Page 116 of Fall is Brewing

I don't move.

I don't think I remember how.

He smiles, and even from across the room I can see the tiny crease that appears beside his left eye whenever he's trying very hard not to be nervous.

“I lied to you about the roaster being broken… but I had a good reason.”

His voice is steady, but I know him well enough to hear the emotion tucked carefully beneath every word. "I built Calder Cider because I wanted to make something my parents would've been proud of. And even though I know I succeeded, there was still something missing I couldn’t quite put my finger on."

His eyes drift briefly around the café.

"Then I met you and we built this. Not just a café, but a life together."

I follow his gaze to the warm cedar walls, the coffee bar, the windows overlooking the stretch of land that no longer belonged to one orchard or the other, but somehow to both.

"Our first real argument was over whether the front porch should wrap around the side,” he says.

"And I was right that it should," I whisper automatically.

"You were right.” A smile tugs at his mouth.

I shrug one shoulder casually. “I usually am.”

His brow arches, challenging my statement. “Except about these reclaimed wood floors.”

“Except for those,” I laugh.

He takes my hand in his. “This place, this land, is so much more than just an orchard. It's rainstorms beneath a canopy of apples. Quiet coffees while a fire crackles. Crisp cider in sweating pint glasses. And little thieving raccoon families."

I laugh through the tears. "So many raccoons now." Two of Scrumpy's babies have had their own babies.

His voice grows quieter. "The truth is... none of this ever felt like home until you were standing beside me."

He opens the velvet box. The diamond catches the café lights, throwing tiny stars across the walls. "Willa Hartley…” His thumb brushes over the edge of the ring, and for the first time since I've known him, Brooks Calder looks completely, wonderfully uncertain. "I don't want to build another dream without you standing in the middle of it." He swallows. "Will you marry me?"

I don't think.

I don't weigh the pros and cons.

I don't worry about rival orchards or family names or what comes next.

I just see him: the little boy who stole my heart long before either of us knew what that meant. The man who taught me that legacy isn't something you protect by standing still. It's something you grow.

I fall onto my knees in front of him and cradle his jaw. “Yes,” I sob. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

His eyes close for the briefest second, relief washing across his face so completely that it steals my breath. "I was terrified," he admits.

"You should've known my answer.” I smile, tears slipping freely down my cheeks. "I've been choosing you for a long time now."

He slides the ring onto my finger. Then he stands, helping me to my feet and cups my face, kissing me with all the certainty we'd spent a year and a half building together.

Behind us, someone sniffles. Then another. Then Jace's unmistakable whisper cuts through the silence. "I told you she'd say yes."

“No one thought she wouldn’t, you idiot,” June’s voice mutters.

Before I can turn toward the whispers and sniffles, the lights over the coffee bar snap on one by one. "Surprise!" Dad. Patty. Grandpa already wiping at his eyes. June. Lena. Marcy. Evan. And Jace, grinning so hard he looks like his face might split in half. All dressed up for the Barnstormer’s ball, ready to party… and apparently celebrate us, too.

The café erupts into cheers. Brooks just rests his forehead against mine and laughs. "I guess they couldn't stay quiet forever."