Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
brOCK
T he event was a success. The showroom was packed, the furniture got more compliments than I could keep track of, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. But none of it felt right when I looked around at the end and realized Willow wasn’t there.
I thought I told her I wanted her to stay. I was sure of it. But with everything going on—the handshakes, the small talk, and Tessa showing up—I can’t remember if I actually said it out loud or if I just thought it.
Now I’m standing in the middle of an empty showroom, the energy of the evening fading, and all I can think about is Willow.
I pull out my phone and call her again. It rings and rings before going to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Willow. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
The sound of her voice is comforting and frustrating all at the same time.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “I didn’t see you before you left. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Call me when you can, alright?”
I hang up and stare at the screen, willing it to light up with her name. Nothing.
I try texting again, keeping it simple:
Me: Everything okay? I didn’t see you before you left.
Still nothing.
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing the showroom as I try to think. Did something happen? Did someone say something to her? My mind immediately flashes to Tessa. I hadn’t expected her to show up, I don’t even know how she found out about it unless she’s following me on social media. I also didn’t think she’d cause a problem.
I stop pacing, my jaw tightening. Could she have said something to Willow?
My chest tightens at the thought. Tessa’s always been good at twisting the truth when it suits her, and I wouldn’t put it past her to say something if she thought it would get a reaction out of me—or worse, out of Willow.
The thought of Willow upset or doubting anything we’ve started makes my stomach churn.
I try calling again, but it goes straight to voicemail this time.
“Willow,” I say, my voice more urgent now, “I don’t know if you’re busy or if something happened, but I’m worried about you. Please call me back, okay? I just want to know you’re alright.”
I hang up and grip the phone tightly, frustration boiling under my skin. She has to be okay. She has to be.
Without thinking, I grab my jacket and head out to my truck. If she’s not answering her phone, I’ll go to her place. I don’t care if it makes me look crazy. I need to see her, to know she’s alright, to fix whatever’s wrong—because the thought of losing her now?
I can’t even let myself go there.
The drive to Willow’s house feels like it takes forever, even though I know the streets of Evergreen Ridge like the back of my hand. The familiar turns and darkened houses blur past me, but my focus is on the nagging knot in my gut. I’m starting to feel like I’ve screwed up before we even had a chance to get started.
I pull into her driveway, the gravel crunching under my tires, and cut the engine. Her porch light glows faintly, illuminating the tidy little house and the planter boxes lining the steps. It looks quiet, too quiet, and my stomach churns.
Grabbing my jacket, I climb out of the truck and head to the door, the cold night air biting at my skin. I knock hard, three times, my knuckles aching from the force.
“Willow,” I call out, my voice sharp in the stillness. “It’s Brock.”
No answer.
I knock again, louder this time, my heart hammering in my chest. “Willow, come on. Open up.”
I press my ear to the door, straining to hear any sound from inside. Nothing. My chest tightens, and I pull out my phone, trying her number again. It rings once before going to voicemail.
“Damn it,” I mutter, pacing back and forth on the porch. My breath fogs in the cold air, and my hands clench into fists. I don’t know if I should keep knocking or try calling again—or maybe just kick the damn door in.
Just as I’m about to lose it, I hear faint footsteps inside. The door creaks open a few inches, and there she is.
Willow stands in the doorway, clutching the edge of the door like it’s the only thing holding her up. Her face is pale, her eyes red and puffy like she’s been crying. She’s changed into leggings and an oversized shirt, but to me, she still looks beautiful—just a little broken.
“Brock?” she says, her voice shaky, her eyes wide with shock.
Relief and frustration slam into me all at once, and I step closer, gripping the doorframe to keep from reaching for her. “Jesus, Willow, I’ve been calling you. Are you okay?”
She glances away, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I—I saw your calls. I just didn’t...” Her voice trails off, and she bites her lip like she’s trying to hold back more than just words.
“Didn’t what?” I ask, sharper than I mean to.
She flinches, and guilt stabs through me. I soften immediately, stepping back to give her some space. “Sorry,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “I just... I’ve been worried. What happened? Why’d you leave?”
She hesitates, then looks back at me. “Wait... how did you even know where I live?”
I shift, a little sheepish. “I looked it up online.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Wow. That’s not creepy or anything,” she says, then lets out a small laugh, the sound light but slightly shaky.
I grin, relief washing over me at the sight of her smile, even if it’s faint. “Yeah, well, desperate times and all that.”
Willow doesn’t answer right away. She glances past me, like she’s checking to make sure no one else is around, then wraps her arms around herself. “That woman. Tessa.” Her voice wavers on the name, and it feels like a punch to the gut.
“What about her?” I ask, even though I already have a pretty good idea where this is going.
“She said...” Willow swallows hard, her gaze finally meeting mine. “She said you invited her to the event because you wanted to get back together with her.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and sharp, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her.
“Tessa said that?” I ask, my voice low and rough.
Willow nods, and I see the hurt in her eyes—the doubt, the confusion—and it makes my blood boil.
“Willow,” I say, stepping closer, my voice firm. “That’s bullshit. I didn’t invite her. I didn’t even know she was coming.”
She blinks, her arms tightening around herself. “Then why would she say that?”
“Because that’s what Tessa does,” I snap, my frustration slipping out. I catch myself and take a breath, forcing my tone to even out. “She likes stirring the pot, getting a reaction. But she doesn’t mean anything to me, Willow. Not anymore. She hasn’t for a long time.”
Willow doesn’t respond, but the way she’s chewing on her bottom lip tells me she’s still unsure.
I take another step closer, lowering my voice. “Look, I don’t know what she told you, but I need you to hear me. The only reason I wanted you there today was because it mattered to me that you were part of it. You’re the one I care about. Not her. You.”
Her breath hitches, and her eyes flick up to meet mine. The walls she’s been holding up seem to falter, and for the first time tonight, I see a glimmer of the woman I know—the woman who’s been on my mind every damn day since I met her.
“You mean that?” she whispers.
I reach out, cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing away the damp streak on her skin. “I mean it, Willow. I’m not good at this—at saying the right things—but I know what I feel. And I feel this. Us. It’s real, and I’m not letting anything—or anyone—get in the way of that.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, like she’s searching for something. Then, slowly, she nods, her hand lifting to cover mine where it rests against her face.
“Okay,” she says softly, her voice barely audible.
Relief crashes over me, and I pull her into my arms, holding her tight against my chest. She melts into me, her head resting against my shoulder, and I feel the tension in my body finally start to ease.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair. “I should’ve seen this coming when she showed up. I won’t let it happen again.”
She doesn’t say anything, but the way she clings to me is answer enough.
And in that moment, I know one thing for certain, I’m never letting her go.