Hannah's POV
It's one of those perfect summer mornings where everything feels alive in the right way. The sun is warm but not bossy, a breeze drifts through the valley smelling faintly of lilacs and fresh soil, and the chickens are cackling in their coop like they're swapping the latest town gossip. I'm deep in the trenches of crabgrass warfare near the tomato beds, dirt under my nails and sweat trickling down my back, when I hear footsteps crunching the gravel path behind me.
I glance up, half-expecting it to be Linus or another nosy crow, but nope—Alex. Of course. Hair tousled in that effortless, "I definitely don't spend twenty minutes on it" way, wearing a tank top that's absolutely not necessary but here we are. He's carrying something wrapped in a kitchen towel and walking like he's pretending not to be here on purpose.
"Hey, farm girl," he grins, flashing a smirk that probably has its own fan club.
I squint at him. "Do you always show up like you're auditioning for a rom-com reboot?"
He shrugs with zero shame. "Only when it's working."
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Almost.
He closes the distance and holds out the bundle. "Leek casserole. Evelyn made it. Said it's a thank-you for the leeks you brought her. I may have volunteered to deliver it."
"Volunteered, huh?" I raise an eyebrow and wipe my hands on my jeans before accepting the dish. "Or did she threaten to revoke your pie privileges?"
He winces. "Look, I'm not saying she threatened to bake me into a soufflé, but I'm not not saying that."
I laugh and nod toward the porch. "You want to sit? You look like you're dangerously close to melting from your own coolness."
"Wow," he says, trailing after me. "Feisty this morning, aren't we?"
"I've been fighting weeds since dawn. I'm five minutes away from losing it on my melons."
We settle into the porch chairs, the wood creaking beneath us like it's been listening to farmer secrets for decades. I peel back the towel and the smell of Evelyn's casserole hits me like a warm hug in food form. I suddenly realize how starving I am.
"So," I ask mid-bite, "what's the town golden boy doing running errands for sweet old ladies? Thought you'd be at the beach flexing into the sun for Haley."
He leans back on his hands and snorts. "Haley can admire from a distance. I'm branching out. Helping people. Evelyn's one of the few who doesn't treat me like some dumb jock."
Something in the way he says it makes me pause. Not performative. Not flirty. Honest.
"You're not a dumb jock," I say, setting the fork down. "Dramatic? Absolutely. Cocky? Without question. But dumb? Not even close."
He raises an eyebrow, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me this week."
We fall into a quiet rhythm, the kind that only exists in places like this — where birds chirp like background music, bees float lazily past, and you can actually hear your thoughts.
"I've been thinking about leaving," he blurts.
I blink. "Oh?"
"Yeah." He keeps his eyes on the field, voice a little quieter. "Going pro. Football. Big city dreams, big stadium lights, the whole thing. I've been training hard, you know? Just feels like... there's more out there."
I nod slowly, watching the wind ripple across the wheat like it's brushing the earth's shoulders.
"I get it," I say softly. "I grew up in the city. Thought I'd stay there forever. But... life had other plans."
He finally looks at me, brow furrowed slightly.
"So why come here?"
I take a breath. "My grandpa. He passed and left me the farm. No one else in the family wanted it, but for me... it was like this last, solid thread tying us all together. I needed something real. So I packed up and came here."
He studies me for a long moment.
"That's... kind of incredible," he says, voice quieter now. "What do your parents think?"
"My dad's proud," I say, fiddling with the edge of the towel. "He's still in the city. Lonely, but... I think coming back here would've been too much for him. He took my grandpa's death hard. And my mom..." I trail off. "She left when I was a kid."
"I didn't know," he says softly. "That sucks."
"Yeah," I nod. "But I'm okay. I've made peace with it. Most days."
He doesn't respond right away. Just watches me like he's seeing me through a new lens.
"For what it's worth," he says finally, "I think your grandpa would be seriously proud. I mean, you're doing something real. I probably would've run screaming after the first week."
I smile. "You don't think you could handle chicken herding and crow warfare?"
"I broke a sweat just walking up your driveway. Pretty sure I'd pass out before sunrise."
We laugh. And for a moment, that ache in my chest — from all the stuff with Abigail, the Wizard, the looming threat of being cursed into a goat — fades into the background.
He shifts like he wants to say something else, but instead he stands, brushing off imaginary dust like a nervous tic.
"Well," he says, "I should head out. You've got weeds to battle, and I've got... townsfolk to dazzle."
I rise too. "Thanks for the casserole. And for not eating it on the way here."
He grins — softer this time. "Anytime. And hey... if you ever want to throw a football around, I promise not to laugh. Much."
"I'll consider it," I smirk.
He waves and heads down the path, the sun slanting through the trees like golden confetti around him. Even after he disappears, I'm still smiling.
But the smile fades a little as I remember what's still ahead — whatever's going on with Abigail, Caroline, and the Wizard... and the looming trek to find that cursed talisman. I really don't feel like getting hexed into livestock this month.
I carry the casserole into the kitchen, set it on the counter, and head back outside to finish weeding. The crops are thriving, and for the first time, I can finally afford some upgrades — new walkways, maybe even a barn expansion. The farm's not just growing food anymore.
It's growing me, too
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