Chapter 6
Willow
This is the last place I want to be, with the last person I want to be with.
We don't say a word the entire drive. The radio hums low between us, some unrecognisable song filling the space while I stare out of the window and pretend I’m more interested in the passing streets than the man behind the wheel.
It's not awkward, but not exactly friendly either, just a dull mood where neither of us knows what to say.
He's pushy—but not in the way that smothers. He knows when to apply pressure and when to back off completely, recognising that silence is often kinder than questions. It's infuriating. Comforting. Confusing as hell.
Even after he left me alone for a few weeks, he still stocked my favourite sweets in the cupboards and my coconut coffee. Cooked my dinner even though most of the time I left it, but he still did it every day. No comments, no expectations. Just quiet care wrapped in routine.
I hate that he notices things about me.
I also hate that part of me leans into it.
It was easier when I could paint him as the villain. When I don't have to reconcile the fact that he sees me—really sees me—even when I’m trying my hardest not to be seen at all.
It almost makes it worse that he's so good. He's kind without making a show of it, steady without asking for thanks. I get it now—why River turned out the way he did. It all makes sense because it wasn't Rose's influence that did it.
I've seen them together—the easy banter, the way they navigate each other's presence like best friends who just happen to share the same DNA rather than merely a parental relationship. Elijah adores his son; it’s evident whenever he’s mentioned or when they are in the same room.
It's nice to witness.
It also twists something painful inside me, because that's how my dad was with me.
Watching Elijah with River feels like pressing on a bruise I pretend isn't there—one that reminds me of everything I lost and everything I’m still grieving.
I want to hate him for it, for being a walking reminder of what good fathers are like.
Instead, I just sit there, angry and sad and unfairly comforted all at once, wishing it didn't feel so familiar.
I don't understand why he cares. That's the part that messes with my head the most. Because Rose couldn't give a shit. She never has. She probably wouldn't notice if I disappeared tomorrow.
Something else I have noticed is the lack of pictures of the two of them together. Not a single one. The only one they have of the three of them was taken years ago because River is a child in it with three missing teeth.
And Elijah… he never talks about her. I've not heard him on the phone whilst she's been gone. It's like she doesn't matter to him.
So why does he notice me? I’m nothing to him.
There's something off about it all, and if I had the energy, I would ask, but it took a lot to just shower, even though being clean did make me feel slightly better. The coffee and pancakes were good, too, but I'm not letting him know that.
His head will most likely double in size.
“Thinking about anything interesting?” I jump slightly at the sudden sound of his voice.
His arm is resting on the steering wheel while he's turned slightly in his seat, looking at me, and I can't help but notice the way his muscles bulge underneath his t-shirt, the veins on his hands, and I blink, swallowing the sudden dryness in my mouth.
“Just how annoying you are.”
He just laughs. “I was actually expecting something worse.” he taps the steering wheel. “Come on then.”
Just as he opens the door, his phone rings, Rose's name popping up on the screen, but he doesn't even answer the call. I notice the annoyance flash across his face as he picks it up and turns it off.
“Trouble in paradise?”
He hums in thought. “Nothing for you to worry about, now let's go. It's just us today.” He steps out of the car, closing his door as I stay seated.
There is definitely something going on with them. I always thought they were the perfect couple, or family.
He rounds the car and opens my door, holding it open for me, his hair ruffling in the wind. I don't see it down much, and it isn't really long, just enough to be able to tie back, and it's a good luck on him.
Not that I like him or find him attractive in any way. Nope.
“Do you need help?” he asks.
“Nope.” I rush out as I scramble out of the car, accidentally bumping into him, but he doesn't move. He just closes the door as I move out of the way.
“Come on, princess.”
He sets off walking towards the garage, and I reluctantly follow him with a grumble. “Will you not call me that. I have a name.”
He side-eyes me as he lifts the shutters. “Does it annoy you?”
“Yes, it annoys me. Stop calling me that, or I’ll find you an equally annoying nickname too.”
He smirks. “Go for it… princess. Can't wait to see what you come up with.” My fists clench, and I internally scream.
“You are so fucking annoying.” I storm up to him, but he doesn't look back as he checks out a very rusty car.
“I know,” he replies without a care. “Take your hoodie off; I've got a spare one in the office.”
Is he actually listening to me? Clearly not, given the way he lifts the bonnet to check inside while I glare daggers at the side of his stupid, pretty head.
“I’m not wearing your hoodie.” I refuse.
“Why not?”
“Because I like mine.”
He straightens up and turns my way. “Do you want to get it dirty?”
“Well… no, it's a nice hoodie.” I got it made for when I went to an Alex Warren concert.
“I’m not trying to get you to change into my hoodie for a chance to see you partially naked,” he smirks softly. “I don't want you ruining that when we work on this.”
My mouth opens slightly at his words. He did not just mention me being naked, did he? No, I’m imagining things.
I feel his fingers slide under my chin, pushing up till my lips are together.
“You'll catch flies like that. Now go on, my office is clean, and if you need help, just ask.” he turns back round, head ducking into the bonnet near the engine, and I’m absolutely speechless.
There are no words. My brain is blank, and my cheeks are warm.
But I head to his office anyway and do not ask for any help.
“You know what you're doing, right?”
I roll my eyes at his question as I help him fix the brakes on the rusty car and push a piece of hair back behind my ear. “I could do this in my sleep.”
We have been working on this car for a few hours now, and I don't want to admit it, but I've enjoyed it.
Don't get me wrong, he's annoying sometimes, likes to push buttons, but he's distracted me.
I needed it. At first, I thought doing something I used to help my dad with would make me sad, but it's done the complete opposite.
Also, it isn't too bad when the man I’m working with looks the way he does.
After a while of awkward silences, we ended up chatting, and it turned out there are a lot of layers that make up Elijah Lawson.
He spoke about his family; he's the oldest out of five boys, and they moved over here when he was thirteen, hence why he still has a slight accent compared to the rest of his siblings.
From the way he talks about them, I can tell how much his family means to him.
“Alright,” he steps back from the car, wiping his hand on his t-shirt before smiling at me. “I think we deserve a break, don't you?”
I watch him head over to his office before coming back out with a big bag that is full of something. “Now, don't tell anyone I shared my secret stash with you.” He hands me the bag, and inside is an insane amount of chocolate.
“I’m not the only one with a sweet tooth,” he says. “Coffee?” I know it was a question, but he sticks the kettle on anyway and pulls out two mugs.
I pick out a Malteser chocolate and start to unwrap it.
“How on earth do you stay in shape eating all this?” My eyes widen just as I realise what I blurted out, and he peers at me, eyes lighting up. At this point, I’d appreciate it if the earth could swallow me up.
“Have you been checking me out, princess?”
I stick the chocolate in my mouth, shaking my head, chewing slowly so I don't have to answer. I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks.
“To answer your question, I jog to the gym in the mornings, work out for an hour and jog back,” he finishes making our drinks and comes over, handing it to me and taking the bag of chocolates, and that's when I notice he has a hot chocolate instead.
Someone has a serious chocolate problem.
“That sounds like a lot of effort.”
“Well, sometimes I forget I’m supposed to go to the gym and end up at the butty van just outside the building; they do the best sausage and egg muffins, but that stays between us,” he winks, and I let out a soft giggle.
“I can see how you get confused.”
“Right? Did you know the gym also has a connected dance studio? They have classes on most days.”
I bite my lip, instantly knowing where he might be going with this conversation.
“I don't dance anymore.”
“Why not?” his blue eyes look right into mine, and I want to look away, but I can't.
“I don't want to talk about it.” I drink my coffee as he nods slowly.
“I get it,” he says, but I don't think anyone could get it.
How are you supposed to do the things you used to love again when you feel so dead inside? That's what I think every day now.
“I heard Rose wants you to get a job.”
Oh, here we go. I knew it wouldn't be long till he started, and it makes complete sense; it's his house. I’m just an outsider to them.
I want to be angry at him, but it's exhausting, and I knew I would need to get a job so I can move out of there as soon as I can. I've just been too in my head, but it looks like I can't wait anymore. Life moves on, and grief doesn't pause time for you.
“Don't worry, I’ll get a job soon, and I’ll be out of your hair,” I say bluntly. I put down my mug on a bench nearby, ready to walk home no matter the weather, but just as I turn, he grabs my hand, and my breath hitches.
I gaze down at his large hand enveloping mine.
It feels soft, loose, warm, and comforting.
“That’s not what I’m saying,” he says, lightly brushing his thumb across my hand before letting it drop.
I can still feel tingling on my skin. “There’s no rush at all.
I just wanted to mention that, if you’re interested, I can offer you a few shifts here to help out with various tasks. ”
I pull the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand.
“Rose told me I need to get a job soon, or I'll be out on the streets. Normally, I wouldn't care much for her threats, but I honestly don’t think I would survive out there. I can’t sing to save my life, so that rules out performing, and I really don’t handle the cold well. ”
“Willow,” he lets out a laugh as I ramble on. “You're not going to be living on the streets, ever. Rose has no right to threaten you with that, especially when it's my house.”
I chew the inside of my lip. Aren't you supposed to put your wife before a stranger? According to her, whatever is his is hers too.
“She won't be happy.” I can already imagine her reaction.
He tugs on the drawstring of the hoodie I'm wearing, which, by the way, smells too much like him. "Let me handle her. My offer still stands, but just remember that you'll always have a home with us, even when you get back on your feet."
I stand there, shocked that he doesn't want me to leave, which confuses me even more.
I watch as he washes the mugs we used and locks up his office while talking about a barbecue his family is having at the end of the month for his niece's birthday.
But all I can think about is whether he is as terrible as I imagined him to be all these years.