Page 73 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
“Willa!” someone calls, and I spin around to see Donna waving from a folding chair, thermos in hand, lipstick perfectly applied, pencil behind her ear, like she’s ready to reign as queen of Wisteria Cove. “That banner needs more work. You want it to feel like it's screamingcelebration, notgrocery store clearance event!”
“On it,” I call back, trying not to laugh.
I grab the twine and pull it tighter, standing on tiptoes to reach the lantern string. The bookstore behind me smells like cinnamon sticks from the simmer pot I’ve had simmering on the stove since dawn. Tate and I have been staying there together, tucked up in the little apartment above the shelves, and I swear it's feeling more like home than anywhere else ever has. Sure, we're cramped, but I feel like it's cozy.
Tate's childhood home is officially on the market. It’s had a few showings already, and rumor has it an offer’s coming in. Finn Bennett’s name has been suspiciously tossed around the real estate grapevine. When I asked him, he just shrugged and acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.
Honestly? I hope it’s Finn who buys it. As a contractor, I can only imagine what he would do with the place. He'd honor it the way it should be honored. That place isn't home to Tate, and he's not even sad about it. He seems like he's relieved, to be honest. I just wish his mom hadn't handled it the way she has.
I turn to help Rowan with her table, and I watch Tate mingle with people. My knees and heart practically melt when I see him laughing with Old Pete.
They’re by the fire pit now, Pete telling some old story, Tate listening with his full body like it matters. Like the moment deserves all of him.
And that’s the thing.He gives all of himself to whatever he does and whoever he’s with. He’s the best.To me, this town, and to everyone.
And I can’t help but feel like…this is what safe feels like.Not boring. Not perfect.Safe.A flutter of emotion wells up, and I don’t know if it’s love or fear or both.Because the other shoe always drops, right?It’s just a matter of time. I don't want to think this could happen, but if I expect less, I won't get hurt.
Later, it’s just the two of us after the last lantern is hung and the finishing touches are on everything, and everything is prepared for tomorrow.
The trees are still lit. The bookstore glows behind us.
And I’m on the top step, arms full of tangled twinkle lights, when Tate says, “Let me.”
He takes them from me, easily untangling them like it’s nothing. We string them across the trees just outside the bookstore, the light catching on the last yellow leaves, the wind soft and chilly.
I don’t realize I’m swaying a little until he catches my hand.
“Dance with me,” he says.
“But there’s no music.”
“There doesn’t need to be.”
I slip into his arms like I belong there. He smells like apples, autumn wind, and pine from working at the tree farm the day before. His hands settle on my hips like they’ve been waiting for me all day.
We sway.
Just the two of us. Lanterns glowing above. The town quiet around us.
“This is my favorite version of you,” Tate says softly.
“Messy hair, and cider breath?”
“Exactly. You in your world. Doing what you love. I love seeing you happy.”
I look up at him. “You’re part of that world now.”
His smile falters, just for a heartbeat, but then it’s back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
We stop dancing. But we’re still close.
I look at his mouth.
He looks at mine.
And suddenly, we’re not swaying anymore. We’rekissing.Hard. Hungry.His hand cups the back of my neck, pulling me in, and I thread my fingers into his jacket like I’ll never let him go.
