Chapter 17
Ethan
Honey was nearly a head shorter than Trent, but that didn’t deter her at all.
They were standing on the grass of the Town Green, surrounded by folding chairs and nosy neighbors who were definitely listening.
As satisfying as it was to watch Trent’s face slowly redden like a sunburn, this wasn’t the place.
In all likelihood, Honey would’ve won the verbal sparring match, but Ethan wanted the damn goats, and that meant keeping things civil.
“Listen, man,” Ethan said. “I’m not here to start trouble. I’m just in the market for some goats.”
“From what I hear,” Trent said, his smile as slow and sharp as a rusted nail, “you can’t even afford the feed.”
He should’ve known he couldn’t hide his financial situation in a town like this. In Brim’s Hollow, gossip traveled faster than wildfire and burned just as hot. One rumble of a repossession truck through town and the next second the whole town knew about it.
Trent, sensing the opening, pressed on. “Thing is, some of us have to earn what we get. We don’t just coast along, inheriting land and thinking that makes us a farmer. Marrying into magic and telling yourself it makes you special.”
Ethan gritted his teeth. He told himself to let it go. They were in public. There were children. Somewhere behind him, he could hear the faint clatter of laughter and conversation—safe, small-town noise that didn’t deserve to be interrupted by old grudges.
Between the two of them, he’d always been the one to walk away.
Back in school, Trent had a reputation as the kid always carrying a chip on his shoulder.
He was too proud to admit he wanted to belong, and too angry to let anyone forget he didn’t.
As soon as Trent was old enough to throw a punch, he’d tried to prove something, but to Ethan, he was nothing more than the kid brother of the woman he’d marry.
When Ethan and Leticia got serious, Trent never stopped whispering in her ear, saying Ethan was only with her for the magic.
Which was funny, really, because in the end, the magic was the very thing that tore them apart.
“I never coasted through a damn day in my life,” Ethan said, trying to keep his voice even. “I worked for everything I have. I’m working my ass off to keep this orchard going while raising my daughters. I stayed.”
Even when your sister walked out.
But Trent wasn’t done.
“You always had everything handed to you.” His voice curled with bitterness. “That farmhouse. That land. Hell, even that car. What was it, that old Camaro? That was yours before you were even old enough to drive.”
Ethan stared at him, and for a split second, despite the adult face in front of him—the squared jaw, the creased brow, the sharp edge to his mouth—he could still see the boy everyone used to whisper about.
The one who showed up at school with yesterday’s clothes and a bruise he wouldn’t talk about.
The one who hurtled into rooms with fists flying because it was the only language he knew.
That anger hadn’t gone anywhere. It had just learned how to wear a grown man's face.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
Ethan didn’t have much these days. The bills stacked up. The tractor broke more often than it ran. And he was only a few weeks away from having to make some real hard calls about what stayed and what went.
Even now, Trent stood here, practically vibrating with resentment and still trying to get under his skin, because Ethan had something he never did.
Roots.
It wasn’t about the car or magic or land.
Ethan had a name that still carried weight in Brim’s Hollow. A family history that meant something. A home that, no matter how battered or broken, had never once slipped out from under his feet.
He had a life built on something real, even if it was worn thin and patched with duct tape.
He let out a breath, slow and steady, then looked Trent dead in the eye.
“I’ll sell you the car,” he said.
Trent’s eyebrows ticked up, surprise flickering just long enough to register before he masked it.
“You’ve wanted it for years,” Ethan went on. “You know what it’s worth. Two goats and thirty-five hundred. It’s fair.”
“Ethan.” Honey’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, her voice softer than the tension in her grip. “I don’t think that’s a fair trade. You should at least get an appraisal. We should run the numbers and think this over.”
Ethan glanced at her, just for a second. Her concern was visible in her eyes, but his attention snapped back to Trent, who chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. Ethan knew better.
Trent wanted that car. Always had.
“You know what,” Trent said, putting his hand out. “Deal.”
But before Ethan could move, Honey grabbed his wrist and pulled it back. “No deal.”
She positioned herself in front of him. “You can’t just sell your car on a whim and a handshake.”
“It’s just a car.” Ethan shrugged, though his heart pounded in his chest like it knew better.
It was so much more than a car. It was decades of memories.
It was the car he’d learned to drive in.
The one his grandma used to let him steer down the gravel road, knuckles white with concentration.
It was the same car he’d driven Leticia to the hospital in when she was nine months pregnant, both of them sweating and bickering because the A/C only worked when you hit the dashboard just right.
He’d spent an entire afternoon trying to figure out how to secure a car seat in the back, hands fumbling and his whole life shifting under his feet.
It had rust in the corners, the radio only played one station, and he had to jiggle the key to get the engine to turn, but it had stayed with him through everything.
“You’re sure?” Honey asked.
“Yeah,” he said softly.
But he wasn’t sure.
He wasn’t sure about much these days. He didn’t have a choice.
The bills weren’t waiting. The repairs weren’t getting cheaper.
Selling the car was inevitable. At least this way, it would be fast. Not painless, but maybe over quickly enough that he wouldn’t feel the full weight of it until it was already done.
Honey must have seen the shift in his face, because she stepped forward, slipping into the space between him and Trent. “It’s not for sale.”
Trent’s expression soured. “Then no goats.”
For a breath, the sharp pull of consequences tightened like a noose around his neck. He should just get it over with. But before he could say anything, Honey snapped into motion.
She didn’t raise her voice. She simply adjusted her stance, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and turned to Trent like she was about to audit his entire existence.
“I’m well aware of your goat problem,” she said.
Trent narrowed his eyes. “What goat problem?”
Honey just hummed, and the corner of her mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.
Ethan’s heart lifted. She had a plan. Even if he didn’t know what it was, just knowing she was taking the reins gave him a strange kind of peace.
She smiled sweetly. “The one where you’re overstocked, nearing pasture limits, and can’t offload the extras without raising questions about how you’re managing such impossible profits without using magic.
I’m sure if I include it in my report, the bureau would not only flag your operation for being outside requirements, but I presume, if they took a closer look at your operation, there might be some questions about how you manage without violating the rules of magic as a non-anchor house. ”
His jaw flexed.
“Knowing all that, well, it’s probably best if three goats quietly find a new home by next week.”
He sneered at her. “You want me to give you my goats?”
“I want to help you solve a logistics issue,” she said sweetly. “We’ll take three—gentle, socialized, no health flags—and feature them in the petting zoo at the festival. Your name on the signs, Trent. Your goats making kids happy. It’s basically free PR.”
He didn’t answer. Ethan didn’t even know what the hell she was talking about, but the satisfaction of watching Trent blink, caught off guard for the first time maybe ever, was sweeter than any pie in the bake-off.
She leaned in, lowering her voice. “And this town loves a man who contributes. Especially a man who solves problems before they become headlines.”
Trent thought about it, but Ethan already knew the way it would go. He hadn’t asked Honey to step in, but damn if he didn’t like the way she did it.
“Fine.” Trent sniffed. “I’ll have the boys drop ‘em off in a couple days. They need weaning.”
Ethan’s jaw dropped. There was something surgical about Honey’s execution. Clean and cold and weirdly elegant, like the emotional equivalent of a scalpel. She hadn’t puffed up or lost her temper. She’d just looked a grown man in the eye and dressed him down.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Honey said, turning on her heel with a smile she didn’t bother to hide.
Ethan felt a lightening in his chest. It wasn’t pride exactly. Not attraction, though it might have been partially that. Just a stunned appreciation for a woman who could walk into his life, see it falling apart, and still act like he was worth defending.
Ethan felt a ridiculous urge to skip across the grassy field. Just flat-out kick his heels and run like he’d won something. Which, he supposed, he had.
Then Honey stopped short. “Oh, god. Did I overstep?” she asked, her voice suddenly tight with worry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. When you asked me to come, I thought you wanted my help, but maybe I pushed too hard. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you or—”
“Honey.”
That one word stopped her spiral. He stepped forward slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You really just got us three goats for free? From Trent?” His voice cracked into a disbelieving laugh. “I can’t even believe it.”
Before he could stop himself—before he even thought about stopping himself—he wrapped her in a hug so fast it knocked the breath out of both of them.
“Mr. Hale,” she said, half-laughing and half-scolding.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking into a full grin as he spun her around.
Honey froze for a second, just one heartbeat, before she melted into it. He was laughing, joy erupting inside him. The sound rumbled through his chest, and her cheek pressed into his shoulder.
“I mean, you—you threatened him?” he said, grinning into her hair as he spun her around. “You regulation-wielding menace.”
“I didn’t threaten. I negotiated.”
He set her down gently, his hands lingering at her waist as he looked at her like she’d just given him Christmas morning and his birthday all at once. His smile was wide, and when she smiled back at him, his heart wobbled a little.
“Either way,” he said, breathless and still beaming, “thank you. Thank you. Thank you. The girls are going to be thrilled. Let’s celebrate with some pie.”
They started toward the table again, but just before they reached it, Ethan spotted Juniper Marrow watching from the sidelines, one brow arched like she’d been grading them both.
Honey followed his gaze. “Who’s that?”
“Clover’s sister, Juniper. She runs the school,” he added, his voice dipping low. “Handles students who need…special attention.”
“Special…” Honey repeated, and then he watched as the understanding lit her eyes. “Oh. Witches.”
He nodded once.
And for a second, he wanted to tell her everything.
All the odd and sacred corners of this place.
She already knew it wasn’t just a baking competition, just like Brim’s Hollow wasn’t just a sleepy little town with colorful characters.
This was a haven. A place where magic wore gingham and boots and danced among the people.
The town was like a page out of a very charming spellbook, and he had the sudden urge to open the whole thing and hand it to her.