A collection of all of my Stardew Valley fics/edits in one place.
I'll update this as I go! [Scroll down for more fics!]
Anything But That | Alex x Farmer [Sylvie] 🍓🌿
Sylvie tried her best to fit in -- tried her best to be a good farmer. Falling for the resident jock wasn't her plan, and neither was the loss they experienced together. A story of love, grief, mourning and healing.
Listed chronologically by in-game year/season & story progression —
🥤 Spring Year One [Haley/Alex Visit The Farm]
🍻 Summer Year One [The Drunken Kiss]
🎄 Winter Year One [Feast Of The Winter Star]
🌟 Winter Year One [Night After The Winter Star]
🌾 Summer Year Two [Hay Nap]
🪼 Summer Year Two [Moonlight Jellies & Letdowns]
✨ Fall Year Two [The Glow Ring]
🗡️ Late Fall Year Three [The Accident]
🐄 Spring Year Three [Calving]
🏖️ Summer Year Three [Summer Won]
🌺 Summer Year Three [The Luau]
🎃 Fall Year Three [Spirit's Eve]
🪑 Winter Year Three [A Yellow Chair]
🥗 Winter Year Three [Mothers]
🍺 Late Winter Year Three [Walk Me Home]
🌊 Spring Year Four [Beaches]
🌿 Spring Year Four [Green Beans]
🌼 Spring Year Four [The Flower Dance]
🌶️ Spring Year Four [Peppers]
👨⚕️ Summer Year Four [Doctors & Secrets]
🐚 Summer Year Four [All I Can Do]
🐡 Fall Year Four [Congratulations]
🔑 Winter Year Four [You're Always There]
🦋 Spring Year Five [Butterflies & Birthdays]
♥️ Summer Year Five [I Love You]
🏝️ Summer Year Six [Wishes]
🌷 Spring Year One, Day One [Finale]
Roots | Harvey x Farmer [Margot], Sam x Farmer [Ashe] 🎸 🌹
Margot had been in Pelican Town for eight years -- she married Harvey, had a daughter and now runs a successful farm. Ashe, her moody and stubborn sister, intended to visit for a week. Instead, she decides to stay for a year -- reuniting with not only her older sister, but the boy she kissed one night in Zuzu City.
Listed chronologically by in-game day/season & story progression —
🚎 Spring Day 5 [Arrival]
🥞 Spring Day 6 [Breakfast]
🚬 Spring Day 7 [Slime & Sweaters]
🦈 Spring Day 8 [One Kiss]
🥤 Spring Day 9 [Smoothies]
☘️ Spring Day 19 [Lucky You]
🌼 Spring Day 24 [People Are Like Flowers]
🍻 Spring Day 25 [Friend]
🪨 Spring Day 28 [The Hero]
🧼 Summer Day 5 [Invisible]
🍷 Summer Day 11 [Wine]
🎁 Summer Day 17 [Happy Birthday, Sam]
💦 Summer Day 28 [Splash]
🏥 Summer Day 28 [Aftermath]
🌻 Fall Day 4 [Sunflowers & Tiger's Eye]
🍰 Fall Day 11 [Walk Me Home]
🎡 Fall Day 16 [The Fair]
🎱 Fall Day 21 [Tending]
🍇 Fall Day 23 [Blackberries]
💤 Fall Day 27 [Harvey's Wife]
📀 Fall Day 27 [Use Me]
🍽️ Fall Day 28 [Nothing Anymore]
🐮 Winter Day 2 [Zuzu]
🎸 Winter Day 6 [Buses]
🧊 Winter Day 11 [Good Riddance]
💜 Winter Day 17 [The Letter]
🦀 Winter Day 21 [Selfish]
🐈 Winter Day 25 [Kitten]
🎶 Winter Day 28 [Groupie]
🌼 Spring, Year 2, Day 13 [Roots]
Strawberry Mars | Maru x Farmer [Kieran] 💫
Maru left the valley to find herself in the city. When she returns to care for her sick mother, she finds herself longing to escape again. But before she can even think about it -- he finds her. The grandson of the farmer who passed when she was nineteen. And also, the same boy who she played with as a child during the golden summers. A story about being on Earth, but longing to be in the stars.
Listed chronologically by in-game day/season & story progression —
🔭 Fall Day 7 [Homecoming]
🍓 Fall Day 8 [Jam]
🌟 Fall Day 8 [Remember Me]
📕 Fall [20 Years Ago]
🪵 Fall Day 12 [Mars]
🎟️ Fall Day 16 [Golden Ticket]
🍰 Fall Day 21 [Cake]
🩸 Fall Day 21 [Wait]
🐚 Summer [22 Years Ago]
👕 Winter Day 1 [Caught]
🧊 Winter Day 8 [Ice]
🌌 Winter Day 10 [Pain]
☕️ Winter Day 11 [Coffee & Toast]
🥾 Winter Day 19 [Like Mom]
💎 Winter Day 25 [The Ring]
💐 Spring Day 2 [Goodbyes]
🪼 Summer [10 Years Ago]
☎️ Spring Day 18 [Phone Calls]
🎂 Summer Day 10 [Strawberry Cake]
🌙 Summer Day 10 [Secrets]
✉️ Summer Day 16 [What Am I Doing?]
♥️ Summer Day 16 [I Love You]
🥔 Summer Day 19 [Potato]
💍 Fall Day 1 [My Mars]
Copper | Penny x Non-Farmer [Fox] 🌊
Penny's spent her life trying to stay grounded. Fox has spent his learning to drift. Together, they find a current strong enough to change them both.
Listed chronologically by in-game day/season & story progression —
Sam entered the farmhouse. It felt foreign, and cold. He hated it.
He wanted to call out for her, but held his breath instead. As he wandered through the living room, he noticed a body curled up on the couch. Sullivan slept soundly, her chest rising and falling in slow, peaceful waves. He made a face, confused by the unexpected house guest.
“She’s sad,” Ashe said from the bedroom doorway, her nightgown clinging to her swollen belly.
She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the cedar frame, her bare feet freezing against the old floorboards.
“Shane?” Sam guessed.
“Who else?” Ashe chuckled. “They’ll figure it out—sooner rather than later, I hope.”
“And then what?” Sam asked. His band tee was stretched at the collar where he’d nervously picked at it on the walk over.
“Sometimes things are just too heavy,” Ashe murmured as she passed him on her way to the kitchen. “Relationships—even the sky. The prettiest things in our lives can weigh the most. Hold us down like gravity.”
“Is that how you feel about us?” Sam followed her steps.
“No.” Ashe laughed, propping one hand on her hip and groaning from another uncomfortable night. “With you, it’s like being in space. Doesn’t weigh me down at all.”
Sam opened the fridge and pulled out the lemonade pitcher. He rummaged for a glass, filled it with the sour liquid he knew settled her stomach, and slid it across the counter.
“I love you,” he said.
Ashe blinked, wrapping her hands around the glass.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
“I fucked up,” Sam admitted, inching closer. “I felt so out of the loop, like I’d been left out of something important. The whole town practically knew before I did.”
“I know.” Her eyes dropped to the yellow liquid. She took a small sip, thinking. “But I didn’t want to ruin your tour. I wanted to wait until I could hug you, kiss you… just a little more time before our entire world tilted on its axis.”
“I know,” he echoed.
He pressed his body gently against hers, careful of her stomach. Taking the cup from her hand, he set it on the counter. Then, with a soft but deliberate motion, he lifted her arms and placed them around his neck, waiting until she laced her fingers before letting go.
“So tell me,” he whispered into her ear, goosebumps rising on her arms. “What does my baby need?”
“Well,” Ashe smiled, “She likes fresh fruit. And milkshakes. A lot these days.”
“I meant you,” Sam murmured, nuzzling her. “Anything you want.”
Ashe hesitated, savoring the closeness she’d been missing. “I want to skip work and go to bed,” she said, heat flickering in her cheeks. “I’ve missed you.”
“Ew!” Sullivan’s head popped up from the sofa. “I’m sad, not deaf—shit.”
She rolled off the couch and tried to crawl toward the door. “Can’t even let a girl nap.”
Sam and Ashe broke into deep laughter, tears forming in their eyes. Neither was sure if the tears were from the joke or from relief.
But they were together. And that was enough.
Author’s Note: Sam and Ashe have always been a “minimal words, maximum feelings” couple. If you read Roots, you probably remember their peak communication moment was literally just:
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
And honestly? Nothing’s changed. They don’t need big speeches — they show up, they forgive, and suddenly they’re wrapped around each other like the universe finally snapped back into place. It’s chaotic, it’s soft, it’s a little dysfunctional… but it’s very them.
The rain hadn't stopped all night. The kind that hissed against the roof and made the world feel smaller, softer. Jas was asleep in the next room, curled under a blanket she'd outgrown, one corner still embroidered with her mother's initials.
Shane sat at the kitchen table, an old shoebox open in front of him. Photos spilled across the surface.
Leena in a hospital gown, eyes puffy but radiant. Her husband beside her, holding a newborn wrapped in pink flannel. And behind them, blurred by motion, a young woman with pale hair tucked into a messy bun. She wasn't looking at the camera - her gaze was on the baby.
Shane leaned closer. The lamplight trembled. The woman's face was younger, but he knew it. The slope of her jaw, the softness in her eyes.
Sullivan.
He exhaled through his nose, the sound barely audible over the rain.
"You were there too," he murmured.
No anger. No disbelief.
He turned the photo over — Leena's handwriting looped across the back.
"Jas and the people who loved her first."
Shane smiled faintly, rubbed his thumb over the corner, and tucked it back into the box.
Then he turned off the light, leaving the room dim except for the soft blue from Jas's nightlight.
"Guess I'll love her second," he whispered, and shut the lid.
Shane stared at the cottage door. He had lifted a fist more than once, only to let it fall again. He didn’t want to disturb her—or maybe he didn’t want to confront his own guilt.
Before he could slink back to the ranch, the door swung open. Sullivan stepped out, her gaze locked firmly on the ground. She didn’t dare look up, afraid she’d melt and forget how he’d pushed past her that night. Humiliated her. Disregarded her.
The worst part was that she understood his panic. She had been scared too. But she also believed two things could be true at once.
“Sully…”
“I have to get to the farm. Ashe wants to adjust the dress,” she said quickly, using the task as an excuse to escape.
“Did I hurt your knee?” he asked, reaching for her arm. His palm wrapped gently around her skin, but when she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip.
“I don’t want to do this. I’m busy and—”
“Too busy for me?” Shane raised an eyebrow, stepping closer.
“Too busy to pretend my pride isn’t bruised,” Sullivan exhaled, steadying her voice as she tilted her head back to keep tears at bay. “How’s my girl?”
Her girl.
The words punched straight through him. They reminded him how he’d shoved her out of the room that night, acting like she had no right to be there—when she was the only reason Jas was safe and stitched up at all. She had searched the entire town for that child the second she realized she was missing.
“She’s doing great,” he said, finally releasing her. “Her uncle is sorry, though. So… so sorry.”
“Well, tell her uncle I forgive him.” Sullivan tried for a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “But this isn’t working the way he thought it would.”
She took off before he could answer, her steps quickening as though she were running from something. Shane stood there helplessly as she broke into a jog, the garment bag swinging from one hand while the other wiped at her wet, flushed cheeks. Tears streaked down her face, evaporating as fast as they fell.
She didn’t stop until the farm came into view—the dismounted cabin stones still in a pile where the old structures had been. Her foot caught, and she pitched forward, landing hard on the knee that was still sore. A pathetic yelp escaped her as pain radiated up her leg.
“Sullivan?” Ashe rushed toward her, worry coloring her eyes. She helped hoist the blonde back to her feet, her boots caked with mud from the flower field she’d been tending. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“I was so close,” Sullivan whimpered. “So close to having what I wanted.”
Ashe pulled her in, kissing the top of her head before resting her chin there. Ashe’s blue hair tangled with Sullivan’s blonde, the two colors blending like neon and silver in the afternoon sun.
“Let’s get inside,” Ashe murmured.
“Look at you,” Sullivan sniffled. “All knocked up and comforting me.”
“I’m pregnant,” Ashe said with a gentle laugh. “Not dead.”
Harvey finished tying the final stitch on Jas’s leg, groaning softly at the state of the young girl’s shins.
“She really did a number on herself,” he murmured. “Nothing too deep, but she’ll be sore for a while.”
“I’m just glad she’s sleeping,” Sullivan said as she brushed Jas’s dark hair off her forehead. “She needs rest.”
“I agree,” Elliott chimed in. “I can help get her home when she’s ready.”
His offer fell awkwardly flat, but Sullivan shot him a grateful smile anyway.
The clinic door slammed open. The sudden, rough sound made Sullivan jump, her hand clenching protectively around Jas’s arm.
“Harvey?” Shane’s voice rang from the hallway. He found them moments later, the swoosh of the curtain loud and disarming. “What happened?”
“She took a tumble off the mines’ ladder,” Sullivan told him. “We found her after she managed to climb back up.”
“Why was she there alone?” Shane snapped. His eyes were wild with fear — but his words cut like accusation. “Why weren’t you with her?”
“I wasn’t aware I was her babysitter,” Sullivan sneered before she could stop herself. The bitterness tasted wrong even to her. Of course she should have been watching her. She cared for Jas — she had once been her godmother. She wasn’t paying attention. This was her fault.
She could see it written all over Shane’s face.
He was already blaming her, too.
“And you? Why are you here?” Shane suddenly rounded on Elliott, anger redirecting like a live wire. His hand still rested heavily on Sullivan’s shoulder.
“I just wanted to make sure—”
“Get out,” Shane snapped, waving him off dismissively.
“Shane,” Sullivan stood quickly and reached for his jacket, trying to make him look at her. But instead he pushed past her in his panic, knocking Sullivan off balance. She stumbled into the metal gurney and fell to her knees. The impact startled Jas, who shot upright with a wince as pain flared in her legs.
“Jas?” Shane immediately gathered her hands in his, enveloping them in his trembling grip.
“Hi,” she whispered, offering him the softest smile — but her eyes drifted past him to Sullivan, who was brushing off her knees and rubbing at her shoulder. “Thank you, Sully.”
“No problem, kiddo.” Sullivan forced a small smile as she straightened, still massaging the sore spot where she’d hit. “I’m going to head home now that your uncle is here. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
She kissed Jas’s forehead, then hurried toward the exit, Elliott trailing her again like a quiet shadow.
Harvey rolled his eyes, sighing as he scribbled on his clipboard.
“What?” Shane whispered, confusion cutting through the fading adrenaline.
“You all are idiots,” Harvey muttered, half-laughing to himself. “Every single one.”
Author's Note: Sorry for only one part tonight, I'll post three tomorrow! <3
Sullivan wandered through the Egg Festival with Otto in tow, guiding him from booth to booth as they hunted for eggs until Lewis finally blew the whistle. She was amused when Abigail won—despite being a full-grown adult. It was charming, really, how the whole town didn’t care who came out on top as long as everyone stayed happy.
Otto and Aggie found Margot and settled beside her at a picnic table. Harvey held onto Ashe as she stumbled backward. Sam was suspiciously missing—not that Sullivan particularly missed him.
She could see Ashe forcing a smile, forcing participation, trying so hard to seem fine. But Sullivan knew she wasn’t. She was anything but.
“Where’s Shane?” Elliott appeared at her side, crossing his arms over his chest. His long hair fell in soft, wavy strands down his back.
“On Saturdays he brings eggs and milk to a market in Zuzu,” she answered. “At least, that’s what Jas told me.”
Elliott scanned the festival. “Speaking of her—where is she? I haven’t seen her.”
Sullivan’s ears pricked at that. She began scanning the crowd for any sign of the thirteen-year-old.
She brushed her blonde hair behind her shoulders and moved quickly through the festival, searching. When Jas didn’t appear right away, panic rose in her throat.
Elliott stayed close, questioning every villager he passed—just as desperate as she was to find her.
“I think I saw her heading up the mountain—something about the mines,” Maru told him, cracking open a plastic egg.
Sullivan rushed toward the community center and broke into a jog up the mountain path. She ran along the riverbank, Elliott still her shadow. They passed Robin’s house and nearly collided with Demetrius, whose nose was buried in a book.
“Jas?” Sullivan called out. She strained to hear anything—any sign she was okay, unharmed, alive.
Over the chirp of crickets, she heard it: a tiny, familiar whimper.
She sprinted for the mines, somewhere she had never actually been, and stepped into the cool darkness without hesitation. She squinted into the heavy shadows, searching.
“Sully?” Jas’s little voice—normally so determined and headstrong—rang timid and exhausted.
Sullivan hurried toward her. Elliott came up beside her as they reached the girl’s still form.
Jas wore denim shorts and an oversized hoodie, her legs bleeding and staining the packed earth beneath her. Sullivan knelt beside her, hands trembling with indescribable fear. She cradled Jas’s head and brushed her fingers across her cheeks.
“Sully…” Elliott’s voice came out stunned, shaky.
“Elliott, go get Harvey and Marnie,” Sullivan said, forcing breath into her voice. “I’ll stay with her.”
He ran. The mines fell quiet—just the steady drip from the ceiling.
“What happened, Jas?”
Jas coughed. “I wanted to go down just a couple floors… see if I could find any gems,” she murmured, her tear-stained cheeks catching the faint light. “My mom loved crystals.”
“She did,” Sully whispered. “Did one of the creatures get you?”
“No, I fell down the ladder trying to get out,” Jas whispered with a shaky laugh, choking on her embarrassment. “I’m stupid.”
“Don’t say that,” Sullivan whispered, sniffing. “I’ve got you.”
Jas lifted an arm and gripped the one Sullivan was holding her with, pressing her fingers into Sully’s skin. She tilted her head and gave a tiny smile.
“Sometimes I think my mommy would’ve been just like you.”
The air punched out of Sullivan’s lungs. She bit her tongue as tears pressed hot behind her eyes. She managed a small, knowing smile and pulled Jas closer.
Footsteps and urgent voices echoed from outside—Elliott and Harvey closing in.
“Just rest, my girl,” Sully murmured. “It’s almost over.”
Author’s Note: I’m taking a break for a couple days and then I’ll be back! I’ve been dealing with health issues. I hope you’ll come back for the rest of this story around Monday! :)
Sullivan handed Pierre the payment for the tea leaves and turned toward the door. Before she made it too far, her eyes drifted down an aisle.
She spotted him—Sam—staring blankly at the canned goods like he hoped the shelves might swallow him whole.
“Sam?”
“Oh—hey,” he whispered, eyes flicking toward her before dropping back to the labels in front of him. His hands stayed shoved deep in his pockets.
“How’s Sully? Any bad nausea?” she asked, unaware of the tension between them. A pang of guilt nudged her; her days were spent mending clothes for half the town, her nights tangled up with Shane. “I bought tea and ginger for her. Thought I’d make her some teabags.”
“Probably. I… don’t know,” Sam muttered.
“You don’t know if your fiancée is sick from being pregnant with your baby?” Sullivan stepped closer, disbelief lifting her brows.
He swallowed. “She and I aren’t doing well right now,” he murmured, quiet enough that only she could catch it.
The two blondes traded stiff, uneasy glances.
“You’re mad at her,” Sullivan said plainly.
“I—she hurt me,” he said, repeating Harvey’s words like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
Sullivan stared at him. “Blah blah blah.” She waved a hand, exasperated. “She was scared and nervous and pregnant with your child… and you’re whining about your hurt feelings?”
Sam’s jaw clenched. “You don’t get it.”
“You’re right—I don’t,” Sullivan fired back. “I can’t begin to understand how selfish you have to be to leave her when she’s going through this.”
He flinched, startled—more wounded than angry. And for the first time, a crack appeared in his expression.
“I didn’t leave—” he tried, then stopped. “I thought giving her space would help. I don’t know.” He scrubbed his palms over his face. “Every time I think about going to her, I get stuck on how blindsided I felt. So I don’t. And then more time passes.”
His voice tightened.
“And now I don’t even know how she is. Or if she’s okay. Or how sick she’s been.” His throat bobbed. “I don’t know anything.”
Sullivan’s anger didn’t soften, but she saw the realization land—heavy and late.
“You wouldn’t get it,” he whispered again, but now it sounded ashamed, not defensive.
“No,” Sullivan said, stepping back. “I don’t get turning fear into punishment. I don’t get pretending you’re the only one hurting.”
Sam’s face crumpled—quiet, sinking, shaken.
Sullivan didn’t give him a chance to respond. She left him there in the aisle, his resolve collapsing under every word he’d avoided hearing.
She pushed through the doors of the store and stomped toward the saloon. It was nearly night; she knew Gus would be open and ready with whatever she asked for.
But as she rounded the corner, she collided hard with a larger figure. The impact knocked her backward, her tailbone cracking against the ground. She blinked through the sharp sting until her vision cleared enough to find Shane leaning over her, worry written across his face.
“Sully? You okay?” He extended a hand to help her up.
“Fine,” she lied, letting him pull her to her feet. “I might kill Sam though.”
“Ah.” Shane exhaled, frowning. “Yeah… it’s not going well for them, is it?”
“You knew?” she snapped, yanking her hand away.
“Ashe told me a little,” he said. “I’m just… trying to do what she asked. Not get in the middle of it.”
And Sullivan knew how hard that must be for him—watching Ashe struggle, biting his tongue out of loyalty. That kind of devotion was something she admired about him more than she ever said out loud.
“What are you up to right now?” she asked, redirecting.
“Just wandering. I finished a movie at the theater,” he said.
“Alone?”
“Jas was there, but she went off with Vincent. He’s visiting his dad.” Shane gently caught her arm, linking it through his. “Let me walk you home.”
Sullivan let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and leaned into him, accepting his offer.
The trek back to the cottage felt shorter than usual—their shared laughter and soft, teasing kisses making the evening blur around them.
At her door, Shane kissed her forehead. “I meant to ask you something,” he said. “Do you… want kids? This whole thing with Ashe got me thinking.”
“Not really,” Sullivan blurted. “I mean—I had the chance to be a mom once, and it didn’t work out. So I decided it wasn’t in the cards for me.”
Shane nodded, still holding her. He lifted her chin gently, letting his lips brush hers before finally kissing her—deep, warm, lingering. But there was something else there too, something sad and searching, threaded between the breaths they shared.
“See you later, Sully,” he whispered as he stepped back.
She waved, the ginger and tea leaves still hanging from her wrist.
Sullivan plodded away toward her door, swinging the bag and watching the river beside her—a habit Shane had long ago noticed and quietly adored.
When he heard the cottage door click shut behind her, his jaw tightened, his eyes falling to the ground.
“You really would’ve made a good one,” he murmured to the empty path.
Author’s Note: I think something interesting about the way I’ve written Ashe and Sam, is that Sam’s feelings are always so loud (just outward) that it seems like Ashe isn’t feeling the same exact things. But I hope you still have love for her even if she’s quieter with her guilt/sadness/anger.
Ashe had barely slept the night Sam left for tour. She’d walked him to the bus with her jacket pulled tight against the early-morning chill, kissing him one last time before he climbed the steps.
He’d promised to call as soon as they reached the first venue.
He’d promised to be careful. He’d promised he’d miss her.
She believed him. She always did.
The valley felt strangely quiet after he left, like the house itself exhaled. She wandered through the morning, convincing herself the queasy feeling in her stomach was nerves — missing him, worrying about him, maybe the half-eaten breakfast she forced down at sunrise.
But by afternoon, the nausea sharpened. By evening, it lingered like a warning.
And by the next morning, she found herself standing in the small bathroom of their farmhouse, gripping a cheap test Margot had given her almost as a joke. She hadn’t planned to take it. She hadn’t planned for any of this.
The faint line appeared almost instantly.
Her heart slammed so hard she had to sit down on the edge of the tub.
“Sam…” she whispered to the empty room, her breath catching.
She pictured calling him. Interrupting a rehearsal.
Telling him over a call when he was surrounded by his band, already stressed, already pulled in two dozen directions.
She pictured his face falling because he wasn’t home. Because he wasn’t here. Because he couldn’t touch her or hold her or even process it without a crew member calling, “Sam, we need you.”
She pressed the heel of her hand to her mouth, swallowing a sob. Not like this, she thought. I can’t tell him like this.
So she placed the test in the drawer beneath the sink, closed it gently with both hands — and told herself she’d wait until he came home.
Just a few weeks. Just until he could look her in the eyes. Just until she found the right words.
Each time he called, she froze. The moment slipped. And then more moments. And soon she’d made a mistake she didn’t know how to undo.
Sam stared at the brown bottle of beer, willing it to offer answers he hadn’t already torn apart in his mind. His eyes drifted only briefly—afraid that if he let them close for too long, he’d fall asleep right there on the bar top.
A hand brushed his shoulder as someone slid onto the stool beside him. Sam glanced left and caught sight of the familiar mustache of the man who would soon be family.
“Hey, Sammy,” Harvey said, gentle in that way that always felt a little patronizing. “Can we talk?”
“You and I? For real?” Sam snickered, finishing off the last of the dark ale. Gus approached with a mug of strong black coffee for Harvey.
Sam lifted his hand to order another beer, but Harvey slapped it down, shaking his head at Gus.
“What the fu—”
“Watch it,” Harvey warned, taking a sip like Sam’s irritation didn’t bother him at all.
“What do you want?” Sam seethed.
“I want you to grow up,” Harvey answered plainly. “I want you to stop punishing her. I want the two of you—nearly thirty, by the way—to shut up and decide to forgive each other. That’s what I want, Samson.”
“She lied to me,” Sam said through his teeth. The anger he’d been clinging to was souring into something darker—something Harvey was genuinely worried he wouldn’t come back from.
“It’s okay to be angry. I agree she should’ve told you sooner, and I agree she should’ve had support.” Harvey nodded, reasoning without excusing. “But just because she was scared and hid it doesn’t make her undeserving of your support now.”
Sam rolled his eyes, stung.
Easy for Harvey to say. He had Margot, the perfect life, the perfect marriage.
How was he supposed to understand Sam feeling… left out of his own future?
“I wanted to be there for her,” Sam said, voice thinning. “Every step. Every morning and night. Doesn’t she understand how much that hurts me?”
Harvey’s expression softened in a way that made Sam’s throat burn.
“In fact, I think she does,” Harvey said, taking another sip. “Ask me how I know.”
“How?” Sam muttered, defensive but desperate.
“Because instead of being at home in your arms, she’s at my house in Margot’s.” Harvey set the mug down carefully. “Her omission was hurtful, yes. It cracked trust between you two, yes. But the path you’re choosing right now?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t lead back to Ashe or your baby. It leads away from them.”
Sam’s breath stuttered—not enough to be a sob, but close enough that the silence felt heavy around it.
Harvey pushed his glasses up, slid off the stool, and placed some change on the bar. As he walked past Sam, he paused and rested a steady hand on his shoulder.
“And one more thing,” Harvey murmured, voice shifting into something colder, older. “Next time you decide to insult her, you better pray I don’t hear about it.”
Ashe sat up, her hair twisted in on itself at the back of her head. She had slept in—unintentionally—and was left wondering where her better half had scampered off to.
She trudged from the bedroom to the kitchen, wiping the last bits of sleep from her eyes. She stopped short when she spotted Sam on the couch, his arms folded tight across his chest—sleeping, or pretending to.
“Sammy?” She nudged him gently.
“What?” He didn’t open his eyes.
“Did you sleep out here?” she asked, her brows narrowing with concern.
“Just taking a quick nap, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” He rolled toward the cushions, nearly ignoring her entirely.
“Why not?”
“Thinking too much.” His voice came out even colder than before. Ashe took a step toward him, instinctively drawn to close the space between them, but he held up a hand—stopping her mid-stride.
“I thought about everything you could be hiding from me.”
“I thought we talked about this, I wasn’t hiding it. I just wanted to wait until you were back. I was seeing you later that night and was going to tell you.” She tried to explain for the umpteenth time, her voice thinner each time she had to repeat it.
“Sure.”
Ashe scoffed, the sound small and tired. She knew she shouldn’t have kept the news from him—but she had, at the very least, expected him to understand she meant well. Meant to do right. Meant to protect them.
Instead, he was treating her like a stranger, barely interested in anything she said.
“Okay then, well I’m going to head out to the flower fields,” she announced, turning back toward the bedroom to get dressed.
“Fine.” Sam muttered into the cushions.
“Maybe later tonight we can talk some more.” Ashe fought to take slow breaths, to stay rational, to not harden her heart to the way he was speaking to her. She wanted to sit down, work it out, be okay again. Anything but this widening silence.
“I don’t want to talk, Ashe, I’ve heard enough,” Sam began to ramble, waving his hands wildly now that she was walking away. “I mean, what did you expect to happen? And is that kid even mine? Who knows, right? You wouldn’t tell me if it wasn’t, so.”
The words burst out of him before he could stop them. Sudden in the air, but heavy—so heavy—in his mind. The doubts had been swirling there for days, eating him alive bone by bone.
“Ashe, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“At least you’re talking to me more,” she laughed sharply, and he watched her shoulders droop like something inside her finally gave out. Her throat tightened, threatening to close on her. “I’m going back to bed.”
“Please, Ashe, I know you wouldn’t do that,” Sam trailed after her, reaching out without thinking. “I know you.”
She cupped her stomach, rubbing it once with her thumb like she was reminding herself who she needed to protect most.
“That’s funny,” Ashe choked out, her voice cracking beneath the weight of it. “Because I’m not sure if I know you at all.”
She hurried into the bedroom and slammed the door, locking him out for as long as she needed—maybe longer.
Sam ran down the hallway after her and ended up in front of the door, breathless, helpless. He pressed his forehead to the wood, the threshold that once led to their greatest memories now shutting him out entirely.
“Shit,” he whispered, cursing himself for losing his temper so quickly. For hurting the one person he’d sworn he wouldn’t hurt again.
Sullivan peeked from behind the blanket as Shane got dressed for the day. She watched him quietly, feeling almost like a voyeur studying something precious she wasn’t supposed to touch. His muscular back was toned but soft, the decade of farm work doing him well, each shift of his shoulders familiarizing itself in her memory. When he turned, his hairy chest was outlined by the window’s dripping sunlight, the faint warmth making him look almost golden.
“Like what you see?” he laughed.
“Ten out of ten, no notes,” Sullivan giggled, her cheeks inflamed with a mix of desire and embarrassment. “Do you have to go?” Her voice was muffled beneath the covers, the question slipping out before she could reel it in.
“Unfortunately,” he replied. “Trust me when I say I’d rather be here with you.”
“Liar.” Sullivan stood up and pressed the blanket to her chest. It fell from her sides, leaving the edges of her curves bare. She stood in the pale, fresh spring morning—the warmth of the night before still evaporating from her skin. “Come back to bed.”
“And what will the chickens do if I don’t show up?” Shane walked toward her, stopping as his boot-covered feet stepped onto the bright white fabric.
“To hell with the chickens.” Sullivan lifted her hands to Shane’s shoulders, her fingers gliding to sit around his neck. The blanket fell to the floor, the sound of its fluttering the only detectable noise in the cottage around them.
“I’ll be back soon,” Shane promised, although he wasn’t sure he was swearing to her or himself. “I’ll bring ya dinner.”
“What do I get?” Her breath hit his jawline, warm and impossible to ignore.
“Everything—anything,” he whispered back, careful not to linger too long. “Sully?”
“Hmm?” She released him and scrambled for the blanket. She raised it back up and secured it around her, suddenly shy now that he wasn’t touching her.
Shane backed away, afraid he’d stay if he didn’t leave right then and there. “Be good.”
Sullivan stuck her tongue out at him, tendrils of her light blonde hair falling over her face and chest. She rolled her eyes as the door creaked open, knowing her seduction had fallen flat—and knowing he fled only because giving in would have meant something.
She sighed, maneuvering back to the bed, the plush mattress calling her name. She climbed in, her legs still trembling, and slid into a makeshift cocoon of pillows and comforters. She pushed the old window open on the wall overlooking it, letting the sound of the river rushing after a long winter freeze fill the room.
The morning air, despite its echoing chill, now ran rampant with heat. It ushered a new season in—and maybe with it, a new love.
Ashe tossed her jacket onto a chair beside the door and shuffled her sore feet toward the refrigerator—remembering she had a fresh batch of lemonade waiting.
She hadn’t told many people about her pregnancy, but Gus had caught on around the time she started craving sour lemonade in the middle of winter. He’d obliged every request, wrapped around her finger as always.
The house was dimly lit by the cool mid-afternoon sun, the glow from the fridge spilling over her tired body. A sudden grunt made her jump, a shudder ripping through her. For a moment she thought someone had broken in—or worse, something from the mines had escaped again.
She slowly closed the fridge and cleared her throat. “Hello?” Her voice came out small, stripped of its usual confidence.
“So,” Sam said, leaning back on the sofa with his hands limp beside him. He looked angry—exhausted—like he’d run all the way there.
“What’re you doing here? I was just about to change and head to the city for the show.”
“Fuck the show, Ashe.” Sam shot to his feet. “When were you going to tell me you’re pregnant?”
“I—” The words jammed in her throat. The flicker of fury in his eyes made her shrink. His hair was wild, and his lip was peeling from where he’d picked at it on the way over.
“Ashe, please. Tell me why you hid this from me.”
“Who told you?” she tried.
“Margot called me last night,” he said. “She’s probably the only one you won’t murder for it.”
“She must’ve been worried.” Ashe sighed, closing the distance between them.
“She was. And I am.” He rubbed his face roughly with his calloused hands. His band tee was wrinkled and stretched, like he hadn’t stopped tugging on it since he heard the news.
The guilt settled on her shoulders like concrete. She let out a trembling breath. “Even though I know you—more than I know myself—I was still scared,” she said softly. “Scared you weren’t ready. Not yet.”
“What makes you think that?” Sam asked. “Have I ever given you that impression?”
“No,” Ashe laughed weakly, suddenly suffocated by her oversized sweater. “I was so anxious I had Harvey take my blood to make sure everything was alright.”
“Is something wrong?” Sam placed both hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him.
“Not right now.” She lifted her fingertips to his cheek, brushing lightly across it. He leaned into her touch, the ache in him melting. He had raced home—confused, frantic—and it had all curdled into anger the second he saw her. But now… he could see how tired she was. The way she limped to the fridge. The way lemonade was the only thing she could keep down.
“You can’t suffer alone anymore,” he said quietly. “That’s not what this is. That’s not who we’re gonna be.”
“Okay.” Her voice was small but full of apology. Sam heard everything she couldn’t say. The regret. The fear. The unfairness of trying to shoulder joy and dread alone for the sake of his dream. She didn’t know that his dream lived in their farmhouse bedroom—where he was lucky enough to watch her sleep.
“Can I say hi?” he asked, sliding his hands down her sweater to her stomach. He moved the woven fabric aside and knelt, eye-level with the small, swollen bump.
“Yes.” Ashe laughed through a crack in her voice, tears slipping down her jaw. “Say hi to your daughter.”
Shane hugged her close, their bodies melding into one as they staggered back toward the ranch. Sullivan watched the cows tuck their calves into warm straw for the night, calling out to the moon in gratitude or instinct — she couldn’t be sure.
Shane watched her walk ahead of him, spinning in the light flurries that drifted across the forest beside them.
“Did you like your first Winter Star?” he asked.
“So much fun,” Sullivan said, smiling. “I can’t believe Emily gave me a ruby.” She tapped the leather jacket pocket where she’d tucked the gem.
“Well, I got a bottle of wine from Haley,” he laughed. “Either she doesn’t pay attention or she wants me to relapse.”
Sullivan stopped in her tracks, drawing a sharp breath. “That isn’t funny.” Her voice was stern.
“I personally thought it was,” he teased. “You good?”
She blinked and shook her head, ignoring the sudden memory of every tear Leena had shed over his alcoholism.
“Just… please.” She held up a hand, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached for him. “Don’t joke about that. For me.”
Shane watched the vulnerability seep out of her, dulling the whimsy of their night. He reached for her hand and placed it against his chest. “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m all in,” he said. His tone was steady, like he’d been waiting to confess it. “I’m not risking this over a glass of wine or a mug of beer.”
Sullivan pulled him toward her by his collar and kissed him. She was warm — her mouth parting in soft surrender to his words. He stood frozen for a moment, eyes open while hers stayed shut. Then he wrapped an arm around her waist and nearly lifted her off the ground.
“Oh—shit,” she whispered, pulling back. “I have something for Jas.”
She tightened her beanie and hurried toward the cottage. Shane waited at the ranch fence, listening to the crunch of her steps in the snow.
She returned less than a minute later, holding up a silk bag. “Here.”
“What is it?”
“A bracelet,” Sullivan said. “I just had it lying around. Thought she’d like it.”
Shane opened the rose-toned bag and let the silver bracelet fall into his palm. Under the dim light from the ranch house, he examined the delicate chain and its tiny charms—a flower, a sun, a cow.
“It’s perfect for her,” he said, grinning.
Sullivan kissed him again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She headed toward the overgrown path that led to Ashe’s farmhouse.
“Where are you going?” he called, laughing.
“Ashe looked sad. I’m gonna spend the night there.” She waved, vanishing into the dark.
He looked down at the bracelet in his hand. He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.
It felt familiar.
Almost as if he’d gifted it to someone himself twenty years earlier.
