Page 39 of The Autumn Leaf Bookshop (Everly Hollow #1)

Feast of Falling Leaves

Raene

I don’t think I’ve cooked so much in my life. I keep opening and closing my hands to stretch them out because I think whisking and stirring is giving me carpal tunnel.

Grandma and I have been cooking all day. I loved spending this day with her and was grateful that Sylas was able to handle the setting up for the fall feast.

He told me not to worry about it, that all this cooking is another way to prepare for the feast. The guys were able to help set up for the feast, which helped ease some of the stress and worry that we would have a major hiccup in tonight’s plans.

“Raene, honey, come out here for a bit.” I hear grandma say, opening the front door, and a cool breeze flows in. It cools my overheated skin from being in this kitchen for so long.

I head out to the porch. She has two blankets, one in each rocking chair, and on the little table between us are two mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows and a small plate of snickerdoodle cookies .

“When did you do all this?” I ask, taking a seat and covering my legs with the blanket. I reach out to grab my mug. I love the chill in the air, but I don’t mind keeping my hands warm.

“I was doing all this while you were going nonstop in the kitchen. You just didn’t notice. We need a break." Grandma grabs a cookie to snack on while I take a sip of the chocolatey treat. The chocolate-scented steam kisses my nose.

Pumpkins on the porch, grandma’s army of scarecrows. Even the colors. The oranges and the browns. The reds and the golds. They all stick together. Through all the seasons, until it's time for some to go.

What is happening to me? It’s just being in this moment with Grandma that has me enjoying this view and the sweet treats, right?

“Beautiful view, huh?” Grandma asks me. She’s always loved fall. Like mother, like daughter. It was my mother’s favorite season too, and when I was younger, I loved it then for her. But my love of fall died along with my parents.

I take a bite of a cookie. Chewing slowly. I swallow it down with the sadness that is creeping into my mind.

“It is. The colors, they’re alluring.”

“They are,” she sighs and begins to rock in her chair.

“You know. I always found it fascinating how they change from their bright, vibrant greens to this. To so many different colors, and it just gives off a glow. Like they’re excited for the change coming.

Even if it is a little bit scary and different. ”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly .

“Let’s just sit out here a bit. Take a break,” she repeats.

I smile, take a sip, and rock gently with the breeze.

Sometimes, the last days of some things give you a small ache in your chest. Whether it's the last sip of coffee, the last day of your vacation, or the last day of a festival, where you have to leave people behind in hopes of visiting soon. It’s like a song that touches your soul, and you don’t want it to end, but that last and final note is coming.

The tables stretch across the square, holding large groups of people. Each table is loaded with foods prepared by the bakeries, the local dinner, and even the people living within Everly Hollow.

It’s an endless runner of food on every table.

Platters piled high with roasted meats steaming under lantern light, bowls of side dishes like buttery mashed potatoes, gravy, salads, casseroles, vegetables, and golden rolls.

Desserts—tarts, pies, and cakes so intricate they look like art.

Even the fruit glows like little jewels in crystal bowls, grapes spilling over the edge, waiting for its close-up painting.

Everything smells delicious, warm, and gives cozy fall vibes. The cinnamon and the cloves in the air, mingling with the scents of the food.

We all gather, one big, messy, blended family that I didn’t realize until now. My grandmother sits to my right, looking regal with her hair in soft curls, wearing a soft cream sweater and gold scarf, an orange jacket, and jeans.

I smooth my hands across my sweater dress as I cross my legs. It’s a deep olive green, warm, and goes perfectly with my camel brown ankle boots and brown knitted tights.

Across from me, Jas is cutting up Seren’s chicken as she takes tiny bites of her carrots while Dominik tears off little pieces of the dinner roll, rolls it between his fingers, and throws it above his head, catching it in his mouth, and the whole event keeps her giggling.

Oriana leans into Malik, her hand resting lightly on his arm in between eating, and they turn towards one another, having an intimate conversation that pulls an occasional smile from their lips.

Viktor is already on his second plate and in deep conversation with Garruk, who has turned his body away from Poppy. She refuses to look in that direction. The building tension between them is practically a side dish.

And on my left is Ash.

He has his hair tied in the back, looking quite dashing in his evergreen knitted sweater, jeans, and black boots.

His hand slides onto my knee under the table, and it radiates warmth through my tights. He gives it a gentle squeeze, and I almost break right here.

This is what I’m leaving.

Him.

Us .

This entire town somehow wrapped itself around me when I was distracted by the magic of it all.

I take a slow sip of the sparkling apple cider in front of me, the bubbles catching in my throat as I try to swallow the ache building in my chest. Tomorrow, I go back to the city. Back to my life. Back to being an author who enjoys writing books on love blooming in summer.

Am I going to be the same?

The conversation hums around me with the music low in the background. Little bursts of laughter, soft clinking of silverware, the low rumble of voices.

“Are you doing okay?” Ash leans in to whisper.

I know he is probably wondering why I’m quiet. I’m just trying to take it all in.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I nod my head, forking a piece of meat on my plate, and start eating.

“So…you ready for the city again?” Oriana asks, arching one perfectly sculpted brow.

Everyone looks at me. Even Nim, who is curled up in a tree near Sylas’ shop like a little statue, peeks an eye open like he’s waiting for my answer, too.

I force a smile that feels way too tight, like my face might crack. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Liar.

My grandmother’s hand covers mine on the table, warm and reassuring, and my throat dries up. She’s proud. I know she is. She’s proud of what I’ve done here. But that pride is beginning to feel as if it were boxed up and wrapped in a bow that I never wanted.

Ash’s fingers squeeze my knee again, a little firmer this time, like he knows I’m an emotional mess inside. As if his hand can fit all the loose pieces of the puzzle together again. It makes me want to lean into him.

Maybe I can do just one more day here?

No. I’ll be okay. He will be okay. I have to get back to work. I have things I want to accomplish, and like Ash said, one day at a time. We will enjoy whatever this is and take it slow.

When the toasts begin, I stand because if I don’t move, I might sink further into this chair. Peach colored crystal glasses clink in the soft light of the square, surrounded by the curtain of nightfall, cider popping like champagne bubbles.

“To love,” Oriana says.

“To happiness,” Jas adds.

“To fall changes and new beginnings,” Ash finishes, his smile bright.

I lift my glass with everyone else, but the words hit too hard.

New beginnings.

And still, when the glasses clink, I glance to my side, and Ash is already looking at me.

The hooded look in his eyes and the intense gaze he has on me, like I’m the only thing that matters.

Making promises that I can’t make my heart believe right now.

I drink anyway, because if I don’t, I’ll say something I can’t take back.

And maybe, just maybe, I want to.