Page 112 of Trick or Tease

“How is he handling it?”

“About as well as you’d expect. He’s throwing himself into tonight, trying to make sure everything goes perfectly, but I can see how much it’s eating at him. He keeps saying he should have known better than to trust Garrett with something this important.”

I spotted Billy across the field, helping a group of kids load pumpkins into the trebuchet. Even from a distance, I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was working just a little too hard to seem normal.

“This should be our celebration,” I said. “Our victory lap. We pulled off something amazing here, and instead of enjoying it, we’re all walking around with our hearts broken because of his lies.”

“Then let’s not let him ruin it,” Lucy said with sudden determination. “This is our night, Sabrina. Our success. Our community. Garrett doesn’t get to take that away from us just because he’s too much of a coward to see what he’s throwing away.”

She was right. This was ours. This was real. And no amount of corporate manipulation could change that.

“You’re right,” I said, straightening my witch hat with new resolve. “This is our night. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Garrett Hogan ruin one more minute of it.”

Lucy grinned, her fairy wings catching the light from the jack-o’-lanterns. “That’s my girl. Now come on, I think Tyler’s about to do his headless horseman routine, and I want to see how many people he makes scream.”

We walked toward the hayride staging area, and for the first time all day, I felt like I could actually breathe. Garrett had made his choice, and now I was making mine. I was choosing this place, these people, this life we built together. And if he couldn’t see the value in that, then he wasn’t the man I thought he was anyway.

There were families to help, attractions to run, memories to create. And somewhere in the middle of all that, maybe I would start to heal from the betrayal that had shattered my heart just twenty-four hours ago.

42

GARRETT

Istood at the entrance gate with a clipboard, directing the steady stream of cars into the makeshift parking area we’d set up in the back field. The turnout was incredible. Even better than any of us ever imagined when we first started planning this whole thing. Cars were lined up down the county road, their headlights cutting through the October darkness as families piled out in elaborate costumes.

“Park along the fence line,” I called out to a minivan full of kids in superhero costumes. “Follow the orange cones and someone will direct you from there.”

The father gave me a thumbs-up and drove off, his kids already pressing their faces against the windows to get a better look at the glowing jack-o’-lanterns lining the entrance path. The excitement on the faces of the young and old was pretty cool.

I should have felt proud. Hell, a week ago I would have been over the moon about pulling off an event this successful. The logistics alone were impressive.

We had local food vendors set up in a semicircle near the barn, everything from kettle corn to hot chocolate to Lucy’s family’s famous apple cider donuts. Granny Mae was selling her candy and racking up future customers. Kids were getting their faces painted as vampires and witches at a booth run by the high school art club. There was even a photo station with spooky props where families could take pictures together to post online.

The local band, The Graveyard Shift, was set up outside the barn with a fog machine rolling across their makeshift stage. They were working their way through every Halloween song ever written, and I could hear them launching into “Thriller” as another group of teenagers headed toward the dance area.

It was exactly what I believe Sabrina envisioned when she started expanding the simple punkin’ chunkin’ into something bigger. A real community event that brought people together and gave local businesses a chance to make some extra money before winter set in.

But instead of satisfaction, all I felt was this hollow ache in my chest that seemed to grow heavier with every passing hour.

“Garrett!”

I turned to see a couple approaching. Their names escaped me, but I remembered them from my youth. They were both dressed as scarecrows, complete with straw poking out of their sleeves and painted-on stitched smiles.

“This is just wonderful,” the woman gushed, grabbing my arm with both hands. “You and Billy have outdone yourselves. The whole town’s talking about how professional everything looks.”

“Thanks but Billy deserves most of the credit⁠—”

“Oh, nonsense,” she interrupted, waving a straw-stuffed hand. “Everyone knows you’re the one who turned this into a real business. My nephew works for the county, and he said you handled all the permits and insurance like a pro. We’re so lucky to have you back home.”

Her husband nodded enthusiastically. “Your parents are going to be so proud when they hear about this. You boys really know how to honor the family legacy.”

Family legacy.

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. If only they knew that their hometown success story was currently sitting on a contract to sell that legacy to developers who’d probably turn it into a bland corporate park.

“We’re just glad people are having fun,” I managed, forcing what I hoped was a convincing smile.

“Oh, we are! You’ve given this whole community something special, Garrett. Something to be proud of.”