Page 7 of Harvest Season in Kentbury
“I’m off to the gallery now.If you need anything, just call me,” I say, gathering my things.
“I’ll be fine, dear.Good luck at the gallery.I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished.I know it’s going to be amazing,” she says warmly, leaning in to kiss my cheek before casting another judgmental glance at my sweater.“Now, take off that hideous thing, sweetie.No one will take you seriously.The eighties want their neon colors back.”
I laugh, pulling the sweater off as I step outside.“Yes, ma’am,” I call back playfully.
I leave her house with a smile on my face, the crisp air greeting me as I make my way back to the storefront buildings downtown.The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the streets of Kentbury, and my footsteps feel a little lighter.
I reach the building that will soon be my new gallery.Progress has been slow—too slow, some days—but it’s happening.I pay the bills by working as a seasonal artist and teaching art at the local schools, but the gallery ...this is my dream.
I turn the corner to go to the gallery when I hear my phone ding in my pocket.My stomach turns as I have a feeling, I know who is texting me.Bryce, my ex-boyfriend, has been bothering me for a while, but the messages and calls had stopped for a while so I thought he’d given up.I pull my phone out to see who the text was from.It’s a number I don’t recognize and even though I know I shouldn’t, I open the message thread.
Hello Meadow.Please text me back.I miss you.
Anger rises as I stare at his words.He didn’t care enough to miss me when we were together, so why does he care now?The trust issues I have are a result of his cheating and I refuse to give him the time of day.I slide my phone back into my pocket and keep walking to the gallery.I unlock the door and walk in, looking around at all the work that still needs to be done.
I think about everything I have to do here along with everything else on my plate and I start to wonder if I can handle it all or if opening the gallery is a pipe dream.My biggest fear is neglecting my grandma and letting everyone down, including the festival.I always do my absolute best with the decoration making and organizing.I’m terrified that I won’t be able to give my everything to it this year with everything else going on.While I start working, my thoughts drift to Raffa.I start to wonder what his story is and if there’s a reason he’s here, Grandma mentioned a heart attack, but what if it’s a different grandson.Did he just decide to visit family and will be gone soon?
ChapterFive
Raffa
“Why are you awake so early?”Paul’s voice cuts through the quiet as he glares at my laptop.“And on your computer?”
It’s four in the morning.Maybe he’s right—maybe it is too fucking early—but can anyone blame me?My clients need checking on, and there are so many things still pending.Sure, I’ve got a team of lawyers who are more than capable of handling my caseload, but ...they’re not me.I rub my chest instinctively, feeling that familiar tightness.I need to stay on top of it if I want it done right.
“You need to head back to bed and rest,” Paul says, stepping closer to the screen, way too close for comfort.
“I’m an adult,” I snap, frustration bubbling up.“I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
Paul crosses his arms, not backing down.“Sure, until you can’t—because you’re six feet under.”
I flinch at that, the words hitting harder than I’d like to admit.“You’re exaggerating.”
“No, I’m fucking not,” he snaps.“The doctor literally said you’re at high risk for another heart attack if you keep pushing yourself like this.”
His words cut through me, sharp and cold.The memory of that day flashes back—the crushing pain, the panic, the sudden stillness as everything faded out.I can still feel it sometimes, like a ghost pressing down on my chest.My fingers hover over the keyboard as the doctor’s warnings echo in my head—stress, high blood pressure, no more second chances.I should care more.I do care.But work is my lifeline, the only thing that makes me feel in control when everything else is slipping away.
Paul softens, but the worry in his eyes is impossible to ignore.He’s not just being dramatic—he’s scared.And maybe I should be, too.I let out a breath, guilt gnawing at me.Maybe I am pushing too hard.
But the thought of slowing down?Of not keeping my hands on everything?It terrifies me.It feels like if I stop for even a second, the world will crumble around me.And yet, the image of me collapsing again, not getting back up this time ...that’s real, too.
“I know,” I say quietly, barely meeting his gaze.“But I can’t just stop.”
“You don’t have to stop,” Paul says, his voice softer now, almost pleading.“But you do need to fucking slow down.Take a well-deserved break, learn how to relax, how to actually live.We were raised by a toxic man who drilled into us that work was all that mattered.”
He’s right.Father drilled that lesson into our heads from day one.You’re only as good as your success.Fail, and you’re nothing.
“And what am I supposed to do now?”I ask, throwing up my hands.“Just sit around like a couch potato?Sounds thrilling.”
Paul’s lips twitch with a grin.“No, but hear me out—maybe learn how to have a more relaxed life.You know, ease into it.”
I narrow my eyes at him, deflecting.“Why are you awake so early anyway?Didn’t you get home a few hours ago?Late night?New girlfriend?”I lean back, smirking.“What’s next, you gonna end up like Sin, marrying some small-town girl?”
He laughs and shakes his head.“Oh no, I don’t think I’ll be marrying a small-towngirlnot now, or ever.”
Good, that gives me some hope.I might not end up like our other siblings, trapped in this sleepy town.Maybe I can have a little fun here, pretend I’m relaxing—whatever that even means—and then get back to my life.
But still, that doesn’t answer everything.“Seriously, though, why are you up so early?”
