“So what?” she cuts him off, her voice steadier than either of ours. “My life is in danger being your wife too, Cast. Don’t forget that.” He stumbles back almost like he was hit, and then she turns to me, eyes glassy but resolute. “And you—stop trying to carry the world by yourself. You can’t. You’ll drown, and you’ll take both of us with you if you keep trying.”
My throat tightens. “I know,” I manage.
“Then start showing it,” she says. “Start trusting each other. Or what we’ve built doesn’t survive this.”
The fight drains out of Cast first. He exhales through his nose, hands falling open at his sides. “She’s right,” he mutters.
I nod, voice rough. “Yeah. She always is.”
“I’m so tired of arguing with you, Vince,” Cast says, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice shakes, not from anger now, but exhaustion.
“Same,” I whisper. The word feels heavier than it should.
Willow’s tone softens. “Look at me.”
I turn toward her. Her eyes search my face, reading every line of regret I’ve tried to hide. I let her see it—the wreckage, the relief, the love. I don’t have the strength left to pretend.
“I need both of you close,” she says quietly. “Not fighting. Not running. Just here.”
I lean in first, careful, and kiss her forehead. Her skin is warm. She exhales and lifts her chin a fraction, inviting without urgency. Cast slides his hand over her hip, and then pauses, checking her face. She nods at him. He leans in and kisses the inside of her wrist just above the bandage, lips barely there. She closes her eyes for a second.
“I love you,” I tell her. It slips out on a breath, unvarnished.
“I know,” she whispers, and her hand finds my jaw. “I love you too.”
Cast’s voice lowers near her ear. “I love you. I’ve got you.” His thumb strokes once along her hairline, careful of the bruise.
I swallow. The apology is pressing up behind my teeth, the one I kept choking down in the living room. It belongs here, in the space where I ask to be held and forgiven at the same time.
“Willow,” I say, and my voice scrapes. “I kept things from you. I-”
Her eyes open. “I don’t care.”
“He used my name to justify everything he did to you,” I push on, pulse pounding hard in my throat. “He used the company’s decisions as a map. And if I had looped Cast in, if I had looped you in, we would have gotten him sooner, and I-.”
“Tell me again,” she murmurs, eyes half-closed.
“That I’m sorry?” I ask.
“That you love me.”
“I love you,” I say, my mouth close enough to her ear that my breath warms the little hairs at her temple. “I love you, and I will not shut you out again.”
“Good,” she says, and a shaky smile touches her lips. “That’s all I need.”
I can’t help myself, despite the fact that I don’t deserve it. I pull her into me, my lips immediately finding hers, and like the gracious, beautiful girl she is she opens her mouth softly, a low moan escaping her lips. The sound she makes goes straight through me. My hand skims under her t-shirt and rests at her ribs, stopping when I feel the hitch in her breath. “Here?” I ask.
“Here,” she says, and guides me.
Cast watches us with a look that’s not jealousy and not distance—present, focused, reverent in his own way. He lowers his mouth to the bruise at her jaw and stops just shy of it, lips brushing the unmarked skin beside it.
“This okay?” he asks, voice a low heat.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Don’t press.”
“I won’t,” he promises, and he nuzzles along the safe edge, peppering light, and patient kisses down to the corner of her mouth. She turns toward him, and the three of us meet in a slow exchange—her mouth tasting both of us by turns, my breath mixing with Cast’s as we hover and trade places with care.
I slide my palm lower, flattening it over her abdomen. She covers my hand with hers and presses down a fraction. Her breath steadies.
