“I’d love to see.” She lets Ben drag her to the couch, and I watch them together. Ben chattering about his Lego creation, Willa asking questions like she’s genuinely interested. My chest aches with want.
This. I want this every day.
Dinner is chaos in the best way. Ben spills his milk twice, tells Willa fourteen different dinosaur facts, and asks if she can have a sleepover. Willa laughs more than I’ve ever heard her laugh, and the sound fills my house with warmth.
After dinner, Ben crashes hard— sugar coma from the cookies he snuck when he thought I wasn’t looking. I carry him to bed, and when I come back down, Willa is washing dishes.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, grabbing a towel and drying off a few items.
“I want to help.” She glances at me over her shoulder. “This was really nice, Henry. Thank you for including me.”
I move behind her, my hands settling on her hips. She stiffens for just a second, then relaxes into my touch.
“I want to include you in everything,” I admit quietly. “Is that too much too fast?”
She turns in my arms, soap suds on her hands, vulnerability in her eyes. “Probably. But I want it anyway.”
“Really?”
“Definitely.” She bites her lip. “Henry, I need to tell you about Seattle. About why I left.”
My stomach tightens. Trust is built on truths. “Okay.”
We move to the couch, and she sits with space between us, like she needs distance for this. I wait, giving her time.
“His name was Wally Reid. Dr. Wally Reid— he’s a neurosurgeon.” Her voice is flat, like she’s reciting medical facts instead of talking about someone who hurt her. “We dated for two years. He was charming at first. Successful. Everyone loved him.”
I stay quiet, my hands clenched into fists.
“He never hit me,” she continues. “But he didn’t have to. He had other ways of making me feel small. Criticizing my work. Telling me I’d be prettier if I lost weight. Making fun of me in front of his colleagues. Isolating me from my friends until I had no one but him.”
Rage burns through me, hot and fierce. “Willa?—”
“I thought it was normal,” she whispers. “I thought that’s just what relationships were. That I needed to work harder to make him happy. But then one day, I was getting ready for a work event and he told me I looked like I was trying too hard. That I was embarrassing him. And I realized... I’d spent two years making myself smaller to fit into his life, and who I am had disappeared completely.”
A tear slides down her cheek, and I can’t stand it anymore. I pull her into my arms, and she comes willingly, burying her face in my chest.
“I left him the next week. Finished up the appointments I had booked and then got in my crappy car and drove until I came over the mountains and I saw this place. I didn’t plan on stopping, but it just felt… like home. And I started over.” She pulls back, looking at me with red-rimmed eyes. “But Henry, I’m damaged. I flinch at loud noises. I second-guess everything I do. I’m terrified that I’m going to wake up and realize I’ve made another mistake.”
“You didn’t make a mistake with me,” I say firmly. “Willa, look at me.”
She does, and I hold her gaze.
“You’re not damaged. You survived something terrible, and you had the courage to leave and rebuild your life. You’re a survivor. That’s not weakness. That’s strength.” I cup her face with both hands. “And I’m not him. I will never make you feel small. I will never criticize you or belittle you or make you question your worth. You understand me?”
She nods, fresh tears spilling over.
“I need you to understand something too,” I continue. “Ben’s mom left us when he was two. Just walked out one day and said she couldn’t do it anymore. That she wasn’t cut out for motherhood. I spent five years believing that we weren’t enough to make her stay. That I wasn’t enough.”
“Henry—”
“Let me finish. I’ve been terrified of letting anyone in because what if they leave too? What if Ben gets attached and then has to lose another person he loves?” I brush her tears away with my thumbs. “But Willa, you make me want to be brave. You make me want to try again. Because losing you without even trying would be worse than any risk.”
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“Me too. But let’s be brave together.”
She kisses me then, desperate and needy, and I kiss her back with everything I have. This isn’t just attraction. This is connection. Understanding. Two broken people finding wholeness in each other.
