It Was Always You

The Market

…Lucas’ POV…

I woke before sunrise, the sky still a soft shade of gray. The market down the road didn’t open until eight, but the best vendors and rows required our early arrival. I dressed quickly and stepped outside to grab the old truck keys from the porch. The morning air felt crisp across my face.

Owen and Sofia paced the driveway, already moving crates and stacking empty baskets. Olive came out last, holding a travel mug, her ponytail falling just so. She gave me that familiar smile that shot butterflies through my chest. I tried not to stare.

We loaded the truck—milk, honey, eggs, jars of preserves, bundles of lavender, carrots, microgreens—and then climbed in. As I backed out, I stole a glance at Olive cradling a crate of soap bars, forehead creased with concentration. I felt a rush of pride and something like protective affection.

On the drive, we ran through who would handle what. I’d manage the produce and preserves, Owen the eggs and honey, and Olive would take the herbs and soaps, with Sofia assisting customers.

The market was starting to set up as we pulled in. White tents lined the grass in neat rows. Vendors greeted us with nods and smiles. It felt good to be part of something bigger than the farm.

Our tent went up quickly: tables, bins, display crates for eggs and produce, jars lined up orderly, labels front and center. Olive and Sofia worked the soaps and herbs table with quiet efficiency, turning stems of lavender into small bundles and folding soap bars into boxes.

By opening time, we were ready.

A steady stream of early shoppers rolled in. Good morning, how much for these? Lovely jars—have you tried the honey?—and we handled it all. The four of us slipped into rhythm We became a well-oiled machine fueled by strong coffee and friendly chatter.

By mid-morning, the crowd began to thin just enough that we could take a collective breath. I answered a question about heirloom tomatoes, finishing just as I caught the sound:

“Olive! Hi!”

It shouldn’t have registered. But it did, hard. I turned to see Tyler.

He was standing a few feet away, arm around a woman with long blonde hair. She wore a denim jacket and a bright dress that spun under the sun. Tyler looked happy. Content. Unbothered.

My chest tightened.

I should have known he’d be here. He would bring Olive every weekend last season so that she could see Owen. He knew she’d be here.

Olive’s smile dropped, but she squared her shoulders and stepped forward. I stayed behind, watching as she greeted them.

“Hey, Tyler.”

Tyler’s grin was calm. His eyes flicked to me with a brief flash of recognition and then back to her. “This is Mia,” he said, indicating the girl beside him. “My girlfriend.”

Olive extended her hand, nodding politely. “Hi, Mia.”

“Nice to meet you.” Mia’s voice was soft but confident.

Tyler cleared his throat. “I was just looking for some preserves. I know your stand has the best of the market.”

Olive glanced at me; I stayed rooted behind the jars. She turned back to Tyler. “We’ve had a busy morning , but we still have some jars of apricot and cherry.”

They made small talk while Mia browsed the stand. Owen and Sofia hovered nearby, our eyes locked on Tyler, waiting for the smallest sign that Olive needed one of us to take over.

I leaned forward to take payment from a customer, but sensed Tyler’s gaze on me. He offered a polite nod and smile when our eyes met. I nodded back, expression neutral.

Meanwhile, Olive handled everything: she showed Mia the soaps, helped Tyler choose a jar of cherry preserves, folded change with a steady hand. She was perfect.

The exchange ended. Tyler and Mia moved on to another stand, murmuring excitedly. Olive closed her hand and settled back in beside us, shoulders straight but her breathing was a bit off.

I stepped over, offered her a bottle of water. She accepted it with a small smile.

“He seemed… fine,” she said. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Good.” I only hoped she had meant it.

As the morning pulsed into noontime, the day picked up again. We sold more eggs and vegetables, my voice grew hoarse from greeting, and my chest felt tight every time Tyler’s face drifted near.

By the time we packed the last box away and folded chairs, my legs were tired, I could tell Olive was too. We climbed back into the truck side by side. She opened the cab window and let the breeze hit her face.

“It wasn’t as bad,” she said again, voice softer now.

We drove away from the tents, toward the long driveway that led to home—back to the farm, and to something small, private, and ours again.

…Olive’s POV…

He was parading her around like a prize, and that stung more than I expected. He knew I’d be there. He knew I was working for my brother and he knew my brother set up a booth every weekend. He had taken me there before. But there he was. Arm around Mia, ready to introduce her to me. Less than a week after I had called off the engagement and moved out of our shared apartment.

It hurt.

Not as much as I thought it would, but it hurt.

I tried to keep it cool as I rang through sales on the soap and lavender side. Lucas and Owen hovering at their ends of the booth, if I needed backup. Sofia smiled encouragingly, handing me change and refilling displays as needed.

I watched Tyler’s back recede through the tent wall. I didn’t break a stride. I didn’t cry. But none of us forgot he was there.

When it was done, we loaded empty crates into the truck and drove home in a fog of satisfaction and exhaustion.

The sun had dipped low behind the orchard trees. We pulled into the driveway and unloaded what was left—barn equipment, cloth towels, empty crates. We carried everything down toward the copper firepit patio.

Once the last crate was inside the barn, I plopped into the woven seat as Sofia handed out drinks.

“How’d it go?” Owen asked, leaning back. I could tell he was asking about Tyler, but that wasn’t a discussion I was ready to have.

“Busy,” I said. “Pretty great.”

Sofia nodded. “Beautiful weather. Perfect sales.”

Lucas looked at me, eyes gentle. “You did good.”

“I did,” I said, grinning.

They clinked glasses, and we drank in the moment. The cool drink, the warm breeze, the hum of cicadas.

Sofia yawned, stretching. “I think we should call it a night.”

Owen rubbed her shoulders. “The best thing about market is the sleep you get after it’s over.”

They headed inside together, leaving Lucas and me sitting in our chairs, watching the fire slowly burn out.

He watched me. Waited.

I smiled back.

He stood, slowly rose, and lifted a hand. “Let me walk you home.”

We made our way down the path to my house in a comfortable silence.

I opened the front door and turned back to him. Soft yellow light spilled across him.

He swallowed.

I swallowed.

“Thanks, I’m not really ready to go to sleep. Come in for a beer?” I asked

He nodded and stepped inside with me.

The door closed behind us.