Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
brOCK
W illow reaches into her bag, her hand trembling, and pulls out a folded piece of paper. She doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at me with those honey-colored eyes, filled with uncertainty.
“Then I think you need to see this,” she says softly, holding the paper out. Her voice is so quiet, it barely cuts through the tension between us.
My stomach drops. She’s so serious, so unsure, that for a split second, I think she’s about to break up with me.
I take the paper from her, my fingers brushing against hers. The way she’s watching me makes my chest tighten, but I force myself to focus on unfolding the note.
The moment I read the first line, everything in me hardens. I grip the paper tighter, my knuckles whitening as anger builds in my chest. “Where did you get this?” I ask, my voice tight, low.
“The front desk at the inn,” she says, her voice trembling. “The receptionist said someone left it for me yesterday.”
I glance up at her, my jaw clenching. “And you didn’t tell me?”
She hesitates, wringing her hands. “I was still trying to figure out what to do.”
I raise an eyebrow, my tone sharpening. “You mean if you should break up with me?”
She shrugs, looking at the floor. “She’s destroying everything, Brock. My house, my bakery... everything I’ve worked so hard for. I couldn’t let her take what I have left.”
Her voice cracks, and the weight of what she’s been carrying alone makes my anger burn even hotter.
“But then,” she continues, glancing up at me, her voice steadier, “I came in and saw that you were here. You cleaned up, you fixed what you could, and it made me realize... just because things get broken doesn’t mean they have to stay that way.”
Her words hit harder than I expect, and for a moment, I just stand there, staring at her.
I step closer, taking her hand. “You’re damn right they don’t have to stay that way,” I say firmly. “And you don’t have to deal with this alone, Willow. You have me. She can’t take that away unless you let her—and I’m sure as hell not letting her.”
Her lips tremble, and she nods, her grip on my hand tightening.
I exhale slowly, trying to keep the rage boiling inside me from spilling over. “It’s Tessa,” I say, holding up the letter. “It has to be. There’s no one else.”
She frowns, her brow furrowing. “But how do we prove it? What if it’s not her?”
“It’s her,” I say, my voice firm. “No one else would have the motive—or the guts—to pull something like this.”
I stare at the letter again, my jaw tightening as an idea hits me. “If we take this to the cops, maybe she left her prints on it. It’s paper—there’s a chance they can lift something.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “Do you think they’d do that?”
“They’d better,” I mutter, folding the letter carefully and slipping it into my pocket. “This isn’t just harassment—it’s criminal.”
Willow exhales shakily, her hand rubbing at her temple. “And what if they can’t prove it’s her?”
I step closer, tipping her chin up so she’s looking right at me. “Then we’ll figure out another way. But I promise you this: she’s not going to win, Willow. Not while I’m here.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her breathing steadying. Finally, she nods. “Okay.”
“Good,” I say, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s get this to the cops. The sooner we start, the sooner we end this.”
Her shoulders ease a little, the tension softening, and she grips my hand like it’s the only thing keeping her steady.
Tessa thinks she’s got the upper hand, but she doesn’t realize she’s already lost.
B ack at my place, the house feels calmer than it has in days. Maybe it’s because Willow’s here, curled up against my chest in my bed, Frankie snoring softly at our feet. Or maybe it’s because we’ve finally taken a real step toward putting an end to this whole nightmare by giving the letter to the cops.
Whatever it is, I finally feel like we’ve gained a little ground.
Willow shifts slightly, her head resting on my shoulder as she draws lazy circles on my chest with her finger. Her touch is gentle, soothing, but I can feel the weight of unspoken words in the air.
“Brock?” she murmurs, her voice quiet.
“Yeah, baby?” I reply, brushing my fingers lightly over her arm.
She hesitates, her hand stilling against my chest. “Can you... tell me about you and Tessa? What happened between you two?”
My chest tightens, and I exhale slowly, my hand pausing mid-stroke. “Willow, I don’t—”
“You don’t have to,” she says quickly, sitting up slightly to look at me. “I just... I think I need to understand. If it’s her doing this, I want to know why.”
I meet her eyes, seeing the mixture of curiosity and vulnerability there. She deserves to know. I owe her that much.
I sigh, leaning my head back against the headboard. “Alright,” I say finally. “But it’s not a pretty story.”
She nods, settling back against me, her head on my shoulder. “I just want to know the truth.”
“Tessa and I met a few years ago,” I begin, my voice low, my hand resting on Willow’s arm. “She was... bold. Confident. The kind of woman who could walk into a room and command attention without even trying. At first, I thought that was what I wanted—someone strong, someone who kept things exciting.”
Willow’s fingers trace slow circles on my chest as she listens, her quiet presence grounding me.
“But as time went on, I started to see the cracks,” I continue. “She wasn’t just confident—she needed control. She wanted to be the center of everything, and if she wasn’t, she’d find a way to take it. It was subtle at first—pushing boundaries, testing limits, playing little games to make me jealous.”
I pause, exhaling slowly. “I ignored the red flags for a long time, thinking things would get better. But then one night... she crossed a line I couldn’t come back from.”
Willow looks up at me, her honey-colored eyes soft with concern. “What happened?” she asks gently.
I swallow hard, the memory still sharp. “She cheated,” I say simply. “Just once. At least, as far as I know. But that was enough.”
Willow’s breath catches, her hand stilling on my chest. “Brock...”
“I found out a few days later,” I continue, my voice steady but tight. “She told me it didn’t mean anything, that it was a mistake, but... I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look at her and feel the same way after that. That kind of betrayal... it changes everything.”
Willow’s hand tightens on my shirt, and I can see the sadness in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “Don’t be. It needed to happen. I think part of me already knew things weren’t right between us—I just didn’t want to admit it. Finding out about the cheating made it clear. I didn’t want to be with someone who could betray me like that. Someone I couldn’t trust.”
She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder. “Do you think that’s why she’s doing all this now? Because you moved on?”
I nod slowly. “Tessa doesn’t like to lose. And seeing me happy with you? That probably feels like a loss to her. She doesn’t want me, not really—but she doesn’t want me to be with anyone else either.”
Willow exhales shakily, her voice small. “Do you think she’ll stop?”
I tilt her chin up, meeting her eyes. “No,” I say honestly. “Not on her own. But I’m not going to let her hurt you, Willow. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”
Her lips part slightly, and for a moment, she just looks at me, like she’s trying to decide if she believes me. Then she nods, her voice soft but sure.
“I trust you,” she whispers.
“And I love you,” I murmur, pulling her close. “And I’m not going anywhere.”