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ROLLO

T hey left the Everglen Market just as the sky began to stain with lavender and gold, the light slanting low between the trees like it was trying to hold onto the day.

Rollo didn’t rush.

He didn’t want to.

Delilah walked beside him, her hand still tangled in his. The golden loop of the Lovers’ Knot had gone dim, the shimmer faded to a faint warmth that pulsed beneath their palms. But neither of them spoke about it. Neither had tugged free. Maybe neither wanted to.

Their basket, now full with dream candles, dried violet bundles, and three types of tea Wren hadn’t asked for but needed , swung gently from Rollo’s free hand.

“You got quiet,” Delilah said, breaking the silence.

“I’m always quiet.”

“You’re usually quiet. This is… suspiciously introspective.”

He shot her a side-glance. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the moment.”

She arched a brow. “You? Enjoying being roped into a full-day magical hand-holding adventure with your ex?”

“Ex?” he echoed, pretending to wince. “Cold.”

“You dumped me, Steele.”

“I panicked.”

“You ran. ”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand not bound to hers. “Yeah. I did. Doesn’t mean I liked it. OR that I was right to do it.”

She looked at him then—really looked—and something flickered in her eyes. Not quite forgiveness. But the soft glint of understanding. Maybe even curiosity.

“You’re different now,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “So are you.”

They turned onto the wooded path that curved toward her side of town, the ground scattered with late spring petals and the whisper of wind brushing through the canopy overhead. It was quiet here. Sacred.

She didn’t pull her hand away.

Neither did he.

“Remember the first time we walked this way?” she asked, voice low.

“How could I forget?” he smiled. “You tripped over your own skirt trying to impress me.”

“I was trying to impress Hazel . When the council elder is watching”

“You fell flat on your?—”

“Finish that sentence and I swear I will charm a vine to trip you. ”

He laughed, and she did too. Really laughed. The sound curled through the trees like music. And for a moment, it felt like the past hadn’t fractured them at all. Like it had always been leading back to this.

They reached the old footbridge near her apothecary, where the moss grew thick between the planks. Rollo paused there, soaking in the soft glow of evening as it slid down her cheekbones, as her curls caught the light like ivy brushed with copper.

The basket shifted suddenly—one of the glass jars inside wobbling.

Instinctively, they both reached to steady it.

And in that moment, the tether broke .

It didn’t snap. It melted , like sugar dissolving into tea, a faint shimmer that faded so gently they didn’t notice at first.

Delilah blinked, realizing it.

So did Rollo.

“I guess… that’s over,” she said softly, not moving her hand any further.

“Is it?”

She glanced up at him.

And then Rollo leaned in. Slowly. Deliberately.

The space between them shrank, air thick with unspoken things and sweet, lazy twilight. His breath brushed her lips, and she didn’t pull back. Her eyes fluttered, but didn’t close. She didn’t move.

And he took that as permission.

He closed the gap. His lips met hers, tentative at first. Then deeper, more sure.

He went to pull back, afraid of getting slapped, but then he felt Delilah lean in as well, parting her lips. Almost welcoming him.

And just as the kiss settled into something real, he felt Delilah’s hand hard on his chest.