Page 36 of Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls #1)

It’s another overcast autumn day in Bramble Falls.

With the end of October in sight, the breeze carries a chill as Aunt Naomi, Mom, Sloane, and I walk around the Lively Farm, where the annual A-maize-ing Corn Maze event is being held.

A potato-sack slide, a Ferris wheel, and a haunted house have been set up alongside various other fair-type rides in the big open field next to endless acres of cornstalks.

The whole town seems to be here, and all of them come to say hi to Aunt Naomi. It’s honestly amazing to see a woman be so confidently in charge. Street Media seems allergic to promoting women.

I’m going to change that, though—even if being here has set me back.

While Aunt Naomi and Sloane are in line for corn dogs, Mom grins at me.

“What?” I ask.

“I saw the clothes you’ve been working on.”

I blush. “Oh.”

“They’re really good.”

“Thanks.”

“And I swear I wasn’t snooping,” she says. “But I was putting your clean clothes in your room, and your sketchbook was open on your bed…. Those designs are incredible, Ellis.”

“They’re okay,” I say, looking at the ground.

“How are you the most self-assured person I know—until it comes to this ?” she asks. “They’re unique and beautiful and, whether it was intentional or not, they so perfectly capture fall in this town.”

“Yeah?” My lips involuntarily curve up at the corners. It was entirely intentional.

She nods. “They’re perfect.”

“Thanks, Mommy.” I lay my head on her shoulder and she laughs.

“You haven’t called me Mommy in, like, ten years. I miss it.”

“Maybe I should start again,” I say.

“You’re welcome to, but people might think you’re a weirdo.” I lift my head and she turns to me. “Are you still miserable here?”

I shake my head, truthfully. “No. I’ve had fun here, actually.” But I’m ready to go back to the city—now more than ever, given the Cooper situation. I’m ready to get back to my internship and to my real, drama-free life and to my future.

Only a couple more weeks.

A few minutes later, Sloane bounces over to us with her mom trailing behind.

“Want to hop on some rides?” she asks me as she practically inhales her corn dog.

“Sure.”

“Maybe something that doesn’t spin, though. I’m not trying to puke all over this cute shirt you gave me,” she says, looking down at the blue plaid button-down I cropped for her. She takes my hand and pulls me toward the rides.

“You two have fun,” Mom calls from behind me.

Since Aunt Naomi and the Lively family found enough volunteers and don’t need us today, Sloane and I spend the next few hours riding every ride and drinking lemonade and eating fried Oreos.

At some point, we meet up with Asher and eventually run into Jake and Slug.

We all attend the goat show and the community art show, and it takes everything in me not to ask where Cooper is.

At four thirty, Jake and Slug saunter off to the pie-eating contest, and Sloane, Asher, and I grab a map and enter the thirty-acre corn maze.

“You guys are cheaters if you’re going to use a map,” I tell them.

“Believe me, we want a map. This thing gets intense. It’s massive and easy to get lost. Not to mention people rarely have phone service out here,” Sloane says.

She’s right about the cell service—I haven’t had it all day. This farm is like a dead zone. But: “It’s a maze. It’s supposed to be a challenge,” I say.

Sloane looks at Asher. “Fold it up,” he says with a shrug. “We’ll have it in case. Let’s see if we can do this without it.”

She sighs as she folds it and shoves it into her pocket. And we’re off.

We make our way through the towering cornstalks, slipping deeper into the twisty labyrinth with each step as the screams and laughter of the festivalgoers fade into the background.

After an hour of walking, Sloane lets out a groan. “My feet hurt.”

“Wimp,” I murmur.

She slaps my shoulder. “Shut up. Not all of us are fueled by a challenge.”

“Maybe not, but aren’t you fueled by the idea of getting out of here so you can lounge on the couch?”

“You have a point.” We come to a dead end, and she points to the right. “This way.”

“No. We’ve already been down there,” I tell her.

Asher glances to the right. “Really?”

I point to a lopsided cornstalk. “Yeah, that cornstalk is familiar.”

Sloane laughs. “You’re joking, right?”

“No?”

“Ellis, there are literally thousands of cornstalks out here.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been trying to memorize any weird ones so we know if we’re going in circles,” I explain.

Sloane throws her hands in the air. “But there’s probably more than one lopsided cornstalk!” She takes my hand and tries to pull me to the right. “Come on. We both already know you have no sense of direction.”

I tug my hand from her grip. “That’s true, but I’m sure of this. Let’s just go left.”

“That’s in the opposite direction that we need to go, though. That’ll just take us deeper into the maze.”

“Maybe, but sometimes you need to go deeper to take the right path out,” I argue.

She looks at Asher. “What do you think, Ash?”

His eyes flicker between the two of us as he rubs the back of his neck. “Uh… I’m not sure…. But sorry, Ellis, I think Sloane’s right on this.”

I scoff. “Okay, fine. You guys go that way, and I’ll go this way. We’ll make it a race to the end.”

Sloane shakes her head. “I’m not letting you walk around in a corn maze by yourself at dusk.”

“I have my phone flashlight if I need it,” I tell her. “But I won’t because you two will be the ones needing to use your map to get out of here once you realize you’re walking in circles.”

Sloane lifts her eyebrows and puts her hands on her hips. “Fine. We’ll race you. But only because I need to take you down a few pegs, Ms. Know-it-all.”

I smile. “Excellent. I’ll see you at the end—if you ever make it.”

She smirks. “See ya, cuz. Let’s go, Asher.”

They head right, and I turn left.

Then left again. Then right. Then left. And soon I’m pretty sure I’m the one walking in circles.

The sun is fading and above me, the sky is a mixture of deep oranges and dark clouds. I pass a few families wandering through, but for the most part, the maze is empty at this hour.

“Shoot,” I whisper to myself. I take my phone out. No reception. Holding it as high as I can, I walk around, hoping for some bars. But I get nothing.

I’m slipping my phone back into my pocket and turning the corner when I slam right into someone.

Cooper.

“Oh—um—hey—” I stammer.

He looks around. “Are you alone in here?”

“Yeah, I’m racing Sloane to the end.”

“How’s it going?”

“Okay,” I lie. “What are you doing?”

“My mom wouldn’t let me stay home, so I figured if I had to come, at least I could be alone in here.”

“Oh,” I say, shifting my weight uncomfortably. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it. Good luck…”

I step around him, but he calls out, “Wait.” I turn to face him. “I’m so lost. Care if I follow you?”

I pause, not really sure how to say no. And then there’s the annoying fact that I don’t really want to say no, even if being around him makes me sad. “Sure.”

I turn and resume walking aimlessly ahead, with the faux confidence of someone with a plan. Fake it till you make it.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Cooper clears his throat. “So, I heard you made the shirt Sloane’s wearing.”

After this past week, it feels impossible to have a casual conversation with him, but I did say I’d try, so…

“I did. Did you run into her or something?”

“Yeah, I passed them about twenty minutes ago, and—”

“Oh?” I say, cutting him off. “Were they using their map?”

Cooper chuckles at my competitive side rearing its ugly face. “No, and they looked incredibly lost.”

“Nice!” I say with a devilish grin.

He laughs and shakes his head. “ Anyway , she was bragging about her shirt to Asher. I think it meant a lot to her.”

“That’s sweet, but it was as much for me as it was for her,” I tell him as we veer right.

“What do you mean?”

I shrug. “It’s just for fun, but I’ve been trying out different fabrics and designs here, so it was good practice. And it was sort of neat making something for someone other than myself. I’ve never done that before.”

“Yeah? Well, it was still cool of you.” Cooper kicks a corn husk lying on the dirt path and asks, “Have you ever considered doing it for more than fun?”

The question is so innocent, and yet I have to stop myself from laughing.

“No,” I say. “I’m going to be a journalist.”

“Because your dad is a journalist? I think that’s what you said years ago.”

I nod, both loving and hating how easy it is to fall back into being us .

“Used to be. Now he’s the president of Street Media. And, yeah, I guess that’s part of the reason. I grew up at the company, with my dad teaching me everything he knows. And I’m good at it.”

“You’re good at designing clothes, too.”

I glance at him. “Thanks. But it’s just a hobby. Do you know how many aspiring fashion designers there are in New York?”

“A lot, I imagine. But I think you could do it.”

I offer him a smile. But he just doesn’t get it. Even if I could get my dad on board—which would never happen—I have no connections in the saturated world of fashion. It’d be too risky to pin my whole future on hopes of succeeding when I have a guaranteed job in journalism.

“So, I was talking to Aunt Naomi about the parade this morning,” I say, changing the subject. “And it got me thinking… you should make your own float.”

He arches an eyebrow at me. “For what?”

“For your baked goods. You could turn your truck into a promotion for your own cookie business. Sexy Cookies, Inc.” He laughs, and I grin at him.

“Okay, maybe not that name, but I’m serious.

I don’t think Betty Lynn would mind handling the Caffeinated Cat float if you were doing your own.

I could make a cookie costume this week. ”

He eyes me, smiling. “You’d have to wear the costume.”

“Uh, no. I’m not signing up to dress in a ridiculous costume in front of the whole town,” I laugh. “But I’ll make it for you.”