Because Cassia was right. Because they were all right.
“Dahlia.” Avine’s voice was soft. The tone she used when she was about to say something that mattered. “What do you want?”
“What?”
“Not what everyone needs. Not what would make things easier for other people. What doyouwant?”
The question knocked the air from her lungs. When was the last time anyone had asked her that? When was the last time she’d let herself think about it?
The Paris letter surfaced in her mind. Cream-colored paper. Embossed letterhead. The dream her grandmother had wanted for her—the dream Dahlia had buried so deeply, she barely let herself acknowledge it existed.
“I don’t...know.” She swallowed.
Avine pulled her into a hug. Solid. Unconditional. The support Dahlia had been giving other people for years and had convinced herself she didn’t need.
“Then maybe it’s time to figure it out,” Avine said quietly.
TEN
DAHLIA
The conversation drifted after that. Lighter topics. Junie’s latest potion disasters—apparently the frog situation had escalated to five frogs before she’d figured out the wormwood issue. Cassia’s mother and her endless matchmaking attempts. Narla’s newest candle formula, which allegedly could help with grief processing.
But Dahlia couldn’t quite shake Avine’s question. It sat in her mind, uncomfortable and insistent.
What do you want?
“Speaking of the bear.” Junie had circled back around. “Word is he’s been doing ‘efficiency assessments’ all over town. Ruffling feathers. Making people uncomfortable.”
“Corporate types.” Cassia rolled her eyes. “They think everything’s a spreadsheet.”
“He’s trying to fix things.” The words spilled out before Dahlia could stop them. “What else is he supposed to do?”
Four pairs of eyes swung toward her.
“Defending the grumpy bear now?” Junie’s grin was back.
“I’m not defending him. I’m being fair.” Dahlia’s cheeks heated again. Damn it. “He’s in an impossible situation. Comingback after fifteen years, trying to save a community that probably resents him for leaving. That’s not easy.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot.” Narla’s voice was carefully neutral. “For someone who barely spoke to him.”
“I think about everyone.” Dahlia grabbed a croissant she didn’t want as a distraction for her hands. “That’s what I do. I notice things. About people.”
“Mmm.” Narla sipped her wine. “And what did you notice about him?”
The question hung in the air. Dahlia thought about those sharp features. The way he’d gone absolutely still when their eyes met—not frozen but controlled, like an animal choosing not to move. The way he’d held the entire room in his peripheral vision while appearing to look only at the display case.
The way he’d looked at her. Startled. Almost frightened. Like she was something unexpected and terrifying.
“He’s exhausted.” Her voice dropped quieter than intended.
The room went still.
“That’s...” Junie’s voice had lost its teasing edge. “That’s a lot to notice in five minutes.”
“You just mapped a man you exchanged maybe ten words with.” Avine’s voice was quiet. “That’s not nothing, Dahlia.”
Dahlia couldn’t look at any of them. Her eyes burned.
