Willow
THIRTY-ONE
Subtle weird.
The kind where conversations stop half a second too late when I walk past booths. The kind where people glance at me, then look down into their coffee mugs like they became fascinating.
Even Bill is acting strange.
Which is saying something, because Bill usually acts like human interaction offends him.
“You alright?” I ask as I top off his coffee.
He squints at me over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”
Helpful. I narrow my eyes. “That sounds ominous.”
“Hm.”
“Bill.”
He grunts and goes back to reading the newspaper like he didn’t just spiritually threaten me.
The entire diner feels tense today. Too aware.
I rub the back of my neck as I move behind the counter, trying to shake off the crawling feeling under my skin.
Maybe this is just fallout from everything with the guys. Maybe people noticed I haven’t been around them lately. Maybe I’m overthinking.
The bell over the diner door rings, and every head in the place turns.
That’s never good.
A woman walks inside wearing a cream trench coat and sunglasses that probably cost more than my car. Dark hair. Bright lipstick. Expensive handbag. Confident smile.
Definitely not from Redemption Falls.
She scans the diner once before her gaze lands directly on me.
Oh no.
The woman walks toward the counter with the focused determination of someone who has already decided she’s getting what she wants.
I consider fleeing into the kitchen.
Unfortunately, Lara sees her too, and Lara loves drama almost as much as Grace Holloway does.
“Willow,” she calls far too loudly, “customer for you.”
I plaster on my customer service smile as the woman reaches the counter.
“Hi,” she says brightly, extending a hand. “Caitlyn West.”
Every instinct I possess screams danger.
I don’t take the hand. “Caitlyn. Hi. Let me show you to your seat.”
“I don’t need food.”
I narrow my eyes. “I see.”
“I’m actually hoping we can chat.”
“No.”
She blinks once, clearly not expecting immediate rejection. “I think you might want to hear what I have to say first.”
“I really don’t.”
Around us, the diner has gone suspiciously quiet.
Now everyone is openly listening.
Caitlyn leans casually against the counter like we’re girlfriends catching up over brunch instead of strangers seconds away from a homicide. “I’m doing a feature on Redemption Records.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“It really is. Three former rockstars disappearing into a tiny town in upstate New York to build a mysterious label? The public loves that kind of thing.”
I grab a stack of menus aggressively. “Well, the public should get hobbies.”
Another amused smile. She’s enjoying this.
“But lately,” she continues smoothly, “interest has shifted a little.”
I freeze. Shifted. Toward what?
“Okay…”
“Toward you.”
My stomach drops. I laugh because surely not. “That’s embarrassing for everyone involved.”
Caitlyn tilts her head, studying me carefully now. “So you are involved with them?”
“No.”
“Not even one of them?”
“Nope.”
“What about all three?”
I nearly choke on air. “What kind of question is that?”
“The internet’s current favorite kind.”
I stare at her. “The what?”
Surprise flickers across her expression. “You haven’t seen it yet.”
Seen what? A cold feeling starts spreading through my chest.
Caitlyn recovers. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“What explains what?”
Instead of answering directly, she reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone.
Then she turns the screen toward me, and my entire world tilts sideways.
Photos of me and the guys fill the screen.
My blood turns to ice. “What the hell—?”
“There are more.” Caitlyn watches me carefully now, every inch the journalist smelling blood in the water.
“Videos from Bennett’s surfaced this morning.
Then fans connected other photos. The internet’s currently trying to figure out whether you’re dating Xander Harlow, Gabe Stockton, Julian Rochester,” she pauses, “or all three.”
The diner goes completely silent around me.
Someone drops a fork nearby.
I can hear my own heartbeat.
“No,” I whisper.
Caitlyn lowers the phone. “So the relationships aren’t real?”
“I…”
My throat closes.
“Well, the fan reactions are… intense,” Caitlyn says carefully. “Which is why I wanted to give you a chance to comment before the story develops further.”
Story. Like my life is entertainment.
I stare at the phone in horror. Thousands of comments, edits, threads. People talking about me like they know me. Like I’m something to analyze.
My hands start shaking.
“What’s Redemption Records really building in Redemption Falls?” Caitlyn continues. “Why move somewhere this small? Is the relationship real or publicity? Which one are you actually involved with? Are the men sharing you? Did the town know? Were you involved before the move here?”
Every question hits like a slap.
The diner feels too hot suddenly. Too crowded and loud.
“I’m not answering this.”
“Willow—”
“No.”
Across the diner, whispers start rising now that everyone realizes something big is happening.
I step back from the counter.
Caitlyn softens, which somehow makes it worse. “I know this is overwhelming.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“No,” she admits. “But I know fame.”
I almost laugh at that. Fame?
This isn’t fame. This is violation.
I’ve spent my entire life being ordinary. Invisible in the best possible way. And now strangers are zooming in on my body online and debating which billionaire rockstar I sleep with.
A horrible twisting feeling crawls up my throat.
Then someone near booth seven mutters loudly enough for me to hear: “This is exactly what people were worried about.”
I turn instinctively.
Donna Mercer from the florist shop shakes her head at her friend. “All these celebrities moving here. Now look at the town.”
My chest tightens painfully.
Her friend glances toward me awkwardly. “Donna…”
“What?” Donna shrugs. “It’s true. Things were fine before all this.”
Before me.
That’s what she means. Before I became part of it.
Heat rushes into my face. Embarrassment, shame, panic. Like the entire diner is staring at me differently.
Not Willow, the girl who serves coffee. Just scandal, gossip, the girl messing around with famous men.
My vision blurs.
I grip the counter hard enough my knuckles ache, and then the diner door flies open, making the bell slam against the glass.
Nina.
My protective sister walks in looking furious. Dark curls flying everywhere, phone clenched in one hand.
Her eyes lock onto me. Then she sees Caitlyn. “Nope. Not happening.”
Caitlyn straightens. “You are?”
“The person telling you to back the hell away from my sister.”
Relief hits me so fast it almost hurts. “Nina—”
She’s already beside me, grabbing my hand. “Oh, Willow.”
That tiny crack in her voice almost destroys me, because now I know for sure. It’s bad. Really bad.
“I’m taking her home,” Nina says flatly.
Caitlyn lifts her hands. “I wasn’t trying to upset her.”
“Well, congratulations anyway.”
Nina wraps an arm around my shoulders and steers me toward the door before I can argue.
The entire diner watches us leave. Every single person.
I’ve never wanted to disappear more in my life.
The second we get into Nina’s car, I finally speak. “What’s happening?”
Nina exhales shakily and hands me her phone. “I didn’t want you seeing it alone.”
That sentence alone makes my stomach twist.
Then I look at the screen, and break, because it’s everywhere. TikToks, articles, fan edits. Photos of me beside the guys set to romantic music like this is some kind of TV show. People comparing my body to the women they usually date.
Some comments are excited. Most are invasive. Others are just cruel.
Why her?
She’s not even pretty enough for one of them.
Gold digger.
Small-town groupie.
Guess they’ll sleep with anyone now.
Probably planned this from the start.
My throat closes completely. “Fucking hell.”
Nina grabs my phone away. “Stop reading them.”
But I already saw enough. Too much. Every insecurity I’ve ever had feels carved open for strangers to poke at.
I curl inward in the passenger seat, pressing my hands against my face. “They hate me. They don’t even know me.”
“That’s the internet,” Nina says softly. “People get cruel when they think someone isn’t real.”
But I’m real. That’s the problem.
Tears burn behind my eyes and I hate that too.
I don’t cry easily. I especially don’t cry over strangers. But this feels different. Bigger. Like my whole life just got ripped open without permission.
I wish I’d never met them at all.