Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

MARIGOLD

Z ayn and I borrowed my dad's old truck and set off for downtown Green River. The truck had seen better days, but it was reliable, just like my dad. I watched Zayn from the corner of my eye as he drove, his hands steady. He looked pretty silly sitting behind the wheel of the old Ford with duct tape over the rips in the seat and the AM/FM radio that connected to speakers that had been blown out years earlier.

Heat crept up my neck and into my cheeks as I noticed the way his head moved on a swivel, his sharp gaze taking in the sights of my hometown.

It wasn't much to look at, and I knew it. Green River had always been rough around the edges, and time hadn't done it any favors. As Wall Street CEOs moved all the manufacturing jobs overseas, middle America had fallen on hard times. The old tiny brick homes we passed were surrounded by overgrown grass and unruly foliage, giving the town a sort of forgotten feel. The sidewalks were cracked and poorly maintained, with weeds pushing up through the gaps.

No money meant no taxes to pay for upkeep.

"It has character," Zayn remarked, like he'd been reading my mind.

His words caught me off guard. I had grown so used to the sight of my neglected hometown that I had forgotten to notice the charm hidden beneath the crumbled exteriors.

"I suppose," I replied softly, looking out of the window nostalgically at the town I'd left behind years ago.

I could tell Zayn was carefully assessing everything he saw. He was observant, taking in the details of the weather-torn billboards, the rusted swings in the children's playground, and the old cinema that hadn't shown a movie in ten years.

Zayn slowed to a stop across the street from the Sweetwater Brewery. "This is the place," he said.

"The place?" I asked.

"I googled it last night when I couldn't sleep. I expected… well, I'm not sure what I expected."

"Something bigger?" I asked, letting out a sigh as I turned to look at the old building. "Something more impressive?"

The brewery had been built in nineteen hundred, a true piece of history in Green River. When I was little, I used to think it had a castle-like magical element to it. But now, all I could see was the neon Budweiser sign flickering in the window, the bars over the glass, and the complete lack of romance. It was nothing like the sleek, modern buildings in New York City. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me. This guy was a billionaire used to the best of the best.

Zayn, however, didn't seem fazed. "I think it's charming," he said. "Sure, it might be small, but the old stone walls make it look like we're stepping back in time. It's cool to see that it's become a pillar of the community, even if it's just a bar now."

I glanced at him, wondering if he was just saying that to be nice. But his expression was genuine. I couldn't help but smile a little. "It's not exactly what you're used to," I said.

He shook his head, still looking at the brewery. "No, but that's not a bad thing. Not everything has to be shiny and new to be valuable. I don't always have to be surrounded by luxury. I like to see new old places."

"This town is full of bars and boarded-up shops that have been out of business for years," I said, my voice quiet. "It's hard to see the charm in that."

Zayn turned to me. "You grew up here. There must have been something good about it, right?"

I shrugged, leaning back against the seat. "I guess. There wasn't much to do, but we made our own fun. My friends and I used to ride our bikes to the corner store to buy sodas and candy, then head back to the park until it was time to go home for dinner. It doesn't sound like much, but we had a good time. There's more freedom to do that kind of thing than in the city."

"Sometimes the simplest things make the best memories."

I smiled at that. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. It wasn't all bad, just, well, it's hard to explain. It's definitely not something I would want to go back to."

He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Would you show me where you went to high school?"

I blinked, a little surprised. "Sure," I said, pointing out the way. "It's not far from here."

As we drove, I noticed Zayn taking in every detail of the town. I wasn't sure what he thought of it all, but he didn't say anything negative, which I appreciated. Green River wasn't much, but it was home, at least it used to be.

We pulled up to the high school, an impressive and massive building compared to the rest of the town. It stood out against the backdrop of low mountains, its tall brick walls still sturdy after all these years. I had to admit, despite everything, the school was one of the few things Green River had to be proud of.

Zayn parked the truck, and we sat there for a moment, looking at the school. "It's bigger than I expected," he said, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Were you expecting an old-fashioned one-room schoolhouse with a big bell out front?" I teased.

He grinned. "Well, now that you mention it, kind of, yes."

"It's one of the few things around here that's actually maintained," I said, a hint of pride in my voice. "They put a lot of effort into it."

As we sat there, I noticed a sign for the Fall Harvest Festival. It was a tradition in Green River, one of the few things that brought the whole town together.

"What's that?" he asked when he saw me staring at the sign.

"It's the place to be in Green River," I said with a laugh. "The whole town goes. It's a big deal."

"Want to go?" Zayn asked.

I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to revisit those memories. The festival had been a big part of my childhood, but it also reminded me of everything I'd left behind. "I'm not sure," I admitted. "There are a lot of people here I've spent a lifetime trying to avoid."

Zayn grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I already told you, this time will be different."

I looked at him skeptically. "Because I'm with you?"

He nodded. "Exactly. Because you're with me."

I couldn't help but laugh a little. "You're really confident, aren't you?"

He shrugged, still smiling. "I like to think so."

Despite my reservations, I felt a flicker of excitement. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go to the festival with Zayn. I was curious to see how he'd handle a small-town event like this. And I could admit, it would be a little satisfying to show up with Zayn on my arm—even if it was fake.

It had worked in Mallorca.

"Okay," I said finally. "Let's do it. When in Rome, right?"

He grinned and nodded. "I'm looking forward to it."

"You say that now, but you might find out what redneck living is really all about."

"Is anyone going to shoot me?" he asked.

"Don't insult their truck or wife and you'll be fine," I said.

Zayn chuckled at that. "I'll keep that in mind."

The town might not look like much, but it was still a part of me, and I wasn't sure how I'd feel about revisiting it all. I definitely had a love-hate thing going with my hometown.

We swung by the local diner on our way home, picking up breakfast for my dad. Zayn and I ordered breakfast to go as well.

The diner was one of Dad's favorite spots, a place that hadn't changed in decades. The smell of bacon and coffee filled the truck as we drove back. I found myself relaxing a little. We had cleared the air with my father, so the guilt of lying had been lifted from my shoulders, and Zayn hadn't immediately fled at the sight of rundown streets and sagging buildings. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad after all.

When we got back to the house, my dad was awake and sitting in the kitchen with his tablet I bought him for Christmas on the table in front of him. He raised an eyebrow as we walked in with the takeout bags.

"Breakfast delivery?" he asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Thought you'd appreciate it," I said, putting the bags down in front of him.

He nodded in approval and started unpacking the food. "You know me well, Marigold."

I watched as he dug into the food, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Being back in Green River was stirring up all kinds of memories, and I wasn't sure how to process them all.

Zayn took a seat across from my dad, and I sat beside him. The three of us ate in relative silence, the clink of forks and knives the only sound in the room. I could feel myself getting smaller with every passing minute, the weight of the past pressing down on me. Green River wasn't my home. I didn't want to be here, and I knew how terrible that was.

After breakfast, my dad leaned back in his chair, eyeing Zayn thoughtfully. "So, what are you two up to today?"

I glanced at Zayn, letting him take the lead. "We were thinking about checking out the Fall Harvest Festival," he said casually.

My dad's eyebrows shot up. "The festival? Haven't been to that in years."

I forced a smile. "Yeah, we thought it might be fun."

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "You kids have a good time. Just be careful out there."

I could tell he was trying to be supportive, but there was an underlying tension in his voice. I knew he was worried about the fake engagement and the blowback that would hit if the truth ever came out.

After breakfast, Zayn and I decided to head out for a bit, giving my dad some space. We borrowed the truck again and drove around town, Zayn behind the wheel as I pointed out various spots from my childhood.

As we drove, I couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place, like I didn't belong here anymore. The town hadn't changed much, but I had. I wasn't the same girl who had grown up riding her bike through these streets. I had a life in New York now.

Zayn seemed to sense my unease and kept the conversation light, asking me about my favorite places in town and what it was like growing up here. I found myself relaxing a little as we talked, the familiar sights and sounds of Green River bringing back memories I hadn't thought about in years.

Eventually, we ended up at the park where I used to play as a kid. It was mostly empty, just a few kids running around while their parents watched from the benches. Zayn and I took a seat on one of the swings, the chains creaking slightly as we rocked back and forth.

"This place must hold a lot of memories for you," Zayn said, his voice soft.

I nodded, looking around the park. "Yeah, it does. It's strange being back here after all this time."

"How does it feel?" he asked, his gaze steady on me.

I thought about it for a moment before answering. "Bittersweet, I guess. I had a good childhood here, but things changed after my mom died. It got harder, and eventually, I just wanted to get out. Things felt too small, too constricting."

Zayn nodded, not pushing for more details. I appreciated that.

After a while, we decided to head back to the house to get ready for the festival. I hadn't been to the festival in years, and I wasn't sure what to expect.

Especially with Zayn at my side.