leaving Alex standing in front of the display. She glanced down at the neatly stacked novels—Wylder Hart’s world at her fingertips—and realized she might just be ready to turn the first page.