Honey
Everything.
It was a loaded word. There were things that felt safe to share. About how she wore T-shirts to work now, how her hair had never been messier, and how there was dirt permanently embedded beneath her fingernails. She could have told her about the goat she’d grown oddly attached to. Or how the orchard smelled like apples and manure, and she loved it.
But there were things that made her feel like she was bursting at the seams. The things she would never dream of sharing with anyone except maybe the journal she had tucked beneath her mattress back in the city.
How her heart beat differently there.
How there was an ache in her chest every time the girls asked her for help. The way Ethan sometimes looked at her like she was part of the family. The way she’s begun to feel like she belonged to something.
She looked at Ruby. Her city neighbor who she always thought would be a temporary acquaintance. She used to tell herself she liked it better that way. But maybe that was a rule worth breaking. Because she wanted to tell Rubyeverything. She had crossed so many lines in her time at the orchard. What was one more?
“I don’t even know where to start,” Honey admitted.
“I want to hear it all.”
Her throat tightened. Somewhere along the way, the orchard had worked its roots into her, tangling around her heart so tightly that pulling free already hurt. How was she supposed to say goodbye to bedtime stories in the farmhouse kitchen, to the smell of apples drifting through the orchard, to Ethan? How was she supposed to walk away from a place that, against all logic, had begun to feel like home?
Honey didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and headed toward the petting zoo, Ruby trailing behind her. The moment Honey stepped over the gate, a bleat rang out, and she scooped up Pickles. He tucked his tiny head beneath her chin, and tears sprang to her eyes. “I love them.”
“The goats?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “But all of them. The girls. And him.”
“Oh, hun.” Ruby pulled her into a hug, and this time, Honey let herself be held.
“Why don’t you just stay?” Ruby murmured against her hair. “I mean, I’m not the kind of friend who tells you to give up your entire career for a man, but come on, Honey. There’s remote work. I’m sure there’s some magic around here that needs rules and order.”
“There is,” she whispered. “So much of it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Honey pulled back. The goat wiggled between them, making a little huffing sound. She blinked at him, but she wasn’t really seeing the goat. She was seeing Emma’sstubborn little frown. Brooke’s mischievous smile. Melly’s whispered dreams. Ethan’s tired eyes.
It was selfish of Honey to be thinking of herself when they had so much on the line and were about to lose even more. They’ve already lost so much. Their mom. And now the orchard.
She stepped away from Ruby, exhaled, and told her everything. About Ethan’s wife vanishing after he reported her to the bureau. About how hard it had been on the girls. How Ethan had held everything together while fighting his guilt of being responsible for wrecking the family. About her own arrival here. How she hadn’t meant to care this much, but somehow she did.
And then she told her about the bureau.
Ruby’s eyes widened. “The bureau is going to take the orchard?”
Honey nodded. She hated the way the words sounded out loud. “They’ve already initiated the process.”
“Well, can’t you stop it?”
“I tried,” she said softly, shame pricking the back of her neck. “But it’s my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
Honey swallowed hard. “In my initial report, I flagged the orchard because the ley lines appeared to take a strange path.”
“And that’s a problem?”
She hesitated, the words thick in her throat. She hadn’t told anyone this yet, not even Ethan. “The girls’ mom, Leticia, she messed with it.” She looked around to make sure no one else was within hearing distance. This wasn’t the sort of thing you said in passing. “I think there’s two lines. Converging ones. One from the Marrow line. The other from the Westbrooks.”
The admission left her both lighter and heavier, as if confessing it forced her to carry the truth fully. She remembered the exact moment it had clicked. The magic’s path had always felt wrong. Every time she walked through the orchard to the well, she traced it, noticing the flow of energy again and again until she realized it wasn’t one stream splitting oddly—it was two rivers crashing into each other. The discovery had been exhilarating, until she understood what it meant: instability. Violation. The kind of thing that turned land from sanctuary to liability in the bureau’s eyes.
