Chapter 1: Fairy Lights and Unspoken Words

On Willow Lane, thousands of fairy lights glowed, lit up like the Fourth of July, a river of stars winding right through the heart of Maple Heights.

The air smelled faintly of fresh-cut grass and distant barbecue—it was one of those nights when you just knew something good could happen. Porch swings creaked, cicadas droned, and for a moment, the whole world hung in that golden hour between spring and summer.

I stood by the riverbank, rubbing the toes of my cherry-red flats against the old concrete. I tried to look casual—yeah, right—but inside, I was getting antsy.

My foot tapped out an anxious rhythm, heel scuffing the edge, like maybe if I tapped hard enough, I'd finally get up the nerve—or at least speed up the clock. The glow from the fairy lights cast little dancing shadows on the water, and I tried to focus on the reflections instead of the butterflies in my stomach.

We’d agreed it would be just the two of us out to see the lights—so where did all these tag-alongs come from? It was like the whole block decided to crash our night.

Kids darted between the adults, sticky-fingered from funnel cake, while parents balanced paper cups of cider and gossiped about the latest town council drama. Someone’s dog barked at the ducks, and all I could think was—this was supposed to be our night.

I sneaked a glance over my shoulder, and my eyes met Caleb Morrison’s just as he looked over.

He stood beneath the lights, surrounded by a pack of bookish girls from the honors society; I was by the shimmering water. Not even ten yards apart. Might as well have been on different planets.

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, posture awkward, as if he wanted to break free but couldn’t. The girls laughed too loudly at something he said, and I caught a flash of his uncertain smile. I gripped my lantern tighter, the paper crinkling under my fingers.

We both looked away in a panic, then, almost on cue, risked another glance.

My heart did a weird little somersault. Caleb bit his lip and looked down, the way he always did when he was nervous. I tried to pretend I was just admiring the fairy lights, but my cheeks were on fire.

He covered his mouth, gave a soft cough, smiled, and took a few steps my way—only to be dragged back by someone, and laughter burst out like startled birds:

“This spring, once Caleb aces the SAT, even the mayor’s daughter will be lining up to date him!”

“Well, let’s greet our future brother-in-law!” one of them snorted, elbowing the others.

A couple of the girls giggled, elbowing each other, and Caleb rolled his eyes in that long-suffering way of his. I pretended to be fascinated by a paper lantern drifting on the water, but I couldn’t help eavesdropping.

I pulled my jacket tighter, suddenly feeling my face grow hot for no reason.

I tried to blame the spring breeze, but I knew it was embarrassment. I hated that I cared what they thought, but I did. The laughter felt like it was echoing just for me.

Carrying the little chick-shaped lantern he’d bought me at the street fair, I walked to the water’s edge and scooped up a bit—

The water slid over my fingers, sharp and icy, chasing away the heat in my cheeks. I watched the ripples spread, hoping the cold would calm the jumble in my chest.

Yikes, that's cold.

I shivered, but it helped. The lantern swung from my wrist, casting a little patch of yellow on the water, and for a moment, I let myself just be.

My tangled thoughts calmed a bit, but my mind was still a mess.

I tried to focus on the lantern’s reflection, the way the light wobbled and shimmered with every tiny wave. But Caleb’s voice, the girls’ laughter, the pressure of the night—they all pressed in from every side.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

I stiffened, glancing at my reflection to see if I looked as anxious as I felt. The footsteps slowed, hesitant, crunching on the gravel.

I looked at my wet hands, feeling a sense of dread—

Was it those girls again, here to tease me for being childish?

I fumbled for a napkin but couldn’t find one, so I wiped my hands on my skirt, leaving smudges that looked like I’d been attacked by a kitten.

I winced at the sight—Mom would scold me for ruining another skirt. I tried to rub the marks away, only to make them worse. Typical.

I jumped up in a hurry and nearly bumped into Caleb’s forehead.

He startled, quickly turned his face away, coughed softly, and said with exasperation, “Geez, Autumn, why are you still so clumsy?”

He teased, but there was warmth in his voice. For a second, I almost forgot the crowd behind us.

Hearing that, I was ready to argue. “How am I clumsy? You’re the dork!”

I stuck out my tongue, crossing my arms. The old routine—banter as armor.

He just ignored me, laughing to himself.

His laugh was soft, almost fond. He always let my words slide right off him, like trying to get mad at a golden retriever. It made it impossible to stay mad.

Sometimes, I wanted him to fight back—just once. But he never did. It was infuriating and comforting at the same time.

“Who goes out without a napkin—how is that not clumsy?” He lowered his head, rummaging through his hoodie pocket. His long lashes cast shadows in the light, making his skin look soft, almost like a toasted marshmallow.

He fished out a crumpled napkin and handed it over, his hands steady even as mine trembled a little. The lantern’s glow made his hair look like spun gold.

His clear eyes turned to me, a bit annoyed. “What are you staring at? You hungry or something?” He handed me a napkin.

He tried to sound gruff, but there was a softness there, like he already knew what I’d say.

I had to admit, Caleb was sharp—one look and he knew what I was thinking.

After all these years, I didn’t bother being polite. “Marshmallow.”

I grinned, expecting him to roll his eyes or tease me back. It was our thing.

Weird. Usually, he'd argue about it for five minutes, but today? He just went with it.

He ducked out for a minute and came back, handing me the marshmallow in its little wax paper bag, like it was no big deal. My heart did a little skip.

I was in a good mood, munching on the sweet marshmallow, wondering what I’d give him in return—I never took a favor without paying it back.

The sugar melted on my tongue, and I thought about what would make him smile—maybe I’d bake him cookies, or find a new book he hadn’t read yet. Fair’s fair.

“Autumn.” He called me softly.

His voice sounded different—almost formal. I looked up, surprised by the seriousness in his eyes.

Weird. Caleb usually fussed over every little thing. When we were kids, he acted like a little old man, never letting me hold his hand, always tugging my sleeve instead and ruining several new shirts. What was up with him today, calling me by my real name?

Usually it was just "hey" or some silly nickname. Hearing "Autumn" made my heart skip a beat. I tried not to show it.

“Next month is the SAT,” he said, eyes drifting aside.

He scuffed his sneaker against the ground, like he couldn’t meet my gaze. The marshmallow felt heavy in my hand.

I was puzzled—what did that have to do with me? But I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I said, “You’re going to crush it, Caleb. Everyone knows it.”

I tried to sound breezy, but my voice was softer than I meant. I wanted to say more, but the words stuck.

“…Mm,” he replied.

He just nodded, lips pressed tight. The silence stretched between us, awkward and thick.

Wow. Way to be bland!

I fumed.

I kicked a pebble into the water, annoyed. Why couldn’t he just say what was on his mind for once?

So I was just background noise—Mom was right, boys before big tests are always jumpy and weird. Fine, since he bought me all those snacks, I’ll say a few more nice words to humor him!

I took a deep breath, determined to lighten the mood. “No need to worry, everyone says you’re destined for the top. Didn’t that fortune-teller at the county fair say so when we were kids? Relax, the mayor’s daughter is yours—no one can compete!” I laughed.

I nudged him with my elbow, trying to get a smile. The memory of that fortune-teller—her wild hair, the smell of incense—made me giggle for real.

But Caleb didn’t thank me. He just frowned and stayed silent.

He stared at the water, jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought I’d said something wrong.

“You’re saying that too?”

His voice was quiet, almost hurt. That stopped me cold.

“What else would I say?”

I shrugged, trying to hide my confusion. Wasn’t that what he wanted to hear?

“Autumn, you’re going to drive me crazy,” he blurted out.

His words tumbled out, rougher than usual. I blinked, surprised.

“I wouldn’t dare! If you’re gone, who’ll win the top spot?” I grinned, keeping things light.

I tried to joke, but the tension didn’t break. Caleb looked away, lips pressed in a thin line.

He turned away, silent, looking a little sulky.

He scuffed the ground, kicking at nothing. I watched him, uncertain, wishing I could read his mind.

After a long while—so long I ran out of tickets for the rides and he didn’t even help me pay—he finally said, “Remember to see me off the day after tomorrow—let’s get more lights on the way back.”

His voice was softer now, almost pleading. I glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability.

“The day after tomorrow? That won’t work.” The lights were less of a concern than facing my mom’s scolding.

I made a face, thinking of Mom’s lectures about curfews and responsibilities. The lights could wait—my mom’s temper couldn’t.

He raised an eyebrow, lips pressed in a thin line.

He looked at me, searching my face for something. I shifted my weight, feeling awkward.

I glanced reluctantly at the lights and explained, “Mom says I'm plenty old enough and I still can't even sew a button. She jokes I’ll never get married at this rate! She’s threatening to sign me up for a dating app. Don’t tell anyone, or people will think I’m desperate to get married!”

I said it all in a rush, half-joking, half-mortified. My cheeks burned, but I tried to laugh it off.

Caleb said nothing.

He stared at the ground, jaw tight. The silence grew heavy.

“Caleb?” I waved my hand in front of him.

He didn’t blink, eyes fixed somewhere far away. I wondered if he’d even heard me.

Still nothing.

I tried again, louder. “Caleb Morrison?”

“Caleb James?”

Was he in shock? Oh no, he still had the SAT coming up! If this ruined his chances, wouldn’t his dad flip?

I pictured Mr. Morrison’s stern face and winced. Caleb needed his head in the game, not lost in the clouds.

“Who set this up?”

His voice cracked, sharp with something I couldn’t name. He’d never sounded like that before.

Whoa, his voice even went up an octave!

I almost laughed, but his face was so serious I bit my tongue. He looked like he’d just been told the sky was falling.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

I shrugged, feeling a little guilty. I hadn’t bothered to ask—what was the point?

His tone turned harsh. “Why don’t you know anything?!”

He didn’t sound like himself—usually sharp-tongued but gentle. Now his voice softened again, almost coaxing, a little helpless.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “Can’t you just tell your mom to wait, not rush into it? Or, if nothing else, just say you don’t like whoever she picks. Your dad dotes on you, he won’t let you get married off too soon.”

His words tumbled out, desperate and a little wild. For once, he sounded less like a know-it-all and more like a friend who was scared to lose something important.

Wow—Caleb, usually so proper, was now suggesting tricks like a TV villain!

I almost laughed at the idea of lying to my parents, but I saw the worry in his eyes and held back. He was serious.

Before I could reply, Travis and his buddies showed up with a bunch of girls, calling from far off like they’d found a long-lost friend: “Caleb! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Then, spotting me, they laughed: “You’re always spoiling Autumn! Careful or she’ll get too used to it and never get married!”

Their voices carried across the water, loud and teasing. I rolled my eyes, wishing I could disappear.

What a jerk!

I shot Travis a glare, but he just winked, oblivious. I wanted to throw my lantern at him.

I lost interest in the lights and wandered home. Caleb seemed out of sorts too, distracted and not paying me any mind.

He lagged behind, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The walk home felt longer than usual, every step weighed down by things unsaid.

Which made me even more annoyed.

I slammed the gate behind me a little harder than necessary, hoping the sound would shake off my frustration. It didn’t.

Our yard wasn’t big, just a typical two-story house with a few clumps of lilac and a big maple tree—not the season for blossoms, so it looked a bit bleak.

The porch light flickered as I stepped inside, the scent of old wood and lavender greeting me. The maple’s bare branches scraped against my window, a lonely sound in the quiet night.