Page 70 of Wildflower and Whiskey
I’d been here a hundred times before.
But this year was different. This year, Elyna was beside me and Braden’s small hand was wrapped around my finger.
“Easy, buddy,” I said, chuckling as he toddled across the cobblestones like a tiny drunk sailor. His little boots made hollow thumps on the stones; every step determined but wobbly.
“He’s fearless,” Elyna said, laughing softly. “That’s definitely not from me.”
“Has to be,” I teased, grinning down at her. “You’ve been walking into storms since the day I met you.”
She rolled her eyes, tugging her scarf tighter. The temperature had dropped overnight, and the wind carried thefirst bite of frost. Her nose was pink, her cheeks flushed, and I had the sudden, stupid thought I could watch her like this forever.
Braden stumbled and toppled against my shin with a grunt. I scooped him up, settling him against my hip. He patted my chest and pointed at the ponies by the corral, babbling something that sounded like “ba.”
“You see those?” I asked. “Ponies. Think you’re ready for a ride?”
Elyna shook her head, smiling. “He can barely stand on his own. You’re not putting him on a pony.”
“Not yet,” I said. “But soon.”
We wandered past rows of booths where vendors sold different items, the sound of laughter and chatter wrapping around us like music. Elyna stopped at a display of pumpkins, crouching to pick up a tiny one streaked with green. “This one’s perfect,” she said, holding it up for Braden. “Just your size.”
He reached out and grabbed it with both hands, and promptly tried to chew on the stem.
“Perfect,” I said, chuckling. “He’s definitely yours.”
She looked up at me then, eyes bright, and something inside me shifted. For a second, the noise of the market faded and all I saw was her, framed by sunlight and the pale gold of falling leaves.
We paid the vendor, who handed Braden a small apple “for being the best helper,” and moved on. Elyna stopped at a cider booth, bought two steaming cups, and handed me one. Our fingers brushed, the warmth of the cup nothing compared to the heat that sparked in that brief touch.
“Phoenix,” she murmured, her tone playful, soft. “You’re staring.”
“Can you blame me?” I asked.
Before she could answer, a voice cut through the crowd.
“Elyna.”
It was sharp, deliberate, and familiar.
We both turned.
Colette Jansen.
Her coat stretched tight across her chest, lipstick a jarring slash of red against her pale skin. Her eyes locked on Braden like she was sighting something that belonged to her. Elyna stiffened instantly. I shifted Braden higher on my hip as my whole body tensed.
Colette approached with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Well,” she said, “if it isn’t my grandson.”
Before I could react, she reached forward and plucked him from my arms.
My heart slammed once, hard. “Give him back,” I said, voice low.
Colette ignored me, clutching Braden like a prize. “Oh, my sweet boy,” she cooed, kissing his cheek. “Nana’s missed you.”
Braden whimpered and his small hands pushed at her coat. Elyna’s voice came out tight and controlled. “Colette. That’s enough.”
Colette sighed like Elyna was being unreasonable, then finally handed him back too casually, too carelessly. I caught him against my chest and felt the tremor in Elyna’s hand as she steadied us both.
Colette smoothed her hair. “No need to get defensive. I’m just saying hello.”
