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DELILAH

D elilah Moonstone gripped the leather handle of her suitcase until her fingers cramped, the metal clasp biting into her palm like it had something personal against her.

Two bags. One soul-heavy heart. And a town she’d sworn never to set foot in again—except fate had a way of dragging you home with its claws sunk deep.

The sign at the edge of the road hadn’t changed. Welcome to Celestial Pines—Where Magic Meets the Mountains . Some joker had added a sticker beneath it: Population: Unruly .

She snorted. “Still cute.”

The Appalachian air was crisp with spring’s first bite, scented with pine, damp soil, and just a tinge of moon magic that settled behind her ribs like a half-forgotten song. The veil always felt thicker here, like reality thinned just enough for something else to breathe through.

Delilah took one slow step toward the cobblestone path that led into town, her boots clicking against stone and memory. A fox darted past her cart, paused, then vanished into the woods. She whispered a quiet greeting to the spirits.

The Spellbound Sip stood like a time capsule wrapped in ivy, nestled between a crystal shop and Juniper’s Paper Emporium. Its windows glowed amber, fogged slightly from the inside, and the brass bell above the door jingled as she pushed it open.

It smelled like cinnamon, orange zest, and the kind of comfort she didn’t trust anymore.

Nerissa Tidewell stood behind the counter, her waterfall of seafoam-blue hair coiled in a braid that reached the backs of her knees. The siren’s gaze flicked up, calm as still water—then widened.

“Well slap me with seaweed and call me startled,” Nerissa breathed. “Delilah Moonstone, back from the dead.”

Delilah managed a half-smile. “Just Salem, not the underworld.”

Nerissa abandoned her post and swept Delilah into a tight hug. She smelled like peppermint and sea salt and something faintly ancient.

“Your aura’s bruised,” Nerissa murmured against her hair. “Looks like you’ve been carrying grief in your back pocket and resentment in your shoes.”

Delilah huffed. “I didn’t come here for a reading, Ness.”

“No readings. Just tea. Sit, sugar.”

She sat at a corner table worn from generations of elbows and whispered secrets, and watched Nerissa move like silk behind the counter. The siren didn’t ask her what she wanted—she never did. The mugs chose for you.

Her cup arrived steaming with a golden swirl inside. One sniff told her everything.

Pumpkin clove. Nostalgia.

Delilah cursed under her breath. “Seriously?”

Nerissa raised an eyebrow. “I don’t make the tea. The tea makes itself. Take it up with your subconscious.”

Delilah lifted the cup, cradled it between both hands. It was warm—too warm. Like a memory slipping beneath her skin.

She was halfway through her first sip when the bell over the door jingled again.

She didn’t look up until her skin prickled.

The back of her neck tightened like it had been kissed by a shadow. She looked up—and everything inside her went still.

Rollo Steele.

Broad-shouldered. Towering. Wearing a plaid flannel rolled up at the sleeves, boots scuffed from honest work. His dark hair thick with waves, his beard just this side of unruly. And those forest-green eyes? They still held a storm.

Her breath caught in her throat, sharp and hot, despite her best efforts.

He hadn’t changed.

Well, maybe broader in the chest, and a bit more... weathered. Like the mountain had carved itself into his bones.

But the ache he’d left in her? That hadn’t aged a day.

Rollo froze mid-step. Their eyes locked.

The silence between them wasn’t silence—it was a whole damn monologue. Her pulse pounded. She felt the old heat creep up her throat, and hated herself for the part of her that still noticed the way his shirt clung to his biceps.

“Delilah,” he said, voice low, rough like gravel soaked in honey.

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

He stepped closer.

That was his mistake.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, standing up so fast her chair scraped the floor.

Nerissa winced.

“Not even gonna say hi?” Rollo’s voice was quieter now. Tentative. Too tender.

Delilah tilted her head. “You didn’t bother with goodbye, so why break tradition?”

The room went thick. Even the enchanted muffins on the shelf seemed to stop glowing.

“Can we talk?” he asked, one step closer again.

“No.” She shoved her chair back under the table, hard enough to make a nearby spoon rattle. “I didn’t come back for you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

She grabbed her cup, marched to the counter, and slammed the mug down with a little more drama than necessary. Nerissa raised an eyebrow.

“Refill?” she asked delicately.

Delilah gave a tight nod.

Rollo hadn’t moved.

Delilah turned just enough to look over her shoulder. “You still lurking?”

He exhaled. “Still living here. So... yeah.”

“You could’ve warned me.”

“I didn’t know you were coming back.”

“Well, surprise.”

His lips parted like he might say something else, but he hesitated—then turned and walked out.

The bell jingled.

Her knees almost buckled.

Nerissa slid the fresh cup toward her, this one dark and bitter. She didn’t need to sniff.

Mocha. Anger.

“How’s Wren?” Nerissa asked softly.

“Deteriorating. Magical exhaustion. The earth isn’t speaking to her.”

“She’s part of the land. If she’s sick, the forest’s grieving.”

Delilah nodded slowly. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She carried her drink back to the corner and collapsed into the chair again.

Outside, the mist hung low, cloaking the streets in secrets. The whispering woods loomed beyond the rooftops—alive, watching. Delilah’s fingers curled around the mug again, and her thoughts turned back to Rollo.

The first boy she kissed. The only man she ever loved. The one who disappeared without a damn word.

“Why’d it have to be him?” she muttered.

“Because fate,” Nerissa sang from the counter, not even looking up.

Delilah groaned. “I don’t believe in fate.”

“You will.”

Her phone buzzed. A text from the healer’s ward at the apothecary.

Wren asking for you. Bad night. Spirits whispering again.

She shoved the phone back in her coat.

Duty first. Heartbreak second. The forest needed her.

And Celestial Pines? It needed a reckoning.