Chapter 48
Willow
Finding him wasn't hard. It never is when he's upset.
The football pitch is a mess. It's slick with rain, churned into thick mud that clings to my boots with every step. The cold wrapped around me like it had teeth, but I could barely focus on that. My attention was locked on him.
It's Christmas Eve, and we should be at Moiras. Instead, I’m out here because Rose couldn't keep her mouth shut.
She didn't even know about us; all she had was a suspicion, which, yes, I know, was true. We managed to confirm it, though, as soon as we returned home.
A small part of me is relieved that it isn't a secret anymore. No more sneaking around or pretending he doesn't really mean anything to me. River's reaction wasn't the best, not like I was expecting him to be jumping for joy about us, but we were supposed to tell him, not her.
I never wanted to wedge myself between them. Affecting their close relationship isn't what I wanted because I know how special it is, as I had it with my dad.
Although I was never expecting to fall in love with Elijah.
He slipped past every wall I put up so easily, and some part of me let him till I didn't want to fight it anymore.
River is kicking the ball into the net over and over again, each strike more aggressive than the last. Every so often, the ball snags in the net, and he yanks it free with more force than necessary before setting it back down and going again.
His hood is up, shadowing most of his face, but I don't need to see it to know exactly what mood he's in.
I come at him from the side.
“Go away, Willow.”
Alright, straight to the point.
I almost smile because if he thinks that's enough to get rid of me, he's clearly forgotten who he's dealing with.
“Mm, tempting,” I say lightly, shoving my hands into my coat pockets against the cold. “But no. I think I’ll stay.”
“Well, I don't want to talk to you.”
He doesn't even spare me a glance, just drags the ball back into place and lines up for another shot like I’m not here at all.
Charming.
“I’m not leaving until we talk.”
He kicks the ball again, harder this time. It slams into the net with a dull thud.
“Seriously? Just fuck off,” he snaps.
I let the words hang for a second, unimpressed, then glance at the net.
“Look,” I say, keeping my voice steady, even as he ignores me. “All I need you to do is listen. Just hear me out, and then you can say whatever the hell you want, okay?”
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
“I’m sorry you found out like this. Rose had no right to tell you.”
“Well, I’m glad she did,” he replies snappily. “I would have stayed clueless otherwise, wouldn't I?”
I straighten my spine, my nose scrunching against the cold.
“We were going to tell you. Whether you believe that or not. We just thought right before Christmas wasn't exactly ideal timing.”
He lets out a sharp, mocking scoff, dragging a hand through his hair beneath his hood.
“Yeah, because there's a good time to tell me you've been screwing my dad.”
The ball comes flying at me without warning. I catch it more out of reflex from when we used to play when we were younger, my fingers stinging from the impact.
“Seriously, Willow—what the hell were you thinking?”
I inhale heavily, trying not to lose it with him because he has every right to be upset.
“I was thinking that he makes me happy.”
That earns me a disbelieving laugh—short, harsh, and edged with something meaner than I've heard from him before.
“Happy? Doubt it. If someone makes you happy, you smile at their jokes or talk about the weather, dinner, or whatever else. You don't have sex with them,” he cuts himself off with a frustrated huff. “I wouldn't put it past you, you know. Doing this just to get back at mum.”
That pisses me off more than anything, and I was going to be easy on him, but I’m not being spoken to like this.
“I love you, Riv, but shut up.”
“I’m right, aren't I?”
“You couldn't be further from the truth.”
He steps toward me, the wind hitting us more harshly now. “Did you do this to break them up? I know how much you hated them.”
“River,” I warn.
“Was my dad just another one of your meaningless hookups that stuck around longer than it should have?”
Right. That does it.
I hurl the ball at him. It smacks him square in the chest, making him stumble back.
“I swear to God, just shut up! If you spew one more load of absolute bullshit, I will personally make sure you can't procreate—and then I’ll tell Quinn you wet the bed until you were ten.”
Petty? Absolutely.
Do I care? Not even a little.
I don't even know why I was expecting an adult conversation here, because it's gone the opposite way.
He blinks at me, stunned for half a second. “You wouldn't.”
“I so would.”
A low rumble of thunder rolls overhead, and then the rain starts. It's light at first, a cold drizzle that quickly soaks into everything, including us.
“Tell me the truth. You did this to get back at her.”
Something in me snaps.
I’m done.
Done being accused, and done having this twisted into something ugly and small. Done with him acting like he doesn't know me at all.
Before I can second-guess it, I launch at him.
We go down hard, feet slipping in the mud as I tackle him, both of us hitting the ground in a messy sprawl.
“You're insane,” he grunts, trying to push me off.
I grab his arms, pinning him before he can get any leverage, rain soaking through my clothes, hair sticking to my face.
“No,” I fire back, breathless and furious. “I’m pissed off.”
Thunder cracks overhead, louder now, the rain coming down harder.
“Do you actually hear yourself?” I demand. “Do you really think I'd do something like this just for revenge? That it's some stupid fling?”
His fighting stills, and I know he wasn't putting everything into it because I would be the one on my back.
His green eyes bore into mine, glassy and rimmed red, rain mixing with the tears he's clearly trying to hide. There's mud smeared across his cheek.
I can't back down, though.
“I’m not with him for the reasons you keep twisting it into. You don't have to like it, River. I get why you don't." I swallow. “Please don't cheapen it. Don't turn it into something it's not because you're angry.”
I wouldn't put it past Rose for planting half of this in his head.
We’re both breathing hard, the kind that scrapes your lungs raw. My heart's beating so loud it drowns out everything else.
“Why him?” he asks, voice cracking. “Why you?”
Just like that, the fight drains out of him.
My shoulders sink a little, the anger loosening its grip.
“Because he was there at a time when I needed someone and he didn't walk away.” I shake my head. “I didn't plan on it, Riv. I didn't want it to happen.” A weak, almost self-deprecating huff escapes me. “Trust me, if I could've picked a less complicated option, I would’ve.”
I really wouldn't.
Obviously, it would have been easier, less complicated, but there's no way I would trade him for anything. I’d honestly do it all over again to be loved by him.
I drag a hand under my eye, stubbornly swiping away the tears before they can properly fall, sitting on his legs as I let him push himself upright.
“I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. That was never the plan, and I know it will be weird for you.
I’m not an idiot, and we're not expecting you to just be okay with it overnight or even at all right now.
I just… I can't let him go. I was so close to giving everything up,” I admit shamefully.
“He didn't let me, though. He just showed up, over and over, until I didn't feel like I was drowning all the time.”
A shaky breath leaves me.
“And somewhere in all of that, I fell for him.” I hold his gaze, even when it burns.
“I can't lose him, Riv. I genuinely think it would break me.
But that doesn't mean I’m willing to lose you either.
I love you so much, God. You're my little brother, and you're so important to me. You always have been.”
My hands are still shaking as I reach for him, carefully sliding them over his clenched fists, as if I’m handling something fragile instead of the most stubborn person I know.
“Please don't make me choose. I can't lose anyone else, Riv. Not you. Not him.” My fingers tighten slightly over his at the thought. “He wouldn't survive if you hated him.”
It's the truth.
Family means everything to Elijah.
I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding when he doesn't pull away.
Relief settles over me, even if everything else is still a mess.
There's too much in his expression—anger, hurt, confusion—all tangled together.
Normally, I can read him without trying.
I always could. Growing up, we never really fought; we just pushed each other's buttons for fun. Same stubborn streak. When it got too far and I became fed up, I’d tackle him like I've just done until he had no choice but to listen.
Some habits stick.
“It's… weird,” he mutters finally.
I nod stiffly, swiping at my nose with the back of my sleeve.
“I know.”
“I don't like it.”
“Understandable.”
“You lied to me.” he sounds more defeated than anything.
“I’ll never lie to you again,” I promise.
He twists his lips. “I don't want to lose you either,” he admits, a little rough around the edges. He exhales, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “And… I guess—hypothetically speaking—if I looked at it from someone else's point of view, well, you both deserve to be happy. I guess.”
I’ll take it.
Then he points at me. “Don’t think I’m not still pissed because I am. You still kept it from me for God knows how long, and I do not want to see all that lovey-dovey shit until I've adjusted. Like I said… It's weird.”
A shiver slips down my spine, the cold wind cutting straight through me as I notice the fight he has with himself.
“I won't make you choose.”
A knot in my chest loosens hearing those words, and an understanding passes between us both. It's not forgiveness. Not fully.
I know we will get there in time.
“Can I hug you?” I ask, a faint smile tugging despite everything. “I’m freezing and—”
The air leaves my lungs as he hauls me into him without warning. My arms get trapped between us for a second before I manage to wriggle them free and wrap them around him properly as he holds me tightly.
For a heartbeat, I stay still.
We matter to him, too. This wasn't just anger; it was hurt. We blindsided him, kept something huge from him, and he had to find out from someone else. If he needs time to come to terms with it, he gets it.
I’m just not going to hide my relationship with Elijah anymore.
And knowing I’m not going to lose River has me gripping him harder, pressing into something achingly familiar. The boy who's always been there, my only friend growing up besides my dad.
“You and me against the world.”
“You and me against the world,” I repeat.
“I suppose I should apologise to my dad for punching him,” he mutters into my hair, which is wet through.
A quiet laugh slips out of me. “Yeah. Although I think it hurt you more than him.”
I’d noticed the bruising on his knuckles earlier—angry, already darkening under the skin. River has never really been a fighter. He's more of a big, soft teddy bear.
I feel him shift beneath me, and suddenly I’m tipping sideways, landing in the mud with a cold, soaking splat. I gaped at him, and he was just grinning widely at me.
“Payback for the tackle and the Quinn blackmail.”
I push myself up onto my elbows, mud clinging everywhere. “Does it even matter? Quinn has a girlfriend.”
And let's be honest, she would eat him alive.
River tries to get up, but his foot skids and he stumbles, arms flailing for a second before he catches himself.
“I’ll make her love me. I’m a football player, and everyone fancies them.”
I snort, lifting a hand to shield my face from the rain as I look up at him.
“That would be true if you had boobs instead of that yoghurt slinger between your legs.”
He just squints at me, completely thrown, like his brain is buffering.
Perfect.
I don't even hesitate. I kick my foot into his leg, and he goes down like a sack of potatoes, face-first into the mud.
There's a split second of silence and then I break, laughter spilling out of me, loud and unfiltered, echoing across the empty, rain-soaked pitch.