7. Willow
WILLOW
“ Y eah, I’d like that,” she said, her lips curling into a careful little smile again.
She’d listened to Poppy fretting fiercely before she left—well-deserved, to be fair.
Willow still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea.
In fact, she was fairly certain it wasn’t.
That was why she’d slipped a can of mace into her bag… and a Taser.
She didn’t really know how to use them, aside from the panicked crash course she’d gotten from her sister before it was time to leave. She was pretty sure she wasn’t even legally allowed to carry either.
Willow climbed into the SUV, settling into the plush seat. She was grateful she’d opted for athletic leggings and a sweater. Even so, he probably got a solid view of her ass as she climbed up. Her cheeks heated as she shifted in her seat, heat building as she pictured him eyeing her hungrily.
As the door closed beside her, Willow folded her hands in her lap, her feet dangling just above the floorboard. She started swinging them out of habit.
She’d noticed was how big Milo was. He had to be at least a foot taller than her, built like somebody who knew how to fight. It was an intoxicating mix of desire and danger—but if their little trip went sideways?
She was well and truly fucked .
But now wasn’t the time to think about that, because they were backing out of the driveway.
“So, what do you listen to?”
She glanced over at him, chewing her lip.
“Basically everything,” she replied. “You?”
“I’m a big rock guy.”
“How do you feel about metal?”
“Pretty damn good.”
“Lamb of God?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
Milo gave a command to the hands-free system, calling for one of the band’s songs.
The growling vocals filled the space, and Willow found herself swinging her feet again, caught off guard by how his eyes crinkled at the corners in the fading light.
The way the sunbeams hit his skin made it glow golden and warm, nearly holy. She couldn’t help staring.
And then it hit her.
They were going hiking, and the sun was going down.
Which meant they’d be out there after dark.
A pit opened in her chest, heavy and cavernous, and her head was ringing clear like a warning bell.
She pulled out her phone to check that location tracking was still on.
That was part of the deal with Poppy. She was to keep it on at all times.
“Reception’s probably gonna get spotty as we head out,” Milo said casually, eyes still on the road. “It’s better at the top, though. That’s where we’re headed.”
Her eyes snapped to him. If he meant to finish the hike, they’d be seeing the trail by moonlight.
“Isn’t it going to be pretty late by then?” she asked, her voice tighter than she wanted it to be. Her hands were starting to tremble in her lap.
“Yeah,” he said. “But you have to see it at night, under the glow of the full moon. It’s worth it. If we run into trouble getting down, I’ll carry you.”
He said it so easily, like hauling her through the dark wilderness on his back wouldn’t even register as a challenge. It terrified and thrilled her, a twisted combination of emotion that left her shifting, thighs squeezing.
“What? A fan of the idea?” Milo was laughing now, voice low and rich, one hand steady on the wheel while the other rested on the center console between them. She said nothing, blushing deeply instead.
The music had faded into meaningless background noise, a soft blur against the roar of her pulse. Willow’s eyes kept drifting to Milo’s forearms—tanned, strong, and out in the open since he had rolled up the sleeves of his black jacket. She felt the urge to run her fingers along his exposed skin.
He turned his palm up, glancing at her again with a half-smile that made her stomach flutter dangerously. “Do you want to hold hands?”
She inhaled sharply, caught between panic and delight.
Anxiety and elation. But yes, God, yes, she did.
Her trembling fingers reached for his, sliding over his palm.
Their hands fit together so perfectly that it made her chest ache.
His warmth bled into her skin like a soothing balm, and Willow softened to the touch.
She slouched back into her seat, eyes fixed straight ahead, and let herself feel whatever was flowing through her.
The weight of his hand in hers.
And the quiet hum of the car.
And the faint scream of the stereo.
The silence stretched between them like a promise. For the first time in what felt like forever, Willow believed she could breathe easily, her vitality revived by whatever spell he had cast.
She was enchanted. Utterly and hopelessly. Bewitched? Bewizarded ?
She softly laughed at how stupid the entire thing made her feel.
“What?” Milo asked, glancing over, his thumb slowly tracing circles across the top of her hand. The casually intimate motion made her breath hitch.
“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“No, don’t worry, it’s nothing.”
“Fine, then,” he said, feigning offense with a grin. “Keep your secrets. I don’t want them anyway.”
“Good,” she shot back with an edge hovering between sass and suggestion. “Because I’m not telling you anything.”
His smile faltered, just slightly, his jaw tightening. The flicker of hunger in his eyes didn’t scare her.
It turned her on.
“I think you’ll find,” he murmured, lower, almost amused, “a man with my background knows how to get information out of people, Willow.”
He tapped the blinker, checked over his shoulder, and merged onto the off-ramp, stealing a glance at her while he did so. It was a smooth motion, and she realized she hadn’t felt unsafe once during the drive so far. Not from his driving, at least.
“Oh?” she asked, her tone light and curious. “And what kind of background is that?”
“Ex-military, for starters.”
She thought about it for a minute. “I could have guessed that. It makes sense.”
And it did. Everything about him screamed discipline and danger, from the build to the posture to the sharp, precise way he moved. He reminded Willow of her grandfather, who had once spoken of his service and never again after.
Milo didn’t offer anything else. She almost asked, but then thought better of it.
Some answers came at a cost, and some doors stayed shut for a reason.
She could feel the weight of whatever was locked behind his silence, and she wasn’t ignorant enough to rattle the knob.
Instead, Willow let the quiet settle over them like a downy blanket, choosing to focus on the warmth of his hand, the welcome comfort it brought.
It was likely safer that way, for both of them.
***
The rest of the drive passed in a mutual stillness, a fleeting moment of peace that felt foreign and fragile. Their hands remained locked together. Willow could feel her palm slick with sweat by now from the heat of their contact, but she didn’t care. Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t mind, either.
Eventually, the SUV turned off the main road and onto a dirt path that looked mostly forgotten, swallowed by overgrowth even when the winter was just now fading into spring. The trail was rough, littered with branches, but the vehicle navigated with ease.
“You okay?”
Her eyes flicked to Milo as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She realized she’d been holding him in a death grip. The further they drove into the dense, encroaching dark, the more the dread built in her stomach, like an approaching stormhead.
When the SUV finally rolled to a stop and he killed the engine, Willow glanced out her window to see a narrow opening carved into the trees beside her, a path winding into the dense forest. Her stomach twisted.
It wasn’t fear that she was walking into an untimely death, but something almost more daunting—doubt.
Not about him.
About herself .
“Ready?” Milo asked, his voice low as he lifted their still-clasped hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
The intimate gesture ignited her entire body.
Willow could have thrown herself over the console and ripped his shirt open. Something primal and starved inside her howled for him. The flicker of arousal blew to a roar that engulfed her lower belly, and her breath hitched, shallow and fast.
“Yes,” she whispered.
They let go of each other with a brief reluctance, the absence of his touch immediately noticeable.
Each climbed out of their side of the SUV, Willow stepping carefully onto the bar before lowering herself to the ground.
Her body had always been unreliable, a little too fragile in places where she should have been stable.
She treated herself gently, knowing too well how one wrong step would echo into the next day.
She stared at the trail ahead, uneven and dark, the forest blocking out all traces of light. This was her last chance to walk away from this madness. She could still say no.
But she didn’t want to. Even if she couldn’t explain it, even if Poppy’s voice screamed that it was reckless, she trusted Milo.
Trusted the steady way he looked at her like she was precious to him .
Trusted the way his fingers had curled around hers like a vow.
Trusted the way that, even now, he was gentle in his advances.
Milo brought a heavy backpack from the backseat and came to her side, his hand finding the small of her back like it had always belonged there.
And so she moved forward.