Page 35
And just like that, I’m yanked back to the here and now. I step back and immediately feel it—the weight of every pair of eyes in The Wild Whisk on us, burning hot and unblinking. But I don’t give one fuck.
This was bigger than either one of us.
Chapter Twelve
SELL IT, BABY, SELL IT
LOUISIANA
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.”
Henry had just curb-stomped my heart, pleading with those sharp hazel eyes of his—eyes that always managed to cut through every damn wall I’d built. He looked at me like he expected me to say no, like he thought I could just turn my back on a child in need. As if I ever would. That hurt worse than I was willing to admit, especially after the way he dragged our childhood into the middle of this mess like it was some kind of bargaining chip.
But this? This is where I drew the fucking line.
He groans, hands running through his thick hair until it stands on end, frustration humming off his broad shoulders like electricity. “I didn’t ask you because it’s fucking convenient, Louisianna.”
I snort, biting back the volley of words ready to rip out. “Great. Ask Soph or Allie, then.” I jab a thumb over my shoulder toward the bakery across the street, where most of our family has migrated for pastries and peace. That left just the four of us here: me, Henry, Maggie, and Aunt Joe—aka the unofficial family referees.
He steps forward. Big, angry, desperate. “Yeah? And what the hell would that look like?”
“Yeah, like that’d be real believable,” Aunt Joe mutters, voice low as she takes a slow sip from her chipped coffee mug, the bitter taste almost palpable.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re not helping.”
She just raises a finger at me, cool as ever. “Oh, I am helping. You just don’t like what I have to say. But let’s not kid ourselves, Lou—there’s always been something brewing between you two. Hell, being in a room with you and Henry? I need to go home and sit in front of a fan just to cool off.”
“Jesus, Joe, could you not?” Maggie sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, the exact same motion Maddox makes when he’s two seconds from snapping. The tension in the room thickens, like the heat before a storm.
“These are my children,” she mutters.
Aunt Joe shrugs, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she swirls the silver bangle on her wrist. “Doesn’t make it any less true, Magnolia.”
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms tighter over my chest, trying to keep myself from unraveling. Aunt Joe isn’t wrong—but that doesn’t mean I want to hear it.
“I know Sophie will do it in a heartbeat,” Joe adds, her tone softening, “but it wouldn’t be believable. And Allie…”
Her voice trails off, heavy with what she doesn’t want to say. So, I say it for her.
“Allie is struggling enough with the arrival of the new baby.”
Joe gives a curt nod as she twirls the bangle again. I know that part. Allie had been with Maddox once, and they had the most beautiful baby girl. But after Livvy was born, Allie slipped—first into postpartum depression, then into drugs. The fall was fast and brutal. Maddox had held on as long as he could, but eventually, he had to let go. He kicked her out. From then on, he raised Livvy alone.
He did it with grace. Quiet strength. Never once making it seem like a burden. Meanwhile, Allie vanished—like she’d been swallowed whole. No calls. No visits. Not even a birthday card. She became a ghost.
We all sat with that. With shame and disappointment and the unspoken anger. Even after Livvy died, Allie stayed gone. She didn’t show up for the funeral. Didn’t send flowers. Nothing. Just a void where a mother should’ve been.
It wasn’t until last year that she came back—hollowed out and trembling on Maddox’s doorstep. And it was Evie who stepped in, who pulled us back from that ledge. She made us see the truth of Allie, not the version we’d demonized in our heads, but the woman who’d been drowning all along. A tragedy in human form. Someone who lost herself and her daughter before she ever had a chance to fight for either.
At first, Maddox could barely be in the same room with her. I’d watch his jaw tense, his hands clenched into fists, every inch of him straining not to explode. He couldn’t make sense of it—how she could bring someone like Livvy into the world and then throw her away like she didn’t matter. Like she wasn’t everything.
Now? Maddox and Evie are having a baby girl of their own.
A new life. A new chance. Something none of us ever thought possible, not after everything they’d lived through. Instead of keeping Allie out, they brought her in—carefully, thoughtfully, like you’d carry a glass shard in your palm. They didn’t have to. No one expected them to, but they did it anyway. Because that’s just who they are.
The best of us. The fucking best.
Aunt Joe was never able to have children of her own, but in every way that matters, Evie and Allie have become hers. She carries their joy like sunlight tucked deep into her pockets, warm and bright even when the world feels cold. And their sorrow? She wears that like heavy stones pressing down on her chest—silent, unyielding. Whatever they feel, she feels it too—quietly, fiercely, never asking for anything in return.
