Chapter 15 Willa
Willa
I wake up on Henry’s couch, warm and comfortable, with his arm around me. For a moment, panic flares— I fell asleep here. I shouldn’t be here. What if he thinks—
But then I remember last night. The vulnerability. The honesty. The way he held me like I mattered.
“Morning,” Henry’s voice is rough with sleep, he whispers, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m glad you did.” I sit up, stretching. “What time is it?”
“Five in the morning.” He stands, offering me his hand. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
In his kitchen, with the first dashes of morning light streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee brewing, everything feels surreal. Like I’m playing house. Like this could actually be my life.
“What are you thinking?” Henry asks, handing me a mug.
“That this feels too good to be real.”
He sets his own mug down and pulls me close. “It’s real, Willa. I’m real. This is real.”
I believe him. For the first time in years, I actually believe that I’m allowed to have something good.
“I want you,” I blurt out. “Not just emotionally. I want... all of you.”
His eyes darken. “Are you sure? There’s no rush.”
“I’m sure.” I set my coffee down and step closer. “I want to choose this. Choose you. Choose us. I’m choosing to be different.”
He kisses me slow and deep, and heat floods my body. His hands slide to my waist, and I can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back.
“Ben’s asleep,” I whisper, “for at least another couple hours, right?”
“Willa—”
“Henry, I’ve spent two years being scared. I’m done being scared. I want this. I want you.”
Something shifts in his expression—resolve mixing with desire. “My bedroom. Now.”