Page 29 of Betrayed By Sin
A pause stretches between us. “Would you like to throw a party?”
I blink. “A… what?”
“A party,” she repeats. “A small one. A welcome home. I thought maybe some of the family, a few close allies. People want to meet you.”
The idea curls like smoke in my chest.
“I don’t know,” I say, uncertain. “I’m not really in a… party mood.”
She tilts her head. “It wouldn’t have to be anything grand. Just something… soft. Gentle. For you. If you wanted it.”
Her tone is careful. No pressure, but not without hope.
“I’ll think about it,” I say eventually.
She smiles and gives a small nod, then turns and walks back toward the house, her sandals quiet against the stone.
I watch her go.
I want to believe this is real. I want to believe she means it. That she’s not just putting on a performance for me, or for the people around her, or for Cameron.
But I’ve lived my whole life having to guess people’s intentions.
Trust doesn’t come easy.
Later that night, I sit in my room with Axle curled beside me. The sun’s gone down, the window cracked open to let in the warm air. It smells like lavender and woodsmoke and something else. Peace, maybe. But the kind that’s temporary.
The next morning, I go toAlice in Brewlandlike I always do.
I tie my apron, push my hair back, and step behind the counter.
The hiss of the espresso machine is the only sound I need. The warmth of cinnamon, nutmeg, roasted beans. It wraps around me like a blanket.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Victoria observes, leaning her elbows on the counter.
I glance up from the cappuccino I’m making. “I am?”
“Mm-hmm.” She gives me a sly look. “You didn’t come in broody. Or looking like the ghost of heartbreak past.”
I smile faintly. “I still might be in one.”
“There it is,” she grins. “For a second, I thought we lost the mysterious Magnolia vibe.”
“Don’t worry,” I say dryly, passing her the drink. “Still tragic. Just hiding it better today.”
Maybe that’s why I keep coming back here.
Because for a few hours each day, I get to forget.
Forget that I’m Magnolia Rusco.
Forget that there’s a war brewing on the edge of everything.
Forget that love can burn down a whole world and leave you bleeding in the smoke.
Here, I just get to make coffee.
The sky is turning a lazy shade of lavender when I get home. The walk from Alice & Brewland isn’t far, but my legs ache fromstanding all day, and my head’s full of the kind of soft exhaustion that doesn’t hit you until you finally stop moving.
