Chapter 12 Willow
WILLOW
Ransom smiles, and it lights up his handsome face. I don’t think I realized how much I missed looking into his ocean blue-green eyes, but I let myself stare for a bit, caught up in the way the colors seem to shift.
“Thank you,” he says. “Seriously. You’re saving our asses here.”
He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering a bit before he pulls back.
It’s just a small moment, just a brief point of contact, but it feels good. It’s hard not to lean into it, not to chase more.
As if he can read my mind, Ransom grins and drops his head, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. He doesn’t go for anything else, and it takes every fiber of my being to stay stiff and not melt into his touch.
I can’t encourage this. Not when I’m trying to keep my distance from him and his brothers.
Finally, he pulls away. His eyebrow ring glints in the light as he tilts his head a little, and after one last lingering look, he heads back to his bike to leave.
I watch him go, feeling rooted to the spot.
My emotions are so fucking conflicted, such a tangled mess that I couldn’t sort through them if I tried.
Logically, I understand that what they did was meant to protect me.
Malice told me that this X guy wanted a virgin, and Ransom made it pretty clear that whatever X planned to use me for, it wasn’t anything good.
So they did what they did to keep that from happening to me.
Still, that doesn’t take away the pain of what I saw that night in Vic’s room.
What hurts most now is that they didn’t tell me.
They didn’t include me in any of it or let me make the decision for myself.
Instead, they tricked me. They made me think that fucking me was something they genuinely wanted, that we had reached a point in our…
relationship, for lack of a better word, where we all craved each other the same way.
But it was a lie.
That stabs into my heart every time I think about it.
I guess if I was sticking to my guns about not wanting to have anything to do with them anymore, I shouldn’t have agreed to help them. At the end of the day though, I can’t stand the idea of Malice going back to jail.
I don’t know what all he went through in there, but I remember him talking about how he was in prison when their mom was killed and how that fact eats at him.
I remember the look in his eyes and the tension in his body when he talked about it.
It makes my heart hurt even worse to think about him having to go back there and not having his brothers.
After struggling to focus through my final two classes of the day, I head to my car and pull out of the student lot. But instead of going back to my apartment, I punch the address to my grandmother’s house into the GPS that’s built into my car.
We’ve been getting to know each other more and more, and Olivia told me I basically have a standing invitation for dinner or a weekend getaway at her place anytime I want to visit.
It’s not often that I meet new people, and I’ve always been a bit awkward and shy, but seeing Olivia’s enthusiasm for having me in her life really helps. I never feel like I’m imposing, and when she says she wants to see me any time, I really feel like she means it.
I park at the house, and one of the house staff opens the front door after I ring the bell.
“Welcome back, Ms. Hayes,” she says, inclining her head politely.
“Oh. Um, thank you,” I reply, nodding back. I have no idea how Olivia handles having people defer to her all day with such grace and poise. “Is my grandmother here?”
The woman nods. “Would you like me to go get her for you?”
“Yes, please.”
She nods again, ushering me into the sitting room before heading off to fetch her boss.
I take a seat on the plush sofa, trying not to fidget while I wait.
Luckily, it doesn’t take long before Olivia comes in, and she smiles warmly when she sees me.
“Willow,” she says, sounding pleased. “What a lovely surprise.”
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” I ask, suddenly unsure.
“No, of course not. And even if you were, seeing you is much more important.”
My cheeks heat up at that, but if she notices my awkwardness, Olivia doesn’t mention it. She sits down near me, tucking a small tendril of gray hair behind her ear.
“So,” she begins, “how are things? How is school going?”
“Really well,” I tell her, unable to keep the excited grin off my face. “I’m catching up faster than I thought I would, and it feels so good to be back on track. Thank you again for talking to the dean.”
“Of course.” She lifts one eyebrow conspiratorially. “Between you and me, putting old rich men in their place is something I quite enjoy doing now and then.”
That startles a chuckle out of me, and my grin widens. I’m sure she’s had plenty of men talk down to her in her life, but she clearly knows how to deal with them. Dean Carmichael never stood a chance.
“And your apartment is still working out alright?” Olivia continues, her expression turning more serious. “Is there anything else you need?”
I shake my head. “No, you’ve already done so much. The apartment is wonderful, and having so much space all to myself is amazing. You don’t have to worry.”
“Well, it’s a grandmother’s right to worry about her granddaughter,” she points out, one sculpted brow rising again. Her tone is crisp, but the smile on her face makes it more teasing than anything. “And I have so many years of worrying to catch up on.”
“I know. But I promise I’ll tell you if there’s anything I need. Right now, I’m better than I ever thought I’d be.”
“Excellent.”
“Actually…” I lick my lips, trying to segue smoothly to the real reason I came by. “There was one thing I wanted to ask you.”
“Anything. What’s on your mind?”
“Um, I heard there was a new wing opening at the Museum of Contemporary Art soon. Some people were talking about it at school the other day. I’d love to go to something like that. It sounds like it would be really interesting.”
I hold my breath, waiting for Olivia to call me out on my lie or laugh at the idea that someone like me would have any interest in art.
But instead, she seems to light up. Her eyes sparkle, and she clasps her hands in her lap, beaming at me.
“Oh, I didn’t know you had an interest in art. That’s wonderful. I’ve donated to the museum in the past—a few times, actually. The work they do is wonderful.”
I breathe an internal sigh of relief, sitting forward a little. “Is it too late to get an invite, do you think?”
My grandmother laughs. “With the amount I’ve given them, I could ask for an invite the night of, and it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you so much.” I hesitate, then add, “Would it be too much trouble to ask to get a few other people on the list as well? I have some friends who would really love to be there too.”
“Not at all.” She waves a delicate hand. “Just tell me how many, and I’ll take care of it.”
Somehow, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy, but Olivia really does seem delighted to do it, and that makes me relax a bit.
With that favor out of the way, I can enjoy just spending time with her, and when Olivia invites me to stay for dinner, I agree.
Almost like magic, one of the staff members shows up a short while later to tell us that dinner is served, and Olivia leads me to the dining room.
“How do they do that?” I ask, staring in awe as roast chicken and potatoes are laid out on the table.
Two more plates, heaped with buttery dinner rolls and steamed green beans smothered in garlic butter sauce, are brought out and dropped off. Olivia chuckles when my stomach growls loudly.
“My staff is wonderful,” she says. “And I think they enjoy a chance to show off a bit when you come over. They’ve gotten used to me and my dinners for one.”
I glance around at our elegant surroundings. “I would have thought you’d have dinner parties and things all the time in a place like this.”
Her smile goes a little sad around the edges, and she sets down her fork. “I used to, when your grandfather was alive. But it seems like too much trouble to socialize much these days. My heart just isn’t in it anymore.”
“Oh,” I breathe. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“Nonsense. And who knows, with you in my life now, maybe I’ll find some of that spark again. I would love to show you how beautiful a garden party can be in late summer.”
“I’ve never been to anything like that before,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure you’d do just fine,” she says firmly. “And now I definitely want to throw one.”
The conversation flows easily as we eat. She asks about my classes, and I find myself talking about them with more openness than I ever have before.
Misty never wanted to hear about anything I was studying. In her mind, going to school was just something that kept me from working. When I decided to apply for college, she called it a waste of time, and I had to literally hide the money I managed to tuck away for application fees.
Once the dinner dishes are cleared away, a member of the staff brings out a cheesecake topped with fresh, bright strawberries and whipped cream. She cuts generous slices for each of us, and I savor every bite.
“Take some home with you,” Olivia says after we finish. “Otherwise I’ll just end up eating it all, and I don’t need it at my age.”
“You’re not that old,” I tell her, but I accept the wrapped up container when it’s handed to me.
Olivia walks me to the front door, and before I leave, she pulls me into a hug.
“Drive safely,” she says. “Text me to let me know you got home alright.”
“I will,” I promise.
My apartment is several miles east of Olivia’s mansion, closer to the heart of the city, but I don’t mind the drive.
I decide to take surface streets rather than hopping on the freeway, and I roll the window down and turn up the music, already thinking about busting into the leftover cheesecake as soon as I get home.