Maplewood's Harvest Festival
hadn't changed much. There were still hay bales stacked around the town square,
kids painting pumpkins, and the scent of apple cider and cinnamon rolls in the
air. A small band played from the gazebo, and the same homemade pie contest
drew the same sweet competition from the church ladies.
Aliza hadn't planned to stay long. Just enough to
show her face, maybe grab a coffee, and escape before anyone noticed too much.
Too late for that.
"Aliza Hart?" someone called behind her. "Is that
really you?"
She turned to see Rachel Morgan,
her high school friend-turned-town gossip, arms wide and grinning like they
were still eighteen. They hugged, awkward but warm.
"Back for good or just visiting?" Rachel asked,
already looping her arm through Aliza's and leading her toward the cider stand.
"Just helping my mom for a while. Nothing
permanent."
Rachel gave her a sideways look. "Sure. That's
what they all say."
As they reached the stand, Aliza stopped short.
Erick was there.
He stood behind the table, handing out cups and
laughing at something an older man said. His sleeves were rolled up again, and
he looked maddeningly at ease.
Until he saw her.
Their eyes locked—just a second—but it was enough.
Rachel whispered, "Oof. So… that's still a thing,
huh?"
Aliza ignored her.
Erick cleared his throat. "Cider?"
She stepped forward. "Sure."
He handed her a cup. Their fingers brushed this time.
It felt like electricity and ache and autumn all
at once.
"Enjoy the festival," he said softly.
She held his gaze for a breath longer than she
should have. "You too."
She turned away, the cider burning hotter than it
should.
Some things never changed.
And some feelings never really left.