Page 34 of Love Story

“I don’t know—photos, papers, anything from way back.”

She shrugged, her brow furrowing.“In your dad’s office, I guess.Go ask him.He’s got all the old junk crammed in that storage room.”

I headed to Dad’s office, the small, book-filled space that doubled as the farm’s nerve center.He was at his desk, poring over receipts.

“You need something?”he asked without taking his eye off the paperwork, a pen tapping on the ledger in front of him.

“Mom said you might have some old family stuff in here.History—like photos, papers, that kind of thing.”

He finally looked up, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.“History, huh?Yeah, there are some boxes in the storage room.Hold on.”

Dad stood, moving at the steady, deliberate pace he used for everything, and disappeared into the storage room.I heard shuffling, the scrape of a box being dragged out, then another.

“Here,” he said when he returned, dusting off his hands.“Journals, photos, and whatnot.There’s probably some ledgers in there, too.You’re not about to start a genealogy project, are you?”

I snorted, hefting the boxes in my arms.“Nope.Just curious.”

He paused, glancing at me as if he wanted to say something else, then gestured toward the window.“How’s that young maple in the north field doing?You check it this week?”

I nodded, adjusting my grip on the boxes.“Yeah, the new growth looks good.Should be solid for tapping in a few years.”

He gave me a small smile that said he approved but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.“Good.That’s good.”

I carried the boxes upstairs to my room and set them down next to my desk.Their weight stirred something in me—an odd mix of anticipation and nostalgia.Whatever was in these boxes was a piece of the farm, of us, and that felt important, and Ben would be so excited to see them.

Dinner was the usual—Dad was quiet, Mom filled the silence with updates on the neighbors and whatever small-town gossip she’d picked up that week.

“I saw Harriet at the store today,” Mom said, her tone casual but her eyes gleaming in that way that always spelled trouble.

“Uh-huh?”I said, reaching for the bread basket.

“She was talking more about Ben and how it’s so nice he finally has a friend like you who’s… compatible.”

I nearly choked on my soup.“Mom—”

“What?I’m just saying.”Her grin didn’t falter as she waved a hand, dismissing my protest.“He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

“Stop matchmaking,” I muttered

Dad chuckled from his end of the table.“Oh, let her have her fun,” he said, barely hiding his smirk.

I rolled my eyes but leaned over to peck Mom on the cheek.“You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re my favorite child,” she said, laughing.

“I’m youronlychild.”I deadpanned.Then, the elephant in the room sat on my chest.“You know what happened before, with Byron.”

“Ben is nothing like that asshole,” she muttered and then pressed her fingers to her lips at the uncharacteristic outburst.

“But he’s used to city life,” I said.“He’ll be going back, and then what?I’ll just be back to being on my own.What can Caldwell Crossing offer him?”

Mom reached across the table and took my hand, her fingers warm against my calloused skin.“Oh, you sweet boy,” she said, eyes full of understanding.“It can offer him you.”

Her words hung in the air, and my mind spun in a dozen directions.I thought about Byron and how he’d looked down their nose at almost everything about Caldwell Crossing.

Haider’s exuberance, the way he couldn’t help but light up every room he walked into, had been“too much.”Ryan’s quiet, steady nature had been dismissed as boring.And Conor?Byron couldn’t understand why a guy like me would waste time with someone so brash and loud, no matter that Conor would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.

Even my family hadn’t been spared.Byron had endured the weekly dinners with my parents, sighing at Dad’s stories about maple season and dismissing Mom’s talk of local news.He saw my life here as either quaint or backward.

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