TWENTY-FIVE Willow
TWENTY-FIVE
Willow
That was insane.
That’s the first coherent thought I have as I try to remember how breathing works.
I know I’ve been crazier in this house, but that… it seemed to come out of nowhere.
I stare at the ceiling in Gabe’s office, my pulse still refusing to settle, my body vibrating in a way that feels equal parts terrifying and addictive. My shirt is somewhere on the floor. My hair is definitely ruined. My entire life is some strange fever dream of a mess now.
Gabe is beside me. He looks like that after something intense, like he’s filing it away, analyzing it, trying to understand it instead of just feeling it.
I don’t know how to do that. I feel everything all at once.
Which is why I sit up abruptly, dragging my hands over my face.
“Okay,” I mutter. “That…”
I stop. Because what even was that?
A mistake?
A bad decision?
A really, really good bad decision?
Gabe shifts beside me, watching me carefully. “You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling.”
“You’re sitting on my desk chair like it might bite you.”
I glance down.
I am, in fact, gripping the edge of the chair like I’m about to interrogate it.
I drop my hands with a sigh. “This is complicated.”
“That’s one word for it.”
I shoot him a look. “You don’t seem particularly bothered.”
“I am,” he says calmly. “I just don’t panic about it.”
“Good for you.”
“I prefer to understand situations before reacting to them.”
I let out a short laugh. “I prefer to react and then panic later. It’s my brand.”
That earns me the smallest hint of a smile.
And that’s the problem.
All three of them have these different ways of getting under my skin, and I—
A loud crash echoes somewhere down the hall.
I freeze. Gabe straightens, his expression shifting from calm to alert in a heartbeat.
Then voices. Raised voices. Male. Angry. Very angry.
I swing my legs off the chair, suddenly wide awake. “What’s that?”
Gabe is already on his feet, grabbing his shirt from the floor. “That’s not good.”
Another shout cuts through the hallway, this one loud enough to make my stomach drop. I don’t recognize the voice, but I recognize the anger.
And then, Xander.
Gabe curses under his breath. “Stay here.
“Not a chance.”
I’m already pulling my clothes back on, fingers fumbling as I shove my limbs through them. Whatever is happening out there sounds like the exact opposite of something I should ignore.
Gabe hesitates for half a second. Then he nods once. “Stay behind me.”
We step out into the hallway.
The noise is louder out here.
Voices echo off the high ceilings, jagged and completely at odds with the calm, controlled atmosphere this place usually has.
We follow the sound toward the main entrance hall.
And the second we round the corner, I stop dead.
Xander is standing in the middle of the room, shoulders tense, hands clenched at his sides.
And facing him is him.
Or at least someone who looks so much like him it’s almost unsettling.
Same height. Same build. Same dark hair.
But where Xander is all jagged edges and controlled intensity, this man looks like craziness barely held together. His hair is longer, messier. There’s a roughness to him, like he’s been through something and hasn’t bothered to smooth it over.
His eyes are just as blue, but they’re warmer. And right now, they’re blazing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Xander snaps.
The other man lets out a humorless laugh. “Nice to see you too, brother.”
Brother.
Oh.
That word hits like a brick.
Judging by the way Xander looks like he might actually throw him through a wall, this is bad.
“You don’t just show up here, Dylan,” Xander snarls. “You don’t get to walk in like nothing happened.”
“I didn’t say nothing happened,” Dylan fires back. “I said we need to talk.”
“We’ve had a year to talk.”
“And you’ve ignored every single attempt.”
“Because I had nothing to say to you.”
Dylan flinches, and my chest twists.
Gabe steps forward. “This isn’t the place—”
Xander rounds on him. “And you. You thought this was a good idea?”
Gabe doesn’t back down. “I thought it was necessary.”
“You went behind my back.”
“I tried to talk to you about it.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
The tension in the room snaps tighter.
I feel like I’m standing in the middle of something I absolutely shouldn’t be part of, like I’ve accidentally walked into the eye of a storm.
And I have no idea how to get out of it.
Dylan’s gaze flicks past Xander. Lands on me.
His eyes narrow, curiosity flashing across his face “Who’s this?”
I stiffen.
Xander’s entire body goes rigid. “Don’t,” he says.
Dylan lifts his hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
There’s so much history in that exchange I can practically feel it pressing down on the room.
I swallow hard. What have I gotten myself into?
Gabe glances back at me, his expression shifting when he sees the look on my face.
“Willow,” he says. “Maybe—”
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Good idea.”
Because I don’t belong in the middle of this.
Not even a little bit.
Before I can turn, another voice cuts in. “Okay, that’s enough testosterone for one room.”
Julian.
He appears beside me like he’s been there the whole time, slipping into the moment with that same effortless ease he always has.
Except his eyes flick between the three men with intense awareness.
He knows exactly how bad this is.
“Let’s not do this in the hallway,” he adds lightly. “We have staff. And, you know, walls that echo.”
No one laughs.
Julian reaches for my hand. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
I don’t argue. I let him guide me away, my pulse still racing as the voices start up again behind us.
We don’t stop until we’re outside. The cool air hits my face, and I suck in a breath like I’ve been underwater.
“What,” I say, turning to him, “was that?”
Julian exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “That was a very long time coming.”
I cross my arms, trying to ground myself. “That’s his brother?”
“Yeah.”
“The one he doesn’t talk to?”
“Also yeah.”
“And Gabe…” I stop, shaking my head. “Gabe knew he was coming.”
Julian winces. “That part’s complicated.”
“Everything is complicated,” I snap. “That’s kind of the theme lately.”
He huffs out a soft laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “True.”
I wrap my arms tighter around myself. The cool air helps, but not enough. My skin still feels too warm from Gabe. My mouth still remembers his. My body still feels soft and unsteady and opened up in ways I don’t know what to do with.
And now this.
“What happened?” I ask.
Julian looks at me for a long second. “How much do you want to know?”
“I don’t know.” My laugh comes out thin. “Enough to understand why Xander looked like he was about to commit murder in an entryway.”
“That’s just his face.”
“Julian.”
His teasing fades.
He shoves both hands into his pockets and looks toward the gravel drive. “They’ve always been complicated, Xander and Dylan. Same town, same talent. Too many people comparing them before either of them was old enough to know how to survive it.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It was.” His eyes flick to me. “Their parents didn’t help. They pushed. Managed. Controlled. Made everything a competition. Who got attention. Who got the better song. Who got the better deal. Who was more marketable.”
My stomach twists.
I think of Xander at the farmers’ market, buying Nina honey like it was nothing. Xander at the lake, quieter under the night sky. Xander looking at me like honesty was the only thing he knew how to offer when everything else fell apart.
That version of him feels very far away from the man yelling inside the house.
“What else?” I ask.
Julian’s jaw flexes. “There was a woman. Xander’s fiancée.”
“She slept with Dylan?” I guess.
Julian looks at me.
“That’s a yes,” I mutter.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Time doesn’t usually help as much as people want it to.”
“No,” he says softly. “It doesn’t.”
I look down at the gravel beneath my boots. “And that’s why they don’t talk?”
“That’s part of it.”
“There’s more?”
Julian nods. “We lost our bandmate, Josiah. Xander’s best friend. Bandmate. Brother in every way that mattered, except blood.”
“He died?” I ask.
Julian nods once.
I think of Xander’s eyes. That controlled, frozen blue. The way grief sometimes sits behind them like an old bruise nobody is allowed to touch.
“Oh,” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
The word is small.
“And Dylan wasn’t there,” Julian continues. “And also had the affair.”
Shit.
“What have I gotten mixed up in?” I whisper.
Julian’s gaze comes back to me. “Us.” His mouth curves faintly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “We’re kind of a lot.”
“That might be the understatement of the century.”
“Probably.”
A shout echoes faintly from inside again. I flinch before I can stop myself.
“Come on,” he says gently. “I’m taking you home.”
“I drove here.”
“Then I’ll drive your car and take a cab back.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Most of my best ideas are.”
I look at him. He smiles, but it’s softer than usual. “Let me get you out of here, Willow.”
I should argue.
I’m very good at arguing. It’s one of my core skills, right behind carrying too many plates at once and pretending I don’t have feelings.
But I’m tired, overwhelmed, and I can still hear Xander’s voice inside the house. So, I hand Julian my keys.
“Fine,” I say. “But if you adjust my seat settings, I’ll never forgive you.”
His smile grows. “Noted.”
“And don’t judge the emergency candy in the cup holder.”
“I would never. I would silently appreciate your preparedness.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escapes me.
Julian looks pleased with himself, like he just pulled something fragile back from the edge.
Redemption Falls rolls past the windows in pieces as we drive. Trees. Old fences. The curve of the road that leads away from Hawthorne House and back toward streets I understand. Houses with porch lights. Mailboxes with names I know. The ordinary world.
Except, I don’t feel ordinary anymore.
I feel like I left some version of myself back in Gabe’s office, scattered somewhere between his desk and the floor, and then walked straight into someone else’s family trauma before I could put myself back together.
Julian drives one-handed, careful with my car in a way I didn’t expect.
After a few minutes, he says, “You okay?”
I laugh once. “That’s such a wildly unfair question.”
“Yeah. I heard it after I said it.”
I look out the window. “I don’t know.”
“That’s allowed.”
“I don’t like not knowing.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I glance at him. “Have you?”
“Oh, definitely. You like solid ground. Clear rules. Exit routes.”
“That makes me sound like a paranoid raccoon.”
“A hot, paranoid raccoon.”
I stare at him. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told.”
“By who?”
“Many satisfied customers.”
I roll my eyes. “Julian.”
“What? You walked into that.”
We turn onto my street.
My little house appears ahead, porch light glowing, Daisy probably inside destroying a toy with the grim determination of a tiny wolf.
Home.
Julian pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine. Neither of us moves right away.
The car is filled with the ticking sound of the cooling engine and the faint buzz of nighttime insects.
I look at him.
Bad idea.
He’s too pretty in the dim light. Too soft around the edges right now. No smirk. No performance. Just warm hazel eyes and concern he isn’t trying hard enough to hide.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
That catches me off guard. “For what?”
“For the ambush. For the drama. For the fact that every time you get close to us, another door opens and something ugly falls out.”
I swallow. “That’s very poetic for someone who makes jokes about emergency candy.”
His hand lifts, giving me plenty of time to pull away.
I don’t.
He brushes his fingers along my cheek, light and careful, like I’m something he doesn’t want to startle.
“You can walk away,” he says. “Anytime. From the house. From the label. From us. I don’t want you thinking you’re trapped in this just because we’re all emotionally damaged and annoyingly attractive.”
I laugh for real, then, even though my eyes sting. “Annoyingly attractive?”
“Objectively.”
Julian leans in and his mouth touches mine, warm and gentle. Almost careful. Like he’s trying to prove he can be. Like this kiss isn’t about taking anything from me but giving me somewhere to land.
My fingers curl into his shirt before I realize I’ve moved.
He exhales against my mouth, and the sound is so unexpectedly vulnerable that I kiss him back harder.
I know this is crazy, and that I keep losing myself in this, but I just can’t seem to help it.