They stood, and Candice followed her to the car, but not before Saint heard it as the wind finally died. ‘You keep bees?’ Saint said. Candice smiled. ‘Theodore does. He found an old hive buried in the woodland. Sweetest honey I ever tasted.’ Saint waited till she was free of their land, till Candice and the farm faded in the mirror, and only then did she pull to the side of the road and cry. For the girl she once was. For the man he would become.
