Page 18 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
“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.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FINLEY
