Chapter Thirty-One
With the fundraiser starting in mere hours, we shimmied into dirty, damp clothes (my dress half-tied with a stray lace since Laken had ripped the back last night), grabbed two pig cages, and scuttled downstairs faster than Benedict bolted for the gate.
The metal of the cages jingled against us as we ran, piling everything into the back of the cart and diving into the front seats.
Sweaty, messy hair left my face as we rode, my bare feet were covered in a new layer of grainy sand, and my once-chaos-filled mind had but one worry left to solve: the fundraiser.
I’d saved as much money as I could. I’d sold healing cream, I’d sold hellblazer eggs, I’d gone to markets, I’d literally smuggled magical creatures out of an illegal auction.
We were so close, yet it still felt far.
Laken and I didn’t say much on the way back. My mind became too cluttered and stressed with things out of my control. All Laken did, and all I needed, was his hand covering mine with the stroke of his thumb over my skin.
Springtime had begun to slip from the world, losing its battle as summer drew closer.
I could hardly find the crisp breeze in the early morning winds.
Despite the storm last night, the morning brought scattered white clouds and soft, gentle rays of sun to dry the puddles left behind.
The wind must’ve picked up during the night because branches had fallen over the streets.
Laken hopped out to move them quickly, and before we knew it, we’d passed the old wood-and-stone sign reading: Honey Brooke.
After he dropped me off at the house, we shared a quick goodbye and hurried to get ready after settling the pigs into their new enclosure. The town would be quite disappointed if I, the charity case, came late to my own event. I tossed the front door open to find Maggie staring at me.
She wore a pale-orange dress, tight over her chest with a thin tied bow on the top and buttons trailing down her ribs. Perfectly ready and put together, as usual. After a minute of gawking, her eyes widened. Then narrowed. She took a step back and tilted her head.
“I don’t know if I want details,” she started, “or to know anything at all.” Her tone left the answer up in the air for debate.
“Well”—I moved past her for the stairs—“you can decide later, we’re going to be late!”
“You’re going to be late,” she corrected. “I guess it’s a long story, then?”
I peeked my head around the corner of my room upstairs, naked and hiding everything but my face. “A long story indeed.”
Maggie frowned and whined, “Fine, but hurry up!”
For future self: when Faye Augustus offers to throw a fundraiser and plan everything—let her.
By the time Maggie and I strolled up to the town square, we hardly recognized it.
Booths lined the edges of the field all the way around, offering everything from Ruth’s pies to Harold’s fishing lures.
The sweet smell of banana cream warmed my soul, and I felt my body floating about, only to be tethered back by the crisp blackberry apple.
We’d always joked about how Ruth had her way of working magic into pies, but I’d begun to believe they weren’t jokes at all. My mouth watered just walking by.
Behind our little ivy-covered town, the sun hung in the sky, spilling its golden haze over us and painting Honey Brooke in its image.
A sunset fundraiser was Faye’s idea, too; she said the last hours of the day curated the “feeling” of our home.
And I’d say she was right about that. A place to settle before night.
A place to return to. A place to celebrate one another.
Maeve lifted the flower ceiling she’d picked up from us earlier. Maggie’s beautiful bouquets were spotted everywhere, around tables, the dance floors, the donation station. Her arrangements of hydrangeas and… baby’s breath.
“You used baby’s breath? But those are my—” My voice caught in my throat, barely speaking at all.
From my periphery, her lips curled. “Your favorites? Yeah.” She paused. “I think they belong today.”
They belong.
Maybe she was right. Maybe my filler flowers and I had finally found somewhere we were more than just there. Maggie tugged on my arm where hers looped through it. “Oh, everything looks perfect, Reece.”
My stomach coiled. Looks good enough to solve all of my problems? I sure hoped so. My hair would start turning gray soon if I didn’t get my shit paid off. Was it enough to get my shit together?
The benders would arrive soon, the same water whizzes as usual, I assumed.
The noise rose as local troubadours marched in, instruments in hand and strumming simultaneously.
Children ran under banners and around adults, their laughter vivid and lively.
With nothing but joy and happiness surrounding me, why did my ribs tighten in on my chest?
My heartbeat picked up. Would tonight be enough to pay the commissioner? What would I do if it wasn’t?
“Oh, troubled tulips!” Maggie shouted, and before I could react, “He’s got the bouquet upside down!” She sprinted off, shouting a mixture of chants and waving her arms.
Which left me stranded there like a stray puppy.
At least I’d dressed better than a stray puppy, wearing a dark gray gown with sheer off-the-shoulder sparkling sleeves.
The top corset was sheer too, but because of the flower embroidery, my skin didn’t show too much—I’d be the talk of the town if it did.
I could hear the whispers: “Reece McCarthen showed up to her own event looking a bit… desperate.”
To be fair, I did feel desperate.
At least under my dress were my boots (considering my dress shoes were ruined).
And under my boots were frilly socks because I figured if I had to be stressed, I might as well be stressed in frilly socks embroidered with frogs.
Plus, I could run away easier in these, if need be.
My brown wavy hair blew from my face as I remained frozen, some strands stuck to my lips and in my lashes.
“Reece!”
My soul left my skin, leaping from it as hands grabbed my shoulders from behind, only to find Faye’s strawberry blond hair by my side. “Gods,” I breathed, taking one look at her pinched expression to know she needed me for something. “Faye, do you need any help?”
Faye stared at me for a moment, and whatever she saw in my post-scared eyes, she blinked it away. “Yes, thank you. Goldie keeps…” her words continued. And continued. And continued.
Note to future self: if you ask Faye if she needs help, be sure to bring a gallon of water and a hair tie because she’ll put you to work.
My fingers cramped from the hundreds of ribbons she asked me to curl, but I welcomed the distraction.
Before I knew it, the whole town encircled the dance floor and Faye stood front and center, meaning one thing—speech time.
If my stomach had hands, that bitch knew how to fight.
Tugging, twisting, and tormenting me until I considered having to run off for the nearest lavatory…
I closed in on the crowd, standing toward the back where, fortunately, nobody paid attention to me.
Faye wasn’t in my sight, being as I stared into the backs of whoever stood in front, but the emotion in her words could be detected by any living creature within the vicinity with the ability to hear.
“It’s no secret to this town that I’m getting older; most of you have been around long enough to see it happen.
” She trailed off and a few laughs sputtered from others.
“But don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to be this old, for now.
It’s given me the chance to watch parts of this family grow, break, and come back together.
I’ve seen our children leave and explore the world on their own.
” Okay, call me out. “And I’ve seen them come home.
” Faye’s voice cracked, and I remembered I wasn’t the only one who’d left.
It turned out Faye and I had at least one thing in common: our wounds and who’d inflicted them.
“And that’s what tonight is about. We are a community—a family—and when one of us needs the rest, we will be there to answer.
The McCarthen sanctuary has been a vital part of Honey Brooke as long as I have.
I remember when Mr. Jones got his rear stabbed by one of his bulls, and what saved him?
McCarthen’s healing cream.” While I sank into my skin and bones at the mention of our name, others laughed with the memories it brought.
“And when you wake up on the weekends and want breakfast? The hellblazer eggs are a lifesaver, especially if your wife wants them.” Or your neighbor.
It’d be a lie if I said my eyes didn’t water. So many tales, laughs, and remember whens.
I’d left Honey Brooke three years ago feeling vulnerable, alone, and raw. I’d never expected to return and feel protected, supported, and healed. The rest of Faye’s speech drifted around me as I realized how much these people had already helped me.
Mr. Wilson, the special edition he’d kept, his generosity and kindness to a kid lost in life but found in books.
Faye Augustus and her teenage-girl survival guidance to a kid without a mother’s love.
Ruth and Harvey’s love, pastries, and everything in between.
The parents who’d paid me to act as a warrior princess for their daughter’s birthday when I had zero experience. All of the ones standing around, money spent and donations made, to help me. Me? Out of all the people.
I hadn’t been alone after all. Home found me along the way, I just needed to grow into it. I knew then, I’d found that something missing.
“She loves a good speech, doesn’t she?” A voice. Mint and honey. The shadow feeling of a hand around my waist. Laken.
“I suppose.”
It wasn’t silence that cascaded around us, but it felt similar.
Like when there are so many noises around you—and in your head—that you actually can’t hear any of them.
It sounded like a rambling, cacophonous mess.
Clamorous. Stertorous. Clattering, thundering noises whirled around my mind, blurring the world around me as—
“Will you dance with me?”
As clarity struck.
I debated it. “The prodigal son?”
Laken’s lips curled into a crooked smirk. “And the golden child of Honey Brooke, herself.”
My cheeks burned from restraint. I took his hand and followed each step. “The rumors will fly.”
When Laken turned over his shoulder, his eyes shined and glimmered. I prayed he wouldn’t stop looking at me like that. “Let them.”
We passed by the benders and I paused, yanking him back with me. Flames flowed over their fingers, moving like flares stripped from the stars. My jaw dropped. “They… they got—”
“Fire benders,” Laken interjected.
But I didn’t request them. They weren’t Faye’s normal go-tos. The only person I’d mentioned it to was… “You didn’t, did you?”
“I might’ve mentioned something.” He fought back a smirk, pulling me along and leaving the benders behind us.
And I followed. My hand fit in Laken’s as if it were made for me. We stepped onto the dance floor; the night sky engulfed the world around as flowers hung overhead.
He slid his arms behind me, and I wrapped mine around his neck, knowing he’d be the first thing I thought of every morning for the rest of my life. I felt it in my body, in the silence, in the dark. So many things I wanted to say, but—
“I would’ve waited,” I said.
A furrow pinched between his brows. “What?”
“I would’ve waited, you know,” I explained. “Whether I wanted to or not. I’ve done it for the past three years because one way or another, Laken, it was always you.”
Music flowed around us, soft and gentle like a flower petal on the breeze. He reeled back, glancing around as his lips tightened. “You know the whole town is watching,” he teased.
Biting my lips, I nodded. “Whatever should we do?”
As if I’d said exactly what he wanted me to, his brows rose. “Give them a show?”
“Only if it’s enough to be the talk for more than a day.”
With a golden smile as bright as the sun, Laken tilted his head back—dimples and all.
His hands gripped my waist, almost as if he thought he’d never touch my skin again.
When his lips pressed against mine, again and again, I knew he did think that.
He savored the taste of me on his lips like it was served from the heavens.
And I memorized the feel of his chest, the warmth of his kiss, and the comfort of his hold.
I’d need to remember it for as long as he was gone. But it wasn’t hard; the feeling of home never truly faded. Standing with Laken’s arms around me, surrounded by people who loved us—there was nowhere else I’d rather be than home.