Page 37 of Midnight Lessons

“This is such fun,” I say excitedly. “You did good, Mr. Callahan.”

“Only the best for my girl,” he replies, grinning as my head swivels from side to side, trying to take it all in

As we settle into the rhythm of the ride, the autumn air wraps around us, and I know that starting over is worth the risk, especially with Owen as the prize.

The hay bales are scratchy against my hands, but I barely notice because Owen is right there, his arm slung around my shoulder. He pulls me in closer, and I nestle into the crook of his arm, a warmth seeping into my bones that has nothing to do with the blanket he’s draped over us.

“Look at that,” he murmurs, pointing to a scarecrow standing guard over a field of cornstalks. Its lopsided grin seems almost friendly in the fading light.

I laugh, easier than I have in a long time. “He’s not very scary.”

“Maybe he’s off duty,” Owen suggests, and we both chuckle, the sound mingling with the soft creak of the wagon and the rustle of leaves.

We talk about everything and nothing, as if we’re trying to cram all the missed conversations from our days apart into one magical evening. There’s a comfort between us, a familiarity like coming home after a long journey.

As the ride slows to a halt, I spot the picnic area Owen has set up. It’s beautiful—a blanket spread out on the ground, candles flickering inside intricately carved pumpkins, and a basket that I’m sure holds more than sandwiches.

“Owen, this is incredible.” My voice is hushed, reverent, as I take in his handiwork.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, helping me down from the hayride.

We sit on the blanket, sipping hot cider that warms me from the inside out. The stars above seem to twinkle their approval, and the moon casts a soft glow over the pumpkin patch, turning it ethereal.

“Thank you for this,” I say, meeting his gaze. His blue eyes hold mine, and something shifts—the air, the night, us.

“Anything for you,” he replies, his voice deeper than before.

It happens naturally, the way our faces move closer, the way his lips meet mine. The kiss starts tender, questioning, but soon ignites into something fiercer, filled with longing and unspoken promises. We break away, breathless, the world reduced to the space between us.

Owen opens the basket, pulling out food for our starlit picnic. I laugh at something he says, the sound mingling with the rustle of cornstalks in the gentle night breeze. We lean into each other, his arm draped around my shoulders, and I know this is where I belong, right here in Owen’s arms.

Before we can say another word, the crunch of gravel under heavy boots turns our heads. Matthew stands at the edge of our picnic setup, his figure looming like a dark cloud over our perfect evening. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You really thought you could ignore me, Willow?” Matthew’s voice is a low growl, the menace in it sending a shiver down my spine. “We aren’t over until I say we are.”

My entire body goes cold, the warmth of the evening vanishing in an instant. Owen is on his feet in a second, his protective stance unmistakable as he steps in front of me, blocking Matthew from taking even one step closer.

“Back off, Crane,” Owen says, his voice deadly calm. He’s a wall between me and the man who seems to have lost all sense of reason and sanity.

Matthew’s smile twists into something uglier, his eyes locking on mine over Owen’s shoulder. “There was a time when you used to hide behind me, Willow.” His voice is low and dangerous. “We both know how much you leaned on me. I was there for you when no one else was. Youneededme.”

I swallow hard, stepping out from behind Owen, even though every instinct screams to stay put. “I don’t need anything from you, Matthew,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “I was never yours, and you were never mine. And that will never changebecause I love Owen. I’ve loved him for what feels like my whole life, and I’ll continue to love him until I draw my last breath.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, to the man I knew, the man who helped me when my heart was broken, but you need help, Matthew. Therapy or?—”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” he spits, cutting me off. His gaze flickers with something wild and unhinged. Then, slowly, his smile returns. “You know, I used to think you were so sweet and innocent. But you’re just like everyone else. Using people, then tossing them aside when they’ve outlived their purpose.”

“Stop,” Owen warns, his voice a low growl. His hands clench into fists, his shoulders tense.

I reach out and place a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the raw power vibrating under his skin. “Owen, don’t,” I murmur softly, hoping to keep things from escalating. He trembles with barely contained rage, and I can tell he’s seconds away from exploding.

But Matthew’s eyes are glued to mine. “Youthinkyou’ve moved on, think you love Owen,but you don’t. You love the idea of him, but he’ll let you down again. I’ll never let you down or leave you, Willow, because I love you.”

And just like that, it clicks. My heart stutters, and I suddenly see it—the bitterness, the possessiveness, the obsession that’s been festering under his smooth exterior. The online betting pool... the escalating harassment...

“But I don’t love you, Matthew. I never did,” I say firmly. “And if you truly loved me, you’d never want to hurt me. So why did you do it? Why did you set up that betting pool?”

For a split second, his mask slips. He looks genuinely taken aback. Then his expression sharpens, becomes cruel. “Because if I couldn’t have you, I could at least show everyone what you truly were,” he rambles. “A tease. A liar. And not worth the pedestal everyone in this stupid town keeps putting you on.”

The world narrows, the edges of my vision going fuzzy. I feel sick, bile rising in my throat. He didn’t simply want to hurt me—he wanted to humiliate me. To destroy me.

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