Page 58 of The Pumpkin Spice Spell
Lilith doesn’t even ask. Just watches me go with that slow, knowing nod of hers.
I stride across the sidewalk, fast and sure, because I’ve been waiting to do this for years.
“April,” I call out, sharp enough that her heels pause on the sidewalk.
She turns, one eyebrow already lifted, her mouth curling around a condescending smirk like sheexpectedme to break. “Willa.”
Randy glances at me, then away. Of course.
“I’ve been quiet,” I say, loud enough for the town square to catch a little stillness. “I’ve been polite. But today? I’m done with polite.”
April lowers her sunglasses. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Remy shifts beside Tate and mutters something under his breath. Finn lets out a long whistle, low and drawn out. A few folks at the café table turn their heads.
“You come into my shop and let your kids tear it up,” I say, my voice steady and loud, “and you don’t say a word. You treat Tate like he’s a stranger, as if he’snothing. Like he didn’t lose the same person you lost.”
Her face flattens. “Shut your mouth. What I do is none of your business, Willa Maren.”
“It is when you drag it through this town and when youhurthim. And it isdefinitelymy business when you treat someone like they don’t matter.”
April’s nostrils flare, but before she can speak again, she looks past me. Her gaze locks on something, and her lips twist in a cruel snarl.
I don’t even have to turn to know what she sees. Tate. Standing behind me now. Watching. Shoulders rigid, eyes unreadable.
“We’re not friends withthem,” April practically spits, venom coating every syllable. “This is exactly why, Tate.This.This is why we can’t have a relationship. Because you’re friends withthem.Withher.”
She jabs a finger toward me like I’m the reason the world turned sideways.
And that’s when Tate speaks, his voice a warning. “Mom…”
But she’s not done.
“This is why I can’t trust you,” she snaps. “Youalwayschoose everyone else over your mother. You run off, and you still practically worshiphim.”
He stares at her, lips parted as if he’s about to speak, but no words come.
She shakes her head. “You don’t get to be the victim here. You’re the one who walked away.”
Tate looks stricken. Like she reached in and twisted the one place still sore.
But before I can say a word, a second voice cuts through the air, calm, clear, and lethal.
“You know what, April?” my mom says and steps up beside me, sunlight glowing in the white streaks of her hair, arms crossed over her chest. “I understand grief,” she says, voice low but firm. “I do, and I know what it’s like to lose someone and want to build a wall around yourself so nothing else can ever hurt again.”
April flinches but doesn’t speak.
“What Idon’tunderstand,” Lilith continues, “is how you took that grief and twisted it into something cruel. How you threw away the people who loved you most. How you looked at Tate, this good, kind,loyalkid, and decidedhewas the villain in your story.”
The silence is thick now. Even the kids fall still.
“Tatematters,” Lilith says, taking a step forward. “He matters tous. To Wisteria Cove. To me. So if you can’t see that, if all you’re here to do is pick at old wounds and cash out what you think you’re owed, then do us all a favor.”
She tilts her head slightly. “Go back to Florida.”
April’s face goes pale.
