Page 190 of Always Meant for You
“Lily keeps showing me the posts and videos. You look so happy.”
“I am.”
“I hope you connect with the Castle King. Lily filled me in on that saga, and I’m sure you’re curious about his identity.”
I exhale a heavy breath and glance around, the buzz of the market sharpening against my skin. “Very curious.”
“Mom,” Lily calls, jogging up with flushed cheeks. “The jam lady said there’s a rhubarb stand down at the end of the row. But they’re running low. Can we get some? We can make a pie.” The excitement in her voice is laced with urgency, as if the fate of dessert depends on it.
“Okay,” Reba says. She rests a hand lightly on Lily’s shoulder before nudging her forward. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you there.”
Lily flashes a grin. “Bye, Mabel!” she calls over her shoulder, weaving through the crowd.
Reba lingers, then she steps in and hugs me again. “It’s good to see you.”
I relax into her embrace. “You too.”
She pulls back, her hands brushing my upper arms as she studies me. Then her gaze drops to my boots, and a crooked grin spreads across her face. “And I like your boots. They suit you.”
“Thank you,” I say, the words catching a little. “They belonged to my mother.”
Something passes between us—quiet and knowing—before she nods and turns. She disappears into the tide of shoppers, weaving past a couple who do a double take when they pass me. A second later, someone else lifts a phone and takes my picture.
I need to figure out what’s happening online.
I pull out my phone and search the Castle King hashtag. Mentions. Shares. Comments. Wild guesses. Dozens of reels and photos of me at the market. There’s a whole subreddit too.
My chest tightens. The breeze shifts and carries a burst of cinnamon from a nearby pastry cart. I lower the phone, every sense keyed up.
I scan the crowd. Voices blur—vendors shouting over rustling canopies, the clang of a cart’s wheel snagging on uneven pavement, laughter rising in bursts. Another person lifts their phone, snapping a photo of me.
I tip up the brim of my hat. “Where are you, Castle King? I know you’re here. You’ve got my attention. It’s time to stop playing games.”
I’m wound tight, but not from fear. I know who I am now. And I’m ready to face whoever decided to follow me here.
Then I feel it.
A tap on my shoulder.
Not rushed. Not hesitant.
Certain.
“The Castle King,” a familiar voice says, “is standing right behind you,Bella Mae.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
MABEL
My father doesn’t flinch. He stands with quiet confidence—clean overalls, an Eat Elverna cap, boots polished to a faint shine. Nothing about him wavers.
“You’re the Castle King, Dad?”
He meets my gaze. “I am.”
Before I can respond, he tips his chin toward a stall teeming with crooked carrots, golden beets, and towers of stacked radishes. “They put on a fine farmers’ market in this city.”
I glance across the tables, trying to catch up. “Yeah. They do.” I pause. “How did you find me, and why did you do it? Why did you—of all people—take me down?”
