"Break them. Or I break you."
The threat hung in the air, devoid of playfulness. He meant every word.
After a long moment, Silas inclined his head. "Fair enough. The florist is off-limits. I give you my word."
"Your word hasn't meant much in the past."
"No. But I'm trying to change that." Silas set down his wine glass and moved toward the door. "I'll find lodging in town. One of the inns, perhaps. Give you space."
"The Summer Dance Festival is in a few days." The words came out before he could think better of them. "Marigold and I are chairing it. If you're going to be here anyway, you might as well come. See what kind of life I've built."
Silas paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "Is that an invitation or a challenge?"
"Both, probably."
"Then I accept. Both." Something shifted in his brother's expression—a softening, perhaps, or the beginning of hope. "Thank you, Thallos."
"Don't thank me yet. I reserve the right to throw you in the creek if you misbehave."
"I'd expect nothing less."
And then he was gone, his footsteps fading into the darkness outside.
He stood alone in his cabin, surrounded by the evidence of his chosen life—the wine bottles waiting for labels, the comfortable furniture he'd selected piece by piece, the view of vineyards he'd nurtured from struggling shoots to thriving vines.
He'd built something here. Something real and valuable and worth protecting.
And maybe he could build something with his brother too. Not the relationship they'd had as children, before the jealousy and the competition had twisted everything. But something new. Something honest.
He thought of Marigold, waiting for him in her apartment above the flower shop. Of the festival they'd planned together. Of the dance they'd practiced until it felt like flying.
Of the fiddle gathering dust in his closet, untouched since the day he'd left his old life behind.
Perhaps it was time to stop running from his past entirely. Perhaps some things were worth reclaiming.
The festival was in a few days. The opening dance was just the beginning.
After that—who knew? Maybe he'd finally find the courage to play again.
CHAPTER 25
Marigold lay stretched out on the picnic blanket next to Thallos, her head pillowed on his thigh, one hand idly tracing patterns on his knee. The afternoon sun through the leaves above them painted shifting patterns of gold across her face. She looked… different. Lighter somehow. As if a weight she'd been carrying for years had finally slipped from her shoulders.
"She actually apologized," she said, continuing the story she'd been telling between bites of cheese and sips of wine. "I don't think I've ever heard my mother genuinely apologize for anything in my entire life."
He stroked her hair, letting the silky strands slide through his fingers. "People can surprise you."
"Daisy doesn't surprise people. Daisy is the most predictable unpredictable person I've ever met." She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I always know she's going to do something chaotic. I just never know exactly what."
"What was it this time?"
"A spiritual wellness retreat in Sedona," she said dryly. "Crystal healing, energy work, that sort of thing. She wanted me to sell the shop to fund it."
His hand stilled in her hair.
*Sell the shop.*
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He kept his face neutral, but something cold and sharp had lodged itself beneath his ribs.
