Chapter 25 Willow
WILLOW
I don’t hear from the Voronin brothers for the next several days. Not even a text from Victor, which makes me feel weird. Then I get mad at myself for feeling weird about it, because this is what I wanted, and the conflicted nature of my feelings just gets worse.
I try to focus on school, going to class as usual, doing my homework, and trying to make sure that when the fall semester rolls around, I’ll be ready for it.
But my emotions are still a mess from my fight with Malice. I’m still mad at him. Every time I think about how he shut me down and shut me out, I get angry all over again.
And still… even though I barely want to admit it to myself, I miss him. I miss all three of them. I worry about them and the danger they’re in, and I want to see them, even though I definitely know I shouldn’t.
I catch myself looking around when I leave classes, half expecting Ransom to come sauntering up to me, trying to smooth things over with his charming smile and some joke about how Malice doesn’t know how to talk to people.
Or Malice himself lurking in the shadows between buildings or waiting in my apartment when I get home, not apologizing since he clearly doesn’t do that, but trying to move past it.
It doesn’t happen, and I tell myself it’s for the best, even as my heart aches a little with something I don’t want to call longing.
Trying to take my mind off the three of them, I throw myself into my new life with gusto, trying to find a place for myself in this confusing new space.
Olivia is delighted whenever I agree to go somewhere with her or when I let her buy me something or suggest something to me, and I try to let her obvious happiness outweigh the awkwardness I still feel.
It’s hard to not feel like an outsider. Like I don’t belong with these fancy, rich, sophisticated people. They move through this world with their heads held high, navigating it all so easily, and I feel like I’m stumbling through it, trying my best not to trip over my own feet and fall on my face.
On Thursday, I meet Olivia after class, taking her up on her offer to go to her country club for the afternoon. I’m already nervous, because the words ‘country club’ conjure up a certain image in my mind, and when we get there, it’s even more luxurious than I expected.
The golf course area is made up of sprawling green lawns and hills, and the afternoon light glints off a large pond in the center of it all. When we walk into the actual clubhouse part, my jaw almost drops.
None of it is over the top ostentatious, but there’s a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and everything is clearly expensive.
The people milling around all seem comfortable and at ease here, and Olivia greets them by name with her usual polite smile. I follow after her, greeting the people who say hello to me and trying to remember how to talk to strangers.
“Olivia!” An older woman with white hair and a bright smile waves from an armchair in the little lounge area. She’s sitting with a group of people, and they all turn when she calls out my grandmother’s name.
Olivia guides us over and does a round of introductions, although I can barely keep up with everyone’s name.
They strike up a conversation about someone they all know, half gossip and half business talk, and it’s easy to zone out. I’m content to not be noticed for a while, until I notice someone approaching me from across the room.
When I glance up, I’m surprised to see that it’s Joshua Powell, although I guess it does make sense for him to be here, since his parents are a part of this crowd.
“Hey, Willow.” He grins, smiling at me. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Oh, hi.” I smile back, relieved to see a face I recognize. “Olivia wanted to show me the place, so here I am.”
He glances over just as one of the women in my grandmother’s circle starts laughing, leaning in closer to say something in Olivia’s ear.
“It seems like she’s going to be busy with them for a while,” Joshua says. “Do you want to play a round of golf while you wait?”
“Oh. Uh, I’ve never played golf before,” I admit.
“I can teach you,” he offers, slipping his hands into his pockets with a shrug. “I’ve been playing since I was young. You’ll be a pro in no time.”
Truth be told, I really have no interest in golf. It never seemed interesting when I happened to catch it on TV, and I always switched away quickly to one of my home improvement shows.
But clearly, it’s what the people come here to do, other than gossip and drink expensive booze.
“You should go with him,” Olivia says, I jump a little, not having realized that she was listening. “I might be here a while, and I know this old person stuff is boring for you young folks.”
She gives me an apologetic smile, and I smile back, then turn and nod at Joshua.
“Sure. I’d like that, thanks.”
That seems like the right thing to say, because Joshua and Olivia both look pleased. He leads me outside and snags a golf cart, loading it up with his clubs in the back. We drive over the green to the first hole, and he hops out, grabbing his bag.
“I know golf looks boring on TV,” he says, chuckling a little as if he’s read my mind. “But it can be really interesting if you look at it the right way.”
“Which way is that?” I ask, watching as he selects a club.
“Like a strategy game. The holes are your targets, and there are different parameters for sinking the ball in. Do you know about the par system?”
I nod. “I think so. That’s like the number of shots you have to get the ball in, right?”
“Exactly. The fewer shots the better, which means you have to really think about your shot before you take it. That leads into considering what kind of club you want to use to make the shot, since some of them are better for some scenarios than others. It’s like a puzzle, if that makes sense.”
“It does,” I tell him. “You’re saying there’s more to it than just being able to hit a ball.”
He grins, revealing his slightly crooked front teeth as his eyes dance with amusement. “You’ve got it.”
As he explains what the different clubs are for, I listen, trying to absorb the lesson. He clearly knows a lot about the sport, and one hand holds on to the club while the other gesticulates as he speaks. He seems like a nice guy, friendly and open, not condescending at all. And he’s handsome too.
Still, when he smiles at me, I don’t feel anything.
There’s no rush of heat, my heart doesn’t beat faster, and no butterflies fill my stomach. It’s nothing like how the Voronin brothers make me feel.
But maybe that’s a good thing. The way they make me feel is terrifying half the time, my emotions so volatile when I’m around them that sometimes I feel like a pinball in a machine, wild and out of control.
At least Joshua will never make me feel like that.
“So your swing doesn’t need to be too hard here,” he’s saying. “Since it’s just a straight shot to the hole. A good solid tap should do the trick.”
He demonstrates, hitting the ball, and it glides along the green, stopping just a few feet shy of the hole.
“Good shot,” I tell him, trying to make myself pay attention to what he’s doing. The last thing I need to do here is distract myself thinking about Malice, Ransom, and Vic.
“Thanks.” He winks at me. “The first couple of holes are always the easiest. Do you want to try to putt it in the rest of the way?”
I make a face. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to mess up your game.”
He chuckles warmly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, this is just practice. And the best way to learn is to do it.”
“Okay, then. Sure.”
I let him lead me to where the ball is resting, and he puts the club in my hand. I try to mimic the way I saw him holding it, and he steps up behind me and adjusts my grip, using his hands to slide mine to where they need to be.
“I’ll show you how to adjust your swing,” he says. “Like this.”
I just nod, feeling the warmth of his body against my back. I can’t help but think of the way it felt when Malice stepped up behind me at the museum and how aware I was of him, every atom in my body reacting to his presence.
It doesn’t feel uncomfortable to have Joshua’s arms around me. It’s not creepy or lecherous the way Troy Copeland’s touch was when he did something as simple as shake my hand. But as I wait for any kind of spark to flare inside me, none comes.
“Okay, are you ready?” Joshua murmurs. “Take your shot.”
I move my arms like he’s taught me to, drawing back until he stops me, and then I let him help guide my swing forward to hit the ball. The little white ball rolls for a bit, then teeters on the edge of the hole before dropping in.
“Very nice.” Joshua nods in approval, stepping back. “Did you feel that in the swing?”
“Um, yeah. I felt it.”
“Eventually, you’ll learn how hard or soft you need to hit it for a particular hole. And that’s not even accounting for things like wind or being on hills or anything yet.”
“It sounds like there’s a lot that goes into it.” I eye the club in my hand before glancing at the hole the ball disappeared into. “You must have a good head for remembering all of it.”
He dips his chin, looking almost a bit bashful. “I guess you could say that. It’s a good distraction after a long week of work. Talking about numbers all day can get very tedious.”
In the back of my mind, I think that golf seems just as tedious, but of course I don’t say that out loud.
We move on to the next hole, Joshua chatting away about his life. He’s an only child, and he grew up being doted on by his parents, which led to some resentment when they had higher expectations of him as he got older.
“I don’t blame them, I guess,” he says with a sigh. “I can’t expect to carry our family name if I can’t live up to it, but it was a lot to handle when I was eighteen and still trying to figure out who I was, you know?”
“Yeah. That makes a lot of sense,” I tell him. “I can relate.”
There might not be much spark between us, but at least he seems… easy. He talks about normal things, straightforward things. The school he graduated from, the people he plays golf with on the weekends. There’s nothing dangerous or deceptive to it, and I don’t feel in over my head.
He’s kind and normal, and as we play through more holes, I try to convince myself that this is what I want.
Stability. Comfort. Only having to worry about someone working overtime or spending too long at the country club—not being concerned that they might die in some brutal attack or end up killing someone else.
When we reach the sixth hole, we find a group just finishing up and getting ready to move on. We wait for them, talking quietly amongst ourselves, before someone breaks off and strides over to us.
I have to hide my grimace when I realize that it’s Troy.
He nods at Joshua in greeting and then looks me over, his eyes sliding up and down and then up again as a slow smile spreads over his face. It gives me that same gross feeling I had before, and I fight the urge to shudder.
“Willow, right?” he asks. “Olivia’s granddaughter.”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
Everyone else I’ve met here who was also at the gala seemed content to pretend the incident with my mom never happened, but of course, Troy has to be the exception to that rule.
His eyes are still on me as he smirks.
“We usually don’t get that much excitement at events like the one at the museum. Usually it’s a lot of boring speeches and people begging for money, so I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t mad about the entertainment when your mom showed up.”
Heat rushes up my cheeks, my spine going stiff. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I say sharply.
Troy gives a languid shrug.
“I’m just saying she livened things up, that’s all. Is she really the one who raised you?” He chuckles, looking me up and down again. “You were doing a decent enough job of blending in, but damn. She looked like she walked in right off a street corner.”
“That’s my mother you’re talking about,” I say quietly, defensiveness rising inside me. I know Misty has an entire truckload of issues, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to have this asshole talking about her like she’s a piece of trash.
Troy nods, something lecherous gleaming in his eyes. “Damn. Being adopted by that woman, I bet you’ve got some interesting stories to tell.”
“Not really,” I grit out, my jaw tight. “My childhood was pretty boring, actually. Now, if you don’t mind—”
“It’s true your mother’s a hooker, right?” he asks, cutting right over me. “She definitely looked like one.”
My stomach clenches, my pulse picking up as adrenaline rushes through me. I’ve never been the type of person who got into fights at school or things like that, but right now, it’s very hard to resist the urge to punch Troy in his smug fucking face.
But before I can do anything, Joshua steps in, getting between the two of us.
“Hey, man. That’s enough,” he tells Troy in a low voice. Then he turns to me, offering me a small smile. “I’m a little tired of golf at the moment, actually. Do you want to go back to the clubhouse?”
I nod gratefully, not trusting my voice right now.
We get back into the golf cart, and Joshua speeds away, leaving Troy and his friends behind. My stomach is in knots, and I take several shaky breaths, trying to calm myself down.
Joshua glances over at me, grimacing. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Troy is an asshole. If I’d known he was out on the green today, I wouldn’t have suggested playing.”
I laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “It’s okay. You can’t control what assholes do.”
He shrugs wryly. “I guess not. And unfortunately, he’s an asshole with money, from a good family, so the club won’t kick him out, despite a number of… indiscretions. It’s a pity.”
“Unfortunately, a lot of assholes have money,” I say, shaking my head.
“I hope you don’t think I’m like that. I can’t really help my tax bracket, but I try not to let it turn me into a raging dick.”
A smile tugs at my lips as we roll to a stop back at the club, and I climb out of the golf cart. “No, you’ve been nothing but nice since I met you.”
“That’s a relief.” He gets out too, shoving his hands into his pockets as he dips his head to catch my gaze. “Because I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me on Saturday.”
I blink, unsure of what to say.
My first impulse is to tell him no, but then I glance over to where my grandmother is talking with her friends, the group of them laughing about something as they sit at a table on the clubhouse patio.
This is my chance for the normal life I’ve desperately wanted for so long.
The chance to start truly fitting into this world, making a real effort to become part of it.
It’s right there in front of me, ready for the taking.
And all I have to do is… take it.
I lick my lips, hesitating for just one more second. Then I nod.
“Sure. That sounds nice.”