I take my coffee, trying not to laugh. “I’m Willow, and this is River.”
Quinn pauses, looks him over. “Does your mum hate you?”
I burst out laughing.
“No,” he says defensively. “Why?”
“Oh… no reason,” she replies sweetly. “Lake.”
“That's not my name.”
“Sorry, Pond.”
I shake my head as she flips the sign to closed, spins dramatically, and plants her hands on her hips.
“On the house,” she announces, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward a booth. “Now, tell me about this complicated situation you mentioned. Then I’m introducing you to my very smutty book collection.”
River complains loudly about being forgotten. I let myself be dragged away, laughing, sinking into the booth as Quinn launches into stories about fictional men she’d sleep with if she were straight and her favourite book girlfriends.
For the first time in a while, I feel like myself.
Chapter 13
Elijah
I don't think I've ever been rendered this fucking speechless.
River sent me a video of Willow dancing, and I just… stopped. Stood there like an idiot, phone in my hand, my heart doing something it had no business doing. I watched it once, then again, and then a third time before I realised I hadn't blinked.
She's unreal.
The way she moves is beautiful. It's not forced but all natural, like her body knows exactly where the music wants her to go, and she lets it take her there without a fight. Every step carries so much emotion.
That kind of talent doesn't come from practice alone. It comes from living. From loss. From loving something enough to let it hurt.
She can't give this up. She shouldn't. Watching her dance makes that painfully clear.
I replay it again whilst Ezra is in the back, retrieving the rest of his delivery. Not just because I love the way she dances, but because she's beautiful in a way that sneaks up on you. Since she moved in, she's put no effort into her appearance, hair tied up all the time and oversized clothes, and I still think she's breathtaking.
Willow is the most beautiful woman I know.
It's becoming a problem.
All I can think about is what it would feel like to have her dance for me. Close. Hardly any space between us. To feel that energy against my body instead of through a screen.
It would be so easy to cross that line. Too easy.
But I don't. Not because the urge isn’t there—because it is. Every part of me wants her in a way that feels instinctive and impossible to ignore.
The last few weeks have split something open between us, something neither of us can pretend isn’t there anymore. I can feel the shift in the way she looks at me now, the way the air changes when it's just the two of us.
The only problem is she's still healing, still finding her footing in a life that's been turned on its head, and I won't be the man who takes advantage of that. No matter how badly I want her or how much my body reacts every time she's close.
It would be wrong.
But Christ… it could be so right.
I’ll hold back for now.
