by Zoe York
Only a week, and yet it felt like a lifetime. She’d thought the pain she’d felt when she was younger had been raw and intense, but the truth was it had nothing on what she felt now. Because now, it wasn’t just sadness over his absence. It was regret for not listening to him when he’d tried to tell her—and she had no doubt that was exactly what he’d tried to do. And mourning for a lost love so powerful it could’ve moved mountains.
Despite wanting to hide away in her house, she’d done the adult thing and had gone back to work. The whispers had stopped, surprisingly. She wasn’t sure what had their attention that was more intriguing than her and Finn, but she wasn’t complaining.
She’d been home for a couple hours already. Had made herself a gourmet dinner of frozen pasta in a cardboard box. She had all the fixings to make her favorite, but those damn sandwiches were so intertwined with Finn now that she couldn’t stomach them. It turned itself inside out at the thought. So instead, she was the frozen meal queen, at least when Mac wasn’t home to shove something down her throat.
Her half-finished painting still sat displayed on the easel in the living room since she couldn’t bring herself to complete it, nor could she bring herself to put it away. So that meant she was in her room, on her bed, reading the same paragraph over and over again because she couldn’t concentrate on anything.
The front door opened and closed, murmured voices filtering up the steps followed by feet pounding the stairs. Avery and Mac stood in her doorway, both looking ready for a night on the town.
“Will.” Avery looked her up and down, disgust curling her lip. Possibly over the ratty clothes she was wearing. Or possibly over the spilled marinara sauce on said ratty clothes. “What’re you doing.”
She held up her paperback. “Reading.”
“Last I checked, you weren’t eighty years old, which means you shouldn’t be reading at eight o’clock on a Friday night.”
“I don’t know what age has to do with it,” Willow said. “What’s wrong with reading, even on a Friday night?”
“Absolutely nothing, except you’re on the same damn page you were on this morning.” Mac raised a brow. “Yes, I checked.”
“Well—”
“C’mon. Come out with us. The grand opening’s tonight. They’re doin’ two-for-one drinks till nine.”
Willow’s stomach clenched as overwhelming sadness swept over her. “I…can’t.”
Avery plucked Willow’s book from her hand, then yanked her up by the arms until she stood next to her bed. “You can and you will. This is the final piece in the square revitalization, and you deserve to see it. You did this, Will. We want to celebrate it with you, and everyone in Havenbrook does too.”
She looked from her best friend to her sister, both of them imploring her with sincerity in their eyes. They were right, of course. This was what she’d been working on for the past five years. Was what she’d fought with her daddy over—because she believed in what was coming, and in what it could do for the hometown she loved so much.
“Someone find me something to wear, because I obviously can’t go in this.”
Avery and Mac exchanged a look, then Avery strode to Willow’s closet and began shuffling through, mumbling about this color matching that. Mac gave Willow a one-armed hug and pulled her close.
This would hurt. Seeing the business Finn worked so hard on without him there would crack her heart open, no doubt about it. But she wanted to. Wanted to see the outcome of her hard work and determination for the past five years. Wanted, too, to see what he’d been able to accomplish with the odds stacked against him. Especially since he wasn’t there to see it himself.
By the time the three of them got to the square, it was packed. Nearly as full as it’d been during the Fourth of July parade. Hundreds of Havenbrook residents convened outside the space as they didn’t seem to be letting anyone inside.
Willow allowed herself to take it in, really look at it for the first time since the Fourth. The once-peeling paint of the window casings and rotted front door had been replaced. The cracked pavement in front of the building had been repoured. And since she’d last paid attention, a sign now hung above the front door, a white drop cloth draped over it hiding the name they’d finally settled on.
Mac waved to get someone’s attention, but Willow was focused on the building, where everyone else seemed to be looking. Waiting for…what, she didn’t know. And then Nola’s head popped up over the crowd as she stood on a raised platform directly beneath the covered sign. She brought her fingers to her mouth and let out a loud wolf whistle, quieting the crowd immediately.
“Hey, y’all! Thanks for comin’ out tonight to help us celebrate the grand opening of Havenbrook’s very first bar.” A bright smile swept across her face as hoots and whistles burst from the crowd. “Now, I know y’all’ve been promised somethin’, so I won’t take up more of your time. I just want to welcome everyone”—she grabbed the white cloth draped over the sign and yanked it down, revealing the logo beneath—“to The Willow Tree.”
Claps and hollers sprang up around her, but Willow couldn’t pay attention to any of them. Her gaze was fixed on the sign Nola had revealed. Letters spelling out The Willow Tree were punched out of steel, and beside it was a logo with a beer bottle as the trunk of the tree, leaves sprouting from the top and spilling out on either side.
Her heart thrummed in her chest, her eyes filling with tears, her throat clogging with emotions so deep she could hardly breathe. Finn. Finn had done this—one last thing to show her how much he loved her, even after he was gone.
And now, she was going to have to walk by it every day, was going to have to see it outside her window at work, and ache. Ache knowing she’d lost the love of a lifetime not once but twice. Knowing she’d never, ever get it—
“Are those good tears or bad?” a voice whispered right in her ear. A voice she’d know anywhere.
She spun around and there stood Finn, in the middle of Havenbrook Square, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Finn, what—”
“Come over here with me for a sec?” He held out his hand and tilted his head toward the other side of the square where no one lingered.
She looked down at his hand and bit her lip, then looked back to find her sister and Avery. They were already swallowed up by the crowd, but Willow could still make them out. Avery smiled at her, and Mac gave her a thumbs-up. So she did the only thing she could. She slipped her hand into his, exhaling as his fingers closed around hers, his grip steady and firm. Comforting. Easing an ache in her chest that’d been there since she’d told him goodbye.
When they were away from prying ears, he pulled her to a stop in front of him, their hands still connected between them. Then he just stared. Ran his eyes over every inch of her, cataloging each one of her features while she did the same for him. His hair was wild—like it got when she’d been running her fingers through it—his jaw covered with several days’ worth of scruff. Light bruises marred the skin beneath his eyes, as if he’d been sleeping about as well as she had. Which was to say, not at all.
She wanted to throw her arms around him, feel his wrap around her. Wanted to kiss him and tell him she loved him and she’d missed him. But she had so many questions, she didn’t know where to start. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re supposed to be in California.”
His lips quirked up at the side, and he reached out tentatively, his hand inching closer to her face. When she didn’t flinch or pull away, he swept his fingertips down her face from her temple to her chin. “Why would I be there when the woman I love is right here?”
“But you… Everyone said you’d gone—”
“You listenin’ to all that blatherin’?” He shook his head. “Just went back to pack up, sweetness. And to get Momma, but we were comin’ back. We were always plannin’ to come back.” He slipped his fingers around her neck. “I couldn’t leave you again, Willowtree. No threat was great enough to get me to go th
is time.”
But last time, it had been. She and her daddy’d had a long talk, where she’d listened as he’d confessed every detail of what he’d done all those years ago. Her momma had sat next to her, anger and disappointment cloaking every bit of her body. He’d told them of what he’d done back then, and what he’d tried to do now. She hated her daddy for forcing Finn’s hand. For making him choose between jail time for a crime he didn’t commit, leaving his brother to fend for their sick momma, or leaving Havenbrook with enough cash to help his momma get better but leaving Willow behind. She couldn’t begin to fathom having to make that choice—between the love of your life and the person who gave you life. She wasn’t sure she could.
She squeezed his hand. “My daddy told me. All of it.” She took a deep breath, dropping her eyes before meeting his gaze once again. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen before, when you tried to tell me. I’m sorry—”
He tutted, pressing his thumb to her lips to silence her. “Now, you’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about. This was all on me. I made a mistake—a whole damn lot of them, actually—and this lands squarely on my shoulders.”
“But Daddy—”
“He had a hand in it, yeah. He was the one who put everything in motion, but I was the one who walked down the path.” He removed his thumb from her mouth and slid his hand around so he cupped her face. “I wanna get that right out in the open. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from you. If we’re gonna make this thing work—and, Jesus, I really want to make this thing work—I need you to know everything. Will you let me tell you?”
If that was what they needed to start fresh, she’d do it. The truth was, she’d already forgiven him. But it seemed like he needed to get this off his chest, so she simply nodded.
Blowing out a deep breath, he relaxed his shoulders. “I wish things had gone differently. I wish I hadn’t had to leave in the first place, but I can’t say I’d go back and change it if I had the chance. It allowed Momma to get the treatment she needed—something I’m not sure we’d have been able to do while stayin’ here. And I wouldn’t chance that again, even if it meant I had to rip out my own heart and leave you behind.”
He stepped closer, bringing their bodies flush. Brushed his thumbs along her jaw as he lowered his head to stare directly in her eyes. “But I want you to know, Willowtree, I’m never, ever leavin’ again. If you say yes—if you want to do this thing with me—I want you to know what you’re signing up for. This is it. Me by your side for the rest of my life. I love you. So damn much. Have always loved you. And this time, it really will take Jesus himself to pull me away.”
She’d believed him the last time, and he’d taken her trust in him and ripped it to shreds. But things were different now—she could see that in the way he looked at her. And he’d proven it, hadn’t he? He hadn’t succumbed to her daddy’s threats a second time. Had given back every bit of the money her daddy had paid him off with. Had come back, put everything he had on the line for another chance with her, despite the possible outcome. Because that was what you did when you were in love. Soul-crushing, mind-bending, all-consuming love.
She licked her lips, her gaze dropping to his. She wanted to feel those on hers with an ache she could hardly ignore. “I just have one question.”
“Anything. You can ask me anything, and I’ll be honest with you. I swear it.”
“How’d you get everyone to keep quiet about this? About the name of the bar and about you bein’ back in town?”
His entire body must’ve been coiled tight waiting for her question, because everything in him seemed to relax on an exhale as he smiled. “Bribed every one of those meddlers with a free first round.”
She breathed out a laugh and shook her head. “And Mac and Avery?”
“One round wasn’t enough for them, so I’m afraid I’m indebted to them both indefinitely.”
She tsked. “Tough luck there. I sure hope it was worth it.”
“Oh, sweetness. Don’t you know by now you’re worth absolutely everything to me?”
He leaned down, pressed his lips to hers. And she did know. Knew it was the same for him as it was for her. Knew it’d take a force of nature to tear them apart again. Because as soon as their lips touched, everything inside her shifted into place. Settled and calmed, while at the same time sparking anew and coming to life.
A life she couldn’t wait to share with Finn.
At nineteen, Finn never could’ve imagined his life would look like this. Ripped from the only girl he’d ever loved, with a sick momma, a brother just as lost as he was, and a fire burning under his skin to simply survive, he’d had no idea just how far they would manage to come.
And just who’d be by his side once he got where he was going.
He glanced at Willow across the bar. She still took his goddamn breath away every time he caught her eye. Every time she tipped her lips up in his direction, every time she reached for him, every time he woke in the morning with her cradled in his arms.
He figured he was the luckiest bastard on the planet.
They’d had plans tonight—a trip to the tree house to celebrate three months of business ownership. It’d been a rough three months—lots of long hours and stumbles as they’d found their footing with employees and figuring out how to run a business. But Willow had been there with him, had stood by his side through it all. Hadn’t complained when he’d had to work sixteen-hour days, when the only time she’d seen him had been for fifteen minutes on her lunch break.
And finally, tonight he was taking an evening off. The three owners had agreed they’d each have a night off this week to decompress and celebrate their success…away from the bar.
But fate, it seemed, had different plans for him tonight.
Willow looked up and shot him an apologetic look, but he merely shrugged. He wasn’t asshole enough to demand they go out while her sister drowned her sorrows in vodka—who knew Miss Prim and Proper was a hard liquor kind of girl? Sure as hell not him. But he didn’t blame her for downing one shot after another.
Hell of a way to find out your husband was fucking his assistant—surprising him at work in a last-ditch effort to save their marriage. That was what he’d overheard her say to Willow anyway. What a scumbag. Rory could be a lot to handle, but she was good people when it came right down to it. And any asshole who didn’t see that wasn’t welcome in his establishment, plain and simple.
There’d been rumors floating around about Sean and Desiree before now, but given Finn’s history with Havenbrook and the busybodies working their mouths overtime, he hadn’t put a whole lot of stock in it. At least, not until he’d heard the story directly from the horse’s mouth. Well, the horse was now nose-deep in a shit-ton of vodka and well on her way to a nasty hangover come tomorrow.
“Hey, man.” Nash took a seat a couple spots down from the sisters and lifted his chin in their direction. “What’s doin’ over there?”
Finn lifted a brow as he poured Nash a glass of his usual. “You ain’t heard already?”
“Heard what?”
Finn rested his elbows on the bar top and leaned forward, dropping his voice to be sure it didn’t carry. “Sean’s been sleepin’ with his assistant. Rory walked in on it tonight. Was headed there to surprise him with a night out, I guess.”
Nash glanced over at Rory, still dolled up in a pretty black dress, her hair loose and lips painted bright red, and let a string of curses loose under his breath.
“My thoughts exactly,” Finn said. “I’m torn between tellin’ her to slow down so she doesn’t get a bitch of a hangover tomorrow and giving her the whole damn bottle.”
Nash reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, shuffling through his cash. “How much?”
“For what?”
“The bottle of whatever she’s drinkin’.” He tossed a couple twenties on the counter. “Gimme a shot glass too, would you?”
Shit, was he going to have two drunk asses on his hands before the nigh
t was over? Though, if anyone was going to get drunk with Rory, there were worse people than Nash King to be by her side.
Finn grabbed the bottle of Grey Goose he’d been pouring for Rory and passed it, along with a shot glass, to Nash. He slid off his stool and walked toward the sisters, Finn following behind the bar, eavesdropping as Willow chatted with her sister.
“Shut up, Rory. I’m serious,” Willow said firmly. “I’m not gonna leave you alone at the bar drinking your night away just because I had plans.”
“Not just any plans. Plans to have amazing sex with your hot boyfriend.”
Finn choked out a laugh and tried to cover it with a cough. Well, shit. Maybe he’d given her too much to drink already.
Willow didn’t even glance his way, too busy staring at her sister, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. “Oh my word, you’ve had enough liquor for one night. Hell, I think you’ve had enough for the whole damn year.” She reached for the empty shot glass in front of Rory, but her older sister slapped her hand away.
“Leave it! Listen to me now, I’m the oldest and I know best.” Rory sniffed, tilting her head up—and nearly falling off the stool in the process. “And what’s best is me getting shit-faced right here in this beautiful bar I helped design in secret. All ’cause I was too worried about what my lyin’, cheatin’ asshole of a husband would think about me doing somethin’ I loved. When that dickface was out doin’ someone else.”
“Oh shit,” Finn said under his breath.
“Rory. Honey. Why don’t we get you on home? You can stay with me and Mac tonight. I’ll have Momma get the kids, and you don’t have to worry—”
“Oh Lord, the kids,” Rory moaned, looking close to tears.
Willow shot him a panicked look, and Finn could only shrug in response because…yeah, no, he definitely didn’t have any idea how to handle that pile of shit.
