Page 38 of Midnight at the Magnolia

“Answers about what?” Ethan presses, his detective instincts clearly kicking in. I can almost see the pieces falling into place in his mind, like puzzle pieces forming a picture I can’t let him see.

I take a deep breath, centering myself the way Grandma taught me.“Start from the root,”she’d say,“and let the story grow natural-like. Too much pruning makes folks suspicious.”

“Sarah’s killer was never caught. The case went cold.” I meet Ethan’s gaze, letting him see a glimpse of the pain I usually keep hidden. This part, at least, isn’t an act - the grief for Sarah is still raw, even after all these years. “We thought... we thought maybe we could find something the police had missed.”

Alex nods, his expression somber but his eyes dancing with dark amusement. “Celeste was relentless. She wouldn’t rest until she found out the truth.” He pauses, meaningful. “Still hasn’t, have you, Cel?”

The double meaning in his words makes my fingers itch for the vial in my pocket. Grandma always said some weeds need to be pulled before they can spread their seeds. But Ethan’s presence stays my hand, like sunshine burning away morning fog.

“And did you?” Ethan asks softly, his voice gentle in a way that makes something inside me crack. “Find the truth?”

I meet his gaze, and for a moment, I see a future I can’t have. One where I’m just Celeste the waitress, where my hands aren’t stained with herb juice and blood, where I could love him without wondering if he’ll eventually put me in handcuffs.

“No,” I whisper, and it’s both truth and lie, sweet and bitter as nightshade berries. “We never did.”

A heavy silence falls over the table, thick as marsh fog at midnight. I can see Ethan processing this new information, cataloging every micro-expression, every tell.

Grandma’s voice echoes:“Even the cleverest snake leaves a trail in the grass, child. Best make sure yours leads where you want it to.”

After a moment, Alex speaks up again, his voice cutting through the tension like a well-honed blade. “So, Agent Blake, how did you and our Celeste here meet? Somehow I doubt it was over coffee and pie at this charming establishment.” The way he saysour Celestemakes my skin crawl, a reminder of when I was his in more ways than one.

Ethan’s eyes meet mine, a hint of warmth returning to them. The look makes my heart flutter, despite the danger of the situation. Like the first time Grandma showed me how beautiful deadly nightshade could be in bloom. “Actually, it was. I came in for a late-night coffee and Celeste... well, she made quite an impression.”

I feel a blush creep up my neck, remembering our first encounter. The memory of that night—the spark between us, theway Ethan had looked at me—is a bright spot in the darkness of my world. Clean and pure, unlike the toxic romance Alex and I had shared. “Ethan was working a tough case. He looked like he needed more than just coffee.”

“Oh?” Alex’s eyebrows shoot up, his tone dripping with innuendo. His fingers tap a familiar pattern on the table—our old code fordanger approaching.“And what else did our dear Celeste provide? She’s always been so... helpful to law enforcement. Haven’t you, love?”

The implication in his words makes my skin crawl. Like the time I’d accidentally brushed against poison ivy while harvesting moonflower. I open my mouth to retort, but Ethan beats me to it.

“A friendly ear,” he says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He shifts slightly, almost imperceptibly positioning himself between me and Alex. The protective gesture makes something in my chest twist. If he only knew he was trying to protect a viper from another viper. “And some surprisingly insightful advice about the local area. Celeste has been invaluable to my investigation.”

The warmth in Ethan’s voice, the way he defends me without hesitation, makes something inside me ache.

“Some plants grow toward the sun,”Grandma would say,“even when they know the light will burn them.”It’s a reminder of what I could have, if only my past would stay buried where I left it.

Along with Alex’s supposed corpse.

Alex’s smile turns predatory, his eyes glinting with malice. “I’m sure she has. Our Celeste always did have a knack for... inserting herself into interesting situations. Particularly with law enforcement.” He leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Did she ever tell you about her time in Chicago, Agent Blake? Now that was an interesting situation.”

The mention of Chicago makes my blood freeze. I grip my coffee mug tightly, my knuckles turning white with the effort of keeping my composure. The memory of that hotel room, of Alex’s body hitting the floor, of the kiss that should have killed him—it all comes rushing back like flood waters breaking through a levy.

“I just try to help where I can,” I interject, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside. “This city... it’s been good to me. I want to give back.”

Grandma’s words surface:“The most dangerous garden looks just like any other, until you know what to look for.”

“How noble,” Alex drawls, sarcasm dripping from every word like dewdrops from angel’s trumpet. “Such a change from the angry young woman I knew. Tell me, Celeste, does Agent Blake here know about the time you?—”

“I think that’s enough reminiscing for one day,” I cut in sharply, my voice tight with barely contained anger. Like oleander in full bloom: beautiful, deadly, and impossible to contain. “Some stories are better left in the past, don’t you think, Alex?”

Our eyes lock in a silent battle of wills.

Five years ago, I’d watched those same eyes glaze over as my poison took hold. Yet here he sits, very much alive, a ghost come back to haunt me. The air between us crackles with tension, thick enough to cut with the knife hidden in my boot.

“If you say so, Cel.” Alex shrugs, but the glint in his eyes tells me this is far from over. “But you know what they say about the past... it has a way of catching up with you. Like vines creeping up a wall, wouldn’t you agree?”

The reference to Grandma’s teachings—her warnings about invasive species and the damage they can do—isn’t lost on me. The threat in his words is clear, sending a chill down my spine.I feel Ethan tense beside me, his investigator’s instincts clearly picking up on the undercurrent of danger.

“Well,” Ethan says, his tone deceptively casual, “it seems like you two have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe we could continue this another time? I’d love to hear more about your... shared history.”

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