He grinned sheepishly, scratching at his now-bare jawline. “I dunno. Thought the beard might buy me some time.”
Maude groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I cannot believe the guy who sells sugar-coated death traps to children kissed me.”
“Well, technically,youkissed me, so.”
Maude reached for her stick. “Start running.”
He tilted his head, that infuriating grin still in place. “You seemed unusually pleasant tonight. I thought maybe that smile meant you’d finally warmed up to me.”
“Youlying snake. You knew I didn’t know who you were.”
His brows shot up. “Why the hostility? What have I ever done to you?”
Maude jabbed a finger at his chest. “Youruined my life!”
He blinked, incredulous. “I ruined your life by opening a bakery? Next to your shop? Do youhearyourself?”
She stormed off, stomping through the underbrush toward Market Square. “Leave me alone before I curse you.”
Behind her, Wesley sighed but didn’t follow.
“Enjoy being miserable!” he called after her, his voice thick with exasperation.
She flipped him off without breaking stride.
Four
Maude’s cottage came into view at the end of a narrow road, its slanted roof and snarl of brambles giving it a lopsided, haphazard charm. The windows were dark, and the faint scent of damp earth hung in the air as she trudged up the uneven path.
The door creaked when it swung open, then slammed shut with a thud that echoed through the heavy stillness. Maude leaned back, chest tight, breath shallow.
She didn’t know how to do this—how to benormal. How to act like she wasn’t a walking disaster, barely holding it together since Bailey died. Not that she’d ever been good at normal; she wasn’t the “smile and roll with it” type. But before, at least, she’d been functional.
Now it felt like every decent part of her—the parts that kept Oli and Selene in her life, that kept Bailey’s shop running—was being buried alive beneath the suffocating weight of grief and rage.
Because shewasangry. Angry that Bailey had the nerve to die. Angry that he’d left her to deal with the flaming wreckage of their life. Angry that every morning she had to drag herself out of bed and pretend she wasn’t gutted—pretend she wasn’t stitchedtogether from the wrong pieces, trying to pass as the person she used to be.
But she wasn’t. Not anymore.
That person was gone. Just like him.
And all these changes…it was too much. Too fast.
Her gaze drifted across the house, catching on the faint glow of the protective lines carved into the walls.
More of Bailey’s runes.
He’d left them everywhere she might linger—etched into the beams above her bed, tucked into the doorframe at Oli’s house, scattered in quiet corners in town—as if he could still watch over her when he wasn’t there, guarding with the same steady care he’d once given her.
After Bailey had died, somehow the world had just…kept spinning. Shifting. It was almost like his death had been the catalyst, setting off a chain reaction of chaos. Part of her wondered if he was behind it somehow—like this was his big cosmic joke.“Change, Maude. Grow, Maude.”
But she wasn’t growing. She was drowning.
Maude scrubbed a hand down her face, muttering a curse under her breath.
“This is your fault, isn’t it?” she said, glancing toward the ceiling like Bailey might hang out there, waiting for her to notice. “All these upheavals, all this…nonsense. You think this is what I needed? Because it’snot.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated herself for it. With a shake of her head, she pushed off the door and trudged toward her bedroom.
Maude talked to Bailey a lot these days. Too much, probably. It made her look mad—but she didn’t care. The quiet got to her otherwise, and sometimes it felt like he could actually hear her. Like if she said the right thing, he’d walk in from the back room, wipe his hands on his apron, and give her one of those looks that always felt like equal parts exasperation and fondness.
