Page 34 of Almost Rotten

The last thing I need is for him to chirp in her ear or try to insert himself into our relationship when we’re still on shaky ground.

Once we’re solid, his concerns won’t matter.

But our arrangement needs time to take root first. I need her to admit to herself that she’s always been mine, just like I’ve always belonged to her.

Time.

We just need time.

We’re so fucking close. Finally on the right trajectory.

“I’m working on it. I swear,” I assure him. “We’ve only been here two months. I just need to adjust. Can’t plant a tree and instantly expect to enjoy its shade.”

It’s something his dad used to say all the time.

Understanding flickers across his face, the callback hitting as intended. He sags, his defenses lowering, and accepts me where I’m at.

“I just need a shower and a good night’s sleep,” I assure him.

With a nod, he turns back to his desk, leaving me to it.

I’m not okay right now, but I will be. For the first time in a long time, I sincerely believe that sentiment.

Chapter fourteen

Noah

The ground was covered in a layer of frost this morning. There’s still quite a bit coating the landscape now, several hours after sunrise. The way the light bounces off the remaining icy crystals is breathtaking. I can’t help but stop in my tracks and take it all in.

This is my favorite time of year. It’s the heart of fall, and the busy season for the orchard is well underway. The sun is still warm, but there’s signs of what’s to come on every blade of grass and individual leaf.

Change is in the air.

Stillness is coming soon.

But Mother Nature’s easing us into the season. For now, there’s just frost.

I want Sawyer to see this.

Next time she stays the night, we’ll get up early to catch it.

God, I can’t wait till she’s back here again.

The grass crackles beneath my feet as I make the trek from the house to the storefront. I’ve been up for a few hours and have already been over here once this morning. But Edna comes in later on Tuesdays, and I haven’t seen her for a few days. Figured I’d swing back around to check in with her before heading out.

Shiloh nudges my leg as we approach the bakery door.

“You can come in,” I mumble to her implied request. I try to keep her out of the store and barn during business hours, though she inevitably does what she wants, when she wants, so I don’t know why I bother.

“Edna?” I call out, rubbing my hands together to warm them as I step inside.

Shiloh follows, then trots off toward the apple room, no doubt looking for someone who will bestow extra scratches upon her.

“Good morning.” Edna pushes through the door leading to the storage room, her trusty clipboard in hand. Must be inventory day.

As she rounds the corner, backlit by a hazy stream of light shining through the window, she looks so much like my grandma.

Same sharp jaw. Identical curve to her nose.