Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls, #1)(44)

Until someone clears their throat.

I open my eyes to find Chloe watching us. “Cooper, we were announced as homecoming king and queen. They’re waiting for us onstage.”

She glances at me again, and I pull out of Cooper’s arms. “Well, that’s… fun. Congrats,” I say. “I’ll, uh, let you get back to your date.” I step over to where my shoes sit on the ground by the table. “Thanks for the dance.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles.

“Let’s go,” Chloe says to him.

I slide my shoes on, a thousand frenzied feelings exploding inside of me like fireworks.

Then I watch as Cooper walks back into the dance with his queen, and the denial slips away, giving way to the most heart-stopping and unfortunate realization.

I really, really like Cooper Barnett.

This is not good.





Chapter Twenty




Ibarely slept after I got home last night. After watching Cooper and Chloe be crowned and share a slow dance together (and hating every second of it), I left with Jake. He dropped me off at my door, hugged me goodbye, and, with the most heartfelt smile, thanked me for ultimately showing up. It almost made me grateful that Mr. Erikson canceled.

But after showering, I lay in bed trying to process how this happened. Trying to convince myself it hadn’t.

I can’t like Cooper. I’m leaving here in a month.

He and Chloe are… something.

He’s a distraction.

Sloane and I spent today lounging on the couch, nursing our sore feet and eating snacks while watching TV. I talked to Fern for a while, and at one point Jake texted just to say he had fun. But it’s been otherwise a quiet day.

Until eleven forty-five p.m., when Sloane, Mom, and Aunt Naomi come crashing up the attic steps.

I leap out of bed. “What’s wrong?”

Aunt Naomi pushes the attic window open, and Mom tosses a bundle of blankets out of it. “Nothing,” Mom says. “Come on.”

Sloane shoots me a grin and climbs out onto the roof. She spreads a blanket over the shingles while my aunt and cousin climb out behind her carrying Styrofoam cups and a coffee carafe.

“What’s going on?” I ask, padding over to the window. I stick my head out as they all sit on one blanket and wrap the others around their shoulders. “It’s freezing out there.”

“Oh, suck it up and get out here,” Mom says. I give my warm bed one last longing glance and climb out the window. I sit next to Mom, and she hands me a fleece blanket to cocoon myself in. Aunt Naomi fills the cups and passes them out.

“It’s cider,” she says when I tell her I’m going to pass on the midnight coffee because I’d like to be able to sleep whenever whatever this is ends.

I take the cup and let the liquid warm me. “Is someone going to tell me why we’re sitting on the roof in the freezing cold on a school night?”

“Because look at the sky, Ellis,” Aunt Naomi says, full of delight.

I take in the full moon that feels like it belongs to Bramble Falls tonight.

“It’s the harvest moon,” Sloane says. “We come out here with blankets and cider every year on harvest moon night.”

Mom sighs. “I’ve missed this tradition.”

“You used to do this too?” I ask her.

“Oh yeah. Naomi and I used to do this with your grandma,” Mom says. “After she died, we continued the tradition. But once I moved to the city with your dad…” She trails off, taking a sip of her cider and staring up at the sky.

Aunt Naomi rocks into her. “But you’re here now.”

Sloane lies back and tucks the blanket under her chin. “I miss Dad. He used to love doing this.”

“He really did, didn’t he?” Aunt Naomi says. Mom rests her head on Aunt Naomi’s shoulder.

Sloane’s dad died from unexpected cardiac arrest three years ago. Although I never knew him well, I remember him always being so present. He was involved in Sloane’s life, always supportive of her acting and often taking her on trips, just the two of them. It’s been hard enough being away from my dad for a month. I can’t imagine her grief.

“Are you happy with how the Bramble Falls events have been going?” Mom asks.

Aunt Naomi grins. “I really am. Everyone’s been having fun. It’s truly magical how everybody comes together to make everything perfect in the fall.” She sighs. “But I can’t find last year’s Harvest Hunt list anywhere, so I have to make a new one.”

“What’s a harvest hunt? Can I do anything to help?” I ask.

“This weekend’s fall scavenger hunt,” she says. “It’s not a huge deal. I just have to make a list of fall items for people to search for.”

“I can do that,” I volunteer.

Mom turns to me. “Really?”

I shrug. “Sure. I’ll have it done by Friday morning so you have time to make sure it’s okay and make copies or whatever.”

“That’d be great, Ellis,” Aunt Naomi says. “Let me know if you have any questions or need help with anything.”

The four of us lie shoulder to shoulder for the next half hour, talking about the past and the town and plans for the future. When Aunt Naomi almost rolls off the roof because she’s laughing so hard after Mom brings up the time she dated a guy she met at Comic-Con who dressed like a Smurf and ate tater tots for breakfast, we decide it’s probably time to go to bed.