Page 29 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
Lilith leans forward. “Grief and healing change people, Tate,” she says gently. “Sometimes it twists them up so tight they forget how to be who they used to be. Sometimes…they’re never the same.”
I swallow hard, staring at my hands. They look rough, calloused from fishing.I wonder if I’ll have to go back out fishing and not stay now. I think about what Willa said about never being with a fisherman.
“I feel like I should know what to do with my life. But right now? I don’t,” I admit.
Lilith reaches out and folds her hand over mine, her touch warm and steady.“You’ve been carrying a lot alone, sweetheart.”
That word, a word my mother’s never used for me, nearly undoes me. She never called me anything other than Taters. And now I just hate hearing that. She used to call me that when I meant something to her. And now I don't. So it all feels like a lie. Because she doesn’t care, and it now makes sense that she never did.
She lets the silence stretch before she asks softly, “What do you want, Tate? Do you really want to fish?”
I stare out at the harbor in the distance. My dad’s boat sits tied up out there in the harbor, waiting for me to finish the repairs I’d already started. The thought of spending every day out on that water like I used to…it should feel right. Familiar. But all I feel is a dull ache. The tug that used to pull me out to sea…it feels more like an anchor now. Maybe that's not me anymore and not what I’m supposed to do.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, my voice rough. “I thought I did. But maybe…maybe I don’t.”
Lilith nods slowly, like that’s an acceptable answer. Like not knowing is perfectly fine.
“Do you actually like living in the house?” she asks next, tilting her head. “Are you happy there?”
That catches me off guard. I shake my head before I even think about it. “No.” The word feels like a confession. “It’s not home.”
Lilith smiles gently, her eyes soft, wise, and understanding. “Then you have things to think about,” she says. “You have so many options, Tate. You’re a strong and amazing man.”
The way she says it, like it’s a fact, not a platitude, makes my throat tighten again.
“You can choose anything, honey. You don’t have to stay tied to a past that doesn’t fit anymore. Not for anyone.”
I let her words sink in as we sit together beneath the gazebo with the wisteria cradling us. The breeze stirs the vines, and the wind chimes clink softly in the distance. I look down the street and see familiar faces beginning their days.
Wisteria Cove isfull of memories, yes. But it’s also full of possibility. The townspeople nod and wave as they pass by, their dogs on leashes and arms full of flowers or coffee cups. Even now, when my whole life feels like it’s slipping out from under me, there’s comfort here. This place has always been a safe space for me.
Lilith gives my hand one last squeeze before pulling away, but she doesn’t leave me hanging.“You’re welcome here anytime, Tate. You know that. I love you as a son. I'm sorry your mom doesn't appreciate the joy that she has.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. And I mean it.
The warmth in her gaze feels like a balm I didn’t even know I needed. I sit a little straighter, breathe a little easier.
Maybe I don’t have all the answers yet. Maybe I don’t know what’s next.
But for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel completely lost.
The sun’s setting when I pull up outside the Bennett house, but the place is glowing. String lights twinkle from the porch railings, soft amber against the night, and laughter drifts through the windows, warm and welcoming.
This house feels like the beating heart of Wisteria Cove tonight. I can already smell the sharp tang of tomato sauce, something cheesy and herby in the air, and a hint of fresh-baked dough.
Inside, the chaos is pure joy. Remy Bennett is at the kitchen island tossing dough in the air with exaggerated flair while his youngest brother, Finn, heckles him from the other side of the kitchen island. And smack in the middle of it all is Junie, perched on a stool, legs swinging, her hair full of messy curls, bright eyes wide as she holds a tiny paintbrush in one hand and a bottle of glittery polish in the other.
“Tate’s here!” Junie announces excitedly, like this is the best news of the night, which, honestly, makes my chest ache in the best way.
“Finally!” Finn grins, clapping me on the back as I step inside. “Thought you were gonna bail on pizza night. That's sacrilegious, man.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, setting a six-pack of bottled root beer on the counter for our floats later. I hand Finn the bag of vanilla ice cream and he tucks it in the freezer behind him.
“You’re just in time to witness culinary greatness,” Remy declares, tossing the dough again, narrowly missing the ceiling. Junie squeals in delight while Finn groans and reaches to stop the disaster-in-progress.
“Pizza night is very special, Captain Tate,” Junie says solemnly, her tiny feet swinging, polish brush waving. “That’s what Daddy says. And you should never miss it.”
“Is that so?” I grin, ruffling her curls as I pass.
