Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
FINLEY
I steer the truck down the edge of the apple field, the wagon full of laughing kids bouncing behind me.
In the side mirror, I spot Alex near the photo setup, her smile bright as she adjusts a little girl’s hat and waves the family into position. She’s good at this. Really good.
When the family walks off, a gangly man steps toward her. He looks to be around the same age as her, maybe younger. He runs a tattooed hand through his brown, oily, disheveled hair as he approaches.
Her body tenses in response to his presence. She steps back instantly, shaking her head. Something about the way he moves puts me on edge.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. She looks… upset.
The man reaches out, grabs her by the elbow. I slow the truck, heart thudding hard against my ribs.
She jerks her arm free, and the man glances around before backing off. He says something and then storms off toward the parked cars.
A few moments later, a beat-up green car pulls out of the lot, a cloud of dust trailing behind as it disappears down the road.
My pulse is quick, and my palms are slick against the old steering wheel.
What the hell was that about?
Alex and I aren’t friends. Not even close. But I don’t tolerate that kind of thing. Not toward any woman.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, jaw flexing as I keep the truck crawling forward. What would’ve happened if there hadn’t been a crowd? If no one had been there to see?
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I keep an eye on her while finishing the hayride. From a distance, Alex looks fine—smiling, laughing with families, posing kids next to pumpkins like nothing happened. But I can tell. The smile’s forced. Her shoulders are tight. She’s upset.
When the truck comes to a stop, I hop out and help the kids down. They tumble off, running toward their parents with wide grins.
I glance back at Alex. She’s still working, hands on her camera, smile on her face. I don’t want to make things worse by bringing it up. Whatever that man said—it rattled her.
Instead, I head to the cider truck, buy a steaming cup, and walk over to her.
“You should take a break. I can handle the camera for a bit,” I say nodding toward the tripod.
She blinks, surprised. Hesitant. “You take photos?”
“It can’t be that hard.” I say, holding out the cider.
A small smile tugs at her lips. “Thank you, Finley,” she says before walking off toward the bench.
I watch her sit, her shoulders easing as she cradles the cup in both hands, staring down into the steaming cider. She’s still upset. And it’s because of whatever that piece of scum said to her.
I’m still watching her when a familiar voice calls out behind me.
“Finley.”
I turn to see Sheriff Brooks walking up, hands in his jacket pockets, an easy grin in place. He’s been around for as long as I can remember—best friend to my dad, and the closest thing I’ve had to a father since his passing.
“Sheriff,” I say with a smile, reaching out to shake his hand.
He meets my hand with a firm grip, then looks out over the crowd. “Looks like a good turnout this year. Your mom would be proud of you, Finley.”
I nod, the lump in my throat instant.
He rocks back on his heels. “So… what’s your plan for the Thanksgiving festival? Word going around says Krueger’s is entering the contest this year.”
That catches me off guard. “Krueger’s? The corporate grocery store?”
He nods. “They’re sniffing around town again. Figured they’d use the festival to get their foot in the door. Whatever you’re cookin’ up, it’s gotta be damn good. Something to remind folks we don’t need a Krueger’s in Oakridge.”
He pauses, rubbing his jaw. “The Rhodes girl better fill her parents’ shoes, or this town’s gonna start beggin’ for a Krueger’s.”
My jaw tightens. “She’s doing fine,” I say before I can stop myself.
Brooks raises a brow, like he’s surprised to hear me defend her. And I can’t blame him—I’m surprised too. “Well, good. Between her and you, we can keep the big corporations out of our town.”
He claps my shoulder and strolls off, but I’m still watching Alex. She gets up and starts walking back toward me, and I immediately jerk my gaze to the side, pretending to check the wagon.
Before she even reaches me, a couple steps up to the photo area, asking if they can grab a few pictures.
Instantly, Alex’s whole demeanor changes—the bright smile spreads across her face, and her voice lifts, warm and inviting.
“Of course!” She says, brushing a bit of her red hair behind her ear.
I turn away from her and make my way toward Annalise’s tables. She’s already packing up.
“How’d it go for you?” I ask, slipping my hands into my pockets.
She grins up at me. “Sold out.”
I let out a whistle. “That’s amazing!"
“Don’t worry, I saved you a few jars,” she says, giving me a playful wink.
“You always look out for me.”
“Somebody’s gotta,” she teases, stacking another crate on top of the table.
I grab the now empty table and fold it in half, trailing behind her to the van.
The late afternoon sun is dipping low, turning everything gold. As the temperature quickly drops, the last of the crowd drifts away, leaving the farm in silence.
Alex is packing up her things by the photo setup. Her smile’s gone—the one she wore all day for the families.
Annalise clears her throat. She gives me a knowing look, then jerks her chin toward Alex. “Go help her,” she says.
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “Do you um…know what happened earlier?”
She nods, her expression unreadable and waves me off.
I exhale through my nose, shoving my hands in my pockets and start walking toward Alex.
She doesn’t smile. She just looks up at me briefly before going back to packing her things. Her movements are quick—like she just wants to be done.
I pick up the last couple of boxes and carry them to her trunk, she murmurs a small “thanks,” but her voice is tired, distant.
After shutting the trunk, she turns to Annalise, gives her a little wave, then climbs into her car.
The taillights fade down the dirt driveway, for a moment I just stand there, hands shoved in my jacket pockets.
Huh.
That’s the first time I’ve ever seen her without that bright, annoying smile plastered across her face.
But now, in its absence, I realize—it’s not annoying at all.
Her face just doesn’t look right without it.
I turn around and spot Annalise greeting her husband, Dakota. She throws her arms around him, and he lifts her clean off the ground, both of them laughing. Their kids dance in circles around them, giggling as the last bit of daylight slips away.
An ache tugs deep in my chest.
A beautiful family.
Something I’ll never let myself have.
I nod as they wave goodbye, and the van pulls away down the driveway. Their laughter fades with sound of the tires on dirt, leaving nothing but the creak of the old barn door.
I head toward the porch, the image of Alex’s face burned into my mind—her quiet, sad expression lingering as she drove off.
It bothers me more than it should.