Page 135 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
“O-okay,” Coby stammered.
Hunter gave him a sad smile. “Should we go have fun?”
Coby nodded and fell back into Hunter. They hugged for another moment until Coby had pulled himself together. Then, hand in hand, they walked together through the corn rows while I followed.
“Whoa. It got really crowded,” I said as we emerged from the maze.
The number of people had quadrupled while we’d been in the maze. There was a line at the lemonade stand ten people deep and a thick cluster of people by the straw-bale entrance to the pumpkin patch. Adults were all standing around visiting while the kids ran everywhere.
“Can I go play?” Coby asked Hunter.
He nodded. “Sure, buddy. Don’t go too far.”
And off he ran, his punishment forgotten.
I slid into Hunter’s side and hugged his waist.
“That sucked,” he muttered.
I laughed. “It’s not fun to be the bad guy. Welcome to the club.”
“Maisy!” I looked up to see a high-school friend walking over.
“Hi!” I waved and let Hunter go, taking his hand to lead him over for introductions.
For the next twenty minutes, I introduced Hunter to a whole slew of people as they came to greet us. People I knew from my parents’ church came to say hello. Friends from high school wanted to meet Hunter. Fellow business owners that I worked with at the chamber of commerce asked how things were going at the inn.
“You really do know everyone,” Hunter said as the people we had been talking to walked away.
“Most everyone,” I teased. “Get used to it, Dr. Faraday. You’re part of the community now. Everywhere we go, you’ll know someone too. Your days of being just another handsome face in a Chicago crowd are over.”
“I like that.” He smiled and my knees wobbled.
Would that smile always make me dizzy?
Just as much as I loved the smile, I loved that he was by my side. That he was mine. That people in our town would forever think of us as a unit.
Hunter, Maisy and Coby.
My eyes went to the pumpkin patch at the though
t of my son. I’d been checking on him periodically, watching from afar as Coby ran around to inspect all of the pumpkins. Except this time when I scanned the rows, I didn’t see Coby.
My smile fell and I walked from our spot toward the patch. My eyes swept back and forth across every row, but my son wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Coby!” I called, surveying the entire area again. My heart was racing and my eyes searched frantically.
Hunter came to my side. “Coby!” The panic on his face and in his voice matched mine.
“Coby, where are you?” I shouted.
I walked out of the pumpkin patch and started looking at the other areas of the farm. I didn’t see him by the barn or the row of porta-potties. He wasn’t by the lemonade stand or by the gift shop. And I didn’t see him by the entrance to the maze.
“Coby!” I was screaming now. Other faces were staring but I didn’t focus on them. I was too busy looking for my missing child.
How could this happen? He was just here.
“Coby!” Hunter shouted again.
“Who are you looking for?” a man asked at my side.
