The morning of the annual Harbor Fair dawned clear and bright, the kind of early autumn day that made Willow Harbor feel like a painting. Vendors set up tents along the waterfront, children ran between stalls with sticky hands and wide smiles, and the scent of caramel and salt filled the air.
Emma hadn't planned to go. She never had liked crowds — too much noise, too many faces from a past she'd tried to forget. But by midmorning, the sound of the fair's music drifted through her open window, and curiosity got the better of her.
She walked down the main street, sketchbook tucked under her arm, her eyes drinking in the colors: sun-warmed wood, faded bunting, laughter carried on the breeze. For a moment, she almost forgot why she'd come back at all.
Then she saw her.
Hannah was standing by the school's fundraising booth, her hair pulled back in a loose braid, wearing a navy sundress that caught the light whenever she turned. She was talking to a student's parent, smiling that steady, professional smile that somehow still managed to look real.
Emma hesitated. She could leave, slip past unnoticed. But something in her — something she couldn't quite name — wouldn't let her.
She waited until Hannah was alone before walking up.
"Didn't expect to see you running a booth," Emma said lightly. "You always seemed more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person."
Hannah turned, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before it softened into recognition. "Emma Lawson. Twice in one week. I'm starting to think you came back just to haunt me."
Emma smiled. "You'd be a lot more fun to haunt than this house I'm staying in."
Hannah laughed — a sound low and genuine, the kind that made people nearby turn their heads just to hear it again.
"You're staying at your aunt's place?"
"Trying to. It feels more like it's staying at me," Emma said. "Too many ghosts."
For a heartbeat, their eyes met — something unspoken hanging between them, fragile but charged.
"Maybe you just need to fill it with something new," Hannah said. She gestured toward the fair. "Start with a funnel cake."
Emma tilted her head. "You offering to share one?"
Hannah's smile widened, but there was a flicker of hesitation — the tiniest pause before she said, "Maybe."
They ended up walking together along the waterfront, the conversation easy but edged with that same undercurrent from the café — that quiet, unspoken recognition. They talked about the town, about the way nothing ever changed. Emma teased her about being the responsible one, and Hannah teased her right back about running away.
When they reached the end of the pier, they stopped, watching the gulls wheel above the water.
"You know," Hannah said after a moment, "people are already talking about you being back."
Emma smirked. "Let them. Gives them something to do."
"It's a small town," Hannah said softly, eyes still on the horizon. "They don't always know where curiosity ends and judgment begins."
Emma studied her profile — the way the wind lifted her hair, the way her voice trembled just enough to give her away. "You sound like someone who's learned that firsthand."
Hannah's eyes flicked to hers, a flash of something raw before she looked away. "Maybe I have."
For a while, neither of them spoke. The waves lapped gently against the wooden posts below.
Then Hannah turned to leave. "Thanks for walking with me," she said, her tone polite again — back to safe ground.
Emma nodded, though she felt the shift like a door quietly closing.
"Anytime," she said.
As Hannah walked back toward the fair, Emma watched her go — the crowd swallowing her up — and felt that same restless tug in her chest. She didn't know what it meant yet, but she knew it wasn't nothing.
Not this time.