Willow
willow
A father was a little girl’s first love.
He was supposed to be the first man to show her unconditional love, teach her how her future partner should treat her, and prepare her for the big, scary world she’d someday enter. His touch should always be gentle and his voice always soft.
But what happened when that man was the first one to destroy her, too? What happened when he was her first heartbreak?
Her first disappointment?
For me, I waded through murky water, clinging to every ounce of approval I could squeeze from him—from any older man. I searched for it high and low, and thought I finally found it when I spread my legs and let them use me, discard me, and watch me crawl back, begging for scraps. For attention.
For love.
I always believed my heart lived between my thighs, but when that stopped being enough, when they inevitably expected more, when I was desperate for something real, a connection that wasn’t physical…it all went up in smoke, disappearing into the humid Ohio air like it never existed.
And when I’d had my heart broken by the man I’d settled for, the man everyone expected me to marry, I ran. I ran as far as I could, as fast as I could.
Even when my knees shook and my lungs burned, I never stopped. I never looked back. I never gave up on the desperate, aching need to escape.
I never thought twice about the family I left behind—the family that had left me behind first. I didn’t think about the friends I hadn’t seen in months, or the job I dreaded going to every day.
I didn’t stop running until I was standing in front of a weather-worn lighthouse in Maine. Her white paint had chipped away, and the base was slick with green sea moss. The bulb inside had long since burned out, yet she still stood tall and proud, overlooking the sea, calling all those lost home.
I’d just rolled in from a lifelong voyage, exhausted and desperate for connection.
And until that moment, I’d never felt it.
It didn’t matter that I’d been surrounded by people my entire life. They didn’t know me—they didn’t want to know me. Beyond our shared blood, or beyond the single person connecting us by marriage, I’d felt nothing for them or the life I’d abandoned.
But this lighthouse…it was home.
It was love. It was light.
It was everything I’d been searching for my entire life.
“You’re making a mistake,” my father had said, his disappointment palpable. “A rash decision. Give it a few weeks—” Give it a lifetime , was what he’d meant. A lifetime of waiting, of watching from the sidelines, of playing it safe.
Never acting.
Never living.
His life was one long, “ One day, I’ll do it ,” and I couldn’t let that be me. I’d watched too much time already pass me by, afraid to do something that would upset everyone. That would turn them against me.
So, I stayed in that unhappy relationship because it was expected of me. I went to college because it was expected of me. I was on the path to be married to a cheater and pregnant before twenty-two because it was expected of me.
They called me selfish. They told me I’d be back within the year. They said I’d never make it on my own.
But that was five years ago, and I’ve survived just fine.
In fact…I think I’d thrived.
Until I had to talk to him on the phone, then I was whittled down to nothing but that little girl hanging on her father’s every word, dissecting them like a butterfly.Then he’d leave me feeling empty and alone again, just like he had when he walked out the door that final time, abandoning his family for a new one.
The cool, sticky air snuggled along my skin like a dog nudging his wet nose against my arm. Sea mist, earthy seaweed, and humid sea salt mingled in the air. I inhaled deeply, my shoulders falling an inch.
Despite Ronan’s rejection, calmness filled my veins. This was why I moved here. This was why I chose Cedar Ridge. Because nothing and no one could take this feeling away from me—this freedom away from me.
I stared out at the ocean, watching the white-capped waves crash along the rocky shore. A couple walked along the beach down below, their golden dog splashing in the water as he chased a bright yellow tennis ball. They laughed as they watched him play, the woman resting her head on her partner’s shoulder.
A faint smile graced my lips but was quickly wiped away when I turned my attention to the phone in my hand. It was like a brick, the weight of what I had to do settling over me in a thick, unwanted fog.
I didn’t know what to tell him, how to get out of this mess. Did I tell the truth or cover everything up with another lie? Neither option sounded like a good idea, but what choice did I have?
Ronan made it crystal clear he wanted nothing to do with me. He’d looked so disgusted at the idea of pretending to be my boyfriend, it had gutted me. I should’ve known better, though. Everything I did annoyed him.
I couldn’t breathe without him jumping down my throat.
To be fair, he couldn’t either.
It was stupid to think we could work together. We were never meant to mix, never meant to be anything but neighbors. It was safer like that, but the rejection still stung.
Telling my father the truth would sting even more.
I tipped my head back, closing my eyes as I breathed everything in. The hill I sat on overlooked the lighthouse, beach, and jetty. It was my favorite place, the best vantage point.
My gaze drifted upward, watching the lantern room at the top of the lighthouse, the glass darkly tinted and caked in sea salt. Something danced across the window, a barely-there shadow. It came and went so quickly I wasn’t sure if I’d even seen it—whatever it was.
Maybe it was the ghost of the widow who manned the lighthouse a century ago, waiting for her long-lost love to come back home. She never left—even when she was too old to climb those stone steps, her creaky hands aching as she turned the massive light.
She never left. Never gave up.
She kept calling sailors home—she kept calling him home.
I looked at the old wooden door at the base. There was a thought at the back of my mind, lingering and begging me to go to it. To just push it open and walk inside, to climb those same steps, relive her day.
If I could get into her head, I could know who she was.
I tapped my fingers against the cold, black screen of my phone, emotion clogging my throat. She was all alone for so long. What was her ending like? A part of me was terrified to end up like her—forgotten and nameless to history—but another part of me welcomed it. Welcomed the freedom of a life without a man, without identity. That didn’t mean a life without love, but it meant a life without heartbreak.
Because if I never had a man, if I never gave my heart to someone, I never had to feel the pain she did. I never had to pine for the rest of my life, aching for him to return. I never had to fear abandonment or fear the loneliness that would undoubtedly come once he was gone.
But maybe loneliness could be a friend. Loneliness could be my lifelong companion. It would always be there, the one constant in my life, and I would know that it would never leave. It would never abandon me like a man could.
Like a man had.
I stared down at my phone, tears brimming in my eyes. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to hear all the things my father would say, all the things everyone would say.
It was my fault—I knew that. If I hadn’t lied, this wouldn’t be happening. But I couldn’t change the past, no matter how much I wanted to.
I flipped the phone over in my hands, my stomach twisting into a knot as I swept my gaze over the beach again. The couple was making their way toward the parking lot, their dog in tow. They looked so happy—they looked so in love.
The wind whipped at my hair, and I reached up, smoothing it away from my face. I inhaled the salty air, letting it ground me once more.
I had to do this. No more putting it off.
My thumb shook as I dragged it along the screen, unlocking my phone. It hovered over the icons, blurred by my teary vision. God, why was this so hard?
I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth, chewing the dry skin until it broke. Coppery blood filled my mouth, mingling with the taste of salt on the wind. Another deep breath, then I pressed the Contacts app.
With every swipe of my thumb, my heart beat faster. Cold sweat broke out along my forehead, and my icy hands shook harder.
You can do this.
“Is this spot taken?”
I jolted at the sound of the masculine voice, my phone nearly falling from my hand. My head tipped back, and I squinted past the sunlight searing my eyes. Shock rendered me momentarily stunned, unable to speak or think or move.
“Uh, no,” I breathed, watching as Ronan sank to the ground beside me.
He looked so unlike himself in jeans and a T-shirt. I’d seen him in similar outfits a million times before, but something about him was different today. Perhaps it was his windswept hair, or maybe it was the slight beard coating his strong jaw. Or it could be that he was sitting on the ground, which I’d never seen him do.
He bent his legs, planting his feet flat on the ground. With his arms draped over his knees, he tapped his finger against the back of his hand as he stared out at the crashing waves. I couldn’t stop looking at him, taking in every inch of his face. Why was he here?
“How was your day?” he finally asked, and my brows crashed together.
“My day?” I repeated, and he dipped his chin in a slight nod. He didn’t look at me—he stayed staring straight ahead. He wanted to talk about my day? “It was…fine. How was yours?”
A shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. “Fine.”
“Okay…” I turned my attention back toward the sea. What did he want? I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t form on my lips. Nothing would. The only thing I could focus on was him—his scent, the warmth radiating off his body and heating my chilled arm, the mystery of why he was here, sitting only inches from me.
His chest deflated as he let out a long breath, his cheeks puffing out slightly. “I’ll do it.”
I blinked. Maybe it was confusion rendering me silent, or the fact this all felt like a dream. Any second I’d wake up and realize that the last year, all the lies I’d told, were all part of this hyper-realistic dreamscape.
“What?” My voice blended into the waves lapping at the shore below, into the wind blowing around us.
“I’ll be your boyfriend.”
His burning blue gaze finally met mine, and it took the rest of my breath away. It was enough to prove this wasn’t a dream. There was no way my mind could conjure up such an intense look or remember all the tiny details of his irises. The golden flecks, the dark freckles, the lighter lines webbing throughout. His eyes were a melting pot of colors swirling together like a kaleidoscope. It would be so easy to get lost in them, to fall headfirst.
“What?” I asked again. It was the only word that would come out.
“I’ll help you. I’ll do it.”
My heart was in my throat as I stared at him. “You’ll do it?”
His chin dipped again, then he turned his attention back toward the ocean. It felt like I was falling from a plane without a parachute—everything was happening slowly, but also impossibly fast.
“I need to know everything you told your family. Everything we did, everywhere we went,” he said softly.
Reaching up, I scrubbed my hand over my face, my phone still clutched in the other. This was so damn embarrassing. Everything flipped through my mind, but nothing stayed long enough for me to latch onto. I didn’t know where to start.
“There’s a lot to tell,” I muttered.
“I need to know everything.” He pressed his palms together, the tips of his index fingers tapping against each other. Suddenly, his eyes met mine again, and my breath hitched. “I need you to know this—I don’t do anything halfway. If I’m doing this, I’m all in, . From this second on, we have to live this lie. I need to know you, and you need to know me. How long have we been together?”
I roughly cleared my throat. “A year.”
“Then we need to act like it. We need to make them believe we’re in love—we have to make everyone believe it.”
The word love was like a butcher knife straight through the chest. “Right.”
“Start from the beginning,” he coaxed. “Tell me how it all started.”
I took a deep breath, my lungs aching with it. That was a loaded question—a loaded demand. How far back was I supposed to go? Just a year ago, when the actual lie fell from my lips? Or all the way back to my childhood when I first became desperate for my father’s approval?
The sunlight slowly dimmed, making the sky churn dark gray, with bruised purples and reds mingling with it. A chill ran through me from the wind surrounding us, sending my hair flying in every direction, the fresh scent of my shampoo filling my nose. He roughly cleared his throat as I swatted the wild strands away.
He didn’t need to know my whole life story. He just needed to know the lies he was a part of. So, I started there. I told him about the phone call with my dad, about the way I’d just blurted it out. It wasn’t intentional, it was never supposed to become this.
But it had.
“I guess I was too worried about upsetting my dad or proving that he was right. I never thought about anyone finding out about the lie. I never thought you’d find out,” I said softly, keeping my attention on the lighthouse. “I know it doesn’t make it right, and I’m sorry for using you?—”
“It’s alright.” But it didn’t feel alright. It felt wrong. Like I’d betrayed him, betrayed his trust before he’d ever given it to me. “So, our first date was at the beach?”
“I couldn’t think of anywhere else,” I admitted. A low, breathy laugh left him, and I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Embarrassment flooded my body at the sound. “What?”
“It’s fitting,” he said, smiling. “You love the beach more than anyone else I’ve ever known. I grew up here, but I swear you’ve been here more than I have.” I tilted my head to the side, my brows creasing as I twisted, giving him my full attention. Gracie had said something similar just the other day.
“How do you know I’m here all the time?” I asked, and he snorted.
“Everyone knows you practically live here. If you’re not at home or at work—” He gestured vaguely toward the lighthouse. “Here you are.”
I ran my fingers through my hair, gently untangling it. Those words were so close to what my father had said a year ago—the words that got us into this mess in the first place. But when Ronan said them, there wasn’t an ounce of judgement behind them. There wasn’t anything unspoken, nothing telling me he was embarrassed. If anything, it seemed like he was more curious than anything else.
“Am I that predictable?”
“That isn’t a bad thing,” he murmured, his eyes searching mine. “There’s safety in predictability.”
Silence stretched out, far and wide, our gazes the only thing connecting us. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. His intensity held me captive, demanded my full attention, and I gave it to him. Wholly.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist and sighed.
“Let’s get out of here. We’re going to be late,” he muttered, his words melting into the wind. “We can go over everything tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for me to answer. He just pushed to his feet, groaning softly, and swiped his hand along the back of his jeans. I peered up at him, my heart still in my throat. I hadn’t shared everything with him—I hadn’t even scratched the surface of all the lies.
“Where are we going?” I asked. He shrugged as he extended his hand toward me. It was rough and calloused, and before I even touched him, I knew it would be warm—it would be hot .
Reaching up, my palm slid against his, and his thick, strong fingers wrapped around my smaller hand as he pulled me effortlessly to my feet. My body swayed forward slightly, but I caught myself before our bodies could touch. My dress billowed around my legs as we stared at each other, my hair still caught in the wind.
“We’re going to The Taphouse,” he said, and my head reared back, confused.
“You go to the bar?” I gaped up at him—I knew my eyes were massive, and my jaw was on the ground. But in no world did I ever think Ronan freaking Caldwell went to the bar .
“We’re meeting my sister and her friend,” he muttered. Pink tinged his cheeks at the admission, and slowly, my mouth closed, my eyes stopped being so wide.
Seeing him blush was actually kinda…cute.
It was ridiculous.
“I’ll meet you there,” I said. He hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he shoved his hands in his front pockets and turned toward the parking lot. His truck was massive beside my little car, and I tried not to think about how expensive his was in comparison.
Nothing I ever did would measure up to him—or anyone else. Seeing the sleek, shiny metal was a stark reminder of that. He was a respected member of our community, while I was just some weirdo who worked at the bakery and was obsessed with the lighthouse.
I glanced around the clearing again, the tall grass making me invisible from view down below on the beach. Maybe that was why everyone thought I was strange. Because I was a lurker. Always watching the beach, the lighthouse, the ocean, from the bushes.
Jeez, how much more melodramatic could I get?
We walked in silence toward our cars, and when we got to them, he hesitated again. His eyes briefly met mine before he stepped forward and pulled open my door. My brows lifted in quiet surprise, but I said nothing as I slipped inside, the worn fabric of the seat caressing my skin.
He looked around the car, his lips tightening when he saw the massive bag of fertilizer in my backseat. Or maybe it was because he saw my stash of hard candy overflowing from the cupholder.
Whatever it was, he didn’t look all that impressed.
Which was fine. I didn’t need to impress him. He was nothing but my neighbor—a neighbor who was doing a super massive favor for me, but a neighbor nonetheless.
“I’ll see you at the bar,” I muttered, reaching for my door handle.
He gripped the top edge, keeping the door open. Our eyes clashed for a moment, and my heart soared into my throat. Sweat gathered on my palms, and my mouth went dry.
“Just so you know, it’s trivia night.”