Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
E ric had been about to give Willow a much-needed lecture on the dangers of strange men in seedy bars.
Instead, he found himself staring down at her messy bun, his heart firmly lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his throat.
“I knew you’d keep me safe.”
“You’re here. That’s all I need.”
The words had a weird, gooey sort of heat coursing through him, making his chest ache and his arms tighten around her.
He stared at her in stunned silence as her arms slipped around his neck. She was…hugging him.
So, this was new.
He’d have said it was nice…
But who was he kidding? Having Willow in his arms, pressed against him like there was no place she’d rather be…
Nice didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure there was a word in the English language to describe how much the moment was affecting him.
He took a deep breath.
There was just one problem.
“Willow.” His voice was a ragged croak.
She tipped her head back and it lolled, her glazed eyes so bright blue it made him think of the ocean. “Yes?”
He reached up and cupped the back of her head, holding it still. “Do you know who I am?”
Her eyes widened, and then she laughed—a high, sweet, melodic sound that he absorbed like a symphony.
“Of course I do.” She pulled back, and he felt the loss of her in his arms. “You are…” She lowered her voice. “Darth Vader.”
He chuckled. Okay, so she did know who she was talking to.
“Just now, with that guy…” She paused to giggle. “All that was missing was ‘The Imperial March.’”
Except, because she was tipsy, the word Imperial came out slurred and all wrong.
He fought another laugh as he slipped an arm around her waist. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?” She didn’t fight him, so that was something.
He led her over to her friends, who were, terrifyingly enough, in even worse shape than she was.
Between Eric and the bartender, they managed to wrangle Willow, her friends, and their belongings outside. Helping them into their jackets and coats was a comedy of errors, but they eventually managed it and were soon walking out the door, the Uber already waiting for them.
“I live right there!” one of the girls shouted. But she pointed one way and then spun around.
“Uh-huh.” The bartender sounded like this was just another day for him. “Let’s see your driver’s license so I can give the nice man your address.”
Eric would have helped the bartender navigate the situation, except that when he turned around, he realized…
He’d lost Willow.
He spun around until he spotted her, wandering down Main Street…
Barefoot. Teetering along in nothing but that slip of a dress and a coat, which was slipping off her shoulder.
“What the…?” He turned to the bartender, who’d managed to get the ladies into the back seat and was giving the driver directions. “You got this?”
The bartender waved him off, and Eric took off after Willow. “Hey! Wait up!”
He caught up with her halfway down the block. Not too hard to do since she was weaving more than walking, her high heels dangling from her fingers as she led the way.
Fixing her coat, he made sure her shoulders were covered and walked beside her, correcting her trajectory so she stayed off the road.
He was hoping the fresh air would do her some good. It had to be better than having another drink at the bar.
After a while, though, as she wound her way down a side street with obvious intention, curiosity got the better of him. “Where are we going?”
She muttered something that sounded like “I have to know.”
“What’s that?” He leaned over to hear her.
Her eyes were wide and earnest when she looked back at him. The streetlamps highlighted her pale cheeks, casting her in a warm, yellow glow. “I have to know what happened. And I have to know tonight.”
“Okaaay.” He stopped asking questions because they’d finally reached her destination. He stared out at the shadowy, murky darkness over the stone wall before muttering in surprise, “The cemetery? Really?”
But in the short time he’d paused to question her decision, she’d dropped her heels and was climbing the gate.
“Willow!” He looked left and right to see if anyone was witnessing her trespassing. But it was the middle of the night, and no one was around.
With a muttered curse, he followed her over, racing to catch up before she could trip and fall over a gravestone. “Willow, we shouldn’t be here.”
She didn’t seem to hear him as she plowed ahead, a woman on a drunken mission. Although, she was clearheaded enough to get out her phone and turn on the flashlight feature so she could read the gravestones.
He did the same.
They found Charlie’s first, and Eric took note of the date. Willow paused but then kept moving.
He knew what she was searching for before they even got there, but he was still somehow a little surprised to find himself standing over Rose Spencer’s grave.
“How’d you know where she was buried?” he asked.
As if that was the pertinent point. He had to get her out of here before she was caught and got in trouble. But when he turned to say as much…he froze.
“Are you…?” Oh no. No, no, no . “Are you crying ?”
Big, fat tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she sniffled loudly. And then she crumpled into a heap. He barely caught her before she fully hit the ground, and now…
Welp. Now he was holding Willow King in his lap as she bawled over the death of a woman she’d never met, wasn’t related to, and who’d died roughly a hundred years before.
Yup. That sounded about right.
Not sure what he was even doing, Eric found himself trying to soothe her. Stroking her back as she nestled against him, getting his button-down shirt wet with tears.
“Hey.” He rubbed circles between her shoulder blades. “It’s okay.”
Her curls tickled his chin and cheeks as she shook her head. “It’s not,” she moaned. “He lost her.”
“Who?”
“Charlie!”
“Ah.” He had no response for this. Should he remind her that Charlie was also dead?
She sniffled and whimpered.
No. Probably best not to mention that.
“They were in love.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt, pained and heartbreaking. “Like Romeo and Juliet, and he lost her. He lost her.”
He surprised himself by dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He wasn’t even sure why he did it. It just felt…right.
Not like he was making a move or anything, but the woman clearly needed comfort. And so for a long while, Eric just focused on keeping her warm and safe in his arms.
When she fell silent, her face buried against his chest, he lifted the flashlight again to get a better look at Rose’s grave.
“Huh.”
His grunt got no response from Willow.
“That’s interesting,” he murmured. The date of her death was the same as Charlie’s.
But clearly he was talking to himself, because Willow didn’t so much as stir. He dipped his head, wanting to make sure she was still breathing, but then…
A soft, cute, freakin’ adorable little snore came from the woman curled up in his lap.
Eric laughed. She was fast asleep.
It took some effort, but he finally managed to get himself to his feet, with Willow tucked in his arms. She was small and light—easy to carry.
He made a note to tease her about being nearly as lightweight and portable as the Darth Vader trinket she’d left him.
He headed out of the cemetery, this time finding a low wall he could easily step over onto the sidewalk.
It wasn’t until he was nearly back at the bar that he realized…he had no idea what to do with her.
It wasn’t like he could drive up to the inn and dump her on the doorstep. And if he knocked…
He winced just thinking about all the accusations that would be hurled in his direction.
He paused to look down at her in the moonlight. With her head tipped back slightly, he had the perfect view of her delicate features, wayward curls, and upturned lips.
A huff of air escaped. Willow was on the verge of smiling even in her sleep.
But he could see the remnants of tears. She’d cried herself to sleep over dead strangers. And that…
He sighed, shifting her weight in his arms. That was somehow so incredibly Willow. So pure and kind and…lovely.
She was so freakin’ lovely, it made his chest ache.
It was time to admit that she’d gotten to him. She’d wiggled into his life and burrowed into his heart, and…
He still wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened.
But he cared about this woman. He cared about her, and…
He looked around the dark, empty street.
He had no idea what to do with her.