“When I couldn’t take it anymore, I left,” she says.
Just like that.
No drama. No flourish. Just the truth.
My grip tightens on her hand.
“I didn’t plan it,” she goes on. “I didn’t have time. I just waited until he was gone. I packed what I could carry. A backpack. That was it.”
My chest feels too tight to breathe.
“My mom didn’t approve,” she adds, voice cracking. “She said I was being dramatic. That I was throwing away a ‘good thing.’ She told me to go back. To apologize.”
I see red.
Not a flash. Not a flare.
A slow, consuming burn.
“But I didn’t,” Willow says. There’s something steadier in her voice now. Stronger. “I left anyway.”
“Good,” I say, unable to help myself.
Goddamn good.
“I didn’t have much money,” she continues. “Just a few hundred dollars I’d pulled out in cash over time. I knew if I used cards, he’d track me. So I drove. And drove. And when I got here, I needed a job. I needed somewhere to sleep. Somewhere he couldn’t find me.”
Her fingers curl into mine like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“That’s why I asked about the cabin. Why I said yes so fast. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of anything. I just, I didn’t have anywhere else.”
The room goes very quiet.
I don’t let go of her hand. I don’t interrupt.
But inside me, something fundamental shifts.
She didn’trunbecause she was weak.
She ran because she was strong enough to choose herself with nothing but fear and a few crumpled bills in her pocket.
“You did exactly what you were supposed to do,” I say, my voice low, rough, final. “You got out. And you came exactly where you’re meant to be.”
Her eyes shimmer, filling again, and I see the conflict warring in her—guilt, shame, hope, fear.
“I don’t want you to think I’m here because I owe you something,” she whispers, her voice so small it guts me. “That I spent the night with you out of gratitude or—God—guilt.”
I shake my head immediately.
“Baby. No.”
I bring her hand to my lips, kiss her knuckles slow.
Not a seduction—something deeper.
A vow I haven’t quite put into words yet.
“I know why you were with me last night,” I murmur against her skin. “You wanted me. Just like I wanted you. Just like I want you still. Tell me you do,” I whisper.
