The biggest one?
I want more with Willow, but I’m scared to lose her, scared to get close only to have my heart shattered.
Can I put in the work to be mentally in a good place to be open to a relationship with her? Would she even want that after how I behaved?
There’s only one way to find out.
Chapter 17
Willow
I can’t sleep.
I’ve tried everything—writing, watching something, my vibrator—and nothing is shutting my brain off.
I look at the time on my phone and see it’s just after midnight. Throwing off the covers, I do something I’m sure Lennox would lose his shit about.
I throw on some tennis shoes, not bothering to change, grab my cell phone and a flashlight, and head out to one of the easier trails in the park.
It’s Texas, after all, so my lounge shorts and oversized T-shirt will be fine in this godforsaken lack of seasons.
Ten minutes later, I’m moving my flashlight back and forth to make sure I can see around me, and very quickly determining this was a terrible idea.
Sure, Will, just go to the secluded National Park, where anyone could be hiding and no one knows where you’re at. Great idea.
The paranoia grows, and my breathing starts to pick up. Hell, I know there are things that go bump in the night—I write about them almost daily—so why I thought this would be the thing to clear my head, I have no idea.
“Stupid, stupid Idea, Will,” I tell myself. The silence is eerie, so talking to myself is the next logical step, obviously.
I roll my eyes at myself, annoyed that I decided to come out here and that I’m freaking out. I was better off staying in bed, and tossing and turning all night.
I walk another couple of steps and then spin on my heel to head back home.
“Nope. I may be able to write this shit, but I’m going to call it like I see it—I’m chicken shit.”
“You’re not chicken shit,” a deep voice comes out of nowhere, and I scream bloody murder.
I drop my phone but grip the flashlight with both hands like a bat. I find out really quick that it hinders actually seeing around me when I do that.
“Who’s there? I … I will … beat the shit out of you with this flashlight!” I yell.
“It’s just me, Will. Stand down. I’m sorry I scared you.” A phone flashlight pops up on a phone and shines on Oakley’s face, where he’s standing two feet in front of me.
“What the actual fuck,” I heave out as I drop my flashlight and put my head between my legs. The panic is still raging through my body as I desperately try to calm it down.
“Shit, are you okay?” His voice sounds as panicked as I feel, but I don’t even have the brain power to worry about him right now.
“No! Oh my God, I think I just had a heart attack.” I feel his hand softly on my back, circling it while I continue my freak out. Once I finally catch my breath, I stand up and start laughing hysterically.
What a fucking mess I am.
“And I’m supposed to write thrillers. I should be better at this shit,” I say through my obnoxious laughter.
“Hey, that was totally on me. I should have turned on my light sooner so you saw me coming.” His shaky voice finally pulls my focus off of me and onto him.
I hold up my flashlight to see him better and see he’s pale as a ghost.
“Areyouokay? I’m sorry if I scared you too.”
