AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah, just lost in thought.” Shaking off my funk, I turned back to the grill with renewed focus. “Let’s keep this food moving.”
I threw myself into the work, flipping patties and sliding the finished product onto Grace’s waiting plates, letting the rhythm of the task anchor me in the present. The festival was meant to be a celebration, and I was determined not to let old memories spoil it.
The next thing I knew, Nona had ambled up to my booth, her braid shimmering like spun silver. “Stella, dear, whip me a shrimp kebab, would you?” She perched on an unused stool with the ease of someone who had navigated this festival for more years than I’d been alive.
“Coming right up.” I flashed her a smile and set to work, grilling the shrimp to pink perfection. “Good turnout for the festival, huh?”
“That’s for sure. Lots of people to talk to. Speaking of which…” Nona tilted her head toward Aiden’s tent, where he was now tending to an overheated tourist. “Seems like you have a handsome neighbor today.”
Her elbow nudged mine lightly, and a playful spark lit her eyes. I couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled out, even as my gaze betrayed me, stealing another glance at Aiden. He was easing his patient onto a cot, the very image of the dedicated doctor… and undeniably attractive.
“Old flames are old for a reason, Nona,” I countered, but my heart wasn’t in the jest.
“Perhaps they just need a little stoking to burn bright again.” She winked before taking a hearty bite of shrimp.
“Enjoy your meal, firestarter.” I did my best to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks.
“I always do when you’re cooking.” She held up a skewer in a toast, making me grin.
“Shame Hunter couldn’t join us today.”
“Yes, it is.” Despite Nona’s disappointment at his absence, her eyes softened at the mention of my brother. “Him and his mysterious job assignments. But he made it to lunch, and that’s something.”
I nodded, handing her the kebabs, one of grilled shrimp and another loaded with fresh veggies. Hunter had called me a few days ago to report he’d received a new case and would be unavailable for the entire week. Whatever that meant. “Yeah, it was nice having him around, even if just for a bit.”
“Hopefully the start of things to come.” She took several more bites before rising and sauntering off into the crowd, presumably to butt into someone else’s life.
I let out a sigh, watching Nona disappear into the sea of festival-goers. When our mother passed away giving birth to Maia, Nona had stepped into those impossible shoes. She raised us with a firm hand and a fierce love that bound us all together, no matter how far we roamed.
The fair buzzed with upbeat, tropical energy, the kind that seeped into your bones and demanded you laugh and join in the cacophony. I leaned against the wall of our booth, taking in the spectacle—the vibrant streamers fluttering above like captured rainbows, and the unmistakable thud of bean bags hitting wooden boards.
I turned to watch as the cornhole tournament reached its climax, teams huddled in fierce concentration, their supporters’ rallying cries rising up from the sidelines. It was impossible not to get swept up in the enthusiasm, the community spirit—it was what made small-town life so sweet.
“All right, folks!” Evan’s voice boomed over the speakers. “We’re down to the final throw!” The crowd held its breath, and for a moment, all of the festival seemed to pivot on this single point of suspense.
“Ooh, so close!” I murmured as the bag missed its mark by a hair’s breadth, the collective sigh of the audience echoing my sentiment. Smiling, I turned back to my next task. My fingers were slick with juice as I sliced through a crimson tomato, and the tangy scent filled my nostrils. My movements were self-assured and confident, having performed this task thousands of times.
Until my sharp knife slipped in a jagged, very wrong motion, which was immediately followed by a deep sting across the outside of my left palm.
“Damn!” I hissed, dropping the knife with a clatter. My hand reflexively clenched, but that only brought a fresh wave of pain and a bright ribbon of blood that dripped onto the wooden cutting board. I turned away and grabbed a stack of paper towels, holding pressure on the wound to ensure I didn’t bleed on anything else.
“Stella!” Grace gasped, rushing over with wide eyes. “Your hand!”
I tried to laugh it off. “I can’t believe that happened! I haven’t cut myself in years.” I lifted the impromptu bandage for a peek, but blood welled immediately.
“Let me see.” Her tone dismissed any argument I felt like raising.
Reluctantly, I uncurled my fingers and lifted the wad of paper towels to show her the cut, wincing at both the pain and the concern etched on her face.
“Stella, that looks bad. You need to?—”
“I’ll be fine,” I interrupted, stubborn pride flaring up. But I knew she was right. The steady flow of blood was a clear sign that I wouldn’t be able to handle this with just a Band-Aid.
“The bleeding isn’t stopping.” Grace’s voice was laced with a seriousness that contrasted sharply with the merriment around the booth.
“Maybe I should just wrap it with gauze,” I said, trying for nonchalance as I fumbled with fresh paper towels one-handed.
“Wrap it? With what, hopes and dreams?” But Grace’s jest couldn’t mask her worry. “I think you need stitches, hon. Felicia can handle things here.”
