Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

ZAYN

M arigold and I made our way to the Harvest Festival at one of the local farms. The cool night air carried the earthy scent of hay and the sweet aroma of apples. The sky above us did not look real. There were so many damn stars. It seriously looked fake. There had to be billions of stars.

The faint glow of dozens of carved pumpkins lined a path into the festival. This was nothing like the sleek, modern world I was used to. There were no traffic sounds, no planes overhead, no bright flashing billboards. It was simple, grounded, and I found it all strangely captivating. The sound of kids laughing, adults talking, and the occasional baby crying felt so normal. So down to earth.

We walked hand in hand, blending into the crowd of locals. Marigold's eyes were lit with nostalgia as we passed by familiar stands selling candied apples, homemade pies, and an assortment of fall crafts. I couldn't help but feel a pang of curiosity. Small-town living was so far removed from how I'd grown up—surrounded by skyscrapers, luxury, and a constant hum of urgency. This place moved at a different pace, one where people seemed to take the time to actually live their lives rather than rush through them. Everyone called each other by name. I heard a lot of "yes, ma'am" and "yes, sir" like we were in an old western.

Men and women both wore boots and cowboy hats. No one was wearing designer anything. It was all jeans, T-shirts, and comfortable dresses.

This was small-town America.

I wondered how I might have turned out differently if I'd grown up in a place like Green River.

"Ever been to something like this before?" Marigold asked, handing me a cup of cider.

I took a sip, the warm liquid sliding down my throat, spiced and comforting. "Not even close. It's different. But I like it."

She smiled, looking pleased, though I noticed a hint of something else in her eyes—maybe relief, or even a touch of apprehension. I wondered what memories this place stirred up for her.

We strolled through the festival, sipping our ciders and taking in the sights. There was a pumpkin patch with kids running around, laughing as they tried to find the perfect one. The booths were manned by locals, their faces weathered but warm as they greeted familiar faces. It was clear this festival was a big deal here, a tradition that brought the community together. Marigold's father seemed to be the only one missing.

As we approached a booth selling caramel apples, we heard someone call our names.

"Marigold! Zayn!"

Marigold's entire body seemed to stiffen at the sound. I turned to see a woman in a white cotton dress and boots hurrying toward us. She had a wide smile plastered on her face, but there was something almost predatory in her eyes, like she was eager for something.

Marigold blew out a long breath, clearly exasperated. "Courtney," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for me to hear.

I remembered Courtney from Carlos and Elaine's wedding. She'd been loud, brash, and hard to ignore. And from the look on Marigold's face, this wasn't a reunion she was looking forward to.

"What are you doing back in Green River?" Courtney asked as she reached us, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. Her eyes flicked over me before settling back on Marigold. "Here to show Mr. Hot Shot your roots?"

Marigold nodded, her expression tight. "Something like that."

Courtney snickered, clearly enjoying herself. "Did she tell you she was in the marching band in high school? I was a cheerleader. A flyer, actually. Kind of a big deal. I was competing until I got dropped and hurt my knee."

I blinked slowly at her, unsure why she thought I'd care about any of this. But Courtney seemed blissfully unaware of how little her past accomplishments meant to me. She kept talking, relentlessly poking at Marigold with every word.

It was just like at the wedding. The woman had a very inflated ego. She seemed to believe people cared about what she had to say. Maybe they would if she had anything of substance to add to a conversation.

But that was not the case. She just talked to hear her own voice and to pat herself on the back.

"Hey, you two should join us at the tavern later," Courtney said as if it were a challenge. "We're going for some drinks and a few rounds of pool, just like the old days. Remember, Marigold? When we used to use those fake IDs? Everyone knew they were printed in the high school library, but nobody cared."

Marigold shook her head, ready to decline, but I cut her off. "Sounds like fun. We'll be there."

Marigold shot me an irritated look. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Courtney seemed pleased with my response, flashing a grin before she sauntered off, promising to see us later.

"That is not going to be fun," Marigold muttered.

I could feel Marigold's tension beside me. She wasn't happy with my decision, but I had a feeling this was an opportunity for us to do something together that wasn't just about me or my world. It was a chance to step into her life, her past, and understand more about who she was.

"I don't know," I said, trying to lighten the mood. "It could be fun to make fun of her behind her back. She seems to be the only person who doesn't see how ridiculous she is."

Marigold sighed, shaking her head. "Courtney has always been like that. We've known each other since we were kids, and it's always felt like a competition. Especially when it came to Elaine."

"Competition?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She nodded, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation. "Courtney was always the popular one—the cheerleader, the one everyone noticed. I was, well, I was me . In the marching band, not exactly the life of the party. She used to tease me a lot, especially about my weight and other things."

My stomach twisted at the thought of Marigold being bullied. "Other things?"

"Our financial situation," she said, her voice soft. "We didn't have much growing up. Mom worked two, sometimes three jobs just to keep us afloat. Dad worked long hours to get through more repairs. I got my first job when I was thirteen to help out. We barely made ends meet."

I frowned, hating the idea of her struggling like that but also feeling a deep respect for how she'd turned out despite it all. "But you were happy?"

A small smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, we were. We didn't have much, but we had each other. And that was enough."

Her words hit me harder than I expected. It was so different from my own upbringing, where money was never an issue, but love and connection were often in short supply.

"Until eventually, we weren't happy," she added, and I knew she was referring to her mother.

I wanted to reach out, offer her comfort, but I wasn't sure if she was ready to open up about it. "If you ever want to talk about your mom, I'm here to listen."

She nodded, but her eyes were distant. "Maybe later. For now, I think I'll need to get a little drunk at the tavern just to endure Courtney's company."

I chuckled, though I had a feeling she was only half-joking. "What, you don't want to hear more stories about how awesome she was a decade ago?"

Marigold snickered at that and shook her head. "She's still a cheerleader, except she's only cheering on herself."

I smiled. "Maybe I'll learn some more embarrassing high school stories about you."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile on her lips as we made our way toward the booths offering fair games. "There are no shortage of those. Pretty much every day there was something embarrassing. Whether it was showing up in clothes too small, tripping over nothing, or never looking like I belonged. Trust me, you don't want to hear the stories. You'll feel sorry for me, and I don't want your pity."

"I don't think I would ever pity you."

"Yes, you would."

Countless games had been set up past the food stands.

"Come on," I said, nudging her. "Let's see if you're any good at these."

Marigold glanced at the game—a classic ring toss—and gave me a playful smirk. "You're on."

We each grabbed a handful of rings and took turns trying to toss them onto the glass bottles lined up on the table. I managed to land a couple, but Marigold was on fire, her rings landing perfectly one after another.

"Impressive," I said, watching as she tossed another ring, and it slid neatly onto a bottle.

"I had a lot of practice as a kid," she said with a shrug, but there was a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "This was a cheap activity we could set up in our backyard. I had a lot of time on my hands back then."

When she'd won enough to claim a prize, she chose a small stuffed bear. This was a side of her I hadn't seen before—relaxed, a little playful, and for just a minute, she seemed to forget about that past she seemed desperate to want to forget.

As we moved on to another booth, this one offering fresh caramel popcorn, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was still so much I didn't know about Marigold. This festival, this town—it was all a part of her, a part she didn't seem interested in sharing.

We were halfway through our bags of popcorn when I heard someone calling our names again. I turned to see Courtney making her way toward us, this time with a group of friends in tow.

Great , I thought, trying to suppress a sigh. It looked like a pack of wild hyenas coming to feast.

"Hey!" she called out, waving as if we hadn't seen her just moments ago. "You ready to head to the tavern?"

Marigold shot me a look, clearly not thrilled.

"We'll meet you there," I said. "I'm not done looking around here."

She pouted. "Don't be too late."

"We'll get there when we get there," I said dryly. "My girl is still showing me around and I'm not ready to share her with you yet."

Marigold shrugged. "We're still enjoying the festival."

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Like you haven't seen it a hundred times."

"I haven't seen it before," I said. "I'm enjoying myself."

Courtney wrinkled her nose. "You're not really going to eat the fattening food they're selling here?"

"I am," I said, answering for both of us. "Marigold and I are gonna need our energy later." I slung my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "I can't control myself around her."

Courtney didn't have a response to that. I took Marigold's hand and led her away from the snarling, salivating hyenas still playing high school games. I wasn't about to let those women insult or embarrass her.

"You okay?" I asked quietly.

She shrugged, avoiding my gaze. "I just don't get why you're so eager to hang out with them."

I shook my head. "Because I'm not letting those harpies feel like they can intimidate you. We're going to show up, throw our relationship in their faces, and get the hell out of there."

She looked up at me, her expression softening slightly. "I just don't want you to think less of me because of where I come from."

I stopped walking, turning to face her. "Marigold, I don't care where you come from. I care about who you are. And from what I've seen, you're pretty damn incredible."

"You're nice, but you don't have to say that."

"Exactly," I said with a smirk. "I don't have to kiss your ass. I'm just telling the truth."

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome," I said. "And we're going to show up at that tavern, and those little hyenas are going to be so jealous of you, they're never going to utter another nasty word about you."

She shook her head. "Once again, you have a pretty high opinion of yourself. They aren't going to shut their faces just because I'm with you."

"We'll see," I said.