Chapter 32
Wade
The old Alden orchard stretches in front of us, dusted in moonlight. The ground is uneven beneath our feet as we walk through the trees, softened by old leaves and damp grass.
“I remember going to the other apple orchard when I was a kid.” I grab Ari’s hand, guiding her through the rows of trees.
I half-expect her to pull back, since there’s no one here to witness, but instead, her fingers slip into mine effortlessly.
“My dad would take my siblings and me there every fall. We’d fill a huge bucket full of apples and then take them home to my mom so she could bake with them. We ate a lot of apple pie that month.”
Ari smiles a little. “That’s a cute memory.”
“Don’t be fooled. I’m pretty sure we fought the entire time about who picked the best apples.”
“You seem really close with your family.”
“We are, for the most part.”
“I’m jealous of that.”
“You’re close with your family too.”
She shrugs, looking ahead. “My family is close, but sometimes I feel like I’m orbiting them instead of being part of them. It doesn’t help that I moved several states away for the last nine years.”
I’ve seen the tension between Ari and her mom, and I hate that she feels not included. In a small way, I understand it more than I want to. My life choices have made me the odd man out in my family, at least from my dad’s perspective.
A gust of wind moves through the orchard, rattling the branches overhead.
I glance up at the thick clouds gathering.
It looks like rain, but I don’t want to leave.
Instead, I’m wondering if, for once in my life, I should open up to someone about my struggles with my dad.
I’ve never told anyone about our tumultuous relationship.
But the strange thing is, I want to tell Ari.
Not because talking about my dad is fun.
It’s not. But because at some point, she’s become the person I want to tell things to, and I’ve never felt that before.
Ari playfully bumps her body into mine, and the moment passes me by. “At least your entire family has always lived in Autumn Ridge. That helps.”
“But the shared history can create problems too. Sadie and Ryan are barely speaking right now because of that very thing.”
“Seriously?” Ari looks at me. “What happened?”
“It’s complicated.” I blow out a breath. “Sadie’s been hanging out with James Carver behind Ryan’s back.”
“Didn’t James kiss Lily when they were in college or something?”
“Yeah, it was a huge fallout. So this thing with Sadie and James blew up at Sunday dinner last week. And I feel like I’m in the middle of it.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “It’ll be fine…eventually.”
For a few steps, neither of us says anything.
Then, as if Ari read my mind earlier, she asks, “And what about your dad? You once told me that your relationship with him is complicated.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “My dad and I are a whole different mess.”
“Want to talk about it?”
My eyes meet hers, and all I see is a safe place to land. “When my dad was principal, everyone respected him. Teachers. Parents. Students. The board. Jex. Everybody.”
“That’s a hard shadow to stand in.”
“Yeah, especially when most people think I got the job because of him. But I worked for it. I wanted it. I care about that school.”
“I know you do.” Her answer is immediate.
“But my dad has this way of making me feel like I’m always one wrong move away from proving all my critics right. He still sees me as an irresponsible kid who will never measure up.”
Ari stops walking. I take two more steps before realizing she’s not beside me.
When I turn, she’s staring at me. “Your dad is wrong about you.”
I try to smile and brush it off. “You don’t have to—”
“No, Wade, I’m serious.” Her voice is firm now.
“I keep telling you this, but you’re a great principal.
You show up for students who don’t have anyone else showing up for them.
You know which kids need extra attention without making them feel like projects.
I see the way you’ve helped teachers when they’re struggling with their classes.
You’re handling Ashtyn carefully, even though the whole situation is unfair to you.
And the students trust you. They don’t just like you because you’re fun.
They trust and respect you because you care, and they can feel it. ”
I stare at her as the wind moves between us. A drop of rain hits my cheek, but I barely notice because Ari is defending the part of me I’ve been trying to prove for years, and it means more to me than I know how to say.
Her belief in me makes me believe in myself too.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
Her expression softens. “I meant everything I said.”
That’s the thing. I know she means it.
A few more drops hit the leaves around us.
Then another.
Then another.
Ari looks up. “It’s raining.”
A crack of thunder rolls somewhere in the distance.
I look toward the old farmhouse. “Come on.” I tug on her hand as I run toward it.
We sprint across the overgrown grass, dodging fallen branches and low-hanging apple limbs. Ari laughs behind me, breathless, as we make it to the porch. The old steps creak under our weight as we approach the door. I yank on the handle, and it opens.
We stumble through the doorway, laughing. I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight. The beam cuts through the dark, revealing peeling wallpaper, warped wood floors, and old furniture covered in sheets.
Ari presses closer to me. “This is how horror movies start.”
Nothing about her moving closer to me feels like a horror movie. I squeeze her hand just once. “Do you trust me?”
She smiles back at me. “I’m starting to.”
I’m starting to trust her too, and that scares me.
I swipe the light across the entryway. We move carefully through the hallway and into a large room off to the left. The house groans around us with each step. A massive brick fireplace takes up most of one wall, dark and cold and still somehow beautiful.
Moonlight slips through the broken clouds and spills through the windows, turning the rain into silver lines against the glass. I set my phone on the mantel with the flashlight facing upward, throwing soft light across the room.
Ari walks toward the fireplace, brushing her fingers over the brick. “I like it here.”
“I do too.”
She turns around and looks at me, and suddenly, the room feels smaller than it did a minute ago. She stands in front of me with damp hair and rain on her cheeks, and all I can think about is the kiss we haven’t even talked about.
“When are we going to talk about the kiss?”
For one second, something flickers across her face. Then it’s gone. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Nothing?”
Her shoulders bounce up and down. “It was fake.”
“Fake,” I repeat, even though nothing about it was fake to me.
“You had to do what you had to do.”
“Uh-huh.” I nod, studying her, wishing I knew what the heck was going on in that pretty little head of hers. “So you had no problem with me kissing you out of the blue, because it was fake?”
“I understood the purpose.”
“The purpose.” I almost laugh as I step closer. Her eyes track the movement.
“Yeah, we were pretending. The kiss served its purpose with Ashtyn.”
My heart sinks because Ashtyn was the last thing on my mind when I kissed her.
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all.” She straightens, resolute in her answer.
I take a risk and ask, “So the kiss meant nothing to you?”
“I was just acting.”
Acting.
Why do I not believe her? Or maybe I just don’t want to believe her.
The floor creaks as I take another step forward. “So, if I get this close to you in the name of the fake relationship, it’s fine with you?”
Ari doesn’t move. “It’s part of the deal.”
I take another step. My eyes sweep over her face, stopping on her brown eyes, her cheekbones, her lips. “What about this close?”
She lifts her chin stubbornly. “I suppose it’s okay if—”
“If we’re doing it for the bet?” I nod as if I already know her answer.
“That’s right.”
I move closer again. Now there’s almost no space between us. One hand settles lightly on her waist. Her chest visibly rises as I slowly pull her body to me.
“What about this close?” I whisper between us.
Her voice is quieter now. “If you had a good reason. If somebody was watching us.”
“No one’s watching right now. We’re very much alone.”
My lips barely graze her cheek. “No Ashtyn.”
She sighs.
I move to the other side and do the same thing. “No Barb.”
Her throat bobs.
“It’s just us.” My lips hover at the corner of her mouth, barely there.
She doesn’t pull away.
“So why are you letting me stand close? Touch you like this?”
Her ragged breath is the only sound for a few seconds.
“Practice?” she whispers. “For when it really counts?”
I call her bluff, tightening my fingers around her hip. Her breathing changes even more. Mine does too.
“What if I wanted to kiss you when nobody was watching? Would you let me?”
The question lingers between us like the entire house holds its breath for the answer. Ari looks up at me, and I wish I knew if she felt the spark between us as much as I do.
“That’s not part of the arrangement.”
“Does everything have to be part of the deal?”
“It should be.”
“But that’s not what I asked.” The tip of my nose brushes against hers as our breaths mingle. “I asked, would you let me kiss you when nobody was watching?”
She doesn’t answer.
Not with words.
But her chin lifts.
Just a little.
And suddenly, her excuses feel paper thin.
I slowly lean in—different than how I approached the kiss on the football field. This pace is meant to be slow.
Her chest presses against mine the moment I lift my hand to the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her hair.
The space between us shrinks to almost nothing.
Her eyes flutter.
Mine start to close.
Then something crashes in the corner.
Loud and unnerving.
Ari jumps back.
I spin toward the sound, grabbing my phone off the mantel and shining the light toward the far side of the room.
Three raccoons freeze on top of an overturned chair.
Their eyes glow back at us like tiny demons.
A fourth one appears behind them.
Ari grabs the back of my jacket. “Wade.”
The biggest raccoon hisses.
“Yep. Leaving. Now.”
We bolt, hand in hand, across the living room, through the entryway, out the door, and into the rain. It’s coming down hard now, soaking us in seconds. Ari squeals as we run through the orchard, back to my truck, laughing like idiots as drops pour over us.
By the time we reach it, both of us are drenched. I yank open her door, and she climbs in, still laughing, hair plastered to her cheeks, sweater damp at the sleeves, eyes bright with the kind of joy that makes my chest ache.
I run around to the driver’s side and climb in. For a few seconds, we just sit there, breathing hard. Soaked.
I look at her flushed cheeks and wide smile.
Jaxon’s voice echoes through my head.
You’re falling for her.
I immediately reject the idea.
I’m not the relationship guy.
My whole identity is centered around the fact that I don’t commit.
But then I make the mistake of looking at Ari again.
And suddenly, I’m not so sure I want to be that guy anymore.