A faint smile crosses Crystal’s face before she turns to the door. She falters for a second when her gaze clashes with Dean’s. They stare at each other, hostility sparking in the air. Dean moves aside to let her pass.
Then my mother walks away from me, past my husband, her posture ramrod straight. The fading sound of her heels clicking on the linoleum takes all the breath from my body. I sink onto the edge of the bed.
An immense freedom and relief flood me, like water spilling over a dry plant. For so long, I have trembled on the unstable, dangerous ground of my past, confused by all the twisting roads, shadowed by oppressive queens, flying monkeys, and wicked witches.
I haven’t known if I would ever truly escape, uncertain of my own assertion that I’m strong enough to defeat the darkness by myself. That I do know what it takes to find my way home again, that I’ve always known the power of the ruby slippers and the path back to the rabbit hole. I’ve always known which way is up.
Dean gets on his knees in front of me. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the sleeve of my shirt.
“You,” he says, “are heroic.”
I look into his eyes filled with a hundred emotions I can’t begin to define, but overshadowing them all is the singular love, both fierce and tender, that has always been like the moon for me. A brilliant light in the darkness, ever-present, constant. Forever.
He reaches into the pocket of his jeans, then takes my hand and puts a silver chain in my palm. My breath catches as I stare at the brass disk. Fortune favors the brave.
“I… I almost forgot you had this,” I whisper.
“I kept it safe for you.” Dean rests his hands on my knees. “Just like you asked me to.”
I close my fingers around the necklace, feel the weight of the pendant pressing against my palm. Dean stands and reaches to help me to my feet.
“Come on, beauty. Let’s go home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dean
June 12
id you get any prison tattoos?” Kelsey strides up the driveway of the Butterfly House, her expression a combination of amusement and concern.
I pull up the sleeve of my shirt to show her a scratch on my forearm from the fight with Hamilton.
“It’s a dagger,” I tell her.
“Pretty hot, tough guy.” Kelsey drops her bag and sits beside me on the front porch. “Where’s Liv?”
“On her way.” I twist a loop of string between my palms to make a row of triangles.
“So… a baby, huh?” Kelsey asks.
My heart thumps. “How did you know?”
“I’m smart, remember? I figured it out.”
I twist the string again. “She had a miscarriage in January.”
“She told me. I’m sorry.” Kelsey hesitates. “I guess it’s scary then, huh?”
Yeah, it’s scary. Lots of things are scary.
“You okay?” she asks. “I mean, without the job and all…”
“I can live without my job, Kelsey.” I untangle the string and shove it into my pocket. “I figured I’d get another one someday. But the reason I resigned in the first place was to end it all, to prevent it from getting out and hurting Liv.”
“She’s not hurt, Dean. The doctor said she’s fine.”
“It’s not just that.”
“I know.”
It’s the public embarrassment, the fact that everyone now knows what happened, Edward Hamilton’s threat to press charges, the complete ruin of the café’s grand opening…
I couldn’t have fucked it all up any more if I’d tried.
Though Allie, Brent, Marianne, and everyone else at the café have said the whole disaster wasn’t my fault and have rallied to get things going again, I feel completely responsible for how it all went down.
I’ve insisted on covering the lost profits and operating expenses until the café gets back on its feet, but that hasn’t been enough to turn public perception around yet.
And once again, I don’t know how to fix it.
Kelsey and I look up at the sound of a car coming to a stop. Liv gets out of the driver’s seat, and my entire being floods with pleasure at the sight of her in a polka-dot skirt and white blouse, her ponytail swinging.
I approach the car and open the passenger side door to help Florence Wickham out.
“Oh, thank you, Dean.” Florence peers up at the Butterfly House and sighs. “I wish we had more community support for this place. I can’t thank you enough for your help, even with all you’ve been through.”
I try not to wince. The news about the Wonderland Café’s disastrous grand opening has spread through town, and I can only hope the bad publicity doesn’t hurt Liv or Allie too much.
“I heard all about it,” Florence tells me, shaking her head. “That horrific fight you were in.”
“I… uh, I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, feeling the sudden urge to reassure this sweet, elderly lady that I’m still respectable.
Florence blinks at me in surprise. “Oh, Dean, of course you didn’t do anything wrong! A man like you only does everything right. Isn’t that so, Olivia?”
Liv nods solemnly. A current of amusement that I don’t understand passes between her and Florence.
“Of course you’re a model citizen, Dean.” Florence reaches out to pat my arm.