Chapter 24 – Leo
TWENTY-FOUR
LEO
Willa
Ready when you are
The text comes through hours later, at 2:45, and relief moves through me.
I don’t regret asking Hallie to come with the girls to help Willa get ready for our date, since I know that she hasn’t had much of that in her life.
When she smiled at me when she realized why they were there, I realized that I had made the right choice, even if I secretly wanted to keep her to myself for just a bit longer.
That being said, I’m more than happy that it’s time to get her and get on our way.
Without a pause, I step outside and into my car, then make the drive down my driveway and up Willa’s.
The whole time I’m driving, I wonder just how long this will stick—us having separate places—before I can convince her to just move into my house with me.
The thought is fleeting, though, as I park out front and walk up to the front door and knock. To my surprise, butterflies are in my chest, something I’ve never felt before a night out with a woman. But this isn’t just any woman I’m taking out. This is Willa.
Wren opens the door with a kind smile on her lips. “Leo’s here!” she calls over her shoulder, then opens the door fully and gestures for me to step in. As the door closes behind me, I can vaguely hear a quiet argument behind the bedroom door.
“I don’t need to be presented, Hallie. It’s just Leo,” Willa mutters. I smile, and Wren returns it, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
“She’ll learn,” Wren says. “It’s always easier to just let them do their thing than it is to argue with them.” I smile and shake my head, but don’t argue. I can see how that would be the case, for sure.
“Can you just let me have this?” Hallie says, then opens the door to Willa’s bedroom and pokes her head out, giving me a grin. “He looks hot.”
“Oh my god,” Willa whines. “Can you guys be normal?”
“No. Now come on, let’s go!” Nat says, then pushes Hallie out of the room.
She tries to close the door behind her, but Willa’s hand moves out, a fire-red nail polish on her fingers.
I stare at them, blinking and trying to remember if she’s ever worn anything but nude polish as long as I’ve known her.
“You guys are being ridiculous. I have a date to go on!”
“I know; we’ve spent the whole day preparing you,” Nat says, but steps aside so Willa can step out of the bedroom, and all thoughts of her nails leave my mind.
I get, then, why she wanted to present her…Nat completed a full transformation. Not in a bad way, and not in an unrecognizable way, but it’s almost as if the shield is not just temporarily lowered, as I’ve seen more and more over the weeks, but it’s gone altogether.
Her hair is down in loose curls, with bright makeup applied with a light hand on her face, a pretty pink blush across her cheeks and nose.
And her hair isn’t just down: it’s changed.
Instead of her icy blonde locks that Jackie insists fit the brand, it’s a softer, slightly deeper shade of blonde that, in an instant, I can see suits her so much better.
It’s a few inches shorter, though her hair was so long before that it’s still long, the ends brushing past her breasts.
She’s wearing a reddish-orange dress that skims her knees, held up by thin straps at the shoulders, and a pair of white sneakers. I’ve never seen her in the color, but it looks absolutely perfect on her.
She looks nothing like Willa Stone, the pop star, but everything like my Willa.
“Wow,” I whisper, taking her in.
“Oh, we did well,” Nat murmurs, a smile in her voice, but I don’t break my gaze from Willa as I continue to take in every beautiful inch of her.
“Hell yeah,” Hallie says.
“Yeah,” Wren murmurs, a hopeless romantic sigh in her voice.
“Do I look okay?” Willa asks nervously, white teeth biting into a full, pink bottom lip, and I finally step forward, three long strides until I’m in her space and pulling her into me.
“You’ve never looked more gorgeous,” I whisper.
I watch her lips part before a million arguments cross her face.
She wants to tell me that I’ve seen her in designer gowns, one-of-a-kind masterpieces made only for her, winning awards and playing arenas for tens of thousands of people, but I stop her before she can speak her objections aloud. “Never, Willa.”
“Wow,” Nat whispers, a quiet awe I don’t think she experiences often in her tone.
“Well, we’ll just be leaving,” Wren says, pulling my attention from Willa for a moment. She gives her friends a pointed look, then tips her head to the side before grabbing Hallie’s arm.
“Right. But I want an update tomorrow!” Hallie says, waving at us as she moves out the door.
“And we’re going shopping next week! I don’t care if you two are fucking like bunnies, take a minute away. Your vagina will need a break!” Nat calls, narrowing her eyes as she walks backward.
“Dear god, Nat,” Wren murmurs.
Willa laughs, shaking her head, and the prettiest blush burns over her cheeks. “Bye, guys!”
“Use protection!” Hallie yells.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Nat calls, and then the door slams behind them.
I turn back to my girl. She still has a soft, happy smile on her lips. Finally, I dip my head and press my lips to hers, soft and sweet, forcing myself to leave it at that, knowing we have plans for the evening. She melts into my hold, and I smile into the kiss before breaking it.
“You good?” I ask. “If they were too much—”
“No, no. I’m good. They’re intense, but they’re good people. They feel… genuine, which I haven’t had much of in my life.” I know exactly what she means, because it seems like everyone in Holly Ridge is that way.
“Ready to go?” Her eyes are a bit dazed, but her pink lips tip, and she nods.
“Yeah.”
She grabs an overnight bag with a grin, and I lead her out the door and to my car.
Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up to a large property. She squints at the sign.
“A farm?” she asks, unsure.
“It’s a farm-to-table restaurant,” I say, trying not to reveal too much as I move into a parking spot in the empty gravel parking lot before parking the car and turning it off. “Stay.”
She smiles, and I know it’s a shot in the dark of whether or not she’ll listen, but when I get to the passenger side, she’s still waiting patiently.
I put out a hand to her, and she takes it, letting me help her out of the car.
I give her one quick press of my lips to hers, unable not to, before twining my fingers with hers and moving to the small building to the left I was told to go to.
“What are we doing here?” she asks, walking at my side, eyes scanning the area, excitement clear in her words.
I grin as we approach the building, the sign becoming clear. She squeals, reading Peach picking—Please check in here! on a small building, but I answer regardless.
“We’re going peach picking, then going to look at some animals, then we’re having dinner at the restaurant.”
“Peach picking?” she asks, looking up at me, eyes wide and hopeful. “We’re going peach picking?”
“You’ve never been, right?” I ask, as if I haven’t had her drunken rant from weeks ago playing in a loop on my mind since that night, reminding me of all the things she’s never done.
As if I haven’t been slowly categorizing any other additional mentions in passing.
There’s a sweet older woman at the stand who smiles at Willa and me before handing us a basket and a map to show us which orchards are ripe before Willa and I set off.
She holds the basket, I hold the small stepstool we were given, and Willa nearly gallops through the fields, excitedly pointing out cute signs or different fruits.
“We should come in the fall for apples!” she says, pointing to a sign for the fruit. I smile and nod, instantly trying to think of how to make that happen, knowing that the fall will be much busier than the summer, but determined to do it regardless.
Eventually, we find the peach trees, and Willa sets the basket down, grabs a low-hanging fruit, and gently places it in the bin.
I set the stool down, unfolding it and locking it in place beneath the tree.
She grins at me before standing on the top step.
Her legs are smooth and at eye level, and I can’t resist the urge to place my hand on the side of her knee, then up, just an inch beneath the flowy hem of her dress, still filled with my desire to have my skin on hers at every viable moment.
She looks down at me over her shoulder, a mock-glare on her face that doesn’t meet her eyes.
It melts away in a moment when she rolls her eyes and then grabs the fruit, twisting to pull it off.
She hands it to me, and I accept, that familiar jolt moving through me when her fingers brush mine before I set it into the basket.
We move like that for an hour or so, moving from tree to tree as Willa finds the perfect fruits and hands them off to me until the basket is nearly overflowing.
I have absolutely no idea what we’re going to do with all of these peaches, but I don’t argue.
Afterward, we bring the basket to the front for safekeeping, and I tug her towards our next destination, a small area with animals for us to feed.
She squeals with excitement, cooing at each animal, snapping pictures, and chatting with each one.
Warmth spreads in my chest as I realize this was clearly the right call.
She’s feeding a horse a carrot when she looks around as if realizing something.
“Why is there no one here?” she asks, brows furrowed. I’m surprised that she didn’t notice earlier, but I bite back a smile.
“They’re normally closed in the afternoon on Sundays,” I tell her.
“Normally?”
“I may have made a couple of calls yesterday, pulled some strings.”
She turns to me, her eyes wide.
“You pulled some strings?”
I lift a shoulder, suddenly wondering if it was the wrong call.
“I want our first day to be for us. Perfect. You’re lying low right now, and, for a while, you and I are going to have to lie low as well. I wanted your first real date to be perfect.” Her eyes soften.
“Our first date,” she whispers. “And it is perfect. But you didn’t have to do all of this, Leo. Really. It’s…it’s too much.” I stop our movement and tug her into me. My hand slides into the hair at the back of her head, the strands silky soft.
“I see you’re still not getting it, Willa. I’ll give you everything.” Her eyes water with the words, her breath hitching. “No, no. Willa. No. What’s wrong?”
“I always thought it was a myth,” she whispers, and I can hear the tears scratching at her throat, but I continue to stare at her, confused and worried. “I thought it was a myth, some lie we’re told as kids so we don’t just give up and get comfortable.”
My brows furrow. I don’t know what the hell she’s going on about.
“What was?”
“Having it all.”
My heart begins to beat faster, and the hand not in her hair slides down her back, pulling her in closer to me.
“I thought I had to choose. I thought I could have one or the other. My career or love. I was happy with my decision, I knew I was one in a million and that I should be grateful and I was—I swear, I was,” she says that last part quickly, as if she’s afraid that I’ll accuse her of not appreciating what she has, but she forgets that I’ve watched her career over the last eight years, watched it grow, watched her work her ass off, watched her do everything she could to make sure her fans were always put first, even if it meant meet and greets and extra tour dates that pulled her past her physical capabilities.
I’ve watched her sacrifice so many things, such as her own comfort and her own happiness, to make this career happen.
If there’s anyone on this earth who knows that Willa Stone deserves the fame, that she’s earned it, it’s me.
“But I felt it in my soul. That deep gnawing, a hollow loneliness, I tried to ignore. Sometimes, late at night, I’d lie in my bed alone and wonder if I had chosen wrong.
” Her tongue comes out to lick her lips, but she never breaks eye contact with me.
“If I should have given it all up, settled down, found someone I liked well enough, and gone in a different direction. And when I did, I felt a different pain, knowing that if I did, I couldn’t have what I already had: performing and making music and sharing it with the world.
I told myself I could have only one of the others.
And I was okay with it, until recently.” She licks her lips, looking at me, eyes glimmering as her lips tip up in a small smile.
“Until recently, when I realized that maybe, just maybe, I could have both.” My heart breaks and heals all at once, and I lift my hand, putting it to her cheek and tipping it up before pressing my lips to hers, unable to express myself with words, but hoping that my touch could say it all for me.
That I’m promising to do everything in my power to make sure that Willa Stone gets to have it all, forever.