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Delilah stared at him a moment and nodded once with a small smile before getting up. “Thanks.”

9

DELILAH

The town hadn't changed.

Not really.

Flower boxes brimmed with wild pansies, and store signs swung with a rhythm only Celestial Pines seemed to understand. But walking through it again, Delilah felt like a shadow version of herself—one stitched together from old heartache, half-healed grief, and a thin thread of growing hope she didn’t quite trust.

It’d been two days since she’d collapsed in the woods. Two days since she woke in Rollo’s arms, safe but shaken. She could still remember the way his fingers brushed the hair from her cheek, his voice low and raw like he’d clawed through his own ribs to speak to her. That kind of tenderness was dangerous.

So today, she needed normal. Or at least Celestial Pines’ version of it.

And that meant coffee.

The Spellbound Sip stood like a warm beacon, the brass teapot windchime over the door dancing in the breeze. Delilah pushed open the door, and the familiar scent of cinnamon and cloves wrapped around her like an old shawl.

“Back from the brink and already craving gossip?” Nico Voss called from behind the counter, grinning over the rim of a floral teacup. His midnight-blue lipstick matched the sparkle in his eyes. “Our girl’s got spunk.”

Delilah rolled her eyes. “Our girl needs caffeine and a day without unsolicited opinions.”

Junie Bell, clumsy as a colt and still trying to master enchanted espresso wands, spun toward her with wide eyes. “You didn’t die, right? ‘Cause Rollo looked like a whole bear stormed the woods after you fainted.”

Delilah blinked. “...Hi, Junie.”

“Hi! I made your mood tea already. It’s Lemon Mist. You’re radiating flirtation or panic—it’s hard to tell.”

Nico leaned in. “Personally, I think it’s both. But mostly panic. That’s a girl who’s been near Rollo Steele and lived to tell the tale.”

Delilah took the cup without comment, settling into the window seat with a view of the fog-draped pines. She sipped. The tea fizzed gently on her tongue—bright and citrusy with an edge.

She hated that it was accurate.

“Y’know,” Nico said, gliding over and plopping into the opposite chair, “he never stopped checking in on the apothecary. Always stopped by for herbs. Real quiet-like. Didn’t ask for you, but his eyes did.”

Delilah stared into her tea.

Junie, carrying a tray of enchanted almond croissants, added, “And Wren always pretended not to notice, but she left his order notes right where he could see your old handwriting.”

Delilah’s throat tightened. “Why are y’all telling me this?”

Nico tilted his head, tone softening. “Because you left like you’d been burned clean through. And if you’re back, really back, we figure you deserve the full weather report.”

“I’m not here for Rollo.”

“No, but you’re here. And he’s part of this town, same as you.”

Delilah didn’t answer.

The truth was, she’d left because of him. Rollo had broken her heart withquiet.

She’d been all in—young and wide-eyed and certain that the stars had stitched their souls together. She gave him everything. Her loyalty. Her laugh. Her secrets.

And he?

He pushed her away like he was scared of catching fire.