She kisses me softly, and I want so badly to disclose all my truths to Willow Graham. To split myself open and reveal every dark burden that haunts me in the middle of night. Every detail of the day I almost killed my own father, and the turn my life took after. I’ve never shared those deep pits of my mind with anyone, but for the first time, I feel I may have found the one who could understand. See me past the darkness, shroud me in all her light.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I could be light for someone else too.
The oven chimes, indicating it’s pre-heated, breaking our moment. I decide today isn’t the day, and now isn’t the time, because Willow is finally looking at me like she’d rather smile than cry—such a contrast to how hurt she appeared earlier. I want to give her the comfort and calm she’s craving right now. My baggage can wait.
“I’ve got to roast these vegetables for about forty-five minutes,” I say, stepping back to the baking sheet I’ve laid the tomatoes, garlic cloves, and onion on. I drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle the spices over the sheet before popping them in the oven.
“Do you want to watch the sunset while we wait?” she asks. “It looks like a good one tonight.”
“I’d love that, Wills.” I smile.
I lift her off the counter, keeping her hand in mine as I lead her toward the door. When I step outside, I sink into one of the rocking chairs on the porch, and Willow lowers herself into my lap. Resting her head against my shoulder, I wrap my arm around her hip, gripping her thigh.
We watch the sun sink into the Pacific, a peaceful silence blanketing us. The sway of palms, the call of seagulls, and the distant crash of waves the soundtrack to our evening. It’s a quiet comfort I’m not used to, but wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life wrapped inside with her.
After the world fades from light to dark, we head back inside, and I finish making dinner. We talk more about my mother—her favorite recipes and which of them I make best. Willow tells me about the schools she’s applied to, and my chest soars when I realize every single one of them is within an hour drive of here. Even when the summer ends and I return to Santa Monica, she won’t be far from me. Close enough for a weekend trip or a late-night drive.
After we clean the kitchen and take showers—separately, because both of us are garnering all of our strength to take this slowly, though the way she looks in nothing but one of my tees makes me weak in the legs—I crawl into bed beside her, asking, “Have you thought anymore about finding a therapist?”
She turns onto her side, raising a brow at me. “Haveyou?”
“Hey.” I nip her nose playfully. “Don’t snipe at me. I’m not judging you. Ever. Just asking... because yeah, I think I’m going to start searching again. I think it might be time for me to go back.”
“Really?”
I nod, settling in beside her. “I stopped going because I wasn’t seeing any hope for myself—I couldn’t see the point. Now, I think it could helpus. Whatever future we may have together, I want to be the best version of myself for it—for you. So... I’m going to start looking again.”
Her bottom lip trembles as she takes it between her teeth. “I want to be the best version of myself for you too, Wes. I don’t know if I’m ready to sort through... everything yet.” She cups my face, smiling softly. “But I can promise I’ll be open, and that I’ll keep doing my best for us, and whatever that future looks like.”
I kiss her palm before snaking my arm over her shoulder and tugging her against me, tangling us together. I won’t push the conversation further—I know firsthand how important it is to go at your own pace when it comes to addressing trauma.
Admitting to the future I see with her was fucking terrifying, but the confirmation that she sees one too made my heart beat at a rhythm that should be studied by cardiologists, because this woman might be killing me slowly, and fuck, I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
If I thought I was falling for Willow Graham before, I was dead wrong. I never fell, I fucking leaped, and her body against mine right now feels like a soft landing among clouds.
We settle into bed, and I watch her with rapt allure as she sorts through the books I bought, speaking animatedly of her favorite moments as she sticks color-coded tabs on the pages.
Eventually, she falls asleep against my shoulder, and I reach over to flick off the lamp on her side of the bed.Her side of the bed.
The sound of her breathing lulls me to sleep.
Willow’s still asleepwhen my alarm chimes, faint daylight peeking through the window behind my bed. I silence it quickly, moving softly so as not to disturb her. I keep the lights off, stumbling through darkness into the bathroom and my closet as I get ready for training.
I take the notepad from my bedside table and scribble down a message for her before sneaking out of the house.
You snore like a chainsaw. Look real pretty when you do it, though. — Wes
I’m grinning like a fool as I mosey down to the beach, feeling rested and well-prepared to train today. When I surf now, all I hear is Willow’s laugh bouncing off the waves. A gentle encouragement, a reminder that someone out there is always rooting for me, no matter the circumstance.
Her father claims it’s dedication, structured training, and a range of environment that’s resulted in the improvement I’ve had over the last month, but I know it’s her.
She makes me better—a better athlete, a better man. I want to repay her for it tenfold. I want to remind her that I support her dreams as intensely as she does mine.
I shoot Penelope a text as I shuffle down the stairs that lead to the beach.
Can I use your classroom after you finish your lecture today? It’s a surprise for Willow.
Penelope:
