Page 91 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
Her hand drifts across the table, and I take it. Our fingers lace easily, naturally. Like we’ve done this a hundred times. Like we should’ve been doing this all along.
“You slept hard,” she says.
“You wore me out,” I tease, voice low.
Her eyes sparkle. “Are you complaining?”
“Not even a little.”
I reach across, brushing a crumb from the corner of her mouth with my thumb. She catches my wrist, holds it there for a beat too long, like she doesn’t want to let it go.
“I meant what I said last night,” I tell her. “I will do everything to make you feel safe. I’m not leaving.”
Her smile fades a little. “I just...I’ve waited a long time to feel safe again. Really safe. I don’t want to keep bracing for the goodbye.”
I nod, standing up. I walk around the table and kneel beside her chair. “No more goodbyes.”
Her eyes shine, and she leans forward, pressing her lips to mine. It’s slow and sweet, just like everything else this morning. She tastes like coffee and sunshine.
When we pull apart, she rests her forehead against mine.
“You hungry still?” she asks.
I grin. “Not for food.”
She laughs, soft and breathless and kisses me again. The storm is gone. The world is quiet. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe I don’t have to fight so hard anymore.
It’s Sunday, and the bookstore is closed. We’re curled up on Willa’s couch, under the old quilt with Cobweb asleep on our lap. The bookstore below us is quiet, full of dust motes dancing in the sun and stories.
She’s in my arms, legs tucked under her, her cheek against my chest. And we’re just…here.Still and settled. Breathing the same rhythm.
But I feel her hand resting on my chest, right over my heart. I feel the questions in her fingertips. The things neither of us hassaid yet. The heaviness we keep pretending isn’t there. So I start. Not because it’s easy. But it’stime.
“I have to tell you something,” I tell her softly.
She lifts her head slowly. “What?”
“Old Pete’s sick.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, looking stricken.
I nod, my throat feeling tight. “A few days ago, he came by the tree farm and told me.”
“Oh, Tate…” Her fingers slide into mine.
I stare at the fire. “I’m not sure if he wants everyone to know. But I think after last night, you should know. But maybe he doesn’t know how to tell everyone. Saying it out loud feels like it’s real. And I don’t want it to be real.”
She squeezes my hand. “I hate this. But he doesn’t have to do this alone. I want to be there for him.”
I exhale, shaky and low. The kind that’s been sitting in my lungs for years. “He told me I’d be the one to look after Wisteria Cove when he’s gone.”
Willa’s eyes soften. “He trusts you. And he knows you have a heart even bigger than his.”
“Yeah. Which is insane, right? I’ve done nothing to prove I’m worthy of that trust. I’ve let people down.” I pause, blinking hard. “I thought we’d have more time with him.”
She brushes her thumb across my cheek, and I see a tear streak down her cheek. “I know. I always thought that when I got married, he’d be the one to walk me down the aisle. He told me that he would after my dad died.”
“I want to be present for every minute of this life that I can and be there for those I love,” I say with conviction. No matter what happens, we are all in this together.
