Page 36 of Love Harvested on Thanksgiving
Finley turns to me with a grin. “That guy over there,” he says, nodding at a man currently biting into our slider, “said Krueger’s booth is a disaster. Everyone’s complaining their turkey is dry and the pies are burnt.”
We high-five, laughing.
Finley and I start cleaning up when the mayor’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. “Alright, everyone, it’s time to announce the winners of this year’s Thanksgiving cook-off!” Cheers erupt around us.
Finley throws his arm around me, holding me tight to his side. “Coming in third place is Kenna’s Sweet Shop!” More cheers and claps ring out across the courtyard.
“Coming in second place is… Wild Apple Preserves!” I clap my hands and grin at Annalise from across the way.
“Alrighty, folks, our first-place winner is… Oakridge Farms and Oak & Rye Market!”
I turn to Finley, and he lifts me into a hug, spinning me in a circle. My lips land on his, and more cheers erupt around us.
He sets me down, “I’ll go get our winnings.”
The crowd starts to thin, the chatter fading as the sun dips low behind the buildings, covering the courtyard in shadows.
I finish cleaning up, folding the tables, and organizing the boxes. After scrolling my phone for a bit, I check for Finley. Mostly everyone is gone, he will be out soon.
Carrying the stack of tubs, I walk down the sidewalk toward Finley’s truck. The air nips at my nose as darkness settles around me.
When I finally reach the truck, I set the tubs down and lower the tailgate. I pick up the tubs again, placing them in the bed of the truck, when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
A text from an unknown number:
Serving any more dead babies?
My stomach drops. My hands start shaking violently. The phone slips from my fingers, clattering to the cobblestones.
Panic claws at me, sharp and insistent, twisting in my chest. My breaths are shallow and ragged. I glance around and tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision. Pressure coils in my chest, squeezing my lungs.
Finley. I need Finley. Please come back.
My knees wobble, my fingers curl into the sleeves of my sweater as I press my face into my arms, trying to steady myself.
I just have to get back to him.
I start walking quickly back to the courtyard when a figure steps into the street.
“Where are you off to so fast? We have a lot to talk about, Alex.”
I freeze, my heart hammering. Slowly, I take one step back, then another, my hands trembling.
CHAPTER TWENTY
FINLEY
I get the gift card from the organizers—a thousand bucks and, well, a girlfriend. What a win. Well… I suppose I haven’t actually asked her to be my girlfriend yet.
When I get back, Alex is gone. So is most of our stuff. She must’ve taken the tubs already.
“Okay,” I mutter, tucking the envelope in my back pocket and grabbing what’s left. “I’ll meet her at the truck then.”
I shake my head, now why would Alex walk all by herselfin the dark?
Suddenly, a scream cuts through the air. Sharp and terrified.
My body reacts before my mind does. The box slips from my hands and crashes to the ground.
