Chapter 8 June #3
Willa blew out a breath, then took a sip of wine like she needed it to keep herself from saying something worse.
“Look,” she said, her voice still tight, “you’re entitled to your past. I know you had a life before Dad.
But this is a small town and things like this…
” She gestured vaguely, frustration simmering.
“They blow up. A heads-up would’ve been good.
And I’m pretty sure Rad didn’t know either. ”
“No, he didn’t,” June admitted quietly.
Willa’s gaze narrowed. “So why didn’t you tell us?”
June’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to say it, not like this, not when Willa was angry and hurt, and the whole day already felt like a disaster.
“Sweetheart,” June began, choosing her words carefully, “Holt and I talked about it this morning. We were going to invite you and Rad to lunch to discuss it.” She nodded toward Willa’s phone on the counter. “I sent you a message, but then Teacups burned down, and everything went haywire.”
Willa picked up her phone, scrolled, and her expression shifted slightly when she saw the message. “Oh,” she said quietly. “You did invite me to lunch.”
“Yes,” June said. “You and Rad. Holt and I were going to tell you.”
Willa stared at her for a long moment, then asked the next question, the one June had been dreading. “Why did you two get divorced?”
June’s heart jolted again. Her fingers tightened on the pickle jar.
“We were young,” June said softly. “We were still in college. We had big dreams, and we didn’t understand what our careers would demand. We went in different directions.”
Willa’s eyes flickered with something that wasn’t anger now. It was understanding mixed with old pain.
“That explains why you were so against Shaun and me getting married so young,” Willa said, swirling her wine slowly.
“Yes,” June admitted. “It did. I didn’t want you to repeat what I did. I didn’t want you hurting the way I did.”
Willa’s jaw worked as if she were chewing on emotion. “But Shaun and I…” She swallowed. “We were meant to be.”
June nodded, warmth filling her voice. “You were. Look at what you built. Look at the family you have. You and Shaun…” She paused because Shaun’s name still cut through the room like a blade. “You did it right.”
Willa’s eyes misted. She looked away quickly, as if annoyed by her own tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “We did.”
“And I’m so proud of you,” June said firmly. “If you remember, I admitted a long time ago that I was wrong about you and Shaun.”
“You did,” Willa conceded, then she turned her gaze on Carmen. “Why didn’t you say anything, Aunt Carmen?”
Carmen held her niece’s gaze. “It wasn’t my story to tell you,” she said simply. “And the director and I aren’t friends. No. I don’t like his… ethics, let’s say.”
June gave a nervous laugh and shot Carmen a warning look. “You know how your aunt is,” June said lightly. “She’s very protective of her family.”
“That you are,” Willa agreed, and a small smile tugged at her mouth. “And we couldn’t love you more for it.”
“Thank you,” Carmen said, lifting her chin with pride. “Family first.”
Willa lifted her wine glass. Carmen lifted hers, too. June lifted the pickle jar to toast with.
The absurdity of it hit them all at once, and Willa let out a laugh, the kind that sounded half like relief and half like surrender as all eyes fell on June’s pickle jar.
“Family first,” Willa repeated, and they clinked their ridiculous trio of glasses and jar.
Willa set her wine down and stood. “I’m going to shower,” she said. “The hot water should’ve reset by now.” She rolled her eyes. “Grace loves her extra-long showers and uses up all the hot water.”
June watched her go, her heart aching a little. She wanted to reach out, to smooth the tension, to reassure her daughter that she hadn’t been hiding anything out of shame.
But she also knew Willa needed space to process.
Willa disappeared up the stairs.
June and Carmen waited until they heard the footsteps fade, then Carmen turned back to June with a look that was sharp and unamused.
“You just wasted the perfect opportunity,” Carmen said.
June’s jaw tightened. “To do what?”
“To tell her the entire truth,” Carmen replied, her voice low.
June stared at her sister. The anger she’d been holding back flared briefly, then settled into something colder.
“One thing at a time,” June said tightly. “Right now, I have bigger issues.”
Carmen’s brows lifted. “What’s bigger than finally telling your daughter the truth?”
June looked at her sister, and the words came out like stones.
“That Lucy and I share a common enemy,” June said, “and someone is trying to get rid of us.”
Carmen froze.
Her wine glass paused halfway to her mouth, and then she choked slightly as she swallowed wrong, coughing once as shock hit her. June didn’t move.
Carmen’s eyes widened. “June,” she breathed, voice suddenly cautious, “what did you just say?”
“That I may be the next target of whoever is terrorizing my friends,” June stated. “And we have absolutely no idea why.”