35. A Wish for Strength
A WISH FOR STRENGTH
RAYMOND
S omething is wrong.
I feel it before my eyes even open. The bed beside me is empty and cold, and not the kind where Willow has just slipped out, leaving behind a mess of tangled sheets in her rush to make sure Quill doesn’t wake up and see her here. I’ve told her a hundred times that my daughter sleeps like a hibernating bear and the chances of her waking and finding Willow in my bed are deep in the negative. But that damn woman never listens.
But today isn’t that. No, this is different.
The feeling burrows deep in my chest as I sit up, scanning the room. I push a hand through my hair and glance again at the neatly made bed beside me—not messy, not abandoned in a hurry.
My stomach knots as I turn to look at the nightstand on her side. The space that had started to collect pieces of her—her lip balm, her night cream, the paperback she’d been reading—now sits completely empty. Everything is wiped clean like she was never here at all.
Fuck. No fucking way.
I throw the covers off and stride out, heading straight to Quill’s room. The door creaks as I push it open, and there she is, sleeping soundly, arms wrapped around her new stuffed pony. I exhale through my nose and head for the left wing. The door to Willow’s bedroom is closed. I knock once…then again.
My lips twitch for a second as I remember her first evening in my house and how I stood outside this very room. How much everything has changed…
I turn the doorknob.
My heart wishes that once again I’ll find her walking out of the shower, wrapped in that towel that barely covers her, Captain Lick hot on her heels. But none of that greets me. There’s no sound of the shower running. No Captain Lick trotting around. No hint of the tangerine scent she always leaves behind.
I scan the space, my pulse hammering. Everything is in perfect condition—really perfect, to the point the room looks like it was never inhabited. Her skincare bottles from the vanity are gone. The jewelry box where she keeps all her rings and bracelets is nowhere in sight. Even the throw blanket she uses to roll Captain Lick in at night is missing. The only thing still here is the dog bed Grandpa Will bought.
I grip the edge of the dresser, my knuckles going white.
What the hell did you do, Firefly?
Did she really just…walk out while my daughter and I were sleeping?
My breath turns uneven, anger and something sharper, like hurt, clashes inside me. I know she’s afraid of commitments, but running without an explanation…that’s not Willow Pershing. She stands, fights, argues until her face turns red, and yet here I am, all alone. I spin toward the door, ready to grab my phone, call her, and drag her ass back home, when I see it.
A single sheet of paper resting on the desk, its edges curling slightly. The familiar green page with gold embossing at the top that reads Blooming Quill is a part of the wedding estate’s stationery.
My fingers curl around it. I don’t want to read it, don’t want to see whatever words she’s left behind. I already know this letter isn’t some casual goodbye. This is Willow Pershing walking out of my life.
I inhale once before I start reading.
Dear Ray,
You must have realized by now that I’m gone.
I’m sure you’re upset, angry, and probably even disappointed. Believe me, I’m not proud of myself right now either.
But I can’t do this anymore.
I’m so grateful for the time I had with you and Quill. It was so easy to forget how and why I was here and…just be. Like I was meant to be a part of it all. Like it was real.
Thank you for showing me what my life could have been—if things were different. But the truth is, things aren’t different. What we had was an imperfect arrangement, filled with perfect moments we were never supposed to have.
We started as business rivals. I wasn’t supposed to bond with Quill, love her like she was mine.
Then we became business partners. We again weren’t supposed to become more. We weren’t supposed to stand in a room full of people and pretend we were engaged.
And everything snowballed from there.
You cared about my dream like it was yours. You showed me what it meant to have someone stand beside me, to pick up the pieces when I was too weary to carry them. You cared about the silly things that matter to me—the Ferris wheel, my dog’s comfort, the sunflowers.
You made me feel safe, like I belonged, and that’s why I have to go.
I don’t know when the lines blurred so much that I stopped seeing where they began, and that scares me, Ray. If I stay any longer, I won’t be able to tell what’s real and what’s fake.
Don’t you dare tell me I have a choice, because as much as your choices have both terrified and thrilled me, pushed me to the edge of something I don’t know how to survive, this is a fall I can’t make. I can’t.
Maybe there’s something wrong with me, because if I were anyone else watching myself from the outside, I’d tell me I was being stupid. That I should hold on to this, hold on to you, and never let go.
But I’m not someone else. I’m me.
I’m moving out. I’ll be at Violet’s for a few days, until I can find the strength to tell my mom and nana the truth—about us, about our fake engagement, about everything.
Thank you, again, for giving me the most unforgettable time of my life. I’ll say this one last time, if soulmates were real, I’d want you to be mine, Raymond Teager. Maybe, we can be together in another life.
Love,
Your Firefly.
I don’t know how long I sit there, gripping the letter like it has the power to reverse time. Like if I hold it tight enough, the words will rewrite themselves and I won’t be reading a goodbye I never saw coming.
I’m not angry anymore, instead I have a gnawing ache. How did it happen that while I was imagining our future, she was convincing herself it could never exist. While I was picturing lazy Sunday mornings with her tangled in my sheets, she was counting the days until she left. And the worst thing is, I don’t fucking know how to fix it and show her that I’m not going anywhere.
“Dad?”
I blink, looking up at Quill, who’s standing by the door in her sunflower pajamas. Hearing her voice still gets me. It’s been months since she first spoke, yet every time she speaks, it knocks the air right out of my lungs.
“Where’s Willow and Captain Lick?” she signs, her small hands forming the question.
Fuck.
I swallow hard, trying to come up with a version of the truth that won’t shatter her. But I can’t lie to my kid, not about this.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
She pads over on quiet feet, her brows pinched in concern. Kids pick up on everything, more than we give them credit for. I lift her onto my lap as I settle on Willow’s empty bed, which still smells like her.
“Willow’s gone,” I say, keeping my voice soft.
“Oh.” Quill’s hands still, then a beat later, she asks, “When will she come back?”
I rub a hand over my face, exhaling a breath that feels like it carries a weight I can’t shake. “I don’t know, Bug.” The truth tastes bitter. “She’s scared.”
Quill’s eyes go wide. “Scared of you?” she signs, and despite everything, a hoarse chuckle escapes me.
“Not exactly me.” I brush her hair back. “She’s scared of losing us.” She’s scared of staying, of believing this is real, of what might happen if she lets herself need us and it all disappears.
Quill tilts her head, her forehead scrunching in thought. “How do we make her less scared, Daddy?”
The million-dollar question.
“I don’t know, sweetheart.” My chest tightens. “But if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.”
She doesn’t answer right away, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, her little face scrunched in deep concentration. I wasn’t expecting my little girl to have all the answers, but just knowing she wants to help makes the tightness in my chest loosen—if only a little.
Then, her face brightens. “Can we go to the Ferris wheel, Daddy?”
I glance at the clock. “You want to go…now?”
She nods eagerly.
I know Quill and Willow have their thing with the Ferris wheel, but I’ve never been invited into that part of their world before.
“I know what we need to do to make Willow less scared, Daddy.”
I stare at my daughter, her determined little face, the absolute conviction in her eyes, and I realize I’d do anything if there’s even the smallest chance it would bring Willow back.
“Okay. Let’s get ready.”
* * *
Less than an hour later, I’m standing outside the ticket booth with my daughter’s hand in mine. The lights from the Ferris wheel glow, spinning in slow, steady circles.
Decent Joe lifts a brow when he sees us. “This is a surprise. I didn’t expect to see the Teagers without Willow.”
“Hi, DJ,” I say. “Yeah, it’s just us today.”
Quill tugs on my hand and signs, “We need the special cabin, Daddy.”
I relay the request to Decent Joe. “We would like to get on Willow’s special ride.”
He nods and scratches his beard, studying us for a beat before nodding. “Sorry, Raymond, but you guys will have to wait for a while. The wheel does not stall at every ride.”
“We’re not in a rush.” I guide Quill to a nearby bench. “Do we need to call Willow from here? Or…?”
I have no idea how coming here is bringing Willow back into my life. But Quill shakes her head, hugging her little yellow backpack to her chest.
When our turn finally comes, we step into the cabin. The Ferris wheel climbs higher, and when it finally stops at the top, the slight jolt makes me tense.
“It’s okay, Daddy.” A small hand rests on mine, as if she’s grounding me. I turn to look at my daughter, the tiny girl who despite her fears is now comforting me. “The ride is very safe.”
I think about how Willow must have said the same thing to my daughter the day they met.
“Thanks, Bug.” I squeeze her hand. “Now, how do we bring Willow home from here?”
She unzips her backpack and pulls out two sunflowers wrapped carefully in a plastic bag.
“We need to make a wish,” she signs. “I’ll go first so you can see how it’s done. But Willow told me there’s no wrong way to make a wish. It’s like a prayer. So don’t worry too much, Daddy. You just have to do it with your heart.”
My heart beats so fast that I think it’ll rip out of my body. I always saw Quill as someone I needed to protect. I didn’t realize that in my need to keep her safe from everything, visible or invisible, I was probably smothering my daughter. But Willow…she gave her space to be herself, to find her own strength.
One thing is sure—if my daughter believes this wish is a way to bring Willow back, to erase her fears, I’m going to wish with all my heart. I watch as she holds the sunflower close, taking a deep breath before speaking.
“Dear Wish Fairy,” she whispers. “One day, I told you that I don't want to leave my dad, that I was happy here with him, in his home, and never wanted to go anywhere else. I wished if you could make me strong so that I can tell my dad that I loved him. And you made my wish come true. Thank you so much.”
Watching her speak the words with the utmost sincerity feels like someone is squeezing my chest…hard.
“But now Willow’s gone because she’s scared. Can you please do your magic again? Can you please tell her that Dad and I are going nowhere and that we’ll love her forever? Maybe you’re wondering, why can’t I tell her that on my own? But I worry that she won’t believe me because I’m a kid and I think my daddy isn’t saying it the right way.”
Her voice wobbles on the last words.
“My dad once told me that ‘I love you’ means forever. Can you tell Willow that we mean it too…for all of us to be together?”
She blows on the sunflower, sending the wish into the wind, and then turns to me. “Your turn, Daddy. If you are shy, you don’t have to say it out loud.”
It might be easier to wish without words, but I don't want to do that, not when it comes to my bug or Willow. I want to fill every inch of space with words—clear words, so there’s no space for any sort of fear between us three.
“Dear Wish Fairy,” I start. “I don’t know how this works, but if my girls believe in you, then I do too. You gave my daughter the courage to speak, and now, I request you to do the same for Willow.” My throat tightens. “Help me bring her home. Make her see that she belongs with us, that she doesn’t have to be scared anymore.”
When I open my eyes, Quill has a huge smile on her face and she whispers, “Now, blow on the flower, Daddy.”
I exhale a slow breath, sending my wish out.
“You did very good. It’ll work.”