Ethan glanced down at his hand where a single coin glinted in his palm. The ridiculousness of it all nearly made him laugh. “I don’t know. I’ve never wished before,” he said. “Felt like cheating. Or admitting I was in over my head.”
The truth was, he’d never trusted wishes. Wishing meant surrendering control and relying on something outside himself. He had spent so long being the one holding it all together that letting go, even for a second, felt dangerous. But standing here with her, he couldn’t deny the sharp edge of desperation that had crept in. He wanted a future for his daughters. He wanted the orchard alive and full of laughter again. And deep down, he wanted Honey to see that he hadn’t let it beat him.
“We were so damn close,” he whispered. “The business from opening day alone was going to dig us out of the hole. Brody and Tammy both asked for birthday parties. One of the Fitch boys wants to propose in the orchard next spring. Juniper wanted to book a field trip.”
He shook his head, pressing the coin into his fist as if he could hold the whole dream together that way. There was so much possibility, and now it all balanced on the edge of a single decision made behind closed doors.
He exhaled, the fight settling in his bones.
Gently, she took his hand, opened up his fist and took the coinfrom his hand.
“It’s time,” she said quietly, slipping the coin into her pocket. “Let’s do this.”
The review chamber smelled like mildew and bureaucracy. Ethan led her to a long, narrow room with flickering fluorescent lights and walls lined in pale gray tile that made everything look a little washed out.
He took his spot in the front row and, and before he could ask Honey to sit beside him, she squeezed into the second row with the girls and Marlene.
At the far end of the room sat a panel of three bureau officials. They looked like robots with matching pale suits and expressionless faces. One tapped a long quill against the desk with metronomic precision.
“Call to order the review session of Case File 784.12B,” the lead official droned, “pertaining to the Hale Orchard of Hudson County. Review conducted to determine valid stewardship of enchanted agricultural land under subsection Epsilon-3 of the Magical Land Management and Protection Act.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened until it ached. This wasn’t just some case file. This was their home, and they had already reduced it to a cold docket number.
He sat tall and opened his binder in front of him. He’d spent half the night rehearsing what he’d say, but it all slipped through his mind under their scrutiny. “I’m not sure if you received notice, but I have a petition here from?—”
The lead official lifted a hand, silencing him. “Oh, we’ve received your many letters.” His lips curled into something of a smirk. “We’ve received all of them, in fact. Despitethe…abundance of correspondence from your neighbors, which has clogged the county’s postal system. Not to mention the incessant daily calls and the parade of handwritten appeals. It is, if nothing else, remarkable how your little town rallies around you.”
A ripple of robotic laughter passed between the three panel members. Ethan’s throat burned. The town had done that for him and for his girls. Every letter was hope sealed in an envelope. Every phone call was someone refusing to give up. He’d walked into his kitchen each morning to see Poppy fill his bag with letters people had written overnight. He’d watched the sidewalks fill as people went door to door for signatures and ended up with more volunteers. He should’ve felt proud. Instead, here it was being dismissed like a nuisance.
It didn’t work. His ears buzzed like the sound of cicadas swelling until it drowned out his own thoughts.
“I’ve been maintaining the land for thirteen years,” he forced out. “The audit was completed. The wishing well has been sealed properly in accordance with section…” He flipped through his binder. “Delta-9-C of the Magical Site Restoration Code.”
The woman in the center adjusted her glasses, peering down at him as though he were something tracked in on the soles of her shoes. “And what of the ley lines?”
“The primary ley line stems from the Marrow clan,” Ethan answered, carefully, precisely. He’d rehearsed this part until the words were rote.
“And of the additional source,” the man on the left said, his voice flat and bored, as though this entire ordeal were little more than a formality he’d rather be done with. “The additional ley line convergence.”
Ethan swallowed once, then again, the words scrapingtheir way out. “That magic came from my ex-wife. From Leticia Westbrook.” He paused. “But she no longer lives there.”
The woman snapped her folder closed with a sharp crack. “We are not in the business of family dramas, Mr. Hale. This is about legality and proper stewardship. Unless you can produce a valid argument, this review will proceed.”
It was like being flayed open in public. Every sacrifice, every long night of tending both orchard and children, dismissed with a sneer. He could feel Honey behind him, her presence a live wire, and his embarrassment burning hot.
And then, before he could gather another word, she rose abruptly and rushed for the door. The sound of it closing behind her was louder than any gavel.
Chapter 36
Honey
Honey could feel it happening. The slow, inevitable crumbling of everything he’d built. Ethan was trying—god, he was trying—but they weren’t listening. They didn’t see the calluses on his hands from years of tending trees until midnight. They didn’t see the girls clinging to him in the evenings, homework spread across the kitchen table he could barely afford to keep stocked with food. They didn’t see the bags under his eyes from late nights prepping school lunches and balancing the budget. They didn’t see the man who never stopped fighting.
Even if they did, they didn’t give a damn.
Her hand curled around the coin in her pocket.
She stared down at it. It was such a small thing, just a circle of metal that weighed less than an ounce, yet it felt impossibly heavy.
