Page 29 of Where the Roses Bloom
“Makes sense,” I said. “We’re off to a good start.”
Willow’s laugh filled the kitchen again and set a fire in my chest. “Rhett…you don’t have to hold back,” she said. Her fingers curled in the fabric of my shirt. “Just ask.”
I nodded. “Okay…how did you end up here, Willow?”
She looked down at our hands, fingers still knotted in the hem of my shirt like she didn’t quite know how to let go.
“I was with someone,” she said. “For a long time. Years.”
I held still. Didn’t press.
She lifted her gaze again, eyes steady. “He never asked me to stay. Never asked me to leave, either. Just…never asked.”
Something in my chest twisted.
“I thought if I waited long enough,” she continued, “he’d come around. But I think I always knew. Then he cheated and I realized…I didn’t even care about the cheating, because I hadn’t loved him in a long time.”
My jaw tightened. My fingers curled against the small of her back.
“He cheated on you,” I said, low.
She shrugged, but it wasn’t careless. It was heavy. Tired.
“I think it would’ve hurt more if I still loved him,” she murmured. “But by the time it happened, I’d already left. Not officially—but…in my head, I’d packed up and gone. I just hadn’t caught up to myself yet.”
I breathed through the white-hot pressure blooming in my chest.
She didn’t need me to get mad. She didn’t need me to rage or stomp around or break something on her behalf. But fuck, I wanted to.
Not because he touched someone else—but because he didn’t see her. Because he didn’t fight to keep her. Because he let her go without even realizing she was already gone.
“You deserved more,” I said, my voice rough.
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I mean it, Willow. You don’t let a woman like you slip through your fingers. You build a goddamn life around her.”
“Rhett…” she looked sad. “You don’t even know anything about me. I mean…the attraction is there, yeah. But what if it’s just physical?—”
I stepped back, just far enough to really look at her. Her arms were still wrapped loosely around my waist, but her shoulders were tense, like she was already bracing for something to break.
So I gave her something to hold.
“You wanna know about me?” I asked, voice low. “Okay.”
She blinked, caught off guard.
“I had a girl once,” I said. “Years back. Callie. We were young. Thought that meant forever. But it didn’t.”
Willow’s brow furrowed. I kept going.
“She wanted outta this place. Bigger things. Bigger life. Iwanted to stay. We both thought the other would come around.” I shook my head. “Neither of us did.”
She didn’t speak, just watched me. Waiting.
“I stayed in this house. Took care of Hazel. Callie left. We stopped talkin’ not long after. And for a while, I told myself that was love. That what we had was it.”
I looked down at her then. At the woman standing in my kitchen with bare legs and wary eyes and a history I didn’t know but wanted to carry anyway.
