Page 30 of Where the Roses Bloom
“It wasn’t. Not like this. Not like you.”
Her eyes went wide.
“I’ve had pretty,” I said. “Had fun. Had people who said they’d stay and didn’t. But I’ve never had this. Never had someone I wanted to build somethin’ with before I even knew her favorite song. Never had someone who made this old house feel like it was breathin’ again.”
Willow’s fingers tightened in my shirt.
“And maybe itisphysical, right now,” I said. “How could it not be, lookin’ at you? But don’t insult what we’ve got by pretendin’ it’s justthat.”
Her throat bobbed.
“Ifeelyou,” I whispered. “Like you were planted in my bones before I ever saw your face.”
She moved her hands to my face, thumbs gliding over my cheekbones. “This doesn’t feel real,” she whispered.
“That’s why I wanna take you out,” I said. “Wanna feed you good food and dance with you barefoot in the grass. Let the world see you. Letyousee it. Remind you there’s still joy out there…that this?—”
I paused, brushing my thumb beneath her eye.
“That what we’ve got here? It ain’t a dream.”
Her breath hitched. I felt it in my chest.
“It’s not just the house makin’ magic, Willow,” I murmured. “It’s you. You walk in and things bloom.”
Willow’s lips parted like she wanted to answer—but didn’t know how. So she didn’t. She just leaned in and laid her head against my chest, right over the place where my heart was kicking around like it had too much to say and not enough words to say it.
I wrapped my arms around her. Held her like she’d always belonged there.
And for a long moment, neither of us moved.
The house breathed around us, old floorboards sighing, windows blushing with early sun. Somewhere outside, the wind rattled the porch chimes Hazel used to hang by the stairs, and I swore I couldhearthe garden growing.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know.”
I didn’t tell her not to be.
I didn’t promise it wouldn’t hurt.
I just tightened my arms around her and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.
“You don’t have to trust the world yet,” I murmured. “Just trust me.”
She looked up, those witch-gold eyes soft.
“I think I already do,” she said.
And when she kissed me again—slow, grateful, honey-warm—I knew I was already hers.
Even if she didn’t believe it yet.
CHAPTER 11
Willow
The whole townsmelled like summer and woodsmoke.
