Page 89 of Where the Roses Bloom
Silas sighed, raking a hand through his hair, but Willow laughed too. “Yeah…we’re doing a lot more than sleeping all over the house, though.”
Silas sighed even louder.
June grinned like she wasn’t the least bit scandalized. “Good. That kind of love—it puts down roots. Makes spirits nervous, gives them less space to hang on.”
Willow squeezed my hand. “We didn’t mean to fall in love like that.”
June arched a brow, stepping into the room fully. “And howdidyou mean to fall in love? I mean—Delilah told me the story from an outside perspective, but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”
Willow hesitated, chewing on her lip. “It’s…it’s funny, actually,” she said. “I was just driving—coming off of my breakup with Carter, following the map at first. I figured I’d drive to a new city…maybe Savannah or New Orleans…and the map rerouted me here. The GPS glitched, my car sputtered out…and I found myself in town.”
“In my driveway,” I added on, squeezing her hand back, “like she was supposed to be here the whole time.”
“Ah…” June said. “Well, it’s no wonder, then.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Silas chimed in from the doorway.
June practically rolled her eyes at him, stopping short like she’d suddenly remembered to be serious. “It means some places are thin,” she said. “Like the veil between worlds is thinner in some spots…and Willow Grove feels like one of those places, like the divine is just a little easier to listen to here.”
She glanced at Willow again.
“Doesn’t matter what you call it—God, fate, grace, gut instinct. You got rerouted because something here was waiting for you. And when your ghost died just outside of town…he came back because he felt it too. I don’t get the impression he’s evil, just…lost, or stubborn, or in pain. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like he’s done.”
I glanced over at Silas, who looked like the priest’s words had hit something in him that didn’t quite make sense. He’d been through too much…and she was speaking to that with every word.
June took another step into the room, her gaze scanning the corners like she could see threads the rest of us couldn’t. She didn’t pull out any tools, didn’t draw a cross or light a candle—she just stood there, eyes soft, hands relaxed at her sides, and somehow it made the air feel steadier.
“Some spirits,” she said, “cling to places because they think that place owes them something. Or they think someonedoes. Love, apology—doesn’t really matter. The feeling’s the same.”
Willow glanced around the room. “So how do we make him…let go?”
“We give him something louder to hear,” June said, looking directly at her. “Joy. Commitment. Witness. This house has already seen death and loss and longing—he’s using those shadows like footholds. But if we flood it with life, with presence and love and people who show up for one another…he’ll lose his grip.”
“So…like what? A house party?” I asked, more to lighten the mood than anything else.
But June just grinned. “Close. A wedding.”
Willow’s head whipped toward her. “I’m sorry—what?”
“I’m not saying you have to get married tonight,” June said quickly. “But ritual matters. Sacred joy matters. And if you two are already standing in this house like it belongs to both of you—then why not claim it fully? Stake your spiritual ground. Let the dead know they can’t cling to what’s been healed.”
I stared at her. “You think a wedding is gonna drive him out?”
“I thinka ritual of reclamationwill,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be vows. But it should be public. Sacred. Joyful. Let the house be filled with light and noise and witnesses. Let him see what he can’t touch.”
Silas made a sound like he was choking on his own tongue. “You’re suggesting an exorcism by potluck?”
June beamed. “Exactly.”
Willow let out a stunned laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. I looked at her, and her eyes were wide—but not afraid.
“You okay?” I murmured.
“I mean…” She turned to look at me fully, her voice quieter. “I never imagined getting married to drive out a ghost, but I also never imagined any of this.”
I snorted. “A wedding and an exorcism. A wexorcism.”
Silas groaned audibly. “Oh, God. Please don’t call it that.”
