Chapter 21
Levi
The following morning, my parents drive off in a cloud of dust, promising to visit more often. Promises we all know will likely dissolve before the next road sign. The silence that follows isn’t sad. Just bittersweet, the way departures always are.
Naomi appears with an armful of unruly ranunculus. “You okay?”
I give a soft chuckle, heading back to the counter. “Naomi, no therapist voice required. My parents visit like a migratory bird pattern.”
Her lips curve into a smile. “Well, it was either that or suggest tequila, and considering you’re my boss…”
“Wise choice,” I say, leaning against the counter, though a tequila shooter wouldn’t be unwelcome right now. “But I appreciate the effort regardless.”
She nods, glancing at our wall calendar. “Speaking of, it’s still okay that I come with you tomorrow night?”
I stare blankly at her.
Naomi sighs. “The Small Business Association dinner? You said I could help pitch. Is any of this really not ringing a bell…”
Fuck. I’d completely forgotten. Between my parents’ visit and a certain broody ex-god with distracting shadows, it had slipped my mind…along with half the paperwork I said I’d finish last night.
I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. “Ugh. I can’t believe I forgot. Thanks for saving my ass.”
“Job description,” she says, eyes twinkling. “Right between ‘organizing floral arrangements,’ ‘grant babysitting,’ and ‘managing boss’s calendar.’ ”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re too young to already be this snarky.”
But Naomi shrugs. “Old soul. And besides, the town council’s still teetering on funding, so you need all the help you can get.”
She’s not wrong. Between delayed permits, donor ghosts, and my growing caffeine addiction, we’ve hit snag after snag with getting this garden officially off the ground.
And if I have to endure an evening schmoozing the heavy hitters of Stonevale on my knees with Naomi as my very patient wing woman, I’ll do it.
“You’re right,” I concede. “I’ll charm them into submission.”
“Ew,” she says, making a face of disgust. “Speaking of charming, will a certain funeral director be accompanying you to said painfully small-town-event soirée?”
My heart trips, a flutter soft and careful beneath my ribs. “I don’t think he’d wan—”
“Levi Wilder, that man would endure an entire town council meeting dedicated exclusively to zoning permits if it meant you were there.”
I laugh quietly at the thought of Hayden sitting through a town council meeting as Mr. Haverford drones on and on about Stonevale city limits.
So, before I can overthink it, my phone is already in my hand.
Me: Hey you. There’s this painfully boring small town business dinner thing tomorrow night. Up for enduring forced socialization for the greater garden good with me?
A quiet beat of anticipation buzzes through me. Then, his reply pings, right on cue.
Hayden: For you? I’ll survive.
My chest tightens, warmth flooding my veins. A tiny ridiculous flutter: Surviving with me feels like choosing me.
Naomi’s brow quirks. “See? Told you.”
I smile, shaking my head. “You don’t always have to be right, you know.”
She busies herself again with the bouquet she’d been working on. “But it does help, doesn’t it?”
· · ·
Stonevale Tavern is brimming with laughter and clinking glasses, a cozy sound that makes even my nerves feel manageable. Naomi stands at my side with a notebook in one hand, cheese piled high in the other, asking questions about who’s who each time someone walks through the doors.
Dominic sweeps in like he’s running for office, Elijah at his side. He slings an arm around me. “Tonight’s your night.”
“You said that last year.”
He shrugs. “Fuck me for being an optimist.”
Elijah laughs, sliding a hand into his husband’s. “You’re optimism’s bordering on delusion, love. But this year actually does feel different. Levi has put his whole heart and—”
“Last two remaining brain cells?” Dominic interrupts, evoking a bigger-than-necessary laugh from Naomi, to which I respond with a glare.
“…his whole heart and soul…” Elijah continues, biting back his own laugh, “into this project. That’s gotta count for something.”
Elijah’s always been deeply invested in Stonevale’s community initiatives, particularly opportunities for his students to engage hands-on with local projects. We’ve already discussed plans to bring his environmental studies class to the garden once it’s complete.
The air shifts in the doorway, like the hush that settles just before sunrise, and my heart softly catches. Hayden steps into the room, tall and quiet, impeccably tailored as always. He glances around, eyes searching until they settle on mine. My shoulders drop a fraction and the room steadies.
Dominic follows my stare. “Well, well. Looks like your Funeral Daddy has arrived.”
Elijah rolls his eyes. “Please, Dom. You have to stop calling him that.”
Dominic feigns innocence. “It’s perfectly poetic and accurate.”
Hayden approaches, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Sorry I’m a little late.”
“You’re here,” I reply, “and that’s all that matters.”
He smiles, stepping closer, the gentle proximity soothing my nerves. “Only with the right motivation.”
“Just a heads-up, Hayden,” Dominic says, leaning in. “Levi tends to charm the entire town council with talk of compost and mulch. It’s practically sorcery.”
I roll my eyes gently, but Hayden’s expression only softens, his eyes amused. “Actually, that’s precisely why I came.”
Something bright settles inside me. Gratitude that he’s here, sliding into my world without hesitation.
“You might regret this,” I warn as we turn toward the crowd.
“No,” he says simply. “Never.”
Dominic sighs, nudging Elijah. “And just like that, Levi’s officially ruined.”
Elijah chuckles. “And about damn time, too.”
Ruined, carefully and quietly, feels like exactly where I want to be.
Hayden leans in, voice low near my ear. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing toward the bustling bar area. “Whatever you’re having.”
A smile tilts his lips, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer than necessary. “I’ll be right back.”
He steps away as I begin conversing with attendees, my plans for Stonevale’s garden drawing murmurs of approval and thoughtful nods.
I see Ezra stepping through the crowd, weaving toward me in an intentional way. Beside him walks a woman I don’t recognize, but he introduces her casually to others as they pass.
“Levi!” he greets when he finally reaches me. “Perfect timing. This is Delilah Greene. She runs Alston’s Nursery over in Wellsboro and mentioned wanting to support community initiatives. Who better to connect her with than Stonevale’s favorite flower guy?”
Delilah extends her hand, a kind, weathered smile pulling softly at the corners of her mouth. Her gray hair is pulled back in a soft braid, her eyes sharp but kind behind simple wire-frame glasses. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Levi. Ezra speaks so highly of your work.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “Ezra may be biased, but I appreciate it.”
She huffs a laugh. “I doubt he’s exaggerating. Tell me about this garden of yours. What’s the heart of it? Every garden worth its roots has one.”
I glance toward Hayden, who’s now leaning against the bar.
“It’s about creating space,” I explain. “When I first imagined the community garden, it was just a patch of earth and a hopeful idea. But as it grew, it became something bigger. Something important. We’ve all lost something in Stonevale.
But the garden isn’t just about healing, it’s about growing through it.
It’s about taking what hurts and planting something new. Something beautiful.”
Delilah’s gaze is thoughtful. “That’s a very tender way to look at it.”
I smile. “Well, gardens have a way of teaching you patience, compassion…the value of making space for grief to become something else. That’s why I believe in this project. It’s not just a garden, it’s…” I pause, searching for the right words. “It’s a promise.”
She tilts her head, intrigued. “A promise?”
I nod. “That even when you lose something, life still finds a way to bloom.”
“You have something special here, Levi. I’d be honored to support it however I can.”
Relief eases into my chest. “Thank you, Delilah. That truly means a lot.”
She smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “We have a lot of eager local growers. It’d be nice to support something new in Stonevale.”
I nod, catching sight of Hayden returning from the bar, two glasses in hand. Beside me, Ezra cracks some easy joke, and I laugh without thinking. His hand finds my shoulder in a quick, familiar squeeze.
Hayden’s posture tightens, shoulders squaring.
I smile at Delilah, forcing lightness into my voice. “I’d love to talk more about this, Delilah. We should grab coffee. Next week?”
“Absolutely,” she replies. “I’d love that. Come by the nursery after and walk the rows with me.”
Ezra squeezes my shoulder again, and when Hayden reaches us, handing me a glass, his eyes zero in on where Ezra’s hand rests.
“Hayden,” I say quickly, pulling him closer with my voice, “meet Delilah Greene. She runs a nursery in Wellsboro and just made my day by promising to help with our garden project.”
Hayden’s tension softens just enough and he extends a hand to Delilah. “Lovely to meet you, Delilah. I’m certain your support will make a world of difference.”
She takes Hayden’s hand. “Lovely to meet you.”
There’s a smile curving at Hayden’s lips. “The pleasure is very much mine.”
“And, Ezra, this is Hayden Harlow,” I say, not really able to ignore the introduction. “Hayden, Ezra runs the supply store.”
Ezra smirks, extending his hand. “Good to finally meet you.”
Hayden takes it, polite yet guarded. “Likewise.”
Ezra’s eyes move between us. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to it. Good luck tonight, Levi.”
“Thanks, Ez,” I murmur.
Hayden watches them leave, his shadows curled protectively at the ready, then turns quietly back toward me.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, voice tight and clipped, like he’s withholding a thousand thoughts at once.
“Hayden…” I start, but he’s already moving, shoulders squared and shadows retreating at his heels as he slips from the room.
When I catch up to him, he’s standing at the edge of the dimly lit patio, his back straight, shadows spooling.
“Hayden?” I ask softly, stepping gently closer. “What’s wrong?”
He turns, uncertainty all over his face.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he admits, dragging a hand along his jaw. “I’m trying to understand what I’m doing here, Levi. With you. Meeting your family and friends. This whole evening.” His gray eyes flick, briefly, to the door we’d just come through, then back to me.
I swallow, inching closer. “You’re here because I want you here.”
An exhale escapes him. “It’s more complicated than that.
I’ve stayed at the edges. Safe in the shadows while everyone else lived.
And now…” He falters, voice nearing a breaking point.
“Now, I’ve stepped out. And I don’t know where I stand.
Or what we are. Especially when I see someone who could so easily be woven into your life.
He belongs in ways I never have. And I…” He swallows hard, eyes dropping. “I don’t know if I ever will.”
My chest tightens with understanding. Hayden has always been strong and entirely contained.
But right now, he’s fractured…beautifully, and he’s trusting me enough to show it.
He’s quiet for a heartbeat, the air between us soft but tense.
“I saw you with Ezra,” he murmurs, meeting my eyes.
“The familiarity. And it made me wonder”—he pauses, running a hand through his hair—“if I’ve been reading this wrong. ”
“Hayden,” I whisper, reaching for his hand. “Ezra…whatever he was, it’s firmly in the past. But nothing more.”
Hayden’s eyes meet mine, and I see the fear he’s been carrying.
“What I feel for you, Hayden…it’s different. Deeper. Real.” Heat climbs my cheeks, and I wonder if I’ve said too much. “I’m yours,” I whisper, holding his eyes. “Completely.”
His shadows still, like even they sense how fragile and precious this truth between us is.
“I’m not used to needing someone this way. It…terrifies me,” he admits.
“That makes two of us,” I murmur, looping my arms around his waist.
“I want this,” he breathes against my hair. “Us. More than I thought I could.”
I nuzzle into his neck. “Me, too.”
But there’s a weight in him, twisting just beneath his words. His forehead rests against mine, and his silence stretches.
“I’m sorry for doubting,” he says finally, though it sounds too neat, like it isn’t the only thing caught in his throat.
“You never have to apologize for needing clarity,” I tell him gently, searching his eyes. “Ask me every time.”
They soften, dark and molten in the lamplight, but something else flickers there, too. Not doubt, exactly; more like hesitation. Almost as if he’s bracing for something he can’t name out loud.
“I just…needed to be sure.”
My whole body aches at his rare vulnerability.
“A sexy immortal asking me for clarity on our relationship status? Yeah, that’s the most beautifully surprising thing that’s happened all week.”
His lips quirk upward. “Glad I could exceed your expectations.”
“You always do,” I say, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.