Chapter 17 #3
She spins around, eyes lit up like I just handed her a new toy.
“Oh my God. Bacon muffins! I’ve never had a proper tester for savory stuff.
Kitten just eats anything I make and gives me that googly-eyed approval.
And Tempe? She’s sugar-high ninety-nine percent of the time.
She can’t be trusted.” Ria’s practically vibrating now. “You, however, are a gift.”
I laugh softly. “Happy to be your bacon consultant.”
A few minutes later, we’re curled up on opposite ends of the oversized pink couch, legs tucked under us, a plate of muffins between us and mugs of hot chocolate warming our hands.
I dip a muffin in my drink, bite into it, and let out a sound that’s just short of sinful. Buttery, soft, warm. She’s not human. She can’t be. She’s an undercover kitchen deity.
And just like that, I remember someone else who worked magic in the kitchen. Someone who cooked me the most delicious breakfast while glaring at the stove. Who kissed me like I was made to be worshiped — until he used that same mouth to destroy me.
Pain laces through me so suddenly, I can’t hide it.
“Hey,” Ria says gently, her voice softer now. “None of that.”
“None of what?” My voice barely breaks the surface.
“That look in your eyes,” she answers. “You time-traveled back to him, didn’t you? I saw it. You winced like a memory just stabbed you right in the heart.”
I don't speak. The words get stuck behind my ribs, caged with everything else I haven’t let out yet.
“You should talk about him,” she goes on, gently but firm. “Even if it’s just a whisper. Say the memories out loud before they rot inside you. That kind of silence eats you from the inside out.”
I stare at my mug. And suddenly, I can’t keep it in anymore.
“I love him,” I admit. The words feel like knives slicing my throat. “Even after everything. Even after he almost killed me. But I can’t trust him. And love without trust is nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just a pile of shit.”
Ria is quiet for a moment, her eyes cast somewhere distant. Then she takes a muffin from the plate and holds it between her fingers.
“I always thought love is like a blueberry,” she says finally.
“It breaks easily. It can also grow in the wildest of places. And until you take the risk of the bite, you never know what you’re going to get.
Until that blueberry-love lies broken on your tongue, you don’t know if it’s going to be sweet or sour. ”
She turns to look at me, her expression softer now. “Unfortunately for you, your blueberry turned out to be sour. And that taste didn’t just sit on your tongue. It spread, and spread, and spread… until it killed your trust in him.”
How do those words actually make sense?
Ria tilts her head, studying me like she already knows the thoughts I’m trying to avoid. “Trust is the easiest thing to lose, and the hardest to earn back. Almost impossible.” Her voice lowers, heavy with warning. “But he’s going to try. It’s a foregone conclusion.”
I suck in a breath as she leans closer, her finger stopping an inch from my nose.
“He knows where you’re soft. Where you break.
He’s going to press those buttons, Adora.
All of them. With everything he’s got. And when he does, you need to remember the plan.
You just need to repeat to yourself to keep ignoring him.
Just like we practiced.” A smirk spreads on her lips.
“And if he doesn’t back down… well, there are other plans. ”
I sigh, my shoulders sagging. “I don’t care how hard he presses. I can’t unhear the poison he spewed. I can’t unsee the lies he built around me. The fake safety. The fake love. He can swing at my weak spots all he wants. It’ll be a fruitless battle for him.”
I pick up a muffin, tear off a bite. “Actually, it’ll be a blueberry-less battle.”
Ria starts cackling, full-blown witchy-mode, and I chuckle. But inside, my heart shrinks a little more. Stutters and closes in on itself.
Ghost
I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t get a moment of rest or a second to breathe.
Somehow, without even realizing it, I ended up here — sitting on my bike in front of Belladonna Brew like a fucking creep. I just needed to be near her. Even if she doesn’t see me, doesn’t hear me. I needed something.
Tank’s slumped on his bike next to me, half-asleep, chin tucked to his chest like he’s dozing off. He tried making small talk earlier. I didn’t even bother answering. I don’t have the patience to pretend I’m anything close to okay when I’m actually so close to breaking fully.
Something’s crawling under my skin tonight. It’s not anxiety. It’s worse. A knowing. A slow, tightening noose of dread winding around my spine, whispering the one thing I don’t want to hear — You lost her. You lost her and there’s no coming back.
I want to fight that thought. Rip it apart with my bare hands.
But the more I think about my brother — about Bones — the more it festers.
He’s trying so fucking hard with Temperance.
He’s bled for her. Changed. Waited. And she still keeps him at arm’s length like he’s the plague.
I see the desperation in him, quiet and spreading like mold. One of these days, it’ll eat him alive.
And I’m walking the same fucking path.
When the front door of the shop swings open, I sit up, breath locked in my throat — just in case.
It’s Ria.
Fuck.
She steps out into the street light, locks eyes with Tank, and crooks a finger at him like she’s summoning her pet dog. Tank jerks upright, leash yanked, and moves fast toward the shop.
I blink. What the fuck?
Halfway there, he turns, face like thunder.
“Not. One. Word,” he snarls, voice hard.
I raise both palms in surrender. “Not my circus.”
But I’ll be damned if I don’t file this away for later. Because if Bones finds out? And this little playdate messes with Temperance in any way Tank’s going to be pissing blood.
Still, not my problem. I’ve got my own fucking wreckage to sort through.