CHAPTER 11
October 9. Ten Years Earlier.
Rick knew he had made a mistake coming here the very second he stepped through the wooden gates of the fair.
Too much hit him all at once.
Lights were everywhere. They stretched in strands overhead, weaving between the trees, trembling softly in the deepening twilight as though refusing to let the dark-blue sky settle completely over everything.
Underfoot, flattened dry grass rustled with every step. On both sides stood pumpkins—dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands. All different sizes, from tiny ones to enormous ones, piled together in careless heaps. Somewhere farther off, children laughed, someone argued loudly, music blared, bells chimed—everything blending into one dense, living noise.
And the sweet, overwhelmingly sugary smell. It hit him so sharply that Rick instinctively took a deeper breath. He immediately recognized popcorn, caramel apples, and something fried—probably peanuts.
Too... cozy.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders slightly, as though that could somehow hide how his gaze kept catching on every little detail—the garlands, the lanterns in glass jars, the people who looked as though they had always belonged here.
As though this was normal.
As though this was how things were supposed to be.
“You actually came!”
Rick turned around.
Katie was walking straight toward him, smiling so broadly it seemed she lit up the place as much as the strings of lights did. Beside her was Steve, calm and wearing a faint grin, looking completely at home.
“Yeah,” Rick ran a hand through his hair, automatically making it even messier. “Figured I should
check whether you were lying.”
“Well?” Katie narrowed her eyes, already knowing the answer.
He glanced around once more, as if reluctantly.
“So far, you're holding up.”
Miller chuckled quietly.
“High praise,” he said. “Though I have to admit, the organizers really outdid themselves this year. It's a lot bigger than last year.”
“Tell me about it,” Katie agreed.
“How come?” Rick asked.
“Who knows...” the girl sighed. “But I'm not about to waste this opportunity. We have to see everything!”
Together they started walking along the rows of pumpkins.
Katie kept pointing things out—the place with the best marshmallows, the dumbest shooting gallery, the bonfire that was supposedly absolutely mandatory. Rick listened with only half an ear, but he couldn't stop looking at everything around him.
“Didn't you have stuff like this in Santa Cruz?” she asked, picking up a small pumpkin from a stall before immediately setting it back down.
“Not like this.” He shook his head. “Everything there is... different.”
“Worse?” Curiosity lit up her eyes.
Rick shrugged.
“Just different.”
He didn't explain. Didn't tell her that back home it would have felt more like an attraction, a set piece, while here everything felt different. Everything felt... real.
Katie nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer.
“Steve, I wanted to ask...” she began, but stopped mid-sentence.
A sharp engine roar cut through the air.
Rick turned almost immediately.
Headlights swept across the pumpkin rows, over people's faces, over the strings of lights. Someone gasped. Someone else craned their neck to look.
The motorcycle stopped at the edge of the fairgrounds.
For some reason, Rick's heart jumped before the engine even went silent.
Aaron took off his helmet unhurriedly, paying absolutely no attention to the fact that everyone was staring at him.
His dark hair was tousled from the ride, and he ran a hand through it in a familiar gesture, pushing loose strands back before slowly unzipping his leather jacket. It hung slightly loose on him and had clearly seen better days.
Not his, Rick thought.
Probably his father's.And yet it still looked good on him.
Perfect, even.
Somewhere off to the side, one of the girls let out a quiet sigh—the same kind of admiring sigh he seemed to inspire constantly.
Katie smiled.
“Oh, there he is. Now we're all here.”
Steve simply waved him over and headed in his direction.
Rick just watched.
A little longer than he'd intended. He wasn't entirely sure why.
Maybe it was because of all the noise around them. Or maybe because Aaron looked so calm, as though all that attention meant absolutely nothing to him. And for some reason, that irritated him.
Rick rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, pretending he couldn't care less about what was happening.
Though only a few seconds later, he still noticed out of the corner of his eye when Steve walked up to him.
“You didn't say anyone else would be joining us,” Aaron said quietly enough that the others couldn't hear.
“The more the merrier,” Steve replied, surprised. “Cooper was supposed to come too, but as usual he bailed.”
“I see.”
“You're in an awfully bad mood,” Miller said, giving Aaron a friendly shove on the shoulder. “Is it because Parker's here?” he added with a lazy grin.
Aaron snorted.
“I don't care,” he cut in.
Steve hummed as though he didn't believe him for a second, but didn't argue.
Fortunately, Katie immediately dragged them farther between the rows, and a few minutes later all four of them found themselves near the food stalls.
“Nope. Food first,” she declared firmly, already weaving through the crowd. “I haven't eaten anything since this morning.”
“You shouldn't stuff yourself with sweets on an empty stomach,” Steve said calmly, though without any bite to it—more out of habit, like an older brother.
“Shhh.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to tell me I spent an entire year waiting for those apples for nothing?”
“I'm saying you eat real food first. Then that.”
“That's the most delicious thing I've ever eaten in my life, and you're trying to stop me?” Katie groaned dramatically. “You're a terrible person, Steven Miller!”
Strangely enough, being around the two of them felt calming. Rick smiled faintly as he looked around.
The smells in this part of the fair were genuinely maddening. Sweet caramel and hot chocolate, sausages fried until crisp, golden french fries—everything blended together and made his stomach rumble quietly.
“Is this even legal?” he muttered, stopping beside Katie at a stand selling caramel apples. “To smell this good?”
She beamed triumphantly, taking a bite of the chicken skewer Steve had practically forced into her hand.
“See? I told you!”
“They can't possibly be as good as you say,” Rick said, tilting his head as he studied the apples.
“Trust me,” Steve added.
Rick picked one up and turned it over in his hands.
“I don't know... they're just apples.”
“Of course, of course,” Katie said, clearly anticipating what was coming.
He took a suspicious bite.
Two pairs of eyes immediately fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.
One second passed. Then another.
Rick chewed slowly, staring off to the side as though nothing remarkable had happened.
“Well?!” Katie was barely containing herself.
He shrugged.
“Edible.”
Steve chuckled quietly.
Katie rolled her eyes.
“You're impossible.”
Rick didn't answer.
He had to admit—it was ridiculously good. Tart and sweet, juicy apple wrapped in warm, sticky caramel. Every bite practically melted in his mouth. He took another bite, this time without the deliberate indifference.
Nearby, a grill lid slammed shut and oil hissed. People brushed past one another, laughing, talking, and the lights overhead somehow seemed brighter than they had a minute ago. And all of it somehow... worked, warming something deep inside him.
He caught himself paying too much attention to everything around him again. The town suddenly didn't seem quite so foreign or cold anymore.
He didn't try to figure out why. He simply let the faint smile touch his lips.
“Lost?” The lazy voice came from nearby.
Rick looked over.
Aaron stood slightly apart, leaning against a wooden post as though he had nothing to do with the other three at all. In his hands was a cup filled with something dark. His expression was calm, almost bored, but those gray-blue eyes were looking directly at him.
“Pff. If I wanted to get lost, you wouldn't find me.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
An awkward silence settled in the air.
Steve suddenly became very interested in a nearby stall. Katie did too.
“Are you always this... enthusiastic?” Aaron added, tilting his head slightly.
Rick smirked.
“Only on special occasions.”
“And this is one of them?”
Rick took another bite of his apple without taking his eyes off him.
“Don't flatter yourself.”
Aaron huffed quietly, though the corner of his mouth twitched all the same.
Katie clapped her hands sharply.
“Alright, boys, enough standing around. We've still got a ton of stuff to see.”
The next second, she was already dragging Steve farther down between the rows.
Rick lingered for a moment. For some reason, Aaron didn't seem in any hurry to leave either. He just stood there, calmly looking at him as though waiting for something.
Something unpleasantly tugged in Rick's chest again, and he was the first to look away.
“You coming?” he tossed over his shoulder.
Aaron raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Do I have a choice?”
“There's always a choice.”
Aaron pushed himself away from the stall and fell into step beside him. Not ahead, not behind—right beside him. His hands were tucked into his pockets, the usual indifference settled across his face.
Rick let out a quiet breath, not entirely sure why he had started noticing details like that.
He only knew one thing: after that night on the bike, even silence beside Aaron felt different somehow.
The crowd grew thicker toward the center of the fairgrounds.
“Oh, it's about to start,” Katie said, stretching her neck to see something ahead. “He gives the speech every year.”
“Who?” Rick asked.
“Mayor King.”
“John's father?”
Katie hummed.
“The very one.”
“Stay here for a minute,” Steve tossed over his shoulder as he headed off somewhere.
“Where are you going?” Katie asked, blinking.
“Be right back,” he managed before disappearing into the crowd.
Almost without noticing, they were swept closer to a small stage decorated with ribbons and the same warm strings of lights. People stopped to watch; some genuinely listened, while others simply stood nearby talking quietly amongst themselves.
The mayor was already speaking. Loudly, confidently, with carefully measured pauses—as though every word had been rehearsed dozens of times.
Rick listened with only half his attention.
“...This year we're especially fortunate—Dumpfield Day has fallen so perfectly on Columbus Day!...” came the voice from the stage.
The words drifted past him—something about “community,” “unity,” and “tradition.” Everything sounded right. Which made it unbearably boring.
Nearby, slightly to the side, almost right by his ear, someone whispered:
“Look at him laying it on thick.”
“No kidding. He'd be better off dealing with the strike at the lumber mill, especially on a day like this.”
“Yeah. The workers have been sitting out there for a week already. Still hoping somebody will hear them.”
“They're wasting their time. The man in charge only cares about money, not people.”
“Exactly. Jobs are getting cut, and money from the budget keeps disappearing God knows where. It's a disgrace, honestly.”
Rick turned his head slightly, but couldn't make out who was speaking—only backs, jackets, and vague silhouettes.
He looked back toward the stage.
The mayor was smiling broadly, pausing for the journalists' photographs and, to Rick's surprise, a rather enthusiastic round of applause.
