Dallas

Willow: We need to talk.

Her text isn’t the only thing that worries me. She sent it at three this morning. The early hours of the morning are when your brain is working the hardest, going over important choices, the shit you want to forget but can’t.

Is this a good or bad we need to talk?

Should I be heading to the airport?

After I drop Maven off at school, I call Hudson and let him know I’ll be late today, and then I drive straight to Willow’s apartment. Fingers crossed it’s not empty when I get there.

I take the stairs three at a time and find her sitting on the couch. My chest gets heavy when I notice the moving boxes scattered everywhere. Some flat, some put together, some taped up with scribbled words on them.

She nervously glances back at me while I trudge across the room. I don’t take my eyes off her–like it’s the last time I’ll get to see her. Her naturally plump lips that fit perfectly around my cock are puckered as she watches me. The hair I love twirling my fingers around is down in loose curls. The woman I’ve fallen in love with is going to walk away with the remaining pieces of what’s left of me.

“Hey,” she says. “You never texted me back. I wasn’t sure if you got my message.”

Why? Was she trying to get out of here before I showed up?

I snatch a half-filled box and dump out the contents. I need physical evidence that my life is going to change. That I’ll be going back to the miserable asshole I was before she took me over.

“What the hell?” Willow screams, sliding off the couch in frustration.

I scowl at the items on the floor. Clothes. Shoes. My eyes zero in on the shoes she left at my house that night. Her gaze goes to me, then to the pile on the floor, and back to me.

Where did this sudden change come from?

We spend all of our free time together, and from what I believe, we’ve been enjoying it. No arguments have occurred. Every prenatal appointment has gone well.

What happened? Where did it go wrong?

“You going somewhere?” I ask.

Her brows scrunch together. “The moving boxes give it away?”

“Sure did.” I struggle to keep my voice calm.

Stress is bad for the baby. We can’t risk another miscarriage. I won’t argue. Won’t fight it. She’s calling the shots. I’ll move if that’s what she wants, get a job bussing tables in LA if I have to, turn my life upside down to keep her.

Her head cocks to the side. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

I grit my teeth. “That’s never what I wanted. Not once have I told you to pack up and ditch us. Just so you know, what you’re doing is going to leave my daughter and me broken. Do you understand? You’re not supposed to turn your back on us because we fell in love with you. I fell in love with you.” I shake my head, my voice breaking. “And we don’t want another person we love to leave us.”

She blows out a breath and smiles.

The fuck?

“Did you bump your head? These boxes are for me to move in with you.”

Her answer melts the burden off my chest. “What did you say?”

“I said, I’ve been packing my stuff because I’m accepting the offer of moving in with you, dipshit.”

Damn, does my girl have a mouth on her.

Stupidity rails through me. So much time has passed since I asked her to move in, I figured it wasn’t an option.

She’s staying. Halle-fucking-lujah.

I crack a smile while she blankly stares at me.

“So, now that you know I’m not leaving your ass, promise me you won’t do that anymore,” she says, her tone turning emotionless. “If you want me to move in with you, you can’t go around, saying things you don’t mean.”

I cock my head and stare at her in confusion. “What don’t I mean?”

“That you love me.” She throws her hands down to her sides. “We get along great, the baby will have two parents, but don’t get my hopes up. I’ve made my mind up to move in, so you don’t have to lie to me.”

Oh, shit.

The L-word hasn’t left my mouth again since we lost the baby. In fear of her running away, I’ve stopped myself every time. Now, my dumbass has blurted it out and ruined any chance of her moving in with me.

I draw nearer before she kicks me out, and I walk her back until her back hits a wall. I press a hand to her cheek, and hers wrap around my neck, massaging the built-up tension. I look down, searching for eye contact, but she’s not giving it.

“Look at me,” I whisper. My voice turns raw. Raspy. My breathing falters when she does. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you.”

I didn’t bring her home with me that night, expecting to fall in love. I never thought that having surprise babies, going on road trips, getting stranded, and then surviving a miscarriage would bring so many emotions out of me. That it would warm my cold heart. That’d it bring me closer to her.

She’s managed to do that.

She makes me want to be a better man.

A man who believes in love again because he’s in love with her.

She’s a strong woman with a heart of gold, who brought a flashlight in my darkness to show me the way to happiness when I was fighting not to find an exit.

I won’t lose her.

“Tell me you feel it, too,” I say.

Worry is evident on her face. The hesitation tells me she’s insecure about getting hurt again if she says it. My pulse quickens. The same feeling is driving through her. She wouldn’t have agreed to move in if it wasn’t.

“I’m scared of feeling it,” she finally replies. “I’m scared that loving you is reaching for something that’ll never be mine. A lifeline I can’t reach because you’re in love with someone else.”

I look down at her, unblinking. “I’ll always be your lifeline. You’ll always be able to reach me because you have my heart. No matter what you’re going through, I’ll be at your side, helping you hold on.”

Tears fill her eyes. “You can’t love me like you loved her.”

“You’re right. The way I love you is different than the way I loved her. I’ve fallen in love with you in different ways, for different reasons, than I did with Lucy. I’ve fallen in love with finding love, learning your tics, how to make you smile, hearing your fears, and getting to know the deepest parts of your soul. I loved Lucy. I’ll never stop loving the memory of her, but I can love you right along with it.”

I grew up with Lucy. I loved her for as long as I can remember, but I don’t remember falling in love with her because I knew everything about her. This is something new to me. A different love but still love. You don’t love the same every time.

I squeeze Willow’s hips and hope my next question isn’t pushing the limit. “You ready to admit you love me yet?”

She shakes her head.

“Then, why are you crying?”

“Hormones,” she croaks out. “Fucking hormones.”

“You can blame it on that for now.” My mouth finds hers, giving her a long kiss, before pulling away and pecking the tip of her nose. “But I’ll be asking again later.”

“What are you doing?” she asks when I move across the room and pick up a box.

“Helping you pack your shit. You can keep the apartment for as long as you want, but I’m going to take as much time with you under my roof as I can get.”