Chapter 26
Willow
Summer passed in a blur, each day slipping by faster than the last. Keeping busy helped—kept my mind from wandering too far into the places where Dad's absence pressed the hardest. For brief, fleeting moments, I felt guilty, like I was forgetting him. But then Elijah would say something ridiculous or flash a smile that makes everything feel lighter, and I’d remember what Dad always told me when he knew he wouldn’t be around for much longer.
Live your life. Be happy.
At first, that seemed impossible. How do you let yourself be happy when someone you love is slipping away? Every day felt impossible. Like walking through cement. Slowly, though, I’m learning to breathe around it, to carry the weight without letting it crush me.
Rose also moved out—or rather, River forced her out.
When he found out what she'd been doing, he shut down completely, retreating into silence for days. The one night he came into my room, I had to watch my brother cry because of her. I held him while he held me, and for a little while, we were both allowed to break.
I felt a huge relief for Elijah. I know she hasn't signed the papers yet, but she isn't here anymore, so that's something. But for River, it was just sadness, watching his family splinter in front of him, powerless to stop it.
Rose has stayed quiet since and hasn't tried to reach out to River at all.
Part of me burns at that, and part of me isn't surprised.
She's always put herself first, and now he's seeing what I have always seen.
Rose moved on all those years ago, started a new life without thinking of the aftermath, and now she's doing it all over again.
Dancing, work, and stolen moments with Elijah fill most of my days. Small kisses, lingering touches, heated looks—there's always someone around, or we’re too busy to let things go further.
I've already got my test results, all clear. But still… nothing has happened between us. And right now, as I watch him working on a car in the warm afternoon, I really hope that changes soon.
He's shirtless, muscles flexing beneath sun -warmed skin as he leans over the engine. Oil stains mar his calloused hands, veins mapping across his arms in a way that makes my mouth water. I’ve always had a thing for back muscles, strong and defined and his in particular are very distracting.
Actually, everything about him is.
I just have a thing for Elijah Reed Lawson.
The cap on his head is backwards, sweat trickling down his forehead, and I bite my strawberry Twizzler, pretending I’m not ogling him like a fool.
He must sense it because he looks up, blue eyes catching the light and that grin—cheeky, teasing, knowing—sends a shiver right through me.
God, I can't believe how handsome he is.
“See something you like?” he asks, adjusting his cap, making his arm muscles flex, veins popping.
“Maybe.”
“Princess.”
Just that one word I used to hate now makes my knees feel weak.
“I love your body. Sue me. Those burgers outside the gym are clearly working wonders,” I tease, stepping closer.
He laughs low and deep before grabbing my ass, pulling me flush against him.
“Cheeky,” he growls, spanking me lightly. Lucky for us, we’re nowhere near the garage opening, and he sent the guys home early.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”
I tap my chin against my Twizzler. “Yes… But you could always tell me again.”
Every inch of him presses into me. I crane my neck, drinking him in, loving the way we feel against each other.
“You're beautiful,” he whispers, kissing a feather-light kiss to the top of my head.
“Stunning,” a brush of his lips over my nose.
“Breathtaking,” he murmurs against my cheek.
“So. Fucking. Sexy.”
His lips find mine, warm and insistent, and the quiet sound he makes against my lips sends a tremor straight through me as he walks me backwards toward the wall outside his office. I hardly register the steps before my back meets it with a soft thud, and he's there, surrounding me completely.
My hands slide down his chest, palms skimming over hard muscle and warm skin. Feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath my touch. His stubble grazes my jaw as his lips trail from my mouth to my neck, slow and purposeful. He knows exactly how to undo me without even trying.
“Elijah,” I whisper, fingers hooking into the waistband of his trousers as a strained groan rumbles out of him. “I need you. I want you.”
I have never been this desperate for anyone before.
It's not just because he's unfairly attractive, or because he knows exactly what he's doing with that tongue of his.
It's the way he looks at me. The way he holds me. The way being this close to him makes the rest of the world fade into background noise.
He makes me feel wanted, safe and happy. Even when I’m sad, it's not the only thing I feel anymore.
He nibbles along my jaw before pulling back just enough to look into my eyes. The heat there is unmistakable. I can see exactly how much he wants me. But there's something else, too, that's keeping him from crossing that line.
“As much as I want to bend you over and fuck that pussy of yours… I want to do it right.”
A part of me really wishes he would.
“What do you mean?” I ask softly.
“It means I’m not just in this for sex,” he responds with a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. “Even though I've imagined it more times than I can count.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“You're more than a fling, Willow. And I don't want our first time to be with you pinned against a wall at my work.” his thumb brushes gently along my cheek.
“I want to take you out. A proper date. I want to learn everything about you myself. Hold your hand. Tell you how beautiful you are without it being rushed or stolen between other people.”
My stomach flutters at that. “You already know everything about me.”
“I know the bits River’s told me. But I want to hear everything from you. I want to know you because you told me before I take you home and finally sink my cock inside you over and over again.”
Yes please.
The idea of a date sounds… really nice. Almost unreal. I've never actually been on one before, which makes it feel even more intriguing.
When Dad was ill, there was never time for things like that.
And the first time I had sex? Let's just say it wasn't exactly a glowing, romantic memory.
After that, when I came here, I dealt with grief in the messiest way possible—using people as distractions and convincing myself that numbness was better than hurting.
I smile. “Okay, when?”
He threads his fingers through my hair. “This weekend. River is going camping with his friends before the weather turns shitty, and I know just the place to take you. Far enough from here that we don't have to worry about someone spotting us.”
“It's a date then.”
I hook my arms around his neck, tugging him down, and the soft music from the Alexa wraps around us.
“What’s your favourite colour?” I ask, tilting my head up to watch him.
He frowns slightly, confused. If he wants to do this right, then I absolutely need to go underwear shopping, and what's better than getting something in his favourite colour?
“Green.”
“What kind of green? There are so many.”
“A deep emerald.” his eyes darken with a mischievous glint. “Why do you ask?”
I feel his fingers slip under the back of my top, warm against my skin, and my breath hitches.
“It's a surprise,” I murmur, leaning up and capturing his mouth in a kiss.
He groans low, gripping my waist, pulling me impossibly close. I can't get enough of him, and I don't think I ever will, which feels incredibly dangerous.
“Elijah!”
The high-pitched voice cuts through our moment, and my eyes snap wide as I look at him, then toward the open garage door. The faint click of her heels on the concrete grows louder, echoing through the space as she approaches.
“Go hide under my desk,” he says, calm but firm.
Well, I don't need to be told twice.
I dart across the office and crawl under his desk, sliding into the shadowed space as fast as I can. My heart hammers against my ribs, deafening in my ears, threatening to betray me.
“Rose, what are you doing here?” I can hear the irritation bleeding through his voice, most likely pissed that she disturbed our moment together.
The last thing I need to worry about is whether he threw a top over his beautiful body because I hate the idea of her getting to see him like that again.
Yes, I know she already has, but I never cared then.
“Don’t worry, I won't be long. Just dropping this off.”
I strain to see, but from under the desk, all I can do is listen.
“So you know how to use a pen?”
“Oh, shut up, Elijah,” she snaps back, and I can hear the smirk in his chuckle.
“You can go now.”
Time seems to stand still as she continues to linger. I anxiously bite my tongue, feeling both impatient and nervous.
“Are you not going to ask how I am, or where I’m staying?” she presses.
Ugh, I don't think anyone cares.
“I’d have to care to ask. Just like you don't care about your kids.” His tone drips with calm sarcasm.
“I care about River.”
Not me, though. In her eyes, I barely even exist. She only has one kid.
“You do remember you have two, right? And you haven't even bothered with our son since he kicked you out of the house. So don't give me that crap.”
I shift slightly, my legs cramping from crouching under the desk.
“I don't give a damn about Willow. As far as I’m concerned, that little homewrecker isn't my child.”
My shoulders slump, the words hitting harder than I expected.
I've never liked her and have never felt a connection or expected love from her. However, hearing her disown me feels like a knife to the chest.
Homewrecker.
I’m far from a homewrecker.
“The only homewrecker I see is you.”
“You only wanted a divorce when she showed up!” she practically squeals.
“I wanted a divorce long before Willow even moved in with us.
You're the one who couldn't stay faithful in a marriage and kept throwing our past at us in every single argument.
But I am done with this. You are nothing to me anymore, and luckily, River is almost eighteen, so we don't have to stay in contact.”
I know he stopped loving her a long time ago, but he's never explained why, apart from the cheating. I know deep down there's something else.
“Are you bringing that up again? It was years ago; you need to get over it.”
A loud slam on the desk makes me flinch, hand flying to my mouth to stifle a gasp.
“You're such a heartless bitch,” he bites out, voice breaking with raw, gut-wrenching pain
“Excuse me?”
“Get over it? Fuck sake, Rose, you got rid of our daughter! Our perfectly healthy daughter. All because of your opinion on girls and because you didn't want it to ruin your body.”
I freeze, heart sinking.
She… she what?
I never even knew she was ever pregnant. River never mentioned it.
It all makes sense now. His hatred for her—the way he can’t even look at her without feeling disgust and pain. The time he told me he didn’t really understand how I felt after losing my dad, and how the cheating didn’t seem to affect him at all.
The picture at his parents’ house comes to mind—the way I felt a mix of grief and happiness while looking at the image of the beach. The beautiful tattoos snaking down his arm each tell a story, marking the life he's lived, the people he's lost, and the battles he's survived.
She got rid of their daughter behind his back.
Who the fuck does that?
Anger and hurt churn low in my stomach, twisting viciously as the air in the room grows dense and suffocating.
“I won't let you hurt Willow anymore. She deserves the chance to heal. To be happy, and having you anywhere near her will only drag her backwards.”
There's a pause.
“I don't want to see you again. And if you do see me, don't you dare come over. Don't speak to me. Don't even look at me,” his voice cracks with fury and something far more painful underneath. “You're dead to me, Rose. Now get the fuck out.”
I've never seen him like this—so shattered and full of rage. All I want is to wrap him in my arms, to reassure him that he’s not alone and that it’s perfectly okay to let it all out.
The echo of her heels fades away, leaving behind a weighty silence.
I stay still, not wanting her to spot me through the window.
I stay where I am for a few seconds longer, my pulse racing.
When I finally crawl out from under the desk and stand, he's just standing there, staring at the wall like he's trying to hold himself together. His back is rigid, his shoulders rise and fall too quickly, each breath shallow and uneven.
“Elijah.”
He doesn't answer.
I take a step toward him and then another.
The room feels too quiet, too small; the air around us is fragile.
I can hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and our breathing.
When I reach him, I finally see his face clearly.
His eyes are glossy, bright with tears, and he is fighting with everything he has not to let them fall.
His jaw is clenched so tightly that I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. He looks wrecked, and I ache for him.
It’s painful to realise that something so delicate and heartbreaking slipped out, and I happened to hear it when he probably didn’t want me to. She did this to him. She has hurt him so much, and I hate her even more for it.
I don't ask him anything.
I just reach for his hand.
My fingers slide into his, and for a second, he doesn't react. Then, slowly, he looks at me. That's when it happens. One tear slips free, carving a silent path down his cheek.
That's all it takes for me to comfort him.
I step into him and wrap my arms around his waist. He folds instantly, burying his face into the crook of my neck, and I feel the full weight of him as his body shudders against mine.
A quiet, trembling grief that shakes through him in waves.
I press my cheek to the top of his head, closing my eyes, running my hand through his hair, holding him there.
His breath is warm against my skin, uneven, breaking every few seconds.
My own tears burn behind my eyes, but I don't let them fall. This isn't about me. This is about him.
I simply hold him while his memories resurface, fracturing his world.
I want him to understand that he doesn't have to be strong all the time.
In the stillness of his office, with nothing but the sound of his pain, I make a silent promise that he doesn't need to hear out loud: I'm not going anywhere.