Chapter Three #2
He moved the doll through several motions with the horse, pretending to brush it then take a ride, which had Navy belly-laughing and his heart warming.
After that, the dark-haired doll talked to all the animals that Navy threw at him.
Mr. Elephant got a special hug. Baby Rhino needed a bandage on his hurt horn.
Finally, the doll fell over from total exhaustion and started loudly snoring.
Navy toppled sideways with laughter and lay on her back, kicking her feet.
From the direction of the chair came a low sound, a breath released as if Rhae had some startling realization.
She leaned forward, and he arched a brow at her.
“It’s Willow,” she said slowly.
“What?”
She nodded toward the doll sleeping on the floor. “You’re playing as Willow.”
Tension stretched across his shoulder blades. Shrugging didn’t ease it.
Rhae sat back. “I’ve been looking at this all wrong.” She shook her head. “I thought you were backsliding because of some deep, dark trauma.”
He froze. Hardly breathing.
“It’s about Willow. You don’t want to leave her. You don’t want to go home. You’re choosing this.”
His chest was on fire, and he dropped his stare to the doll, seeing the way Willow’s braid fell over her shoulder. The way her eyes swam with tears when she stapled his shoulder.
Rhae cocked her head as she continued to puzzle out the one thing he’d prayed nobody would ever discover.
“We’re all so busy with our lives, and Willow is right there with us, pitching in, yet no one sees Willow. But you spend a lot of time with her.”
It was easier to be silent. But this time he didn’t speak because there was nothing to say.
He picked up the doll and smoothed its wild hair.
“Should we be worried about Willow?”
His lips compressed. “Yeah,” was all he could manage.
Rhae let out another breath similar to the first. “Okay.”
When he stole a look at her, her brows were creased in a frown.
Gently, he set the doll in the basket along with a few other scattered toys. Then he patted Navy on the head as he made his way out of the office.
Made his escape.
Hell. He never meant to reveal that. His secret was safe with Rhae—she was bound by medical laws not to share what he told her. But he could kick himself for letting his shield slip, for even a brief second of silly playtime.
His temples throbbed with every step he took toward the exit. He craved the cold wind on his face and a view of the mountain. On the way out, he grabbed his coat.
He didn’t make it three steps before he spotted Willow striding across the parking area toward her truck.
A fist of pain struck his chest, almost stopping him dead in his tracks. But his legs had other plans and sped up, crossing to intercept her in no time.
“Hey, Willow.” His voice was tight as he called out to her.
She turned with a ready smile on her face. But when she saw it was him, the smile lit up her gray eyes as well.
His heart fucking stuttered from the force of that stare.
“Hey, Decker. I’m just heading to town.”
“Mind if I join you?”
She jangled her keys in her hand. “Get in.”
No hesitation at all, just pure Willow. Warm and as inviting as a blanket tossed around a person.
He took the passenger seat and she twisted to reverse onto the wide gravel driveway leading to the gates.
“Need to restock some feed?” he asked.
A beat of silence passed. Then she sighed. “No. Carson ordered some manuals from the bookstore.”
“Sounds like a nice errand to run. Felicity will be happy to see you.”
The fields rolled past the truck windows, dusted in a thin veil of snow that had started falling while he’d been on the floor with Navy, enjoying every minute with her but revealing far too much to his therapist.
Willow nodded, her hands steady on the wheel. “Felicity will be glad for the company. I just wish I knew how to bring her more business. Ever since the construction on the interstate closed the exit to Willowbrook, she hasn’t had much traffic in her shop.”
That was quintessential Willow, worrying over everybody else. Shouldering their worries alongside them.
“She’s got a good selection.” He’d lost whole afternoons inside that shop, wandering among the shelves until the smell of ink and paper wrapped around him. The bookstore had been more than a refuge—it was a place where his mind quieted.
She parked in front of the store, and he fell into step behind her. His instincts never shut off, not even for something as harmless as picking up a book. His gaze skimmed the sidewalk, the shadows between buildings, before it circled back—always—to Willow.
She carried her own spark, like her own damn sun, and he couldn’t stop glancing at her even when he tried.
A bell tinkled as they opened the door, the scent of paper and wood polish drifting out.
Felicity popped up from behind the counter, her smile stretching wide as she bustled over to greet Willow. The women hugged, talking over each other with warmth, the kind of easy chatter that filled spaces he hadn’t known were hollow until he met Willow.
He drifted automatically toward the children’s section.
Tiny, bright covers lined the shelves, and he crouched to run a finger over the spines.
He pulled out a sturdy board book for Navy—something with animals she could point to—and another for Layne’s little one, already picturing the kid gumming the corner of its vinyl pages.
His attention never strayed far from Willow. He hovered close enough to hear her laugh, to make sure no shadow touched her.
And of course his thoughts betrayed him.
Out of nowhere, he thought of her. Delilah.
Damn it. He hadn’t let himself think of that name in months. The memory sliced through anyway—her playful grin, the way she used to tease him about being too serious even when they were ducking fire. She was a pilot, fearless, dropping into hell to pull people out.
And with him, she’d been something else entirely. A secret carved out between missions.
When she died, he hadn’t been allowed to mourn. Not properly. There wasn’t supposed to be anything between them. No photos, no memories, no space to bleed. Just silence.
For years, that silence had been his cage. He’d convinced himself love was the enemy—something that could be ripped away, leaving nothing but shrapnel in his chest.
But standing here, watching Willow move through Felicity’s shop, talking with her hands, lighting up every corner, he felt it. The truth.
Delilah was gone, and she wasn’t the reason he was still here.
She was the reason he’d broken—but she wasn’t the reason he’d healed.
That had been this place. These people. Willow.
His chest tightened until he could barely breathe. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t have her either. And hell if that didn’t make his whole body ache.
Fuck.
At the counter, Willow set down the book she’d chosen, a slim self-help book on rest and renewal.
His brows pulled together, but a thread of something eased in his chest. At least she was thinking about herself for once, trying to find balance.
Felicity passed her a bag. “And here’s Carson’s order.”
“Thanks.”
She rang up Willow’s book, then produced a second one from under the counter.
Willow blinked. “Wait, Carson only ordered two.”
“This one was ordered for you.” Felicity slid the second volume across the counter. The cover showed a glossy black stallion caught mid-stride.
Black Beauty.
“It came in the same delivery. No note, no sender.”
Senses firing, Decker reached for it before Willow could. He flipped the book over, searching the cover, the spine, the inside flap. Nothing out of the ordinary, but his gut stayed tight.
Willow arched a brow at him, a smile tugging her mouth. “It’s a book, not a bomb.”
Still, he couldn’t shake the unease as he set it back down.
Felicity broke the tension with one of her cheery smiles. “You know, Willow, Decker’s almost singlehandedly keeping me in business. He’s here more than anyone.”
Willow’s eyes glimmered with interest. “We have a library at the house, you know.”
He met her gaze, steady. “I’ve already read everything there.”
Something flickered between them, sharp and too brief, before Felicity bagged the books and sent them on their way.
The drive back was quiet, the hum of the tires and the falling snow filling the space. He kept his eyes forward, hands loose on his thighs, but he was far from relaxed.
Finally, he spoke. “That honey you brought in…where exactly did it come from?”
He’d learned to trust his instincts, and right now every one of them was warning him.