Chapter 35
Ethan
Seeing her was a blow to the chest. His whole body reacted before his brain could catch up. His heart had known she was coming before his eyes confirmed it. “Honey,” he said, breathless, like it had been him who’d jogged over.
She faltered only a moment before she flung herself at him. When she did, he caught her instinctively, arms wrapping around her. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled like a man who’d been underwater too long and finally broke the surface.
“I was hoping I would see you,” he said into her hair.
God, it was all he had thought about. These past few days, with the town rallying around him, with neighbors writing letters, filing appeals, and signing petitions, it had felt like hope.
But every time he caught that flicker of hope, it came with the hollow awareness that she wasn’t there to see it.
He’d kept searching her out without meaning to, turning toward the driveway when another car pulled up, listening for her laugh when the kitchen filled with voices, finding himself leaning in Melly’s doorway at night like he might catch a glimpse of her.
And now she was here, warm and solid in his arms.
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, and the space between them felt suddenly unbearable.
“I wasn’t going to come,” she admitted, looking up at him.
“What changed?”
“I saw you standing here. And I just—” She laughed quietly. “I ran out of my office.”
Ethan smiled. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”
“I am a deeply logical person.”
“Right. That’s why you threw yourself into a mud puddle to avoid a snake and leaped into a well to save a goat.”
“I stand by both of those decisions.”
They laughed, and for a split second, Ethan could almost pretend they were in a different story entirely.
One where they were just visiting the city she loved.
One where they stood at the well where she’d spent the last decade of her career and the magic was just background noise to the real story, their story.
A story where he would confess that he was in love with her, and she’d tell him that she’d never stopped thinking about him.
That she wanted to be his.
They’d kiss and he’d finally believe that magic and love could exist for him.
But it wasn’t their romantic moment.
They were mere minutes from a review session that would leave Ethan and his girls without their home. He’d done everything he could, and it still might not be enough.
As if sensing the drop in his mood, she stepped back. “Where are the girls?”
“They’re in there with Marlene.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I just needed a minute.”
“So no one else came?” she asked.
“Nope. Just us.”
“Were you going to make a wish?”
Ethan glanced down at his hand where a single coin glinted in his palm. The ridiculousness of it all nearly made him laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve never wished before,” he said. “Felt like cheating. Or admitting I was in over my head.”
The truth was, he’d never trusted wishes.
Wishing meant surrendering control and relying on something outside himself.
He had spent so long being the one holding it all together that letting go, even for a second, felt dangerous.
But standing here with her, he couldn’t deny the sharp edge of desperation that had crept in.
He wanted a future for his daughters. He wanted the orchard alive and full of laughter again.
And deep down, he wanted Honey to see that he hadn’t let it beat him.
“We were so damn close,” he whispered. “The business from opening day alone was going to dig us out of the hole. Brody and Tammy both asked for birthday parties. One of the Fitch boys wants to propose in the orchard next spring. Juniper wanted to book a field trip.”
He shook his head, pressing the coin into his fist as if he could hold the whole dream together that way. There was so much possibility, and now it all balanced on the edge of a single decision made behind closed doors.
He exhaled, the fight settling in his bones.
Gently, she took his hand, opened up his fist and took the coin from his hand.
“It’s time,” she said quietly, slipping the coin into her pocket. “Let’s do this.”
The review chamber smelled like mildew and bureaucracy. Ethan led her to a long, narrow room with flickering fluorescent lights and walls lined in pale gray tile that made everything look a little washed out.
He took his spot in the front row and, and before he could ask Honey to sit beside him, she squeezed into the second row with the girls and Marlene.
At the far end of the room sat a panel of three bureau officials. They looked like robots with matching pale suits and expressionless faces. One tapped a long quill against the desk with metronomic precision.
“Call to order the review session of Case File 784.12B,” the lead official droned, “pertaining to the Hale Orchard of Hudson County. Review conducted to determine valid stewardship of enchanted agricultural land under subsection Epsilon-3 of the Magical Land Management and Protection Act.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened until it ached. This wasn’t just some case file. This was their home, and they had already reduced it to a cold docket number.
He sat tall and opened his binder in front of him. He’d spent half the night rehearsing what he’d say, but it all slipped through his mind under their scrutiny. “I’m not sure if you received notice, but I have a petition here from—”
The lead official lifted a hand, silencing him.
“Oh, we’ve received your many letters.” His lips curled into something of a smirk.
“We’ve received all of them, in fact. Despite the…
abundance of correspondence from your neighbors, which has clogged the county’s postal system.
Not to mention the incessant daily calls and the parade of handwritten appeals.
It is, if nothing else, remarkable how your little town rallies around you. ”
A ripple of robotic laughter passed between the three panel members.
Ethan’s throat burned. The town had done that for him and for his girls.
Every letter was hope sealed in an envelope.
Every phone call was someone refusing to give up.
He’d walked into his kitchen each morning to see Poppy fill his bag with letters people had written overnight.
He’d watched the sidewalks fill as people went door to door for signatures and ended up with more volunteers.
He should’ve felt proud. Instead, here it was being dismissed like a nuisance.
It didn’t work. His ears buzzed like the sound of cicadas swelling until it drowned out his own thoughts.
“I’ve been maintaining the land for thirteen years,” he forced out. “The audit was completed. The wishing well has been sealed properly in accordance with section…” He flipped through his binder. “Delta-9-C of the Magical Site Restoration Code.”
The woman in the center adjusted her glasses, peering down at him as though he were something tracked in on the soles of her shoes. “And what of the ley lines?”
“The primary ley line stems from the Marrow clan,” Ethan answered, carefully, precisely. He’d rehearsed this part until the words were rote.
“And of the additional source,” the man on the left said, his voice flat and bored, as though this entire ordeal were little more than a formality he’d rather be done with. “The additional ley line convergence.”
Ethan swallowed once, then again, the words scraping their way out. “That magic came from my ex-wife. From Leticia Westbrook.” He paused. “But she no longer lives there.”
The woman snapped her folder closed with a sharp crack. “We are not in the business of family dramas, Mr. Hale. This is about legality and proper stewardship. Unless you can produce a valid argument, this review will proceed.”
It was like being flayed open in public. Every sacrifice, every long night of tending both orchard and children, dismissed with a sneer. He could feel Honey behind him, her presence a live wire, and his embarrassment burning hot.
And then, before he could gather another word, she rose abruptly and rushed for the door. The sound of it closing behind her was louder than any gavel.