Her touch stops me.Barely.
She lifts her chin, eyes locked on him.
“You didn’t want anything to do with me or the bakehouse when Grandma was alive. She left me a letter. I know everything. I also know how you hit my mom. How she ran with me in her arms because she was scared for both of us.”
Her voice doesn’t shake. Not once.
“Now you show up, hoping I’ll hand over the one thing I have left of Grandma? So you can flip it and pad your portfolio?” She shakes her head. “No.”
His jaw tightens. “Don’t be stupid, Willa. That property’s worth a fortune. The inn barely keeps its lights on. That whole block’s a liability. I’ve already had a developer offer—”
“A developer?” My voice cuts through like a knife. “Who?”
He waves a hand, dismissive. “Does it matter?”
“It doesn’t, actually,” I say, voice low. “Around here, we don’t sell off the bones of this town to the highest bidder. We build something on them.”
He ignores me. Of course he does.
“I’m doing this for you,” he says, turning back to her. “For us. I can invest the money. Make sure you’re taken care of.”
Willa laughs. It’s not soft. It’s sharp. Bitter. Cold.
“Now you want to take care of me? Where were you when Mom worked two jobs to keep us fed? Where were you when I needed shoes that didn’t hurt my feet?” Her voice cuts deep. “You don’t get to waltz in and pretend to be a father. You don’t get to guilt me into handing over something that was never yours.”
His expression hardens. “I’m your father. That bakehouse is part of my family. My mother—”
“Left it to me,” she fires back. “Because she knew you’d try this. She knew you’d try to manipulate me. So she locked it down tight. And I’m not selling. Ever. I’m staying. I’m building something here. Leave and never come back.”
He steps forward like he’s about to argue again, but the look on her face stops him.
“You’ll regret this,” he mutters. “When you’re broke and buried in snow and this block is nothing but rot, you’ll come crawling.”
“Then I’ll buy a shovel,” she says. Her voice cracks a little, but she doesn’t back down. “Now get in your car. I have a business to run. And you’re not part of it.”
For a second, something flickers behind his eyes. Regret. Or maybe just disappointment that his con didn’t work. Then it’s gone.
“Have it your way. You’ll be calling me by January.”
He turns and climbs into a black sedan. The door slams. The engine roars. Tires spray slush across the lot as he peels out like a damn coward.
Silence settles around us like a drop of snow.
Willa doesn’t move. Just stands there, arms wrapped tight around herself, eyes locked on the empty road.
I step in behind her and pull her against my chest. She’s stiff for a second. Then she leans into me. A sob breaks loose. She covers her face with her hands. I hold her tighter.
“He’s wrong,” I say into her hair. “About all of it.”
She nods, but her shoulders tremble. “I know. He just… knows how to make me feel small.”
“Not anymore.” I press a kiss to her temple. “You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. You’ve got people now. You’ve got me.”
She turns in my arms. Her eyes are wet, her lip trembling. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, brushing her cheek. “You’ve got me for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours forever.”
She exhales, shaky but steady. “Forever’s a long time.”
