Chapter 3: Scandal, Sickness, and Silent Goodbyes

Later, when the mayor’s sons fought over the family business and the town council was thrown into chaos, Carter fell out of favor with the new mayor because of his loyalties. He was implicated in a financial scandal and put on house arrest while they investigated.

It was the talk of every diner booth and barbershop in Maple Heights. I remember sitting at the counter at Flo’s Diner, eavesdropping as someone muttered, “Did you hear about Carter? Never thought I’d see the day.” Carter’s farmhouse, once a symbol of hard work, now sat under a cloud. He kept to himself, windows shuttered, the whistle still dangling from his keychain like a silent promise.

I knew he wasn’t having an easy time, so I quietly spoke to his house staff and tried to make things as comfortable as possible for him.

I’d drop off groceries, leave casseroles on the porch—my famous tater tot hotdish, even though it felt weirdly domestic—and quietly reminded the housekeepers to treat him kindly. I even convinced the mailman to deliver his letters with a smile. It all felt awkward and a little too familiar, but it was all I could do. Just small kindnesses, hoping they’d add up to something that felt like hope.

I knew how proud small-town guys could be, too stubborn to ask for help. All I could do was keep things quiet so he could hold on to his pride.

He was the type to fix his own truck, patch his own roof, and never let anyone see him struggle. I tried to respect that, offering help without making a fuss, letting him keep his pride. Sometimes I’d catch him watching me from the window, gratitude flickering in his eyes before he turned away.

On New Year’s Eve, one of the housekeepers let me know Carter had fallen sick.

The call came just as the first fireworks exploded, lighting up the sky in bursts of red and gold. The air was sharp with cold, and the sound of distant celebrations echoed down the street. I didn’t hesitate—I grabbed my coat, called Dr. Miller, and drove through the snow, my heart hammering in my chest.

Ignoring my father’s orders, I barged into his old farmhouse with Dr. Miller in tow.

My boots squeaked on the linoleum as I hurried inside, the air thick with the smell of menthol and old wood. Carter was sprawled on the couch, shivering under a pile of blankets, his face pale and drawn. Dr. Miller set to work, checking his vitals while I hovered nearby, wringing my hands and biting my lip, nerves stretched thin.

Carter was seriously ill, barely making it through that bitterly cold night.

I stayed up with him, changing damp towels, feeding him sips of water, and listening to the wind rattle the windows. The house felt like a fortress against the world, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how it would always be—just the two of us, fighting off the cold together.

I stayed by his side all night. Watching his frail form, I felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

Every cough sounded like a warning bell. Each shiver reminded me just how fragile he really was. I brushed the hair from his forehead, whispering encouragement, even though I wasn’t sure he could hear me. My heart ached with worry. I remembered us as kids, running wild and invincible, and now all I could do was promise myself I’d help him get better, no matter what.

The sound of fireworks woke him. His eyelashes fluttered, and I couldn’t help but reach out to gently touch his brow.

Outside, the sky was lit up with color, and for a second, the room was filled with shifting light. Carter blinked, confused, and my breath caught as his eyes met mine. My hand lingered, gentle, afraid to break the fragile peace of that moment.

He pushed himself upright, wincing. His voice was steady, but there was a wall there—a distance I couldn’t cross. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, and the sting of rejection was sharp as the winter wind.

“Thank you, Autumn.”

His words were polite, formal, like he was reading from a script. I wanted to shake him, to make him see how much I cared, but all I could do was nod and swallow the lump in my throat.

“I won’t forget this. I’ll pay you back somehow.”

The words hung between us, heavy and final. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but Carter meant every syllable. He was nothing if not a man of his word—even when it broke my heart.

I looked at him, aching inside.

I wanted to tell him I didn’t want his gratitude, that I wanted something real. But the words stuck in my throat, and I could only stare, eyes burning with unshed tears.

“You know gratitude isn’t what I want.”

My voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with all the things I couldn’t say out loud. I hoped he’d understand, but he just looked away, jaw clenched tight.

Carter looked away, his eyes darting aside.

He stared at the window, watching the fireworks fade. His hands twisted in the blanket, and I could see the struggle in his eyes. He was always so hard on himself, convinced he wasn’t enough.

“I’m just a disgraced man. How could I ever be worthy of your true heart?”

His words cut through me, raw and honest. I wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but nothing I said would change his mind. Carter was stubborn, and his pride was a wall I couldn’t climb.

His words left me speechless.

I opened my mouth, searching for the right words, but nothing came. The silence stretched between us, heavy and awkward, filled with everything we couldn’t say.

The room went quiet again.

The only sound was the ticking of the old clock on the mantel, counting down the seconds until midnight. I felt the weight of the night settle over me, and for a moment, I wondered if things would ever be different.

After a while, he spoke once more. “Autumn, you should go. Sticking around a guy with my reputation will only drag yours down.”

His voice was gentle, almost pleading. I knew he was trying to protect me, but it only made me want to stay more. Still, I nodded, knowing there was nothing left to say.

I sighed and stood up to leave.

My legs felt heavy as I walked to the door. I paused, looking back one last time, hoping he’d call me back. But Carter just stared at the floor, lost in his own misery. I closed the door softly behind me, the sound echoing in the empty hallway.

I knew how rough things had been for him, and I understood his self-pity after everything he’d worked for slipped away.

It was hard watching someone you care about fall so far. Harder still when you couldn’t do anything to help. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t my fault, but the guilt lingered, heavy and persistent.