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“I’m sorry I didn’t try to help sooner,” Florence replied.

But Evie shook her head. “You were hurting, just like I was. We dealt with what Mom did to us in our own ways. I can’t rush your healing.”

Florence’s tears fell harder. “And I can’t rush yours.”

“Thank you for not letting me turn out like Mom,” Evie said through tears of her own.

But Florence shook her head. “You were never going to be like her.”

“The candle—”

“No.” Florence cut her sister short. “You wanted to protect us. To keep us safe. Mom wanted to hold on to her magic, even at the cost of losing Dad. She could’ve put an end to this. She didn’t have to light that candle.”

Evie sighed, disappointment in her voice. “I still should’ve told you about the spell.”

“We’re not looking back anymore,” Florence said, resolved. “It’s time to move forward.”

She waved Owen and Angela over, and they came to join them on the floor, Angela taking up the spot on the other side of Evie and Clara, and Owen settling in next to Florence. He draped his arm over Florence’s shoulder, and she rested her head against his chest.

The rain slowed, and the clouds parted. Moonlight fell through the hole in the ceiling, bathing them in its soft light. They sat that way, crying and hugging and feeling the house all around them until dawn raised its head on the horizon, turning the sky the soft blue that heralded morning.

“We need to get started on the spell,” Evie said.

The floorboards started to shake.

“Not that spell.” Florence pressed a hand to the floor. “We’re going to do a cord cutting, severing our bond so when the siphoning spell ends, it’s only your magic that will fade.”

The shaking stopped, but the lights in the room dimmed.

“You’ve done so well.” Evie’s voice was heavy with tears. “You kept us safe. You hid Mom’s spell from us so there would be no more siphoning. We’ll take it from here.”

“Why don’t Owen and I go get some breakfast while the two of you work?” Angela asked.

“No cooking in this kitchen,” Evie said.

“I was thinking muffins from my parents’ coffee shop,” Angela said.

“And pumpkin spice lattes,” Owen said. “For Florence’s birthday.”

All eyes turned on Florence.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Evie said, a hand over her mouth.

With everything going on, Florence had forgotten, too. “You’re not the only one.”

“I can’t believeyou’rethe one who remembered,” Evie said to Owen. To Florence she said, “I think you might want to keep him.”

“I think I just might.” Florence looked up into Owen’s eyes. “Make my drink a double.”

“You’ve got it,” he said. Then, he pressed his lips to her cheek, feather light. The feel of his kiss unwound what remained of her fear. For so long she’d put up a wall between herself and the world around her, afraid someone would get hurt simply because she’d come to care for them. But she didn’t need to fear love. Not then, not now, not ever again.

As Owen started to pull away, Florence turned her head, catching his mouth with hers. His lips parted in surprise, then answered in equal measure. It was a soft kiss, a moment of acknowledgment of this new and beautiful thing that had started to burn between them, and a promise of a fire that would grow even brighter in the days to come.

Florence was the first to pull away, her cheeks flushed and her heart full. Owen’s eyes lingered on hers, his lips tilted up in a smile that, finally, Florence let herself return.

“If you’re looking for a full-time job, I could always use a little more help around here,” Evie said.

“But first, breakfast,” Angela said. She glanced around them. “Do you think you’ll be safe up here?”