15. Willa
FIFTEEN
Willa
I was so…
I didn’t really know, not exactly. Happy, yes. Also…sad? Confused?
I’d wanted a baby for so long, been told my whole life it was what I should want, but now that it was happening, I wasn’t sure how to feel.
Since I’d escaped the homestead—nearly a month ago now, even if it felt like a lifetime—I’d learned that I wanted so many things.
I wanted to explore the whole ranch, navigate the creek, meet every goat on the Holts’ land.
I wanted to chart the topography of Forrest’s body, learn the little scars, trace his jaw until I remembered it by heart.
I wanted to read. I wanted to write. I wanted to teach, wanted to work at the diner.
And more than anything, even more than having a baby…I wanted to be a Holt.
I’d never had a home before, and now I did. A home with people who made me feel safe and warm and welcome.
Now, I was going to have a Holt baby.
It was terrifying. Exhilarating.
…confused.
Forrest kept his hand on my knee as we drove back from the doctor’s office, and I kept my eyes out the window—watching the Hill Country roll by under the big blue Texas sky.
Forrest wanted me to be his wife. I wanted, desperately, to be his wife.
The baby was just…incidental. But I didn’t know how I felt about the fact that he’d asked because of the baby.
I wanted the baby.
I wanted Forrest.
I wanted the Holts.
I didn’t want this to feel compulsory, not any of it.
“Forrest,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, beautiful?”
He was happy. I could see it in his eyes, crinkled at the corners, a smile he couldn’t get rid of.
“You didn’t just ask me to marry you because of the baby, right?”
He made a confused sound in the back of his throat, shook his head. “Well…no. I want to keep you safe—”
“That’s not what I want either though.”
He glanced over at me, one eye still on the road. “Tell me what you want, Willa.”
I pulled my hand away from him, twisting it in my lap instead.
“When I escaped…I don’t know what I wanted.
I should be happy, I—I am happy. But I think I want…
I don’t want you to ask until you’re doing it for you?
We can still be together, I want this baby, I want to stay—but I don’t want to…
I was trapped a long time. I don’t ever want to trap somebody else. ”
He was quiet for a moment, both hands on the wheel now, gripping it tight.
“You’re right,” he said.
I looked at him.
“The practical version came out first,” he said. “That’s true. The baby, the documentation, keeping you safe…all of that was real and true and I meant it.” He paused. “I also want to marry you, Willa, but we are moving fast. I’m as scared I’m trapping you as you are of trapping me.”
“I’m not—you know I would leave if I wanted to—”
“I know that, but you just…” He waved his hand around, gesturing toward outside, the world.
“You’ve barely seen what life has to offer, and I’m not—I might seem perfect on the surface, but I’m not.
It’s taken me three years to get over Sophie, and that’s not…
she’s still gonna be here. That’s not going to go away.
I’m always going to love her.” He paused.
“And I’m older than you. Thirteen years, and…
Haven and Wyatt make it work, I’m not saying that’s a dealbreaker. But it would be for a lot of women.”
I thought about that. It was strange…ever since I’d gotten out, I’d thought of Forrest as the boy next door, but he wasn’t a boy. He’d been in love before, he had a whole life.
And I had—
“I don’t think you have to be out in the world to know it,” I said.
“My standards aren’t…” I paused, thinking about how I wanted to say this.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a good man, even compared to anyone I could meet out there.
And Forrest, I haven’t seen the rest of the world, but I know it. I know cruelty. I know evil.”
He didn’t say anything. I kept going.
“I know what it feels like when someone looks at you like you’re nothing, what it feels like when someone takes from you without asking.
I know the difference between a man who sees me and a man who thinks he owns me.
” I looked at him. “You see me, Forrest. And we haven’t known each other long, but…
I do trust you. I know you care about me. That’s everything.”
He was quiet.
The road curved, Holt Creek coming up fast. The car ride felt interminably long and much, much too short. There were too many things to say, and I was terrified that if we got out of this car without getting everything on the table, I would lose him.
Then he cursed under his breath.
“No fucking way.”
I followed his gaze forward toward the gate, squinting to make out what he was looking at…and I recognized the trucks right away.
Two of them—both from the Daley homestead.
My husband was blocking the way in.
Forrest stopped in the middle of the country road, jaw tensed. “We should turn around,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I’m not afraid. I’m not going to let him block our home.”
Forrest’s breath had gotten harsher, his face flushed. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
He steeled himself, squared his shoulders…and put his foot on the gas again.
We pulled up just like we would’ve if no one was there; as if these men were strangers, as if I wasn’t coming face to face with the man who had stolen my girlhood like he had any right to it.
Forrest rolled down his window and leaned out just a bit, confronting Shepherd Daley without a second thought.
“You’re gonna need to move,” Forrest said. “This isn’t a parking lot.”
Daley ignored him, looking right past him at me.
“Willa,” he said. “You need to come home.”
“I’m trying to get home right now,” I said, lifting my chin. “You’re in the way.”
Daley ignored me too; he didn’t care what either of us said.
“You’re confused,” he said. “You’ve been confused since you left. That’s not your fault—these people have filled your head with—”
“She said she’s home,” Forrest said flatly. Now move your truck.”
Daley’s eyes finally moved to Forrest in this slow, assessing look I knew too well—a look he’d taken when any of us talked back to him, like he knew exactly who was in charge here.
This time, though? This time he was wrong.
“This doesn’t concern you,” he said.
“It concerns me when a lady tells someone what she wants and they completely fucking ignore her,” Forrest said. “You concern me.”
Daley’s eyes flicked past me, then back.
“Willa.” His voice dropped, smooth-talking like it wasn’t a threat. “Your place is with your family. You know that.”
“My family is inside that gate and in this truck,” I said.
His jaw tightened.
In hindsight, I was stupid not to have locked the door—but I hadn’t thought they would touch me, not on our land, not like this.
I was taken offguard when the passenger door swung open, and big, strong hands grabbed me so hard it hurt.
I screamed, twisting to get away, kicking my feet and making contact with someone’s chest, making him huff a pained breath.
It just made him hold me tighter, meaner, it hurt—
Forrest wasn’t in the car anymore.
Before I knew it, Forrest’s fist was flying into the man’s face, forcing him to let me go. The man went hard to the ground, but two others were on Forrest from behind—one hooking his arm around his neck, the other punching him in the stomach.
“Leave him alone!” I screamed, launching myself forward to claw at their eyes. “Stop!”
“Don’t have to be like this, Willa,” Daley was saying from the fringes. “You need to come home.”
Forrest got his arm free and put the man choking him into the truck's side panel headfirst. The sound was loud and final. The third man came at him and Forrest caught him by the shirt and drove him back into the dirt and didn't let up.
I got my nails across the face of the man who'd grabbed me and felt him recoil. I didn't wait. I put my knee into him the way Haven had shown me three weeks ago in the kitchen, laughing, saying just in case—and he folded.
But Forrest…they were still going after him, getting up to attack him.
And Shepherd Daley was behind me now, grabbing me.
“You need to come home, you stupid girl,” he snarled. “Get in the goddamn truck.”
I whipped around and slashed my nails across his face, drawing blood. “I am not going back!”
Daley’s hand shot out and twisted in my hair, and I screamed and fought. He was stronger than he looked, or maybe just meaner, and his grip tightened when I fought back.
“Stop fighting me,” he growled.
“Get your hands off her!”
Forrest was on Daley now, shoving him away from me, but the other three men were on him again, just…hitting him. Hitting him over and over, like they didn’t care if they killed him. I let out something between a sob and a scream, trying to move toward him—
A cloud of dust was coming down the drive from the Holt property, Gage’s truck racing toward us.
A couple of the men balked, letting go of Forrest—and Forrest came straight to me, pulling me away from Daley, wrapping me up in his arms. I looked over his shoulder to see the truck skid to a stop at the gate, then I watched as Gage jumped out, shotgun in his hand; Wyatt and Stetson getting out next, Stetson jumping the fence in a heartbeat.
“You need to get the fuck off my land, you son of a bitch,” Gage snarled, cocking the shotgun.
I was breathing hard. Forrest’s hands were on my back, his arms so tight around me that I knew no one else could touch me. “Are you okay?” he was whispering, frantic. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said. “It’s okay—”
“You told me you hadn’t seen my girl, but she’s standing right here with your cousin’s hands all over her, Holt!” Daley shouted from behind me. “Ain’t very neighborly of you!”
“Sheriff’s on his way out,” Gage said. “You wanna take it up with him? Why you just assaulted a grown woman and our cousin on our land? Why she needed to run away from you in the first place?”
Stetson cracked his knuckles, just a couple feet away from some of the guys who’d already taken a beating from Forrest. This was over…we all knew it.
But I didn’t know if they would actually let me go.
Daley looked at Gage’s shogun; at Wyatt, just on the other side of the gate…at Stetson, ready to come in swinging.
Then he looked to me, and I pulled away from Forrest to make myself hold his gaze. I’d spent four years looking away from him…I wasn’t doing it anymore.
“This isn’t over,” he said quietly.
“Actually,” I said. “It is. Now get the fuck off of our land.”
I’d never used that word before.
It felt good…almost as good as saying our land.
Sirens sounded down the road…Daley and his men looked that direction.
“Come on, boys,” Daley muttered. “We’re done here.”
Then they finally left.
Gage lowered his shotgun and let out a long breath. Forrest still had one arm around me, even as his shoulders slumped.
“Jesus,” Wyatt muttered, finally coming through the gate and going straight to Forrest. “You look like hell.”
“They wanted to kill him,” I blurted out, and the words got stuck in my throat as I started crying. “I’m…oh God—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Forrest said, but it didn’t seem okay. Wyatt put out an arm to brace him as he swayed on his feet. “I’m okay, just a little beat up—”
“You’re not okay,” I said, shaking my head. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. “You’re not—”
“You’re both a little worse for wear,” Wyatt said, looking between us then back at Gage. “I’m gonna take them back to the house so me and Haven can take a look. Wanna fill the sheriff in and join us there?”
Gage nodded, eyes darting toward where the cop car was almost in the drive. “I gotcha. Go on ahead.”
Wyatt got Forrest into the truck and I climbed in after him, and we drove up to the main house with the sirens getting louder behind us and the Hill Country afternoon going gold around the property.
It wasn’t over…not even close.
But it was the beginning of the end.
And I was home.