Page 70 of The Bodyguard's Fall

But as we got further into the movie, I could no longer claim I hated the cheesy parts. Suddenly, I found myself laughing hysterically on the bed with two of my best friends, just like the old days. We spent ninety minutes happily predicting every plot point and throwing our Skittles whenever the face of the jerk city boyfriend appeared on screen. It gave me ninety minutes where I wasn’t thinking about Leroy. And even at the end, after the absolute worst peck of a kiss imaginable, I found myself completely grateful the movie existed. It had done its job impeccably.

For a short while, the darkness inside of me had been lightened.

It was the week of Autumn Ridge’s famous fall festival, which meant the start of the Walker Family straw maze. Combine all of that with Jaxon’s wedding the week after, and the Walker clan was busy. Since opening day, Tom and Luke practically lived at the straw maze; Jaxon was always with his fiancée, and Ann was busy planning receptions and wedding luncheons for the week after the festival.

And Tate…was with me.

Autumn Ridge went all out for the festival. School was even canceled. Main Street completely shut down for the entire week-long event. Instead of cars or bikes crowding the roadway, vendor and craft booths, face painting, pony rides, carnival games, and so much more lined the streets.

Tate and I spent most of the week helping out at the straw maze. We’d be in the ticket booth out front, taking money and selling maple- flavored popcorn. Almost literally attached at the hip. At the end of each day, we wandered through Main Street and grabbed dinner and some baked goods from one of the booths. We watched a pie-eating contest, a pumpkin bake-off, and connected with old friends. We even ended up at the homecoming football game at the high school on Friday night. I hadn’t felt this much like myself for a long time.

I was under no illusion that Tate would be here doing any of these things on his own. But it made it that much sweeter that he was here doing it all for me.

All the while, my head and manuscript exploded with ideas. Maybe it wasn’t ideas so much as an autobiography. Without meaning to, my librarian main character was now hiding from a stalker, not an ex. Her cop love interest was an after-hours hobby farmer, and as a librarian, she was put in charge of running a booth at the fair. This week of magical autumn festivities had breathed such a spark inside of me that I was nearly buzzing. My fingers were flying across the keyboard late at night, and Tate was filling way too many of my thoughts during the day.

Now that I knew where Tate was going once a week, I invited myself along on his next visit to his partner, Ty Coleson. His room at the rehab facility had a bunch of family visiting when we arrived, so we’d stayed only long enough for Tate to introduce me to Coleson. He was younger than I thought, and I suspected that once he was out of rehab and back in his real clothes, he’d look even younger. His dark blond hair suited his easy grin and laid-back attitude, giving him the vibe of a California surfer.

“This the new girlfriend?” he said loudly, nodding toward me while grinning up at Tate. “Nicely done. She’s way better looking than you.”

I liked him immediately.

“She never lets me forget it either,” Tate said. “When do you get out?”

“My physical therapist told me that as long as I was a good boy and didn’t whine through my appointments, I could go home next week.”

Tate looked visibly relieved to hear the news.

We left him to his family soon after. When we stood to go, I leaned in to give Coleson a hug when he said loudly, “Your man saved my life. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here. So remember that when he’s trying to spin you a different tale.”

Tate had visibly stiffened but laughed it off. We left soon after.

Now, Tate and I stared through the window of the freezer section where every Ben and Jerry’s flavor of ice cream was staring back at us. The night seemed young, and neither of us were ready to cut it short. I already knew what I wanted, but searching every flavor just to be certain was half the fun.

“What’s your favorite?” I asked Tate.

“Chocolate Fudge Brownie. Yours?”

“Strawberry Cheesecake.”

“That sounds about right.” He grabbed the carton out of my hands and walked us toward the cashier. Along the way, he plucked a pack of plastic spoons off the shelf.

“Are you judging my ice cream flavor?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Too sweet. That explains a lot of things.”

“That I’m sweet?”

He shot me a look. “Too sweet. You need some dark chocolate in there.”

“Dark chocolate is a scourge upon the earth.”

“It’s delicious and understated and doesn’t try to be anything else.”

“If by understated you mean bitter and in dire need of more sugar, then you’re right.”