Chapter 12 - Maren
Maren
The air smelled like hay, caramel, and the faint tang of cider, all mixing with the crisp edge of late October.
Strings of orange lights looped between stalls, catching on the edges of pumpkins so bright they almost glowed.
The harvest market wasn’t exactly my idea of a must-see, but there was no arguing with Sadie once she heard the news from her teacher that there’d be a petting zoo.
I slowed my pace without really noticing it, letting myself take it in.
For a few moments, I felt untethered, like being pulled into the warmth and color of it.
A small, quiet escape from this whirlwind of a week.
Ethan’s presence at my side made everything a little sharper, a little more charged. Not that I needed it to feel him.
Miles strolled a few paces ahead, hands in his coat pockets, scanning the crowd with that calculating, charming smile that made it impossible to stop watching.
“You know,” he said over his shoulder, “I still think we could’ve salvaged our Saturday morning if we’d just gone to the pet store and gotten her a hamster. ”
“I wonder who’d get stuck looking after the thing,” Ethan quipped. “Not to mention cleaning out the smelly cage.”
He’d been different since… Well, since our late-night rendezvous at Lumen HQ, as they call it. Lighter, somehow. Easier with a smile.
Then again, maybe I was just seeing myself reflected back, because I swear to God it felt like my feet were yet to touch solid ground.
I glanced at him now, blue-gray eyes glinting with a laugh. Something ridiculous Miles had said. My heart stuttered, and a flush crept up my neck and onto my face.
He caught me staring. Probably noticed the dazed look I was sure I failed to hide. His grin widened. “Plotting something juicy, Calloway?”
I laughed, but made no effort to answer.
I liked it better that he didn’t know either way.
Miles nudged a cart with his shoulder, sending a cluster of gourds wobbling, and Ethan’s hand brushed mine as he steadied it.
Out of the corner of my eye, it seemed like his hand connected to mine purposefully, and that single moment held more weight than it should.
Adrian had vanished somewhere between the car and the first stall. He’d said something about cider punch and then disappeared. Ethan told me not to bother, and so I didn’t. Unlike him and Miles, Adrian’s change in behavior was more on the electric side. Like he was even more wound up than usual.
Walking in on the three of us in a compromising position would do that, I figured.
“Pumpkins!” Miles said suddenly, crouching to examine one that had rolled free. “I think this one might be the winner. What do you think, Em?”
Emma pushed to the front and patted the fat pumpkin a few times. “I guess it’s okay, but I don’t want to choose too soon.”
“The girl knows the importance of keeping her options open,” I said, meeting Ethan’s gaze. “One of life’s most hard-won survival skills.”
“Is that so?” His eyes dropped to my mouth then back up again. “And this survival skill… Is it something all women have in common?”
“Now that would be telling.”
Miles straightened, ignoring the stealthy flirtation as he stared into the distance, eyes screwed up. “Shit.”
Ethan was still smiling when he looked over. “There’s only one thing that could get your mood to bottom out so fast…”
“Halston,” they said in unison.
The name caused an instant spike in my blood pressure, as if I’d been involved in this years-long acquisition strategy. But after the confrontation with Miles on the day of his meeting, I felt like I’d earned a stake in the outcome, at the very least.
“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Miles said, standing taller, fixing his hair.
“Don’t go talk to him,” Ethan deadpanned. “You need to give the disaster time to settle. Let him forget about that before you—”
Miles marched off in the direction of his white whale, and Ethan followed soon after, shooting an apologetic look my way.
I stayed where I was, watching the two men disappear into the crowd, their movements fluid, practiced. The heat of proximity lingered, and I had to shake my head at how easily it settled in my chest.
“Look!” Emma’s small voice cut through the swirl of smells and colors. “They’re carving pumpkins over there. Can I go?”
I glanced down at her, bright-eyed and insistent, and then at the other two. Sadie’s eyes darted around, obviously searching for her beloved cluster of animals, and Will was already eyeing the maze of hay bales, cogs turning.
“We’re making pumpkins at home, remember?” I said, crouching to her level. “Do you really want to sit here and do crafts when we could go get a caramel apple?”
“Yes!” Emma’s grin could have powered a small generator. “They have glitter paint, and—”
“I don’t want to make pumpkins,” Sadie pouted, crossing her arms.
“There’s just a bunch of babies doing it,” Will said before looking over at the maze again. “Kids from my school are here. I’d die if any of them saw me with glitter paint.”
I pressed a hand to my face, already feeling the pressure of negotiation.
“Okay, okay. Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said to all three of them.
“Emma, you get to paint your pumpkin. Sadie, Will, you sit with her.” The protests were loud enough to rise above Emma’s cry of triumph.
“Just a few minutes. And then… caramel apples after. Deal?”
Sadie wrinkled her nose. “No. Only if we go to the animals after.”
I smirked, letting the bribe land. “You’re the first kid I’ve met who wants to postpone dessert, but fine. Petting zoo, then caramel apples.”
“I’m not doing baby stuff,” Will said, then made a break for the maze.
“Will!” I called, but little good that did. I started to chase after him, but then remembered Emma and Sadie. “Sit tight for just a second. I’ll be right back.”
By the time I turned back around, he was gone.
I broke into a run, and caught up to the maze just in time to see him weaving between bales with agility I could never match.
I cursed under my breath and plunged after Will, trying to listen out for him through the laughter of other kids and parents rising all around me.
It felt like I was in some rural echo chamber, with no left or right, or a way out, in fact.
“Will!” I called again, moving faster for fear of losing him totally. My boots crunched on the loose straw, and I felt the pull of the air, the warmth of the morning fading into something softer.
“Bet I make it out before you!”
I whipped around, made a full rotation, and then my eye caught a flash of his military green puffer to the left. “Will, stay where you are. I’m not kidding.”
He didn’t stay where he was. He dashed around the corner, laughing over his shoulder like he hadn’t a care in the world.
I sprinted after him, letting my fingers graze the rough edges of the hay bales as I twisted through the confusing pathways. In my mind, I was memorizing them so I’d find my way back. In a different, more realistic part of my mind, I knew that was total bullshit.
“Hey! Come back here! If you don’t stop, you lose the Switch!”
He must’ve been out of earshot at this point, because the Will I had come to know would’ve doubled back immediately. No way would he risk his beloved video games over something like this.
I kept going. The bales closed in on me, making the path shrink with every step. At one point, I almost tripped over a stuffed elephant that I was sure some kid was crying about to his mom at that very moment. Out there, in the wide open free world.
“Will!” I called again, louder. My chest burned with a mix of exertion and panic. Not over the kid so much, but because I was sure the bales of hay were gonna cave in and bury me.
I skidded around the next corner, boots crunching in the loose straw, and stopped dead.
Silence, except for the distant drone of the market somewhere I couldn't see anymore. And no Will. The maze had folded in on itself, paths twisting tighter, bales rising higher, and suddenly I wasn’t sure which way was which.
“Will?” I called, pitching my voice so it carried, though the hay swallowed it almost immediately.
Nothing. Not a footstep, not a giggle, not the scrape of a sneaker. Just me, the straw, and the faintly sticky smell of caramel lingering from the carts we’d passed. My chest squeezed with that tension that comes when you realize the game had changed without you noticing. I was lost.
I spun round, taking a mental snapshot of the last turn, trying to map it in my head. Every path looked the same. Straight bales, twisted corners, little shafts of sun filtering through gaps.
“Will, come on, man,” I muttered, moving faster, hands grazing the edges of the bales.
I was careful not to tear the straw, but I needed the texture under my fingers.
Something solid, something tangible to remind me that I was still in control.
Still tracking. Still capable of making my way out of this mess.
“Sorry!” I mumbled a hurried apology to a bale of hay I’d bumped into, but when I took a closer look, my pulse rattled for reasons other than claustrophobic panic.
Because this particular hay bale wore a black hoodie under a dark olive peacoat, his beanie pulled low enough to push some unruly curls over the most intense hazel eyes I’d ever seen.
“Apology accepted.” Adrian flashed a crooked smile, hands deep in the pockets of his slim fit black jeans.
My adrenaline spilled out in a rambling tirade. “Oh, thank God. Have you seen Will? I lost sight of him, and got turned around in this stupid maze. The little shit’s fast for someone who spends most of his time on his ass playing video games.”
“Getting yourself lost in the weeds already?” The double meaning teased in his eyes, and I had to look away.