Page 81 of Harvest Moon

There had been a day—heck, a day not too long ago—that I’d have brushed off my mother’s rudeness to Ridge because hey, she wanted different things out of life than me, and she just didn’t “get” me and him. But somehow, over my time with the Grove pack, that had changed.

I had changed.

I was standing there, looking at Ridge, clutching the pie like a shield, like he’d crumble to dust if someone poked him the wrong way.

Looking at my own father, staring at my mother with something in his eyes I’d never noticed before. Vulnerability. I’d been so selfish and ignorant, never giving a moment’s thought to how her dislike of blue-collar men affected him. I’d always just thought he was used to it, but how was a person supposed to get used to their life partner hating the center of their being?

At Alpha Grove, who met my eye unflinchingly, a knowing little smile on his face. His expression practically screamed that he understood. That I was always welcome back in Grovetown.

Finally, I looked down at Claudia, who met my eye and gave me a firm nod.

Yep. This was on me.

In a little while, I would have to let Ridge stand up for himself, showing Alpha Grove what the pack risked with a Sterling Corp farm. What they’d done to the old place, and why it was bad. He’d be on his own, and I couldn’t do anything to help explain farming.

But this? This was my responsibility.

“Ridge and I are together now, Mom.” I went over to him, wrapping my hands around his frozen ones and leaning across the pie to give him a quick kiss. As I pulled back, I smiled at him and pulled the pie out of his hands. I turned to my mother, holding out the dessert. “And we’re going to stay that way, because I love him, and he loves me. Pie?”

Ridge sucked in a breath behind me, and I had to hide a flinch. Had that been the first time I said it? Great, I told him I loved him to my mother. Too late to take it back now, though.

My mother accepted the pie on autopilot, staring at me, mouth open, for a long moment. Eventually, she snapped out of it, shaking her head like she had to clear away fog. “I’m sure it seems like a good idea now, Alexis—”

“No,” I interrupted her, not interested in hearing her denigrate her own perfectly comfortable life with my father. “It doesn’tseemlike a good idearight now. Itisa good idea. I don’t want fancy things like you. I want a little one-room cabin with me and Ridge and Banjo when he feels like coming in, and I want Ridge to work the fields all day while I work on my podcast, and then I want to curl up in front of a fire with him at night and talk about our day. Or not talk about it, and just sit there together, because he makes me happy.”

Arms enveloped me from behind, and for a second, I thought it was Ridge—but no, it was my father. I turned and pulled him in for a proper hug, trying to beam my apology right into his brain, for all the times Mom had been down on him and I hadn’t even thought to defend him. His voice was thick and a little strained as he whispered in my ear, “I’m so happy for you, my little star. And proud of you.”

“That sounds like a pretty good life,” Alpha Grove said, his smile in his voice. “It’s not a one-room cabin, more like three or four, and it’s not in the best shape, but have the Hills showed you their old place?”

“Old place?” Ridge asked.

For once, I had information about his own farm that Ridge didn’t. I’d seen it on the Grovetown map, tucked away at the top of the hill on the far side of the farm. I’d wondered why the Hill house was in a different spot on the map and in reality, but it hadn’t occurred to me to ask. “It’s past the fields, out near where the grove starts,” I said, looking to the alpha for confirmation.

Linden nodded, meeting Ridge’s eye with an almost paternal smile. “Tucked right into the edge of the grove. Been there for ages, and no one’s lived in it since they built the new house almost fifteen years ago, so it’ll probably need some fixing up. But I’ll bet they’d be willing to let it go for a song, since the real estate market in Grovetown isn’t exactly booming.”

The way Ridge’s whole face lit up, it wasn’t hard to tell how much he loved the idea. And, I mean, I’d painted the picture, so I clearly did as well. There was just one problem that stood between us and the promise of that perfect, cozy life.

Ridge had to convince the Grove pack not to sell the farm to the Sterling Corporation, with their endlessly deep pockets and damned plastic bottles of water.

48

Ridge

Alexis’s mom calmed down after he told her what for, and his pa was quick to put his hand on my shoulder and congratulate us. Given that we also got a mouth full of pie while the awkwardness settled, things had gone better than I’d anticipated.

Sitting around while Alpha Grove went on about what a help I’d been at the Hills’ farm made my shoulders sit back a little farther. He was proud, so I had reason to be too.

All that feeling good came to a short stop when Alpha Grove said we ought to have a look outside at my family’s old farm. We left the car at the Menas’ place and walked through the trees at the property line.

My parents’ old house had been torn down. I could place on the giant fields where it used to sit, but it’d been replaced with rows and rows of lettuce. Just lettuce—far as the eye could see.

Enormous pipework covered the fields, spraying the crops. As we approached, they shut off, big wheels turning overhead to move them across lines to the next spot, nearer to where we stood.

Staring out across the fields I’d worked for years—had thought I’d work for the rest of my life—I forgot how to talk. I forgot I needed to open my mouth to make my case, right up until Alexis came to my side and put his hand at the small of my back.

He looked up at me with a concerned little smile. I took a long, deep breath and turned to Alpha Grove and Mrs. Claudia.

“This is what it is. What they do. All this land and only one crop. And sure, it’ll grow, tight together and sprayed down with harsh pesticides that they won’t be able to keep just on their fields. They’ll drift to the orchard too, seep down with the water to smaller farms. Then they’ll pick it all—with underpaid workers and machines—and send all that one crop to a processing plant where they’ll package it and send it all over the country,” I said.

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