Always Yours, Baby

By Airicka Phoenix

Always Yours, Baby ©2015 by Airicka Phoenix

All rights reserved.

www.AirickaPhoenix.com

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner and/or the publisher of this book, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover Designer: Airicka’s Mystical Creations

Interior Design: Airicka Phoenix

Editor & Formatter: Kris Atkinson

Beta Readers: Kimberly Schaaf

ISBN-13: 978-1492367321

ISBN-10: 149236732X

Published by Airicka Phoenix

Also available in eBook and paperback publication

Also by Airicka Phoenix

Games of Fire

Betraying Innocence

TOUCH SAGA

Touching Smoke

Touching Fire

Touching Eternity

THE LOST GIRL SERIES

Finding Kia

Revealing Kia

REGENERATION SERIES

When Night Falls

THE BABY SAGA

Forever His Baby

Bye-Bye Baby

Be My Baby

IN THE DARK SERIES

My Soul For You

Kissing Trouble

SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA

Octavian’s Undoing

Gideon’s Promise

STANDALONE

The Voyeur Next Door

ANTHOLOGY

Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology

Midnight Surrender Anthology

Dedication

For the lovers of Willa & Damon.

And the lovers of my books.

Always Yours, Baby

Chapter One ~ Damon

“When are you going to tell her?”

In the process of checking his watch, Damon paused. His fingers rapped once on the rough grain of the picnic table in irritation before curling into a loose fist next to his elbow. Loose wisps of autumn wind swept through the clearing, pushing locks of dark hair into his eyes that were impatiently swept back.

“Whenever I feel like it,” he muttered into the phone. “She’s not ready.”

The she in question stood several yards away, surrounded by a field of knee-high grass and wild flowers. The late afternoon sun glittered through her unbound hair, turning the sleek strands a deep, rich gold that lifted around her thin shoulders with every crisp breeze. She hadn’t moved in the last ten minutes. Every so often, Damon could just hear the quiet snap of camera shutters and the whir of gears as the device clutched to her face captured the setting sun clamped between two jagged points in the distance.

“I think you should just do it.”

Annoyance twisted lines between his eyebrows as he fought not to just hang up on his friend. Since getting married and starting a family, Jared Dumont had inexplicably grown a vagina. Suddenly, it was inexcusable for anyone to be single. Like he wasn’t happy unless the world was as perfectly matched as he was. His wife, Calla, was no better. It had gotten to the point where Damon didn’t even want to answer his phone. They were relentless and he had no patience to be lectured about something he already knew.

“I think you two should mind your own damn business,” he muttered in return before hitting the off button and stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jacket.

Sensing his mood shift the way only Willa could, she turned. Twigs snapped beneath the heels of her boots. The light glittered off the surface of her blue eyes and shimmered like sunlight bouncing off clear, tropical waters. Pale strands drifted over pinkened cheeks and were absently brushed aside with a gloved hand. Her head went to the side even as her lips bowed into a sheepish smile that wrenched his heart.

“I’m sorry.” She started towards him, long legs devouring the distance between them effortlessly. “You should have told me I was taking so long.”

Damon rose as she reached the weather worn table positioned precociously beneath a twisted and bare tree that had seen better days. Part of one bench was snapped off and the rest was still upright out of sheer grit. But it had been a welcome companion in the last several hours.

“You weren’t.”

With a soft laugh that held traces of the disbelief furrowing her brows, Willa shook her head. “We’ve been here five hours.”

He knew it. His ass had been asleep for most of it. But for her, he shrugged.

“Didn’t notice.”

Smiling with a brilliance that overruled all the wrongs of the world, she went to him. Her camera was set gently on the table and she put her arms around his shoulders. It was always awkward. She was so small. Her embraces pulled his back into a curve. But it was worth it to feel her in his arms, to feel her warmth and be surrounded by the sweet scent of her.

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promised, tickling the side of his neck with her cool breath. She drew back and peered into his face. “I’ll pay for dinner.”

She always offered.

“Deal.”

He always agreed, but he’d never let her.

Still smiling, she released him and went about gathering her equipment. Damon watched her and marveled at her captivating grace; she moved the way dancers took the stage, with elegance and purpose. Watching her always reminded him of some elaborate ballet that spoke to his soul.

“Ready,” she said, swinging her camera case over one shoulder.

He beat her to it before she could grab the rest. She packed for work the way most women packed to go for a month long cruise around the world. He had talked her into leaving most of her stuff behind once and regretted it when she got to the place she was photographing and realized she needed a lot of it. She hadn’t said as much, but he had known she was upset. The only problem with that was she hadn’t been upset with him for talking her into leaving the stuff in the first place; she’d been upset with herself and that always killed him.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said as they started the fifteen minute walk back to the highway and his Jeep.

Their combined footsteps echoed through the patch of clearing surrounded by a jagged terrain of piercing mountains and trees. He had no idea how she found the place, but it was an hour out of town, in the middle of nowhere. Damn straight he was going with her.

“I wasn’t doing anything today,” he said. “Besides, I like watching you work.”

Beaming, she slid her arm through his and hugged it to her chest. “I know it’s boring for you.” Her head pillowed on his shoulder. “But I like having you with me.”

Neither spoke as they followed the winding path through the wilderness towards the main highway. Leaves shivered above them, filling the silence with their quiet rustle. A few tore away from their branches and drifted to earth where they lay abandoned with all the others in a damp carpet of rot. Beside him, Willa sneezed into the crook of her elbow. Her sniffles drew his attention down to the redness of her nose and the slight shiver that passed through her.

“Where’s your coat?” he demanded, stopping and glancing back in the direction they’d come from, wondering if they’d left it behind.

Rubbing the sleeve of her sweater beneath her nose, Willa sighed. “I left it in the car. I didn’t think it would be this cold,” she explained when he frowned at her.

“It’s October,” he reminded her as he gently set her things down at their feet. “What did you think it would be like?”

Undoing the zipper of his coat, he shrugged out of the heavy wool and swung it around her hunched shoulders, ignoring her protest.

“Put your arms through,” he ordered.

“But you’re going to get sick!” she complained.

“I’m fine. Now do it!”

Reluctantly, she slid her hands through the sleeves. He zipped it up all the way to her button nose, then reached into the collar to fish out her hair.

Willa yelped and scurried forward, away from his touch and deeper into the circle of his arms.

“So cold!” she hissed, bouncing on the spot.

“Hold still,” he muttered, biting back his grin as he reached for her again, this time careful not to let his fingers brush the back of her neck.

Her hair slipped through his fingers like fine silk threads. They tumbled down her back and over her shoulders in a downy sheet that framed her perfectly oval features and the wide dominance of her blue eyes. Still careful not to touch skin, he combed the strands back from her temples and tucked them behind her ears. The late afternoon light sparked off the tiny gold hoops in each earlobe.

She seemed so delicate with her head tipped back to his and her eyes filled with too much trust. He doubted it even crossed her mind that he could do just about anything to her and no one would ever know; she hadn’t told anyone where they were going, or when they would be back, or that they were even heading out of town. They were completely isolated and surrounded by miles of wilderness.

But she had never seen him as a threat. All their lives, she had been the one steady force in his life, the singular thing holding him steady when his world had spun wildly out of control. She had been the only person to take one look at him and immediately love him without ever asking for anything in return. And he loved her. God, how he loved her.

“Better?” At her nod, he hoisted up her equipment cases, waited for her to hook her arm through the crook of his and began walking. “Good. Let’s go. Someone promised me pie.”

Willa laughed and snuggled closer into his side. “You hate pie.”

“What kind of crazy person hates pie?” he mused.

“You!” She poked him lightly in the ribs with a slim finger barely visible beneath the cuff of his sleeve. “You say it’s wrong to bake perfectly good fruit.”

Damon wrinkled his nose. “I do say that, don’t I?” He exhaled heavily. “Well, I stand by my moral outrage.”

Chuckling, she laid her head on his shoulder once more and inhaled deeply. “I can’t wait until winter.”

“I can,” he grumbled. “Hate winter.”

“I know, but I love it. Everything is so beautiful when it snows.” A smile turned up her lips, exposing small, white teeth that were only slightly uneven where her canines came out too far. “Remember that year you created icicles on our roof?”

Damon winced. “Vividly.”

Her laugh rippled through the trees. “I was so scared Dad was going to kill you.”

“It was close,” he agreed, remembering that winter morning all too well.

It had been his first Christmas back from school and he’d been broke thanks to the insane number of textbooks he’d had to get for the semester. He hadn’t told anyone, but he hadn’t wanted to come home that year, simply because it meant not being able to give Willa anything Christmas morning. The year before, he’d gotten her a camera and the pure adoration on her face had been a thing of magic. He had wanted that again. He had wanted to be the person who gave her exactly what she wanted, and photography equipment wasn’t cheap.

Willa was only sixteen, but even then, she’d had the artistic eye like her mother; everything she captured in her lens became a piece of beauty. The whole town loved her work; it was showcased everywhere. She had a gift, one that brought people joy and she deserved the best to keep doing it.

That year, the thing she had wanted was icicles. Not the small ones that dangled from windowsills, but long, jagged ones that looked like monster teeth. He’d helped her look everywhere for even one with no avail. Come the night before Christmas, he’d climbed up on her roof with a hose and sprayed water all down one side of the house. He’d almost frozen to death, but come dawn, icicles had rained from the gutters and dangled just over her bedroom window in a jagged sheet of spikes.

She had been elated.

Her dad … not so much.

But Damon had always understood her love of winter. For her it was a time of fantasy, of glitter and make-believe as a child. For him, it was a reminder of nights he’d gone to bed hungry and so cold, he’d soiled himself for warmth. It was memories of dragging on every stitch of fabric in his closet with numb fingers to keep from dying in the night. It was lying in the dark and watching his breath shudder out of him in sharp, white pants. So, no, he had no love for winter.

“Damon?” Willa’s quiet murmur drew him out of those days as it always did. It washed over him in a flood of warmth that chased away the icy tendrils of bile and hatred that curdled deep in his gut. “What are you thinking about?”

She knew of his life before her aunt and uncle had adopted him. She had seen the wild, angry child he had been at six. But he had never told anyone the extent of what he’d gone through before Cole and Beth McClain stepped into his life. Not even Willa, whom he told everything to. That was a darkness he never wanted touching her, not even in thought.

“Pie,” he muttered, putting a disgusted edge to his tone.

Willa laughed and hugged his arm harder. “You’re so strange.”

His beat up jeep sat exactly where he’d parked it earlier that morning. He moved to the passenger’s side door and yanked it open for her before rounding to the back and gingerly setting her cases into the hatch. The sky overhead rolled with dark, vengeful clouds and he knew they had an hour before they were hit, whether by snow or rain was still unclear.

Slamming the back hatch closed, he circled around to the driver’s side and slid in behind the wheel. Willa was already seated, belt in place, door closed, snapping pictures of the sky through the windshield.

“I think it’s going to snow,” she predicted, making him wonder—not for the first time—if she really could read his mind.

“Hope not.” He propelled the vehicle onto the road and headed towards home. “We have a move this Friday.”

That was another reason he hated winters. Being a mover meant heaving heavy objects out of places in all manner of weather. Sun and rain weren’t so bad. Snow meant ice and nothing was more dangerous than balancing a three hundred pound piece of furniture down icy steps.

“Are you hungry?” he asked the woman next to him.

“A little, but I can wait.” She peered over at him, her camera in her lap. “I have to work tomorrow until seven.”

“Want me to pick you up?”

“No!” she said almost instantly, as though she knew he would offer. “You promised Jared and the boys you’d play poker with them tomorrow, remember?”

He did, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go. He knew the moment he walked in through those doors, they’d start on him about Willa and when he’d man up and tell her how he felt. Hell if he knew why it was so important to them, but they had made it their life’s mission to get him laid, by any means necessary, and he just wasn’t like that. It didn’t matter to him how long he had to wait. He wasn’t in a hurry. Willa was his in all the ways that mattered most.

“Who the hell sets up a poker game on a Thursday night?” he muttered grudgingly. “I can still swing by and—”

“Don’t you dare!” she scolded him. “You need to spend time with your friends and I’ll be fine. Our apartment is two minutes away from the shop.”

Ten minutes and eighteen seconds, to be exact. He knew because he had selected that particular apartment for that very reason—its proximity to the studio and his peace of mind, especially after what had happened. That night still gave him nightmares. The fear was forever lodged deep in the recess of his subconscious, a bitter reminder of just how easily he could lose her if he wasn’t careful.

It had been raining with a vengeance that had closed the entire town down. The roads were flooded in all directions and most of the houses were forced to evacuate. Willa had been on her way home for the weekend, despite Damon’s protest for her not to. The storm warning had been in effect. She even left early to try and avoid the worst of it. But the rain had hit her part way between home and town. Her car had swerved into a ditch and she’d hit her head on the steering wheel, blacking out. No one had known until the hospital had called Damon’s phone. He’d never been so scared in his life. Not ever. When school ended and she returned home, that fear would surge up every time she went to work and came home. It got to the point where he’d feel physically sick every time she left the house.

He found the apartment in the local paper, a two bedroom suite not ten minutes from the studio. He brought the matter up before the entire family one weekend, stating his case and insisting it was the right thing. Her mother and Beth had agreed. Sloan had not. It was too far and he didn’t like Willa living on her own, even if she had been twenty two. That was when Willa had suggested Damon take the spare room he had initially picked to be a darkroom for her. She had insisted and he hadn’t argued. Neither had Sloan, to Damon’s surprise. One year later, they were still in the same place. He still went home to her every night, spent every free hour with her and, more times than not, got to hold her all night in his bed. The only thing missing in their relationship was sex, and while he wanted it desperately, he would wait for her to give him the green light that she wanted it too. That hadn’t happened yet.

The sky was an ugly smear of dark gray by the time they rolled into Willow Creek. The roads were filled with people leaving work and heading home for the evening. Damon turned off the main road leading home and pulled into the parking spot across the street from Libellule, the studio/boutique Willa ran with her mother, aunt and sister. He parked and shut off the engine.

In the seat next to him, Willa blushed and shot him a sheepish smile.

“You know me too well,” she teased.

He turned to her. “You got an hour, then I’m going to get you fed.”

Unsnapping her belt, she leaned over the middle console and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t know what I’d do without you, Damon.”

With the fading sun playing across the warm surface of her eyes and shining like liquid gold through her hair, it was impossible not to reach for her. His hand lifted and combed lightly through the silky strands, pushing them off her temple to curve behind her ear.

“You’ll never have to find out,” he promised.

Apprehension flickered across her face, twisting a line between her thin eyebrows before it was gone and she was smiling again.

“Come on. I want to show you the pictures I took.”

Giving his hand, still cradled against the side of her face, a light squeeze, she eased out of the Jeep. Damon waited a second longer before following her inside.

Libellule was a fancy clothing shop for women on one side manned by her business savvy sister, Calla, and a chic portrait studio on the other, run by Willa and her mom. Damon knew Beth owned half the shop, but she was rarely there, if ever. Most of her time was spent playing nurse at the hospital.

That evening, Calla Dumont was at the front with two year old Colten perched on her hip. The toddler was sucking lazily on his thumb with his blond head resting on his mother’s shoulder while she scrubbed at the glass counter with a rag. The sight was like some ad out of those parenting magazines describing working moms and multitasking. Calla, in her sleek white pencil skirt and scarlet, off the shoulder sweater looked more like she belonged on some runway, not cradling a two year old while dusting. Yet, she somehow pulled off looking ridiculously gorgeous and motherly. Her blonde hair was a halo of curls twisted into an elaborate knot over her bare shoulder. Gold hoops glinted from her ears, matching the pendent at her throat and the watch on one wrist. The only other piece of jewelry was her wedding rings, which sparked brightly with every vicious scrub of the cloth.

“Dame!” Colten spotted him first and both arms shot up in a silent demand. “Up!”

Heart swelling as it always did when the boy was around, Damon marched over and scooped the toddler out of his mother’s arms and tossed him once into the air before hugging him close.

“Hey, little dude, you being good?”

Colten beamed. “I eated cheese.”

“Ate,” Calla corrected. “I ate cheese.”

Damon ignored her. “No kidding.” He adjusted his grip more firmly under the boy’s bottom. “Save me any?”

Colten shook his head, making his tight curls bounce. “I eated.”

Poking his chubby little stomach where it had become exposed between the hem of his t-shirt and corduroy pants, Damon scowled even as Colten squealed and doubled over in giggles.

“That wasn’t nice,” he scolded. “For that, I should toss you into the garbage.”

Colten was still giggling, even when Damon’s hand circled his tiny ankle and he was released. With a squeak, Colten swung out of Damon’s arms, tilting sideways and then upside down as he plummeted to the ground.

“Damon!” Calla shrieked, arms flinging out across the counter like she could somehow catch the boy. But she was too far and Colten screamed with glee as Damon swung him like an upside down pendulum. His shrieks melted into squeals of laughter that filled the whole shop.

All innocence, Damon blinked up at his sort of stepsister. “Yeah?”

“You crazy, stupid son of—”

“Hey!” Damon gasped. “Children!”

Breathing hard, ashen face slowly bleeding back with color, Calla glared at him like she would have liked nothing better than to stab him with the stapler next to her hand.

He was still holding Colten upside down when the bells above the door jingled and Jared stalked into the shop. He took one look at Calla’s irate expression and his son’s upside down one and arched a brow.

“Did I miss something?”

“Your friend nearly dropped Colten.”

Damon rolled his eyes. “I did not nearly drop him.” He peered at his best friend. “I did drop him. See?”

He held the boy up by his ankles in display.

Colten giggled and waved at his father. “Hi daddy!”

Giving a snort he wisely smothered behind a cough, Jared moved forward and snatched his red faced son out of Damon’s hold. The boy grinned with all the delight in the world as he was hoisted into his father’s chest.

“Hey, champ. Uncle Damon being mean to you?”

“I eated cheese,” Colten declared.

“Again?” Jared glanced at his wife. “Is he on a cheese diet that I don’t know about?”

Calla drew in a breath, rolled her eyes heaven ward and let the air out. “He hasn’t had cheese in a week. I have no idea why he keeps saying that.”

Jared chuckled and ruffled a hand through his son’s hair. “Ready to go home, Mister?”

Colten nodded eagerly. “Dame coming?”

“Sorry, little dude, I can’t. But I’ll see you tomorrow,” Damon promised, flicking Colten in the nose playfully.

Untroubled by that fact, Colten turned blue eyes to his mother. “Home, Mommy. Come.”

Calla’s face immediately softened. She skirted around the counter and pressed a kiss to the boy’s round, flushed cheek.

“Mommy has to stay a little longer, but I’ll see you at home, okay?” She kissed him again. “Be good for daddy.”

“’k,” the boy agreed, wrapping chubby arms around his father’s neck and resting his head on his father’s shoulder. “Home, Daddy.”

Rubbing his small back, Jared leaned down and kissed Calla, long and slow.

“I’ll see you at home, baby,” he murmured. “Don’t be long.”

Touching his face, Calla nodded. “I won’t be.”

With a final kiss, Jared turned to Damon, who reflexively stiffened.

“We still on for tomorrow night?”

Damon nodded, partially relieved. “I’ll be there.”

“You better be,” Jared warned. “I’ll find your aaah … butt,” he corrected quickly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Damon mumbled. He focused on the boy peering back at him with sleepy blue eyes. “Night, little dude.”

Colten wiggled four tiny fingers while the thumb remained firmly wedged between his puckered lips. “Night.”

With a wave, Jared left. Calla went back to her cleaning, leaving Damon with nothing to do but wander his way to the back of the shop where Willa and her mom had set up their photography studio. The space around the clutter of tables, equipment, and cables was cleared to accommodate the shelves displaying the different styles of portraits Willa and Lily had done over the years. The difference was worlds apart, because while Lily was all about the abstract with bold colors and hidden meanings, Willa’s preference was subtle, a delicate collage of the human condition. Her photos were faces and imagery in mute colors. She captured the soul of a person, their depth and meaning. There was poetry in each of her pieces and even Damon, who wasn’t into the whole art and poetry thing, couldn’t help marvel at how beautiful the world always seemed when he looked into one of her pieces.

Willa was crouched behind the counter containing the computer and was inserting her camera chip into the tower underneath. Behind her, the fake backdrop was set on a starry night sky. The roll table they used to hold children and infants was rolled up against it. Lily was dumping stuffed toys off the table into a plastic bucket.

“Mom, come look at these,” Willa called as she rose and opened the file.

Images of that morning’s shots appeared in bold, vivid hues on screen. Damon edged closer to see as well. Abandoning her clean up, Lily stepped up on Willa’s other side and leaned in.

Beautiful, with her daughter’s sheet of smooth, straight hair in vibrant gold, Lily always reminded Damon of a fairy. Her delicate features were always set off by how slender she was for someone who had two grown children.

Yet it was none of these things that made Damon love the woman. Aside from Beth who raised him, Lily was a second mother to him. She and Sloan had stepped up when Beth and Cole had adopted Damon and helped mold him into the man he was nineteen years later. They never treated him like he didn’t belong, or that he was somehow less, and for that, he would always be thankful. But that didn’t stop the shards of doubt that always prickled his subconscious every time he even considered telling them how he really felt about their daughter, because while they may have taken him in as one of their own, that didn’t mean they would want their little girl tainted by the poison in his blood. At the end of the day, he would always be the son of an abusive drunk and that type of evil never washed away. There were days even he couldn’t trust himself with Willa. Every time he touched her, he had to control his grip. He had to even out his tone. He had to work against every muscle in his body to keep from hurting her. It was part of the reason he never pushed her, never made her choose him, never confessed just how deep his love really ran for her. How could he ever allow himself to smudge her innocence with the kind of blood that ran through his veins? He would just as soon rip his own heart out before breaking her.

“These are beautiful!” Lily’s delighted exclamation jarred him back to the present and the images Willa was studiously flipping through. Her arm slipped around Willa’s shoulders and she stamped a hard kiss to the side of her daughter’s head. “You should consider switching to landscapes.”

Willa’s little nose wrinkled. “I have to be in the mood for landscapes,” she admitted. “I saw pictures of this location online and had to see it for myself. Damon came along with me this morning.”

Lily smiled at her and smoothed back a strand of hair. “Well, you’re a natural.” She peeked at her watch. “It’s almost closing time for us. Are you guys going home?” She asked Willa, but looked to Damon.

“We’ll probably stop by Ma’s first,” he answered. “Get a bite.”

Lily nodded. “All right.” She focused her attention back on Willa. “Don’t forget you work tomorrow.”

“I won’t.”

With a kiss to Willa’s nose, Lily turned and hurriedly finished her cleaning. Willa emptied her flash drive to the backup server on the computer, replaced the drive back into her camera and stood.

“Night, Mom.”

Lily waved. “Night, you two.”

“Night, Aunt Lily,” Damon murmured before pivoting on his heel and leading the way to the front.

Willa paused at the front counter and peered over.

“Where’d Colten go?” she asked her sister.

“Jared took him home,” Calla stated with a deep sigh, her blue eyes darting to the door with a longing Damon understood all too well; it was one he felt every time Willa left the room.

Willa’s bottom lip puckered. “Aw, I didn’t get to say goodnight.”

“You’ll probably see him tomorrow,” Calla assured her sister. “Jared is still finishing up that job in Newburry so Colt will come in with me for a few hours if Tiffany’s busy.”

“Great!” Willa beamed. “There’s this new lens flare trick I want to try out and—”

Calla laughed. “Don’t you have enough pictures of that kid?”

Willa jerked back with a gasp of outrage. “Never! You’ll thank me one day when he’s married and out of the house.”

Calla, still chuckling, shook her head. “Between you and Mom, I can probably make a flipbook of his entire life.”

“You’re welcome!” Willa said, laughing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She leaned over the glass case and kissed her sister on the cheek before hurrying to join Damon by the door. Damon waved at the other blonde, before pushing the door open and ushering Willa out first. Together, they slipped out into the setting dusk. Damon walked her to the Jeep and opened her door before easing himself in behind the wheel.

“How do you feel about takeout and a movie at home?” Damon suggested as he pulled out of the parking spot.

In the process of twisting the strap on her camera bag around in a neat bunch and setting the bag gently down by her feet, Willa nodded. “Sounds good. But I want gravy with my fries.”

Damon snorted. “Don’t you always?”

Ma’s diner was already brimming by the time they wedged themselves into the fray. The hum of chatter drowned out the shriek of chair legs being shoved away from the tables and the music wafting from the speakers. Utensils shrieked against ceramic and children cried. It was all enough to make him glad they weren’t staying. Plus, there was nowhere to sit.

Taking Willa’s hand, he maneuvered them to the counter. The stools were occupied, but he stopped in front of the register and waited for Bambi Dawson to finish rattling off an order to the cooks in the back.

“You know what we should do?” Willa twisted her body towards him, more to avoid getting bumped from behind than intimacy. His arms automatically encircled her anyway and drew her into his side. “Open our own pizza shop.”

The idea had crossed his mind a few times, albeit not exactly a pizza joint, but something other than greasy burgers and stale fries. Only, no one was stupid enough to open another food type place in Willow Creek. At least not until Ma kicked the bucket, which it didn’t seem like she planned on doing for several more hundred years.

Barely as tall as a pubescent child and as gangly as a troll, Judith Sinoski, or better known as Ma, was practically the Godfather of Willow Creek. No one was brave, or stupid, enough to cross her, especially when it came to her business. She was the sole proprietor of the only restaurant in town and had been since the dawn of time.

“What are you thinking?” Damon asked instead. “Burgers or turkey sandwiches?”

“I think I want the pork chops with baked potato,” Willa replied.

“What about the fries and gravy?”

“Oh shoot! That’s right.” She sighed. “I guess no fries and gravy this time. I really want baked potatoes.”

Chuckling, he drew her in closer, fitting her compact frame into the front of his. His lips brushed her hairline and he was rewarded by her quiet exhale that whispered over his throat and the slip of her arms around his middle. The bulk of his jacket zipped around her made it hard to really crush her to him as he longed to, but he was content just to hold her and breathe in her subtle scent of soap and floral deodorant. Against his jaw, her hair tickled his skin. The strands caught the faint stubble darkening his jaw and he had to smooth it back. His fingers found their familiar rhythm over the shiny locks and she sighed again.

“Love when you do that,” she murmured languidly, resting her head on his shoulder. “It feels so nice.”

Damon chuckled and turned his head so his lips brushed the spot between her eyebrows. “Don’t fall asleep,” he warned. “I’m not carrying you to the car.”

She grumbled, but lifted her head. It tipped back and he found himself falling head first into her eyes. There was exhaustion in them and silent laughter.

“That only happened once,” she reminded him. “And it was your fault for keeping me up half the night watching Star Wars.”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t stop watching!” he protested without heat. “As I recall, you begged me to put on the next one.”

She sniffed, wrinkling her pert little nose. “I don’t recall any such thing.”

Scowling playfully, he tugged on a strand of hair. “Brat.”

Her haughty expression melted into a smile that cinched around his heart. She giggled and dropped her head back down onto his shoulder. But just as quickly, it jerked up again and she squinted across the crowded diner.

“Jody Lockwood’s here.”

Damon followed her gaze to one of the booths by the window.

“So?” Damon wondered.

She nibbled on her bottom lip. “You know Jody’s daughter, Lisa?” At his nod, she continued. “She had Jessie’s portrait taken at the studio a few weeks back. Mom and I have been calling her the last few days to pick them up, but she’s not answering.” She tipped her face up to his, her dainty eyebrows furrowed in deliberation. “Do you think I should mention it to Jody? I’d hate if Lisa didn’t pick them up and we had to toss them. Jessie was so adorable and such a good sport about sitting still.”

He glanced in the direction of the family in question. He pursed his lips.

“I would,” he decided at last. “If for no other reason than to put aside any doubt that you tried everything possible to contact her about her son’s photos.”

Tiny ridges appeared across the bridge of her wrinkled nose. “You’re right.” Her eyes lifted to his face once more. “Order for me?”

She dug into her pocket and removed several folded bills and passed them to him. Damon took them to ward off an argument and watched as she left his side and made her way to the Lockwood’s table. The money went into his pocket. He would return it to her purse, or coat pocket the next time she wasn’t looking.

“Damon! Hi!” Bambi smiled at him with every tooth in her mouth. Her tawny eyes shimmered beneath the fluorescent bulb overhead. They jumped over him, around him before settling on his face. “Table for one?”

Damon shook his head. “Two to go.” He rattled off his and Willa’s orders and dragged out his wallet as it was punched into the register. “Can you add a box of fries and a side of gravy to that?”

Bambi nodded and tapped it in. “Anything else?”

Assuring her there wasn’t, he paid the bill and stepped aside. His gaze went to where Willa stood, talking to Jody Lockwood. The older woman looked puzzled and slightly distraught as Willa explained the situation. She glanced to her husband, who shook his head in irritation before returning to his meatloaf. Jody reached for her purse and passed Willa a handful of bills that Willa waved away. The two talked a bit longer, which consisted mainly of nodding and hand waving. Then Willa was walking back to him.

“How’d it go?”

“Fine.” She smiled at him. “I told her to just stop by the studio tomorrow and cover the cost.”

Damon nodded. “Did she have any idea why Lisa hasn’t picked them up?”

“No…” The corners of her mouth turned downward. “She hadn’t even known Lisa had gotten Jessie’s pictures done.”

“Well, at least it’s out of the way.”

“Yeah, but I’m still hoping Lisa will get back to me.”

There was nothing for him to say, so he nodded again and watched the kitchen through the rectangular cut in the wall. Through the white steam, he could just make out Ma’s two boys, Jason and Robert, hurriedly preparing orders. Plates kept appearing on the ledge in rapid succession and taken to their owners by Bambi, who seemed to be the only waitress on shift that evening. Damon almost felt bad for her, having to wait tables, clear away dishes, and run the register. But Ma was too cheap to hire on more help and everyone knew it. Eventually, Bambi would quit under pressure and Ma would find another lackey to take her place. There was never a shortage of overworked and underpaid gofers. The town was full of them.

It was almost an hour by the time Damon led Willa out of the diner and back to the Jeep. They drove home in silence, with Willa yawning occasionally behind her hand. He didn’t think she’d last much longer and hoped she ate before she passed out.

Their apartment was a five story slab of brick and glass cutting against the navy blue backdrop. Light glowed from within, a buttery gold, radiating warmth into the chilly autumn. Inside, the place smelled of fried eggs, sweat, and carpet cleaner. It was ringed by the muffled hum of laughter, baby cries, and chatter. Willa was barely steady on her feet by the time they reached their floor and she unlocked the door.

“Home!” she moaned, stumbling into the short foyer.

A lot of the furniture was second hand from Willa’s family. Things Willa had spruced up with throws and pillows and made brand new. Somehow, she had taken an empty apartment and a handful of things and turned it all into a home and it never failed to amaze him. Everything there was worn and lumpy, but cozy, and he would never be able to smell green apples without it reminding him of warmth and comfort, of love and home.

It was set up like most apartments. There was a hall leading off the main door that branched off into three different directions. One went left to the bedrooms and the bathroom. The second went into the sitting area and the third stopped at the kitchen. He could cross the entire place in under thirty seconds. But he would rather be there with Willa than anywhere else in the world.

She kicked off her shoes onto the mat and hurried into the kitchen for plates. Damon shut the door behind them. He snapped the lock into place before discarding his own boots.

“Are we finishing Nikita, or did you want to start something new?” she called from the matchbox sized room separated from him by a mere wall.

“We only have one more season,” he reminded her as he made his way down the hall in the direction of his bedroom. “We might as well finish.”

His room was simple, a bed, a dresser, and a stand holding a TV and surround sound. It was a habit bred from years of abuse that kept him unnaturally organized. No matter how much stuff Beth and Cole gave him, he could never bring himself to make clutter. Clutter made him claustrophobic and anxious, like at any moment, even after two decades, his father would barge into his room and beat the ever loving fuck out of him for making a mess. His bedroom could have passed a military inspection. Everything was perfectly aligned and neatly set into its proper place. It was a blessing that Willa was a neat type of person. He would still love her, but he would have to self-medicate to handle the disorganization.

He set the takeout bag down on the end table and moved to the TV stand. He was flicking everything on when Willa joined him. She set the plates and cutlery on the bed and stepped back.

“I’m going to change,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried out of the room again.

TV on, Damon dressed himself in flannel bottoms and a dark t-shirt. He was tugging the hem over the waistband of his pants when Willa returned, clad in sleeping shorts and a white camisole. He set up the show while she dished out the food.

“Aw! You got me fries and gravy!”

Show prepped, Damon turned. “Who said those were for you?”

Willa wrinkled her nose. “You hate gravy.”

It was true.

“Maybe I just got you the gravy.”

“Ew!”

Laughing at the look of disgust on her face, Damon walked over to the bed and dropped down on his side. Willa passed him his chicken fingers, fries, and side of salad. He dug right in while she climbed up next to him with her own dish.

They got through four episodes before she passed out, curled against his side with her head pillowed on his abdomen. Her slow, even breaths warmed the fabric of his top to burn his skin. One arm was slung carelessly across his ribs, holding him to her in sleep. He had known the moment she’d nuzzled his abdomen and hugged his middle that she’d be out in minutes. Just like he knew that he had to get her off him and onto the pillow or she’d have a kink in her neck for the rest of the day.

Smothering his grin, he dragged his body up, taking her with him as he used one hand to shove back the blankets on her side. The rest was trickier. He had to move her without waking her up, which was bound to happen if he made his move too soon. If she wasn’t fully asleep, she’d wake up and stay awake the rest of the night. Her little catnaps drove him nuts. Somehow she always managed to function with only a mere five minutes of shut eye, but he hated the shadows that would hug the contours of her eyes and the slight lines that would pinch the corners of her mouth.

Slipping one hand beneath her arm and hooking it around her waist, he carefully, but firmly, yanked her higher up his chest. Willa grumbled in her sleep, but stayed in her slumber.

Once certain it was safe, he slid his free hand under her, lifted her in one fluid motion and dumped her gently down next to him. Her blonde locks splashed across her pillow and over his. He swept the strands down to keep from choking on them later. He dragged the blankets up and around her before shutting off the TV and climbing out of bed. He tiptoed around the room, gathering their dishes and discarded food containers and carried them into the kitchen. The dishes were rinsed, dried, and put away. The containers were crushed and stuffed into the recycling container. Then he threw on his coat and shoes and crept out of the apartment.

While Willow Creek wasn’t exactly known for its gangs, or crime sprees of any kind that didn’t involve someone drunkenly pissing in their neighbor’s begonias, he didn’t like leaving Willa’s equipment in the Jeep. She called him paranoid, but that stuff meant a lot to her and even if they never got stolen, he didn’t want them getting wrecked if the weather got too hot, or too cold. Plus, it wasn’t like he minded dragging it all down again in the morning if it meant saving her from heartache.

Everything in hand, he hurried back upstairs. The bags were tucked neatly in the hallway closet, on the shelves he’d built for that purpose. He locked the front door, did a walkthrough of the apartment, and then went back to his room. Willa hadn’t moved in his absence. He climbed into bed next to her and slid an arm around her middle. He pulled her back into him, fitting her into the curve of his body.

Willa moaned quietly. Her shoulders lifted and fell slowly against him with her exhalation. She snuggled tighter against him, if that were possible.

“Damon?”

Face nestled into the back of her neck, he hummed in quiet response.

“I love you.”

Those three words, no matter how often he heard them, squeezed the muscles around his heart until he couldn’t breathe around the restraint. His eyes squeezed tightly shut and he held her tighter.

“Love you, too, Wills. Love you so damn much.”

Chapter Two ~ Willa

“Did you talk to Jody last night?”

In the process of touching up several shots, Willa paused and glanced up as her mother rounded a rack of t-shirts. Willa’s finger came off the mouse and she frowned at the question.

“Yes, she was at the diner. I told her about Lisa’s photos.” Her frown deepened. “Why? Did something happen?”

Rolling her eyes in mid sigh, her mother shook her head. “No, I just saw Lisa on the way here and she was upset that her mother found out about the photos. I guess it was supposed to be some Christmas present, or something.”

“Oh!” Guilt clawed through her as the error in her actions slammed into her. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

Her mom shook her head. “This wasn’t your fault. You and I both tried to get a hold of Lisa for the last two weeks.”

Despite that, she felt no better about what she’d done.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” she murmured, turning towards the computer and hitting save on the photos open in her Photoshop program. “Is Lisa still outside? I’ll talk to her and—”

“Will.” Her mom took her arm gently. “Baby, this wasn’t your fault, you hear me? If Lisa wanted those photos so badly, she should have come and got them when we called her the first fifty times.”

“But she’s right,” Willa stated. “It wasn’t Jody’s business. I shouldn’t have discussed Lisa’s business with her mom.”

“Will.” Warm, gentle hands cradled her face. “It’s fine. It’s not the end of the world, okay?”

“I should still talk to her,” she decided.

Her mom didn’t stop her as she hurried out of the shop. Calla’s voice calling her back was muffled by the loud jingle of bells before the door slipped shut between them. The weather had dropped and the icy fingers of approaching winter slipped through the knitting of her sweater. A chill snaked down her spine and she shuddered. Her arms closed around her shivering frame, like that could somehow stave back the elements. Pale tendrils lashed across her face, obscuring her sight as she searched the faces around her for signs of Lisa. Concrete cracked beneath her heels as she ventured left, moving deeper and high through the town. The early morning rush made it nearly impossible to find anyone. But Willa was determined.

“Hey there, Willa!” Macy Boyd, owner and operator of the only bed and breakfast in town, smiled kindly at Willa in passing. “Everything all right, sweetheart?”

Oddly breathless, Willa nodded. “I’m trying to find Lisa.”

“Sheridan?” Macy furrowed silvery eyebrows and squinted over the sidewalk over her shoulder. “I think I saw her heading towards the bank, if I’m not mistaken.”

Thanking her, Willa broke out in a sprint. She barely paused to glance both ways before darting across the street towards Willow Creek International. She spotted Lisa just as the brunette ducked through the bank’s glass doors. Willa quickened her pace and slipped inside just before they could shut.

“Lisa!”

Short and round, Lisa stood a good foot shorter than Willa. Her frizzy, dark hair was sheered short, a wavy sort of bob that was more tangled than curly. Her squinty brown eyes were small and pressed too close to her upturned nose and they peered at Willa with annoyance and apprehension. Jessie, her eighteen month old son, sat perched on her hip, happily chomping on a sugar stick, despite the early morning. His dark hair was plastered to his round face in sticky spikes. Willa gave him a small smile before focusing on the mother.

“Lisa, I am so sorry about what happened,” she began. “I tried calling you every day and I left messages and I emailed—”

“So that gives you an excuse to go ruining Christmas?” Lisa barked out. “I don’t got a lot of money, Willa. Those pictures were all I had to give my parents.”

“I am really sorry!” Willa stressed, biting back the tears lodged in her throat. “It was never my intention—”

“Your sorry isn’t gonna fix anything! Keep your damn pictures. They ain’t no good to me now anyhow.”

She started to turn away.

“Please don’t toss them away,” Willa called after her. “Jessie looks so handsome in them and I’m sure your parents will still love them.”

That only seemed to intensify the anger behind Lisa’s eyes.

“You just want me to give you money. Well, no, ma’am. I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ll just take Jess to Newburry and get pictures done there, where the people ain’t crooks.”

“It’s not about the money!” Willa protested, but Lisa had already stalked across the bank floor in quick strides. Jessie waved from over his mother’s shoulder, his face a glossy, sticky mess. “Lisa, wait!”

Lisa ignored her.

She considered waiting, considered cutting the other woman off where she stood, but if there was one thing Willa was no good at, it was confrontation or attention. Both made her queasy. Unlike the rest of her family Willa wasn’t bold like Calla or cunning like Toby, or even brave like Damon. Her world existed behind a camera lens. The other side scared her. People scared her. They were all just so … intense. So loud. Conflict left her terrified and fraught with angst. Raised voices bathed her in cold sweat. Aggression, hatred, negativity left a filthy handprint on her heart for days. She just wasn’t built for life. It was hilarious because her parents had never yelled at her. She had never been abused or hurt—Damon would never have allowed that. Yet she had no spine. It was a fact Calla used to torment her over for years. Willa had always been the mouse, the peacekeeper, the one who cried too easily. It wasn’t intentional. Lord knew she would have given her right arm for the chance to be like everyone else, but she just wasn’t.

Which was why she didn’t chase Lisa down. Why she didn’t press the issue. Instead, she ducked her head and left the bank. Her heart hurt the whole way back to the studio. Her eyes burned and she had to keep her head down to keep anyone from noticing the blotchy state of her face. The chill no longer bothered her when she was already trembling with anxiety.

Don’t cry! She scolded herself the whole way there. Don’t be a baby!

But the second she walked into the studio and Calla’s gaze locked with hers, Willa broke. She dissolved in a fit of sobs that had her sister cursing like a drunken sailor before darting around the counter and engulfing her.

“Mom!” Calla called towards the back, arms a tight band around Willa’s shaking shoulders.

Their mom hurried to the front of the store, took one look at Willa and cursed even louder and longer than Calla.

“I’m going to kill her!” She seethed, hurrying forward to stroke Willa’s hair. “It’s all right, darling. I promise. I’ll take care of this. Come on. I need help doing that photo filtering thing you’re so good at.”

Calla let their mother lead Willa towards the back. She didn’t protest as she was forced onto the stool in front of the computer and urged to open photo files. Photoshop was one of the few things that helped calm her down. Photography was another. But what she really wanted was Damon. Being near him just made the world feel safer and not so intimidating. When he was around, she wasn’t scared. But she also knew that she couldn’t just call him every time life crushed her. She knew she needed to stand up for herself, but that hadn’t happened yet.

“I’m okay,” she promised while her mother stuffed a Kleenex into Willa’s hand. “Lisa didn’t even say anything. It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have said anything to her mom about the photos.”

“Will, sweetie, you can’t get yourself worked up over something so trivial. Yes, it’s sad, but it’s not the end of the world and you can’t let her make you feel bad about an honest mistake.”

“I know.” She wiped at her face and blew her nose. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Nodding, her mom stroked her back once before moving away. “There’s no one booked for today so you can just sit there and fiddle with pictures. I’ll try to drop by a little later. Going to take Grandma to see Dr. Phillips.”

Her own misery forgotten, Willa’s head jerked up. “What’s wrong with Grandma?”

“Nothing!” her mom said quickly. “She just needs a refill on her prescription.”

Relieved, she relaxed and watched as her mother gathered up her purse and coat. A kiss was pressed into the side of her head and then her mother was gone and she was alone with her computer and a lack of motivation to do anything. Nevertheless, she opened the first file and got to work.

At a little after noon, Tiffany stalked into the store, arms full of Colten and his small arsenal of things. She smiled as Calla left her place behind the counter and scooped the boy up into her arms.

“Hello darling!” Calla crooned, nuzzling her son’s rosy cheeks. “Did you have fun with Tiffany?”

“We saw squirrels,” the boy declared happily.

“We went to the park,” Tiffany explained, chuckling. “He loves that purple elephant slide.”

Abandoning her computer, Willa hurried to join the group. Tiffany spotted her coming first and smiled broadly.

“Hey, Willa!”

“Hi, Tiffany.” She took Colten’s bags from the other girl. “How are you?”

Tiffany, a tall, leggy blonde with a million dollar smile and a heart made of pure gold, grinned. “Fantastic!” she declared. “Going to head home and get some cleaning done. Then maybe go and get some food, because I have, like, nothing in the fridge.”

Willa nodded.

Tiffany lived in Jared and Calla’s apartment and helped Calla watch Colten for a few hours during the day so she could get inventory and paperwork done. Willa only knew Tiffany through her sister, but from what little she knew, she already liked the woman; she was very bright. Not just smart, but like she carried her own angelic light somewhere deep inside. Plus she was amazing with Colten.

Saying goodbye, Tiffany left. Calla set Colten down and let him toddle through the racks while she went back to the box of sparkly dresses she’d been slipping onto hangers.

“Feeling better?” Calla asked, snatching up a plastic hanger and looping a thin strap over the sides.

“Yeah,” Willa said, watching Colten tug on a t-shirt. “I already feel stupid for breaking down.”

Calla shook her head. “Not your fault. Lisa Sheridan is a walking c-u-n-t.”

Reflexively, Willa flinched. “Calla!”

“Just saying.”

Shooting her sister a disapproving scowl, Willa dropped down on all fours and gently head butted Colten in the side. The boy giggled and lunged at her, throwing pudgy arms around her whole head, mashing her face into his thin chest. She tackled him to the ground and tickled him until he was shrieking and flailing wildly.

“Want to help Auntie make pretty pictures?” she asked once he’d calmed down again. “Come on.”

Scooping the boy up, she went back to her section of the shop and strapped him into the plastic booster they kept tucked in the corner just for him. It was high enough so he could sit and watch the computer, but comfortable enough so he wouldn’t fuss. She dumped crayons and paper down on the table in front of him and left him to his creative genius while she finished up her images.

She was four photos to the end, her back ached from picking up deliberately dropped crayons in a cruel game of pick up and her head hurt from her earlier sob-fest, when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out and swept a thumb over the screen to unlock it.

“Hey,” the text read next to the image of Damon’s scowling face.

Heart leaping as it always did where he was concerned, Willa immediately felt better. “Hi! How’s work?”

There was a minute delay before his response popped up on screen.

“Brutal. Why do old people have so much crap?”

Willa laughed.

“Also, I might kill your brother in law.”

She refrained from pointing out that Jared was his best friend before he became Willa’s brother in law.

“Oh no, what happened?”

“He’s a douchebag,” was the response. “Remind me why we keep him around.”

Still chuckling, Willa replied, “Because he’s your best friend and because he’s Colten’s daddy.”

She couldn’t see it, but she knew he was rolling his eyes at that. No matter what he said, he adored Jared like a brother. The four of them had always been inseparable, but Damon and Jared had been friends long before Willa had ever met Damon.

“Yeah, yeah. How are you?”

She loved that he didn’t use text speech where every other word was a random letter or number to make a word. It irritated her when people texted a full sentence in three letters. She knew Damon texted others that way, because it was easier and faster, but it always felt impersonal and rude to her, like the sender couldn’t be bothered to take the time to write out a proper message.

“Fine. Sitting here with Little Man.” To prove it, she leaned over and took a quick picture of her and Colten and sent it to him. In the photo, Colten’s blue eyes were wide with confusion, like she’d caught him by surprise while he’d been busy chewing on an orange crayon. “I think he’s hungry,” she wrote to Damon.

Stuffing the phone into her pocket, she unclipped Colten from his seat, took away the crayon and hauled him to the front. Calla glanced up when they approached.

“Little man’s hungry,” Willa told her. “And I think he needs a change.”

Abandoning her shipment, Calla took the boy from her, placed a smacking kiss to his cheek and headed to the backroom. Willa returned to her computer.

“Want me to pick you up tonight?” the new message from Damon read once she was seated on her stool.

“No!” she scolded. “You’re not getting out of that poker night, Comb. I’ll be fine.”

“But I won’t be,” he replied a moment later. “I miss you.”

In her chest, her heart gave a violent kick. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as they always did before she shooed them away. He was her best friend. Nothing more. Granted, their relationship wasn’t typical. The way they were, the things they did, she knew wasn’t normally what friends did. After all, Jared was her friend and she could sleep without him. She didn’t feel half-crazy with desperation when he didn’t call her. She certainly didn’t watch him and long to feel him against her. It didn’t matter that Jared was her brother in law. He’d been her friend first. But she didn’t love him, or anyone, the way she loved Damon. She was in love with him the way her mother was in love with her father, or how Uncle Cole was in love with her Aunt Beth. She loved him the way a woman loved the man who had given her everything. Not that she could ever tell him, no matter how much she longed to. While he would never push her away, or mock her, there was that sliver of doubt at the back of her throat, the one that feared disrupting the calm that they had. What if her confession ruined how he saw her? What if it made him uncomfortable and he walked away? Or worse, what if he looked at her with pity and told her he didn’t feel the same? The latter would most definitely kill her.

Calla swore that Damon loved her, and Willa believed her, except … what if it wasn’t the way she loved him?

At seven, Willa left the shop and made her way through town towards home. There were still the odd person out, finishing up their shopping, or heading home from work. A few called out to her and waved. She smiled and waved back. It was all so normal and that was what she loved about her town.

At home, she kicked off her shoes. She fixed them to sit side by side on the mat before hanging up her coat and purse.

She wasn’t naturally a neat person, but after nineteen years of learning everything there was to know about Damon, she made an effort to keep things in order, simply because she knew it upset him when things weren’t. He never said as much, but she’d seen the tick in his jaw when something was out of its place. She had seen the inching of his fingers moving things exactly center. She had seen his room. While she didn’t think he had OCD, it was something close. So she did her best to keep moderately organized.

Moving into her room, she shed her clothes and pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a camisole. Her hair was dragged up into a ponytail and she quickly scrubbed the makeup off her face before heading into Damon’s room. The length of his bed felt too wide as she crawled to his side and burrowed into his pillow. The lingering scent of his shampoo and soap filled her senses as she snuggled in deep and switched on the television.

Chapter Three ~ Damon

He was cheating, shamelessly and without remorse. There was no sympathy watching his friends as they lost hand after hand to him.

Damon had always been amazing with numbers. He hadn’t gone to school to study accounting and finances because the pay was good. He liked math. Counting cards was just another method of math. It was a talent his friends had no knowledge that he possessed, because it wasn’t something he normally did and he wouldn’t have this time, except they had driven him to it.

“You can be as pissed as you want¸” Jared went on relentlessly. “But the truth remains the same. Any blind asshole can tell you.”

Michael Bowser and Anthony Tobasky snickered from their seats. Michael rearranged his cards and poked absently at his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Next to him, idly stacking and unstacking his chips, Anthony glanced up.

“Jared’s right,” he said with a jerk of his shoulder. “You’ve practically been dating the girl for, what? Nineteen, twenty years now? You might as well make it official and announce it to yourselves, because lord knows, the rest us already know.”

“Will you guys shut up?” Damon muttered, staring hard at the straight flush in his hand. “Why do you all care anyhow?”

“Well, I care because Calla cares,” Jared announced. “And, I’ll be honest, I’m a little worried about you.”

Damon looked up. “Me? What are you worried about me for?”

Jared flicked the corner of the cards he held fanned in one hand. “When’s the last time you had sex.”

Heat swelled up the length of his neck to flood his cheeks. But he kept his gaze narrowed and fixed on his best friend.

“Now, why the fuck is that your business? Are you offering?”

Anthony howled and smacked the table.

Michael continued to trace lazily over his chapped lips with his tongue, but said nothing.

Jared seemed unfazed. “You’re twenty five years old, dude. What guy do you know that’s twenty five and still a damn virgin?”

“You’re not even having sex with her?” Anthony chimed in. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“I’d accuse you of being into guys, but I’ve seen the boner you get when Willa’s around,” Michael added sagely.

He suddenly didn’t feel bad about taking their money. In fact, he was now more determined than ever to take all of it before the night was over.

Anthony roared and nudged Michael with an elbow. “Dude, I get a boner when Willa’s around.”

“Hey!” His hand shot out and he smacked Anthony upside the head. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

“I’m with Damon on that one,” Jared stated, eyeing Anthony darkly. “Talk like that again and I’ll beat you one.”

Anthony’s smile slipped. His thick shoulders dropped. He stared sullenly at his hand.

“I was just kidding,” he mumbled.

Damon went back to his cards and lazily shuffled them. His gaze darted to his watch and his gut clenched when he spotted what time it was.

“Seriously?” Jared exclaimed when Damon set down his cards and reached for his phone. “You know the rules. No phones during the game.”

Damon ignored him. He texted Willa.

“Hey, get home okay?”

He set the phone down next to his hand and watched the screen for a response. He fiddled anxiously with his cards, his gaze never wandering too far from the device. He nibbled on his lip, rapped his cards on the felt fabric on the table.

He picked the phone up.

“Will?”

An anxious brewing started in the pit of his stomach, knotting around the handful of chips he’d consumed earlier. He felt the sharp edges cutting into the lining as bile rose up his chest.

“She’s not answering,” he breathed to himself, uncaring that his voice trembled, but not nearly as hard as his hands.

He hit talk on his screen and stuffed the phone to his ear. His breath lodged in his lungs while he waited for her to respond.

It rang. Once. Twice. Four times. Six. He began rising out of his chair.

“Hello?” her soft, sweet voice filled his ear, thick with sleep and confusion.

Damon dropped back down, limbs oddly numb. “Hey.”

He heard fabric rustle. “Hey!” There was a smile in her sleepy whisper. “Are you coming home?”

God, he wished. There was nothing he wanted more than to pull her into his arms and assure himself she was really okay.

“Not yet. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

She made a sound between a sigh, a yawn and a moan. “I’m sorry. I should have texted you. I got home fine. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, I wasn’t hungry when I got in.”

“Go eat something. I’ll be home soon.”

The bedsprings jingled. “Okay. Hurry. I miss you.”

Promising her he would, he hung up and stowed his phone back inside his pocket. He prolonged facing the others while he picked up his cards and adjusted his weight on the chair. Their eyes bore into him, amused, questioning and, above all else, smug.

“Fuck off,” he muttered.

Someone threw a chip at him. Several more followed, striking him in the face, bouncing off his shoulders and clinging to his hair.

“You are so whipped!” Anthony crowed, throwing a handful.

“What … stop!” Damon glowered at the trio. “What’s the matter with you guys?”

“You and your bullshit!” Jared said. “What the hell are you waiting for? I mean, honestly. You’re crazy about her and she’s gone over you. You’ve been together since you were babies. You live together, work together, and spend every waking and non-waking hour together … why haven’t you married her already?”

Because he was a damn coward, he thought bitterly. Because he didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t feel the same. The possibility of losing her scared him shitless.

“Because I’m not in any rush,” he lied. “I love her. She’s mine. I don’t need anything else.”

“Not even sex?” Anthony wondered.

“And she’s technically not yours,” Michael added, using air quotes to emphasize yours.

“Yeah, there ain’t no ring on it.” Anthony snickered.

Everyone ignored him.

“What are you going to do if someone else asks her out tomorrow?” Michael went on. “There’s nothing stopping her from accepting. Things go well, six months down the line, she can move in with him. A year after that, she can marry him and have his babies.”

The thought of someone else holding, kissing, touching Willa enraged Damon. Every muscle in his body tensed. The cards being crumpled between his fingers blurred in and out of focus as raw fury clouded his vision. He dropped the bits of cardboard and folded his arms to keep the others from seeing just how badly the statement affected him.

“You clearly don’t know Willa,” he mumbled.

Michael lifted an eyebrow. “I know she’s sweet, beautiful, and smart. I know there are a shit ton of men in this very town who want her. I know she’ll eventually want children and a family. I know she won’t wait for you forever.”

Damon hated the man sitting across from him. Hated the tiny seeds of fear and doubt he was cleverly planting. It pissed him off that it was working.

“I’ll make you a wager.” Michael tossed his cards down. “I’ll ask her out.”

“Whoa!” Jared straightened in his chair. “What the hell are you doing?”

Michael shrugged, gaze never wavering from Damon. “He’s the one who claims to know her so well.”

“I know her better than anyone.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” Damon said, almost meaning it.

Michael lifted his hands and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “All right then. I wager that I can get her to agree to go out with me. Just drinks. Nothing inappropriate. If I do and she agrees, it’ll prove just how in danger your relationship really is. If she doesn’t, well…” He shrugged. “My bad.”

“No,” Jared said for Damon. “That’s insane and so wrong. Willa will be pissed you used her like this.”

“Used?” Michael scoffed. “Who’s using anyone? It’s only drinks.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Anthony said. “This way, at least Damon knows where he stands with her.”

Shaking his head, Jared turned his wide, gray eyes on Damon. “Willa loves you. If you do this, she will be crushed.”

“Why would she be crushed?” Michael interjected. “He’s not betting I can get into her pants. It’s an experiment to see if she loves him like you claim she does.”

“It’s not a claim!” Jared hissed. “That’s my wife’s little sister you’re talking about. She’s not an obstacle course.”

“Christ!” Michael threw up his hands. “What’s with the sudden moral police act, Jare? Odds are, she’s going to turn me down and Damon will have his answer.”

“He already has his answer!” Jared shot back. “She’s been with him, faithfully, for the better part of nineteen years. If she was getting tired, or bored, she would have done so when half the boys in high school were vying for her affections, including you! But she always chose Damon.”

“Did she?” Michael challenged. “Or was it because Damon had everyone too scared to go anywhere near her? Who’s to say she wouldn’t have found someone long ago if her bulldog hadn’t chased them away.”

The back and forth was gouging into his temples like steel spikes. It made him want to scream at them to stop talking, but both had such valid points.

“I think you’re just trying to get your go at her,” Jared said hotly. “You’re a sick, twisted son of a bitch, Michael.”

“What’s the problem?” Michael snapped. “If she’s happy and deeply in love, then it won’t matter, or are you afraid she’ll finally come to her senses and fall for a real man?”

Jared opened his mouth.

Damon cut him off. “Do it.”

Christ, he had to know.

It was disgusting and so wrong, but maybe if he had some sign that Willa felt about him the way he felt about her, without jeopardizing the relationship they currently had, then was it really so wrong? Maybe it was selfish and a whole lot stupid … God, it was so stupid, but he couldn’t go on giving her only half of himself, worrying that one wrong step and he could lose her forever. Jared had no idea how that felt. He didn’t know what it was like to be with someone for over two decades, to love them like his whole heart and soul depended on it, and not know if they felt the same. He honestly had no idea what he’d do if Willa accepted Michael’s offer for drinks. No doubt he’d lose his fucking mind, but then at least he’d know where he stood, because as it were, he was teetering on a crumbling log balanced over a swirling, black vortex. His feelings were the vortex, sucking him in, threatening to annihilate him if he missed one step. Willa was the log, holding him up, keeping him safe and whole. But he felt like the longer he stood there, wobbling, the more chance he had of slipping, of losing Willa and disappearing forever.

There were days when he’d look into her eyes and see her love reflecting back and he’d wonder if maybe … just maybe … only it was so similar to how she normally looked at him that he couldn’t be sure if it was love for a friend or more. And, God, he was so tired of only being her friend. He was tired of waking up in the morning and seeing her face inches from his and not being able to kiss her. He was tired of holding her to him and not being able to touch her. He was tired of being torn into two.

She was sitting at the kitchen table when he walked through the door later that night. It was well after midnight and the only light on was the one dangling over her head. The dingy glow spilled over her unbound hair, making the strands shimmer in the semidarkness. One side was swept back behind her ear and he could just make out the side of her face as she worked on organizing several shoeboxes full of photos.

“Hey.”

Her head came up immediately. The light caught her wide eyes and he marveled at their clarity.

“Hey!” Her lips pulled into a breathtaking grin. “You’re home.”

He shut the door behind him and snapped the lock into place. “And you’re awake.”

Her nose wrinkled as it always did when she grimaced. “I’ve been meaning to do this for ages and I couldn’t sleep so…”

Guilt gnawed at him as he crossed the short space between them. “I’m sorry I woke you. I got worried.”

“No!” she said quickly. “You didn’t. I would have woke up anyway when my stomach started rumbling.”

She was such a horrible liar.

He removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. “Need help?”

Beaming, she nudged a shoebox over to him, stopped and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you have to work in the morning?”

He arched a brow. “Don’t you?”

She chuckled. “Yes, but I’m not tired.”

Because he’d woken her up when he’d called her in a state of panic. He would have kicked himself if he could. Instead, he drew out the chair and slid into it. He took the shoebox from her and flipped off the lid.

“So, what are we doing?”

Spending an entire night going through photos did nothing to help make the move the next morning easier. If anything, Damon was ready to crawl onto the sofa he and Jared had hauled into the truck and sleep. But there was no time for that. They were nearly done and that meant getting off early and seeing Willa at work. Maybe he could even talk Calla into letting him take a nap on the sofa in the back.

“I’m going to start on the bedrooms,” Jared muttered in passing.

Damon frowned at his friend’s back as Jared ambled out of sight. The other man had barely said two words to him the whole morning and when he did, it was more like grunts in passing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Jared was angry about the night before, but Damon didn’t know what to say to fix it. If anything, he already felt like a jackass for even considering Michael’s idiotic idea. Somehow, in the light of the day, the very notion of some other guy asking Willa out, test or no test, pissed him off. He couldn’t even fathom what possessed him to be such a monumental dumbass, except maybe fear. But even then. The first thing he’d done that morning when he’d gotten to work was text Michael and told him to forget it. He didn’t need his help. He’d figure it out on his own. Michael hadn’t gotten back to him, but Damon made a mental note to call him later.

“I called it off,” Damon told Jared as he followed the other guy into one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. “The thing with Michael,” he clarified when Jared said nothing. “It was stupid.”

Jared heaved up a box labeled pillows.

“Yeah, it was,” he muttered and shoved past Damon.

“You were right,” he called after him. “I should have listened to you.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Jared replied before vanishing through the front door.

Letting it go for the time being, Damon grabbed his own box from the front room and started across the porch. But no sooner had his boots touched the front steps when a car rolled into view and pulled to a shrieking halt in front of the house. Damon recognized Calla’s Neon and frowned as the blonde threw open her door and shot out. She jerked open the backdoor and ducked inside.

“Cal?” Swiping his brow with a forearm, Jared squinted as his wife charged up the path with Colten in her arms. “What’s wrong?”

There was raw rage filling the space around her. Her blue eyes seemed to glow with it. The force of her strides had her heels cracking like thunder across the concrete and her curls bouncing off her shoulders in violent jerks. Colten looked blurry-eyed, like he’d just woken up from a nap. His cheeks were rosy, matching his corduroy jacket. His face lit up when he spotted Jared.

“Daddy!”

Jared was there before the boy even lifted his arms up. He scooped Colten up and kissed him hard on the cheek before looking down at his wife.

“Everything okay?”

Calla was staring at Damon. “I need to talk to Damon.”

Blinking in surprise, Damon set the box down. “What is it? Willa—”

“Is none of your damn business!” Calla snarled. “Not after you sold her off in a poker game!”

Damon’s gaze shot to Jared. “You told her?”

“Willa’s family,” Jared stated evenly, without a shred of guilt. But it was his comment that struck Damon square in the chest.

She was family, meaning he wasn’t. He was the bastard son of a drunk. Didn’t matter that he’d been in the McClain family longer than he’d been in the Comb family. He wasn’t a McClain. He never would be.

He looked away from his best friend to his … he still had no idea what Calla was to him. Adoptive half-sister, maybe. Not that Calla would ever admit to such a thing. She had never wanted him around and had never made it a secret. But he had honestly thought they’d gotten past all that. The last few years, he was under the assumption that they had reached a tentative friendship. Clearly, he’d been wrong.

“I didn’t sell her,” he justified. “I would never do that.”

Calla just shook her head slowly, her look of absolute disgust never changing. “You know, for a while there, I almost thought that you’d changed, Comb. I thought my sister was safe with you. I thought you loved her and would protect her. But I see you’re still that cruel, egotistical little shit you were when we were children. But I am not going to let you hurt Willa.”

“I would never hurt her!” Damon growled, feeling his own anger froth to the surface at the very idea.

“You sold her to Michael fucking Bowser!” she exclaimed back. “You bet her off to that sleazy, manipulative son of a bitch.” She paused, panting slightly as she burned into him with every ounce of her resentment. “You’re going to tell her what you did and you are going beg for her forgiveness or I’ll tell her.”

Leaving him staring after her, she spun on her heels and marched back to where Jared stood with Colten. She took the boy from him and stormed back to her car without saying another word. Yet the ones she’d hurled at Damon continued to roil through the air, pummeling him in the gut long after her taillights had vanished from sight.

Chapter Four ~ Willa

“Look at the ducky and smile, Jackie!” Willa encouraged the four year old while waving a yellow duck over her head. “Smile!”

The four year old glowered back, reminding Willa of a pissed off little fairy in her glittery pink dress and the fantasy scenery in the background. Over Willa’s shoulder, Francine Dover fretted. Her knuckles popped every so often beneath her anxious twisting.

“Come on, baby,” she pleaded. “Don’t you want Grandma and Grandpa to see your pretty new dress?”

Jackie’s scowl only deepened. She hunched her shoulders even lower until she was a head lost in a cloud of silk and lace.

“What does she like?” Willa asked the mother. “Favorite mythical creature, or toy?”

Francie shrugged. “She likes unicorns, but—”

“I have an idea.” Willa said, stepping out from behind the camera. “Jackie, do you like unicorns?”

Eyes narrowed warily, Jackie gave a quick bob of her head.

“Well, I have a picture of a real unicorn, do you want to see it?”

Jackie’s eyes widened. “A for real one?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Willa promised. “I’ll show you, but you have to smile for me first, okay? Then I’ll let you keep the picture.”

Jackie mulled this over and Willa took that time to quickly straighten out the skirt and adjust the stuffed frogs and birds around the girl.

“Okay!” Jackie agreed.

Willa beamed. “Awesome. Now, big smiles, okay?”

She fixed the girl’s shoulders, angled her head and smoothed back wisps of auburn off flushed cheeks. Once satisfied, she darted back behind her lens.

It worked, as it usually did for children under six. Jackie smiled for all she was worth and Francie ceased her fussing. Willa got several great shots and helped Jackie off the stand.

“Where’s the unicorn?” Jackie panted.

Taking the girl’s hand, Willa led her around the counter, away from the equipment and reached for the Photoshopped picture of a beautiful white unicorn standing in a lush field with mountains and trees in the background. She had a million of them tucked away, but with different mythical creatures. Little girls loved the thought of seeing a real unicorn and while it was a lie, it made Willa’s job easier.

“It’s the only one I have,” she said, adding to her lie. “So take good care of it, okay?”

Jackie nodded her head enthusiastically and held the picture out to her mom. “Look! A unicorn!”

Francis smiled and patted her head. “It’s beautiful.” She turned to Willa. “What do I owe you?”

She was finalizing the sale—and answering Jackie’s questions on the unicorn with more lies—when the front door swung open viciously and Calla charged in. One look at her sister’s face and Willa’s stomach dropped. Her hand shook as she hurriedly gave Francis back her credit card and stuttered off a date to pick the pictures up. As soon as the two were out of the shop, Willa sprinted across the room to where Calla stood, glowering down at her day planner.

“What’s wrong?” she panted, her lungs filtering only wisps of air at a time. “Where’s Colten?”

Calla looked up, her face set in … anger, Willa noted. Not panic, or fear. Surely she wouldn’t be angry if something terrible had happened, right?

“I left him with Mom for the afternoon,” Calla stated shortly.

Her blue eyes burned into Willa, searching and scrutinizing, and she wondered if she’d done something to upset her.

“Did something happen?” she asked, trying to think back.

Calla straightened. She continued to study Willa until Willa was fidgeting. Then she lowered her gaze to the open book on the counter.

“When’s the last time we went out?”

Not having expected that, Willa frowned. “Uh … I don’t know.”

Calla clipped blunt nails on the glass. “I think we’re due for one, don’t you?”

“One what?” Willa wondered.

Calla looked up. “An out.” She circled the counter and joined Willa on the other side. “Let’s go shopping. Just you and me.”

Willa blinked. “Now? What about the store?”

“Forget the store.” She snapped the book shut. “We’ll close early and go into Newburry for the day. We’ll get a new outfit, maybe a mani, and some lunch. What do you say?”

While she wanted to agree enthusiastically, Willa couldn’t shake the knot tightening in her gut.

“Who died?” she blurted, terror already lodging in her throat.

Calla started. “What?”

Nerves jittering, Willa stared at her sister, searching her face frantically. Her every breath came out in short, pitiful pants and she was sure she’d throw up at any second.

“The last time we closed early, it was because Grandpa had a heart attack.”

Calla’s features softened. “No one’s in the hospital, or dead. I promise. Everything is fine. I just want to spend some time with you.”

She tried to relax, even forced a smile that felt tight and forced. But the unease persisted; something wasn’t right. She could feel it.

“Okay.”

The drive to Newburry was done with Calla doing most of the talking. While her sister wasn’t usually quiet, she was never a chatterbox either. The fact that she seemed to think she needed to fill the silence with useless chatter only intensified Willa’s fears that something had happened and her sister was trying to cheer her up before delivering the blow.

At the Newburry mall, Calla pulled into a parking spot and cut the engine. She smiled winningly at Willa before hopping out.

“We should start on the main level and work our way up,” Calla decided as they made their way to the entrance.

“Calla, if something happened, I promise I won’t fall apart,” Willa blurted anxiously.

Calla eased her arm through Willa’s and propelled her onward.

“You know what, I’m a little offended that you think something’s the matter just because I want to spend time with you.”

Gut in knots, Willa didn’t press the matter. She let herself be led into the over air conditioned mall. It was surprisingly full for midafternoon on a weekday. Most of the shoppers were women pushing strollers, or elderly couples, but there was the odd teenager skipping school, or lone shoppers wandering from store to store. Calla beelined for the shops. Willa followed with a slight more hesitance. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her sister, or shopping, but Calla seemed single-mindedly determined. Like there was already an image of what she wanted in her mind and nothing was going to stop her.

“This,” she declared, yanking out a frilly top in blinding pink and a pair of leather, black pants. “Try it on.”

Willa physically recoiled at the outfit being shoved at her. She took a step back, hands already up in protest.

“That’s hideous!” she stated, slightly insulted that her sister would even suggest such a thing.

“It’s not that bad!” Calla muttered, but thankfully, didn’t push as she returned the outfit back on the rack.

Moving deeper into the store, Calla hummed and huh’d at every outfit they passed. Several were yanked out, examined, and thrust back. She must not have found what she was looking for, because she turned and marched out, not even waiting for Willa.

“What are we looking for?” Willa hurried to catch up to her sister’s long strides.

Calla peeked at her watch.

“Nothing,” she replied, turning her attention on the shops blurring past them. “Just browsing.”

She ducked into another shop, made it about four steps in, before shaking her head and leaving.

“This is the oddest shopping expedition I have ever been on,” Willa decided, following.

Calla ignored her. She was seemingly on a mission. Every so often, she’d pause to squint at a possible outfit, before giving her head a shake and moving on. What amazed Willa was that they crossed the entire lower part of the mall in twenty minutes and bought nothing, nor did they even slow down. Every so often, Calla would glance at her watch, mutter something and keep going. Willa was beginning to think her sister was stalling and that did nothing to calm her beliefs that something horrible had happened at home.

Unable to stand it any longer, she withdrew her phone and texted her mom, asking if everything was okay. Either her mother was in on the scheme, or there really was nothing wrong, because she replied with, “Yes, of course. Why? Is everything okay with you?”

After assuring her everything was fine, she texted Damon.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

She knew he was working and normally she tried not to text him unless he messaged her first, but he was with Jared and if anyone knew what was up with her sister, it was her sister’s husband.

“What do you mean? You okay?”

Lips pinching downward in one corner, Willa replied, “Calla’s acting funny. She dragged me out to go shopping. Can you ask Jared? I’m getting scared.”

The pause was long. She thought he was asking Jared. Instead, his response poked at the pit full of snakes, agitating them into coiling so tight, she almost threw up.

“Just let me explain, okay? Please?”

“Explain what?”

“Where are you? I’ll meet you.”

Her fingers hit all the wrong keys as she wrote him back.

“Damon, what happened?”

“Please, Will. I need to see you.”

The spit turned to ash in her mouth. Her palms turned clammy around the bit of plastic clutched in her death grip. She stared at the seven words and felt her world give an odd sort of jolt. People passed around her, a blur of faces and colors, their mindless chatter a roar between her ears. The movement and noise slammed into her abdomen, disrupting the breakfast she’d consumed earlier.

“Will?”

Calla’s face appeared in her line of vision, blue eyes bright with concern. Her grip was tight on Willa’s arms.

“Tell me what happened.” Her voice was barely a croak and was just as quickly swallowed by the commotion around them. “I need to know. Please.”

“I told you—”

“Calla!” She shoved off her sister’s hold. “I know something’s going on. Just tell me!” She licked her stiff lips. “Damon wants to talk to me about something and I … I don’t know…” Her lungs gave a vicious hitch, bringing tears to her eyes. “Is he seeing someone? Is that why you brought me here? Who is it? Do I know her?” Her final question cut all the way up the center of her chest before bleeding out of her mouth. “Does he love her?”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Calla assured her gently. “I promise.”

“Then what?” Her voice rose and broke simultaneously.

“I can’t tell you,” her sister finally blurted. “That’s up to Damon.”

“I want to go home. Now.”

Calla grabbed her before she could sprint back to the car. Her hold was bruising and refused to let go even when Willa struggled.

“Will you stop!” Calla snapped. “You’re causing a scene. Just calm down and let me explain.”

She did, but only because she could feel the curious eyes boring into them and the attention wasn’t helping with her anxiety.

Satisfied that she wasn’t going to bolt, Calla released her hold.

“I just need you to trust me right now,” she said slowly. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then tell me—”

“You’ll know soon enough, but I really need you to let me do this first.”

Bemused furrowed her brows. “Do what?”

Rather than answer, Calla took the phone from her hand and texted Damon back with a quick, “She’ll txt U la8er!” Then she handed the device back and tugged Willa forward.

This turned out to be a new outfit that, any other day, Willa would have loved. But the satin pink kimono didn’t explain what Calla was doing, other than wasting time. It was a beautiful one piece bit of shiny fabric that cinched around the waist by a black, satin sash. The hem barely brushed mid-thigh and was shorter than anything she had ever owned. But she loved the long, billowing sleeves and the deep V that cut low between her breasts. Tiny cherry blossoms were sewn into the fabric starting from the bottom and expanding in a beautiful spray up one side and curled almost suggestively beneath her left breast. There was even a tiny pocket sewn on either hip just big enough to hold her phone. The material felt cool over her skin and aside from it being incredibly sexy, it was actually comfortable.

Until Calla shoved a pair of silver ice picks into her hands to try on.

The strappy sandals were gorgeous with an elaborate knot twisting over the top of the foot and branching back and around the ankles. Willa wasn’t a stranger to heels, but between their six inches and the shortness of her dress, her legs felt embarrassingly on display.

“Maybe something flat—”

“No!” Calla retorted immediately, like she’d been expecting her reaction. “This is perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” Willa groaned for the hundredth time.

Calla simply shrugged and set off the pay for the shoes.

Their next stop was the nail salon, where Calla gave the most specific directions Willa had ever heard. Even the manicurist looked amazed, and slightly flustered when Calla stayed on her case the entire time, practically breathing down her neck as Willa’s toes and fingers were done up.

It wasn’t until Willa found herself shoved into a hairstylist’s chair that gravity shifted and she gave a cry of horror.

“Is he asking me to marry him?” she blurted, loudly. So loudly, that everyone in the salon stopped what they were doing to stare. Willa didn’t give a shit. She stared at her sister, wide eyed and terrified. “Calla, I swear to God, if you know—”

“Will you sit down!” her sister snapped. “And even if that was the case, payback is such a bitch, huh, little sister?”

Willa knew exactly what she meant by payback. Willa had been one of the masterminds in helping Jared throw Calla a secret wedding two years before and, as she recalled, Calla had not been an easy bride to surprise. In fact, Willa had been practically in tears trying to stave off the bombing of questions her sister kept hurling at her.

“He is, isn’t he?” she choked out, her heart an off rhythm drum pounding in her chest. “Oh my God!”

“Do not throw up!” Calla skirted quickly to the chair and shoved Willa’s head down between her knees. “Breathe!”

“Is she okay?” the stylist asked.

“She’s fine.” Calla assured her. “He’s not asking you to marry him!” she told Willa.

Still wheezing, Willa raised her head a notch to peer up at her sister’s blurry form through strips of hair. “Swear? Because I’m not ready. I haven’t even told him how I felt or…” She sucked in several more gulps of air. “I would, you know I would, but I can’t … not like this. I’m not good with surprises.”

Her hair was stroked gently.

“I know,” Calla murmured gently. “It’s okay. I promise.”

It took several minutes of coaxing to calm Willa down enough to sit still. Her long sheet of blonde hair was released from its ponytail and brushed down around her cap draped shoulders. In the mirror, she watched as Calla described exactly what she wanted done. Willa watched the pair rather than look herself in the mirror. She knew she was pasty, clammy, and probably held the spooked look of some criminal being told they would never see the sun again. By far, it had been the most stressful pampering day she’d ever had in her life.

Against her hip, her phone vibrated. It had been doing so consecutively for the last two hours. She knew it was Damon. She knew she should answer him. She knew he would be worried thinking she was ignoring him. But every time she reached for her phone, Calla would smack her on the arm and tell her not to move. It wasn’t so much fear of her sister restraining her, but the fear of having her hair sheared off that kept her still. The stylist—Mia—was practically a blur. Every so often, Willa would catch a glimpse of something silver slicing through air, but she wouldn’t see it until strips of her hair was floating down around her.

Aside from the cut, her hair was colored, which struck Willa as backwards. Normally it was color and then cut, but Mia was the professional and Willa, truthfully, was just too anxious to get it over with and go home that she let the woman do her job. Plus Calla seemed to have it all under control and Willa trusted her sister enough to let her own mind wander during the whole thing.

It was true that she was the wrong person to surprise. Damon always teased her about being the only person in the world who got queasy at the thought of getting presents. But it wasn’t the present that made her clammy. It was not knowing how to properly convey how the present made her feel that made her feel sea sick. She was always afraid that her reaction could somehow hurt the giver if not done properly and the whole time while she opened the gift, her brain churned with proper facial expressions, the proper exclamation, and the proper thank you. It all bled together until it was pounding against her skull. The stress of it was just not worth the effort. So everyone knew not to surprise her, except Damon. Surprising her somehow always amused him. Thankfully, he never did it in front of other people, but that didn’t stop him from sitting across from her, blue eyes wide and unblinking, watching as she unveiled his newest gift to her. He always claimed her reactions were his drugs of choice. He got high off how pink her face got, how bright her eyes lit up and how big her smile was compared to the last time, which in turn, always flustered her all the more.

But it wasn’t her birthday. It wasn’t Christmas or any other holiday. There was nothing going on that required her to get all fancy. And what had he meant let him explain? Let him explain what? What had he done?

She tried to think back on the last few days, tried to remember if there was anything he could be upset about, but her mind drew up blank. There was very little he could have done that would ever really make her angry. She had learned long ago to accept his flaws and loved him despite them. But she still couldn’t help worry.

Her hair was pink. Not entirely—thank God—but enough of it to make her squeak in horror. Her already naturally pale hair had been lightened to a shimmering white and the ends, about two inches of it, was a sharp pink that almost matched the color of her kimono. Mia had also worked on her face, thinning out her eyebrows, tinting them a shade darker and applying a delicate coat of makeup that made Willa do a double take of the girl in the mirror.

“Are you selling me off to the sex trade business?” she asked her sister—only partially kidding—while they made their way back to the car.

Calla arched an eyebrow. “Is that an option?”

They climbed into the Neon and buckled in.

“I don’t think you’ll get half the amount you just spent on me,” Willa said. “But you could try.”

Calla laughed as she started the engine. “Call it an early Christmas/birthday present.”

“Or you could let me pay you back,” Willa offered.

“I could.” But that was all she said as she pulled out of the mall parking lot.

The drive back was broken only by the radio. Most of the day had already descended into a pale, pink blush dipping over the horizon. Evening was quickly approaching, catching up to their backend as they arrived in town. Calla drove straight to Willa's apartment and killed the engine. She turned in her seat and fixed Willa with intense blue eyes.

“How do you feel?”

She’d been fine until that question was asked.

“Nauseous,” she admitted.

“Don’t throw up,” Calla warned her. “Just march up there and make Damon Comb eat his damn heart out.”

Willa digested each word carefully before asking, “Why does Damon need to eat his heart out?”

“Because I said so! Now get out.”

Trembling, she threw open her door and rolled out awkwardly. The skirt gave very little room for wide leg movement and the heels didn’t help matters, but somehow, she managed to get herself upright.

“Call me!” Calla called from the driver’s seat. “I don’t care what time it is.”

Promising she would, Willa shut the door and teetered her way into the building just as one of her neighbors ducked out.

The door to the apartment she shared with Damon was closed. It was only then that she realized she’d left her purse and original outfit in Calla’s backseat. The only thing she had on her was her phone. She fished it out and started to text Damon to let her in when, as an afterthought, she tried the knob.

It opened.

Willa’s breath caught. Her heart picked up as panic settled in; Damon never left the door unlocked.

“Damon?”

Own safety hastily shoved aside, she pushed into the foyer and the unnatural dimness inside. The halls on either side of her sat in a quiet sort of blackness that terrified her. For a moment, she wondered if maybe he wasn’t home when a rustle from the living room propelled her forward. Her heels scraped on linoleum before catching on carpet. The abrupt change nearly sent her staggering forward. She caught herself on the wall.

“Damon? Are you home?”

Something flickered, splashing across the walls and ceiling. It danced over the darkness, pushing shadows into corners and painting the room a subtle gold. The sweet scent of lavender drifted through the crisp air, coaxing her closer.

Candles. Hundreds of them shone everywhere, on every flat surface, tucked in holders and bowls. Their flames swayed and jumped with the evening breeze wafting through the open terrace. The cool night air skated along her exposed skin as she moved deeper into their fiery midst. She stared with wonder at the beauty so many bulbs of light could make against the night. The sight took her breath away.

“Christ.”

Her heart gave a little jolt of surprise at the unexpected murmur. She turned on the points of her heels to face the figure in the doorway, her mouth pulling into a smile that slipped into a soft gasp when she caught sight of him.

He was breathtaking in his dark jeans and navy t-shirt. He must have just gotten out of the shower, because his dark hair was still damp and shone in the candlelight. His face was freshly shaven and she could just make out the scent of his soap from across the room. He was studying her. Dark, intense eyes roamed along every curve of her with a possessive hunger that prickled her skin with awareness. Heat followed the lines he traced until she was sure she would melt. The knot in her stomach unraveled, dissolving into a family of excited butterflies that swarmed their way to her chest.

“Hey,” she whispered, finding her voice.

He pushed into the room, consuming every last ounce of air in that single motion. The flames seemed to quiver in reaction, but that could have been from the breeze that swept in behind her. Yet despite the flow of oxygen, Willa couldn’t breathe. Something had closed around her windpipe and she could only stand there, slowly suffocating as he pulled closer.

“Jesus, Will,” he breathed, his voice a deep, husky growl. “What did you do?”

Self-conscious, her hands brushed over the silky material of her dress. “I didn’t…” She nibbled on her lip and peered up at him nervously. “Do you like it?”

His answer was to capture a lock of hair off her shoulder and slide it between his fingers to where the white faded to pink. His blue eyes lifted and locked with hers.

“Did you do this for me?”

Not many people were aware of Damon’s fondness for the color pink. It wasn’t something he shared freely. Because of that, Willa always went out of her way to wear at least one pink item every day for him. She wasn’t sure what Calla’s purpose was behind her transformation, but she found herself nodding mutely and was rewarded by the curl of his beautiful lips in a heart melting smile.

The strand was twisted around his finger and tugged lightly.

“I love it.”

Warmth rippled up her body in a delicious wave that filled her cheeks with pink to match her dress. Her lips bowed.

“What is all this?” she asked, gesturing to the cluster of candles on the coffee table.

Her hair unraveled as his hand slipped away. She missed his touch almost immediately.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you.” He stepped around her and wandered a couple of steps to the lumpy, green armchair. He turned. “It was Jared’s idea. He thought it would make things easier.”

“What things?” she asked.

Her stomach dropped about the same time as his gaze did. Guilt rounded his shoulders and hunched his spine with the disappearance of his hands deep in the bowels of his pockets. Thick, dark wisps of hair drifted over his brow, shadowing his eyes from her, but not the tight line of his mouth. The grooves they formed seemed to intensify under the soft glow of the dancing lights.

“Damon?”

Fear shook her voice, kept her rooted to the carpet when all she wanted to do was cross to him and make him hold her.

“I did something real stupid, Will,” he mumbled to the carpet. The muscles along his jaw clenched. “I’m so sorry.”

She tried to force a laugh, but it came out as a squeak. “Whatever it was, I know you didn’t mean it.”

His head rocked slowly from side to side. “But I did at the time.” He blew out a breath and raised his head. “I waged Michael he couldn’t get you to go out with him.”

The room suddenly felt too hot, too suffocating. She couldn’t think past the overflow of hot wax and too much perfume. But she pushed it aside and focused on what he was telling her.

“I don’t understand,” she finally confessed.

Maybe he was feeling the effects of all the candles as well, because he reached over and took her sweaty hand. He guided them out onto the terrace where the air was rigidly cooler and the night masked the agony on his face. But it continued to billow out around him, a thick, hot force that seemed to claim the small, square cut of space around them.

“There’s something I should have told you years ago.” A subtle whisper of light played over his mouth and along the lines of his face. While it masked most of it, she could just make out the movement of his lips and the shimmer of his eyes. “But I always found reasons to push it for another day, another year, telling myself you weren’t ready, when in reality I was just scared shitless that I might lose you if you ever found out.”

She waited as patiently as she possibly could without grabbing him, shaking him, and demanding he stop prolonging the torture. But her nerves were on the verge of revolting.

“What?” she finally begged, her voice barely above a jagged whisper.

His shoulders lifted with his inhale.

“I love you, Will.”

Confusion shifted through the tension. “I love you, too—”

“No,” he cut her off with a sharp shake of his head. “I mean, I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. I love you like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.”

Every vehement declaration washed over her in waves of liquid bliss. She felt her heart thumping wildly against the curves of her breast bone, threatening to burst free of its confines. She stared at him through the soft twilight, wishing she could see his eyes, relieved he couldn’t see the tears in hers as every ounce of happiness in the world poured into her.

“I love you, too, Damon. I love you just like that.”

His breath exploded in the silence, a jagged exhalation of relief, joy, and a sob that cut at her. His body bent forward, his knees seemingly abandoning him, and he caught himself with one hand on the iron railing. His head bowed.

“Will…”

His broken gasp of her name tore at her. She went to him, needing to touch him, needing to sooth the pain pouring off him like heat off an angry wound. But he stopped her. He took the hand reaching for him and gripped it with a ferocity that would have hurt if she wasn’t already hurting for him.

“No, not until you hear the rest,” he panted. “You can’t touch me until you hear all of it, okay? Because if you do and then you pull away … I wouldn’t … I can’t…”

“I would never pull away,” she promised. “Not from you. Not ever from you.”

He squeezed her fingers, but it wasn’t in encouragement. He let go and it was as though she’d gone from the warmth and security of home straight into the barren wasteland of the Arctic. The abrupt change had her folding her arms around herself, attempting and failing to stave away the chill soaking through the flimsy material of her dress.

“You’re shivering.”

She wasn’t sure how he could tell, but she didn’t stop him when he gently guided her inside. The glass door was rolled into place, blocking out the elements and locking them in with the muggy, waxy heat of their apartment.

“Leave the door open,” she said, moving around the room and blowing out the fire hazard waiting to happen.

He did as she asked. He pulled the door open once more. Then helped her extinguish all but six of the candles on the coffee table. Smoke coiled to the ceiling and was sucked out the balcony. The smell was nauseating. She was pretty certain she would never be able to light another candle again.

She turned to Damon. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “Are you?”

She was, because despite having spent the entire day at a mall with a food court, Calla hadn’t stopped to get anything and Willa was starving.

“A little, but I want you to tell me what the matter is first.” It was also in case her sensitive stomach decided it didn’t like what he had to tell her.

Moving to the sofa, she sat. She undid the straps on her heels and kicked them off before curling her legs under her. Then she waited for him to join her. Instead, he took the armchair, the only other furniture in the room and the one furthest from her. She tried not to be hurt by the gesture.

He looked so worn down, so beaten, like every second that passed was slowly draining the life out of him. She hated seeing him like that, hated that there was nothing she could do. Every inch of her wanted to go to him, curl up in his lap, and promise him she wasn’t going anywhere no matter what, but she knew he didn’t want that. So she sat and waited.

Seconds dissolved into minutes and still he said nothing. He sat hunched over with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped together as though in prayer. His head was bent forward so all she could make out was the top of his head.

“Damon?”

Fingers unclasped. One hand lifted and rubbed back through all that thick, silky hair. Willa made a mental note to remind him to get a cut.

“For years, Jared has been on my case to tell you how I felt. He could never understand why I was waiting and, truthfully, there were days even I didn’t understand it. I just knew that I had to.”

“Why?” she asked when he fell silent.

He lifted his head and met her gaze. “In the beginning, it was because we were both too young. Later it was because I would be leaving for school and I knew I wouldn’t go if it meant leaving you behind. Then it was because you were going to school and I didn’t want to give you a reason not to. Finally, it was just … fear. I was afraid you’d tell me you didn’t feel the same and it would ruin everything we had.”

Despite the weight crushing her chest, Willa chuckled weakly. “That was my fear, too.”

The armchair creaked beneath the shift of his weight as he leaned closer to the edge.

“After Jar and Calla got married, Calla got on my case about dragging my feet. No one seemed to understand that I would rather be there for you as a friend than risk losing you forever. I hated it, but I had you. I didn’t care about anything else. But they kept pushing and pushing.” He broke off, scrubbed a furious hand over his face and back through his hair. “Thursday night, at the poker game, Michael brought up this idea that he would ask you out and if you weren’t into me then you would agree. But if you were, you would refuse. I don’t know what the hell possessed me to do it, but…” He hung his head. “I agreed.”

Willa almost laughed, and she would have, if he hadn’t looked so torn about the whole thing. “Why on earth would I say yes to Michael even if I wasn’t crazy about you? I can’t stand him.”

“I told you, I wasn’t thinking. All I wanted was to finally know once and for all if there was even a chance that you … I texted him this morning and I told him it was off. I didn’t want him anywhere near you. But then Calla cornered me and she was pissed. She accused me of selling you off in a poker game and that was exactly what I’d done.”

Relieved beyond words, and oddly amused, Willa rose.

“I won’t lie.” She moved around the coffee table towards him, no longer bothering to conceal her grin. “I can’t say I’m overly flattered by the gesture, but…” She stopped once her knees bumped his. Her hands settled on his shoulders and she nudged him back. He reclined without a fuss and reached to steady her when she crawled into his lap. “I’m not angry. I understand.”

He peered up into her eyes, his hands hot on her hip. “Do you?”

“I’m not saying it was a good plan, but yeah.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I get why you did it. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

His arms tightened around her. “I promise.”

She watched the firelight playing off the Celtic symbol stamped into the front of his t-shirt. She lazily traced the curves and sharp points with her finger while his breath ruffled the hairs at the top of her head.

“Would you have told me if Calla hadn’t cornered you?” she wondered.

“You know I would. I’ve never lied to you or kept things from you.”

The palm she had splayed across his chest shifted higher to cup the warm skin at the back of his neck.

“Damon?”

“Hmm?”

She lifted her head to peer into his face. “What happens now?”

“What do you want to happen now?” He combed her hair back off her face. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Kiss me! Her mind blurted. But her stomach decided to take that moment to rumble noisily in protest of its mistreatment.

Damon chuckled. “Maybe we should get you fed first.”

Willa sighed. “I think there’s pasta in the fridge.”

“No.” He nudged her gently off him and rose. “We’re not staying home, not tonight. Let’s head into Newburry and find somewhere nice to show off how beautiful you look.”

Hot tendrils of blood soaked into her cheeks. “Calla picked everything out,” she confessed.

“Doesn’t matter.” His eyes were dark and consuming as they tracked down the front of her dress to her bare toes. “Doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stop looking at you.”

He was changing the rules. It was subtle and well folded into the norm, but she felt the shift. He had always complimented her, had always mentioned how certain things went well with her eyes, or how beautiful she looked. But there was hunger laced in the words now. There was a possessive sort of satisfaction that made her heart palpitate and her palms go clammy. It made her wonder if it had always been there. Had he always studied her with that predatory desire? Had his voice always been deep and husky when he’d spoken to her? She couldn’t help wondering if she’d been blind, deaf, and stupid the last nineteen years to have never noticed. How could she have never seen it before?

But even with the knowledge that he loved her the way she loved him, she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. Everything felt different and oddly not different at all, although, one thing was for certain: Damon loved her the way she had always dreamed he would.

Chapter Five ~ Damon

It was too easy.

The thought plagued Damon through the dark streets of Newburry. Halos of light splashed over wet pavements, shimmered across the hood of his Jeep, and sliced off Willa’s face as he drove them further into town. The night was eerily quiet. Most of the shops had closed for the evening and only the odd person strolled the streets. He knew once they reached the food district of town, things would be different. Restaurants stayed open longer. The area was lit with activity and life. But as it were, the drive was doing nothing to pacify the gnawing in his gut, or the worry tightening his chest. Every so often, he’d find his gaze and attention flicking to the figure sitting silently next to him and he’d wonder what she was thinking, if she was upset and just not showing it. She had sworn she wasn’t and he hadn’t seen it in her eyes, which was usually were he could read everything. But the guilt was a beast devouring him up from the inside.

“Damon.” Her soft, pale hand cut through the divide separating them and settled lightly on his arm. “It’s fine.”

The knuckles on his fingers whitened around the leather of the steering wheel.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he mumbled.

The leather beneath her squeaked as she shifted around so she was facing him in her seat.

“Do you know how silly your worrying is right now?” she teased him. “Honestly, I actually kind of feel bad for Michael, because he never even stood a chance.”

She was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working. His insecurities had nearly cost him and he was too old to be playing frat boy games, especially where Willa was concerned.

“But what if you’d said yes?”

Voicing his fears to anyone else would have mortified him. But she knew them all as closely as he did. She had held him through the nightmares, had wiped his tears, and promised never to let anyone hurt him again. He hadn’t cried or had a nightmare in years, but he knew it was only because she was always close by.

“Then I guess you would have had to challenge Michael to a duel in my honor.”

Damon felt his mouth twitch. “You’re not taking this seriously at all, are you?”

Willa laughed. “Nope. Besides, you’re beating yourself up enough for the both of us.”

Her laugh grew harder and louder, making him glance over quickly and chuckle himself as the sweet sound of it filled the cabin.

“What?”

She sobered slightly. “I can’t believe I thought you were going to ask me to marry you.”

“What?” he said again, more confused than amused.

Willa pulled in a deep breath and turned further towards him. “I was freaking out!” She laughed. “No one was telling me anything and I kept getting all these horrible images in my head of someone being dead, or worse—”

“What’s worse than dead?” he wondered, and got shushed.

“Anyway, and Calla just kept dragging me to all these places and making me all pretty and I couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on. Then, I’m sitting in the stylist’s chair and I remembered Calla’s surprise wedding, you know the one Jared threw her?”

Damon nodded.

“Well, I thought…”

“That I was throwing you a surprise wedding?” he finished for her, one corner of his mouth twisting upwards. “After I know how much you hate surprises? Would I do that?”

Willa broke out in another fit of giggles. “Yes! You would, because you’re just mean.”

“You know, Most girls love it when guys surprise them. You get nauseous.”

She pulled a face. “Surprises are evil.” She shook her head. “Anyway, so I was flipping out in this poor woman’s chair and now I’m just mortified, because at that time, I didn’t even know you wanted an us so to jump to the conclusion that you were going to ask me to marry you … kind of lame, right?”

“Yeah, kind of a lot,” he teased and earned a light punch in the shoulder. “Ow!” He laughed, but kept his focus on the road. “What would you have done if that was really the case?”

Willa gasped. “Oh my God, I would have probably died. Remember the Christmas pageant in the fourth grade?”

This time, when he laughed, he had to pull over and stop as the memory of that horrendous night flooded through him. Tears welled as he doubled over the steering wheel and howled. His sides pinched and he had to clutch his stomach as the pain stole his breath.

“Stop laughing!” Willa cried, laughing herself. “It was horrible.”

It had been horrible. But in its horribleness, it had also been one of the funniest nights of Damon’s life.

Some asshole in her class had volunteered Willa as Mary in that year’s Christmas pageant. It had been meant as a cruel joke to humiliate her and Damon had been fully prepared to find the bastard and break all his teeth had Willa not begged him not to. She had also refused to let her mom talk to the teacher and see if they couldn’t get her out of it. She had been so insistent that she needed to do this, that it would be more mortifying if she quit that no one tried to stop her. Even the teacher had been pleased by her decision to tough it out.

For weeks, Damon had walked her through her lines. They rehearsed and practiced until Willa knew every one of them off by heart. She was even getting pretty excited about the whole thing … until the night of the big event.

The night of the pageant, Damon stayed in the wings, five feet away from her just in case. Every so often, her wide eyes would dart to him, glassy with panic and terror, and he would give her the thumbs up sign, urging her to keep going. He remembered her face being whiter than the mounds of cotton being used as snow around the manger. Every so often she would sway dangerously to one side before jerking upright again. But it hadn’t been a problem until her turn came up.

Brody Main, the boy playing Joseph, nudged her forward when she’d stood rooted to the stage and had even hissed her first line out for her. But Willa was frozen. She stared at the crowd for a long damn time, her complexion oozing from white, to red, to white and then finally settling on a dangerous shade of green. Damon had no time to react, no time to dart across the stage and grab her when she twirled away and threw up all over Joseph. The crowd had gasped. Metal chairs had shrieked against hardwood. Feet rushed to the stage. But it was too late. One of the Wiseman had thrown up all over himself. Then the second Wiseman had thrown up over a plastic donkey. The chain reaction had gone through the entire gymnasium. Students, teachers, and parents were trampling to the door as one after another, people started throwing up in the crowd. Damon hadn’t cared. He rushed to Willa and led her off the stage, leaving the rest to their own devices. He took her to the bathroom and cleaned her off while she cried.

“I ruined Christmas!” she kept sobbing, even as he told her she hadn’t. “No one will ever let me be in a play again.”

Damon tried to remind her she hated being in plays anyway, but it had been no good. It hadn’t been so funny at the time, but later … later Damon had almost wet himself laughing.

“You know, what amazes me about that night is that no one ever brought it up,” Willa was saying when he focused once more. “It was like it never happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful, but I was so sure everyone would be mean to me the next day.”

He knew it. He’d spent half the night on the phone with her, assuring her that no one would bring it up. She’d been so worried, so scared, and for good reason: kids were assholes. Damon knew that best of all, because he was that asshole. It didn’t matter what grade a kid was in, they knew their life was over if they got on Damon Comb’s bad side. He’d been a mean kid. A bully. It was a fact he had once coveted with relish and honor. His life had been hell and he had in turn made it hell for everyone else.

But it was his cruelty that had brought him to Cole’s attention. He’d been picking on Calla, relentlessly. Making her cry hadn’t soothed the pain he felt every morning, but it brought company to his bleak existence. In the end, it brought him a family and Willa. He never picked on another person again, but his reputation remained and he made sure to use it where Willa was concerned.

That morning, he’d gone to school early and made sure everyone knew that mentioning the pageant would be the last thing they ever did. He never told Willa; she wouldn’t have approved, but the look of relief on her face as the day wore on and no one said anything was all the approval he needed.

“I told you, it wasn’t a big deal.” He gingerly pulled back onto the road. “People throw up on stage all the time.”

Willa chuckled. “I guess.”

He drove them to her favorite seafood place, a squat little beach house next to a manmade lake. The place glowed a harsh gold against the navy backdrop. Brilliant strings of light roped around the railings running along the wraparound porch and hung in loops from the gutters. The doors were propped open, filling the night with jazz and the scent of garlic butter and fried fish. Willa loved the place. She said it reminded her of living on the beach. He knew that was a dream of hers, to own a tiny cottage next to the ocean, but he also knew she would never leave Willow Creek or her family. Plus, they were nowhere near an ocean. One would think that living in British Columba meant unlimited access to the beach. One would be wrong. There were lakes and ponds, but the ocean was almost a full day’s drive away.

“I’m getting lobster,” she declared, swaying into his side and clasping his hand. She hugged his arm to her and laid her head on his shoulder. “With fries and gravy.”

Damon laughed. “You and your fries and gravy.”

Willa grinned. “Gravy makes life better.”

“I thought that was chocolate.”

She shrugged as they ascended the steps onto the front porch. “Chocolate’s like a balm. It soothes, but gravy … gravy’s like…”

“Gauze?” he teased.

“Botox.”

Damon laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re so weird.”

He watched her as they were taken to their table and offered the specials. He studied the way her hair, long and silky and several shades whiter than it normally was, seemed to ripple down the length of her back. The paleness of it emphasized the pink along the ends and complimented the soft pink of her lips. He was obsessed with her hair. He loved everything about it. He loved how it felt like corn silk draped over his chest at night and how it always smelled like jasmine and how it always seemed to shine, as though each individual strand was embedded with its own inner light. They had never been colored before so he spotted the difference immediately, and he loved even that. He loved the pink. He loved her in pink.

Smiling, she looked away from the waitress and caught his eye. Hers were shimmering with silent laughter. He had no idea what she and the waitress had been talking about, but it had her mouth curving wide, exposing her adorable little incisors.

“Do you know what you want?” her lips were saying.

You, he wanted to say. Just you.

“I’ll take a Ginger Ale,” he told the woman standing quietly next to the table. “And a plate of creamy crab nachos.”

Across from him, Willa gasped. “Yes!”

The waitress chuckled and jotted his order down.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks and appetizer while you look over the menu.”

She left and Damon looked down at the excited blonde across from him.

“I love creamy crab nachos!” she declared, beaming.

“I know you do,” he said, grinning back at her. “And I know you always forget to order it until we get home.”

Her nose wrinkled. “It’s true, but I blame the menu. Everything looks so good and I’m such a pig.”

He laughed. “It is pretty weird that you can out eat me, Toby, your dad, and your uncle.”

She pitched her napkin at him. “I like food! Sue me.” Chuckling, she folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. A lock of hair slipped off her shoulder and dangled along the side of her face, bumping gently against the soft contour of her cheek. It took a great deal of effort not to reach over and slide it back behind her ear. “What would you say if I told you I was thinking about opening a restaurant in Willow Creek?”

Drawing his gaze away from the pale wisp taunting him, Damon focused on her face. “I’d ask where.”

Willa smiled. “I don’t know. Somewhere near the studio, maybe. I want it to have everything, not just burgers.” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t think it’s a crazy idea?”

“Why would it be?” He leaned back in his seat. “Ma has to die eventually.”

“Damon!”

He chuckled. “What? The woman’s like two hundred years old. Besides, I think another restaurant would be great for the town.”

Willa sighed. “If only one of us knew how to cook.”

“Your mom does,” he pointed out.

“She’s not going to run the studio and a restaurant,” Willa said. “We could hire someone.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “We?”

She looked at him. “Don’t you want to open one with me?”

“I suppose,” he mused. “It would beat moving people forever.”

Her face became soft and pensive. She lowered her gaze to the table.

“I wish my dad would stop. Mom’s always asking him to, but I think he still thinks he has this huge family to support and he’s worried if he quits … I don’t know. But he’s getting too old for moving heavy things. His back’s been hurting him a lot lately and I’m just scared that…”

“Hey.” He settled his hand over hers. “Your dad’s not old and he’ll quit when he’s ready. He knows what he’s doing, okay?”

Her eyes lifted to his face. “I just don’t want that to be you.”

“It won’t be.” He offered her his best crooked smile. “I have dreams, you know.”

She chuckled. “And what are those?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

Her hand turned and she laced her fingers through his. “I’ll support you no matter what, I just … I just need you to have a backup plan.”

“Hey, what’s that face?” He tugged on her hand. “We’re celebrating.”

The lingering shadows of sadness lifted into the first glimmer of amusement.

“What are we celebrating?”

With his free hand, he reached out and coiled the taunting strip of hair around his finger.

“Your hair.”

“My hair?” She chuckled. “And why does my hair deserve celebration?”

“Because it looks damn hot and deserves its own national holiday.”

Willa laughed. “And you say I’m weird.”

They spent the remainder of the evening going over Willa’s adventure with Calla, then Damon’s run in with the other woman and finally moved on to random things like dinner with the family that weekend and Lisa Sheridan—to which Damon contemplated making a house visit and punching her husband in the mouth, just to make a point. The conversation continued for well over two hours, a full meal, a shared bowl of ice cream, and drinks. It was inching towards midnight by the time he took Willa’s hand and led them back to the Jeep.

The drive back to Willow Creek was done in silence. Willa dozed halfway home and Damon had to gather her up into his arms and carry her to the apartment. It was with great effort, but he got her onto the bed. He undid the straps on her shoes and set the sexy death traps aside. Next he simply stood there, staring down at her outfit, wondering how to get her out of it without jostling her. He’d only ever undressed her a few times in the past, but it had always been just her bottoms. For all he knew, she was completely naked under the dress.

Exhaling, he decided to follow the process in order, starting by finding something to put her in once he had her naked. He walked into her bedroom, surveyed the three dressers and crowded closet, and walked out.

Nope. He was not crossing into that territory.

He found one of his own t-shirts and took it to the bed. Next, he located the knot in the sash. The yard of silk hissed as it was unraveled from around her tiny waist. His gaze remained firmly locked on her face, scrutinizing and watching for even a hint of movement. Once certain it was safe, he reached for the hem of her skirt.

It took a great deal of careful maneuvering to hike the dress up her body, over her head, and down her arms. All the while, his gaze remained trained on her face, never once straying no matter how much it killed him. Aside from occasionally leaving the shower in a towel, or in her bikini in the summer, he had never seen her without clothes. He always wanted to, especially during moments like that when no one but he would ever know. But something always stopped him. It made him wonder if there really was something wrong with him. There had to be, because what kind of twenty five year old, hot blooded male wouldn’t steal a peek at a naked girl? What kind of guy in his mid-twenties had never had sex or even kissed a girl? What kind of guy waited for one girl his entire life? And what the hell would he have done if she’d turned him down? What girl would want someone so inexperienced?

It wasn’t as though he didn’t know the basics. He’d seen enough porn videos in college to get the gist. The rest were from things he’d read in books and magazines, or heard his friends talking about. But he had no personal, firsthand experience. Sure there had been girls in college, beautiful, mostly drunk girls all too willing to liberate him of his invisible handicap. But they hadn’t been Willa and, for some inexplicable reason, no other girl had ever aroused him the way she did. Just seeing her curled up on the sofa in sweats with her hair a wild, messy knot and her face void of makeup warmed his blood. She made him hard just by walking into the room. Now, he had no idea if that was normal, but no other girl had ever affected him like that. No other girl had made him look twice. Most of the time, he never even noticed them. So if Willa hadn’t returned his feelings, he was pretty sure he’d have died a sick, lowly virgin.

Jesus.

Shaking his head, he gingerly slid his t-shirt over her body. He tucked her beneath the blankets and gathered up her things. He dropped her dress into the hamper and set her shoes on the floor of her closet next to the other six rows of shoes. Then he did a walkthrough of the house, locking the front door and double checking the terrace. Once satisfied that everything was bolted down tight, he washed up and climbed in next to her.

She rolled straight into his chest the moment he was settled. He gathered her up close and closed his eyes.

Damon awoke the next morning to a pair of enormous blue eyes blinking down at him and the feeling of tiny insects crawling into his nostrils. The latter made him jerk back and rub feverishly at his nose with a groan of protest. Above him, Willa giggled.

“Morning.” The bit of hair she was using to tickle his face slipped from her fingers and she flattened her palms against his chest. Her chin settled on the back of her hand and she stared up at him. “How did you sleep?”

Groaning and stretching, Damon yawned behind a fist. His arms lowered and he hooked them around her.

“Good. You?”

She shrugged. “Woke up this morning in some strange guy’s bed, no longer wearing my clothes. There was a moment of confusion, but…” She grinned. “You’re cute so I guess I’ll keep you.”

He laughed. “I’m glad to hear that’s all it takes.”

“That and…” She bit her bottom lip. “Your banana bread.”

He squinted up at her. “Is that why you woke me up? So I can bake for you?”

“No!” she protested. “Not entirely.” Her nose crinkled. “Okay, maybe a little. But it’s not my fault your banana bread is so good.”

“Woman, it’s eight AM on a Saturday. I better be getting something in return.”

“I’ll make coffee,” she promised.

Damon moaned at the thought of coffee, and not just any coffee, Willa’s coffee. He didn’t know how she did it, but hers always tasted like crack in a cup.

“Deal!”

She beamed, but it didn’t go all the way to her eyes like it normally would. There were lingering fingers of shadow along the edges that prickled his attention.

“What?”

“Does it feel different?” she asked.

He hooked her hair with a finger and dragged them back behind her ear.

“Does what feel different?”

“Us,” she whispered. “I feel like it should feel different, but I feel the same.”

He hummed quietly, knowing full well what she meant.

“How do you want to feel?”

“Like this,” she said immediately, eyes growing urgent. “I love the way I feel when I’m with you. I don’t ever want that to change. But I have been so scared for so long that I just … I wasn’t expecting to feel exactly how I always felt.”

He let his fingers ghost along the elegant curve of her brow, down the lines of her face to the hollow of her cheek. He watched as her eyes closed and her head tilted into the touch.

“How have you always felt?” he wondered, his voice constricting with the band that had tightened around his chest at the simple gesture.

“Loved.” Her eyes opened and met his. “Wanted, happy, excited. A little sad.”

He felt his muscles stiffen at the confession. “Why sad?”

“Because I know one lifetime with you won’t be enough and it kills me.” Her eyes bore into his, reflecting the fear she spoke of. “I can’t lose you, Damon. I’d never survive.”

He kissed her gently on the mouth with one hand lifting up to cup the back of her head. He pulled back a second later before caution could be thrown to the winds and he started something he would be powerless to stop.

“You will never lose me,” he promised. “I won’t ever let that happen.”

Tears illuminated the blue in her eyes, making them appear enormous and vivid. The sadness pooling across the surface of her gaze, pulling at the corners of her mouth, and radiating around her cut at him. Her fingers stroked the side of his face before settling lovingly along his cheek. Her thumb smoothed down over his cheekbone to his mouth. The pad rested lightly over his lips.

He gave it a kiss and grinned. “I thought you wanted banana bread.”

Her smile curled all the way up to her eyes, chasing away the darkness that had taken her from him.

“Yes please.”

“Then no frowning.” He touched her chin with a curved finger and nudged it up. “Frowny girls get no banana bread.”

Giggling, she pushed off him. Damon threw off the covers and rolled out of bed. Willa scrambled down after him and he claimed her hand in his.

She made him make banana bread at least once a week. He really didn’t think there was anything special about his baking, but she seemed to go through it like she hadn’t eaten in days. Most of what he’d learned about cooking was thanks to Beth, but his talents were limited to baked goods and the occasional bowl of macaroni and cheese. Willa couldn’t cook or bake and he wasn’t crazy enough to ask her to. The one time he tried to teach her how to fry eggs, she nearly set the kitchen on fire. It was beyond him how she ever managed to survive four years away from home without wasting away.

All the items required to create the dish sat in a neat row on the counter. She had even preheated the oven. Damon glanced at her from the corner of his eye and frowned.

“Someone was pretty sure they would be getting banana bread this morning.”

Hand still clasped around his, she gave a little hop and twirled on the ball of her feet to position herself right in front of him with a giant smile.

“Only hoping.”

With an impish grin, she kissed him on the cheek and hurried off to start the coffee.

The whole matter took an hour, two pots of coffee, and one bathroom run. The evenly sliced pieces of bread were set on a plate and taken to the patio.

“Oh, it’s cold out here!” Willa hissed, cradling her mug closer to her chest, as though the steam could somehow envelope her and keep her warm.

“Well, it is nearly winter,” Damon mused, setting the plate of bread and his mug down on the metal table tucked into one corner of the shoebox sized balcony. “This might be the last time we’ll be out here until spring.”

“Aw!” Willa moaned, shoulders drooping. She reached for a piece of banana bread and nibbled on it. “At least it’s only for a few months.”

He eased up behind her and drew her back into his chest when she shivered. The top of her head tucked just beneath his chin and he folded her in closer.

“Are we going to tell everyone?” she asked around a mouthful of bread. “About us, I mean.”

Damon snorted. “According to everyone, everyone but us already knew.”

She huh’d. “I wonder what they saw that we didn’t.”

He shrugged. “No idea. I guess people are just more observant of other people than they are about themselves. Kind of like how we knew about Jared and Calla.”

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid.”

He brushed his chuckle into the crown of her head. “That makes two of us.”

“What does this mean for us, Damon?” She turned her head to peer back at him from over her shoulder. “I mean, what now? What changes?”

He considered her words for several long moments while the cool morning breeze nipped at all their exposed bits of skin. The smell of coffee and freshly baked bread and bananas wafted around them and he absently reached for his mug.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I’ve never done this before.”

She sighed and faced forward to stare out over the parking lot below. “Then how do we know we’re doing it right?”

His shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It always felt right to me, so I guess we just keep doing what we’ve been doing, but with … more.”

Even as he said it, his heart sky rocketed. His stomach danced with nerves and excitement and his hand shook slightly when he lifted his drink to his mouth. Willa’s slow, even breaths brushed her back against his chest and he could have sworn they weren’t as slow, or even as they had been moments ago.

“What kind of more?”

The question was asked so softly, he almost didn’t hear it over the pounding of his own heart thundering between his ears. He set his mug down when the liquid sloshed over the rim and burned his hand. He wiped it on the back of his pants.

It was strange that neither of them knew what they were supposed to do next. That level of awkwardness was something they should have shaken off back in high school when other kids were making stupid mistakes and learning how to be adults about adult situations. Christ, he was too old to be feeling like a clumsy teenager.

In his arms, Willa turned. Her cheeks were a bright red but he couldn’t be sure if it was caused by embarrassment or the cold. She peered up at him with those big, innocent eyes and he felt even more like an idiot.

“It’s okay,” she murmured. She set her cup down next to his and pressed her warm palms to his chest. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, right?”

He didn’t want to figure it out. How the hell did he not know what he was supposed to do next? Weren’t guys supposed to be encoded with those abilities? It always looked so natural when other people were doing it.

His gaze slid down to her mouth and he wondered if he should kiss her. It was certainly what he’d been dying to do for ages. But did he just do it? Should he tell her first he was going to do it? He’d kissed her before on the lips, quick little pecks that always left him wanting more. But was it the same thing?

Damn it!

“It’s okay,” she said again, softer even.

Her hands roamed up to his shoulders and clasped around his neck. The gesture brought her right up against him, making him painfully aware of how hard her nipples were pressing into his chest and how warm her bare thighs were rubbing against his. More than that, he couldn’t miss how close her mouth was. Barely a few inches, already parted and tipped up to his. Between his legs, he felt himself stiffening as all the blood migrated south. The realization that she could feel it, too, straining against the soft muscles of her abdomen, horrified him. He had spent years keeping the knowledge that she made him hard a secret and in the span of two seconds…

“Don’t.” Her arms tightened around him when he began to jerk away. “I feel it, too.”

God, how he wished she hadn’t told him that. It was one thing dreaming of her being wet and ready for him. It was another to know she was. That she was right there, barely dressed and urging him not to hold back.

A choked whimper escaped him before he could stop it. The pleading and longing in that single sound mortified him. He would have happily died if his body hadn’t already swayed into hers. If his hands hadn’t already bunched around the shirt keeping her from him and she wasn’t pulling him in closer.

To anyone below looking up, they would have seen two lovers embracing in the cool, autumn morning. No one would have ever guessed he was already so close to coming it hurt, or that the woman in his arms was peppering the seam of his neck with feather light kisses, or was parting her thighs to accommodate the knee he was forcing between them.

“Damon…”

Her pliable whimper of his name blazed like a lit match on the wick of his soul. Her tremor shook through him, mimicking the unsteady strength of the hands he closed in her top.

Don’t do this to me! He silently begged her, even as he wedged his face against her neck and pulled her closer. God, I’m not ready.

But there was no stopping the dance now. There was no stepping away from the timid shifts of her body rubbing against his, or the weak little sounds she was making in his ear. The heat of her skin burned through fabric to singe his hands and the length of his thigh she was rocking against. A part of him knew he should at least take them inside, that maybe once there, sanity would prevail and he’d be able to stop. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even think.

“Touch me, Damon,” she encouraged in a pitiful little whimper that was followed by the capture of his hand. It was guided forward up the inside of her top to cradle one soft, supple breast covered in a lacy bra. “I want you to. Please.”

“Shit!”

That was his undoing.

He came with a strangled gasp of her name that was mashed into the stitch of skin between her neck and shoulder. The iron bars rattled with the weight of his violent hip thrusts against her hip pushing her back into the railing. His arm banded around her waist with a force that was sure to bruise. The hand on her breast swept back to splay across the valley between her shoulder blades, pressing her closer as he rode out his orgasm. Her arms tightened around his shoulders, clasping him to her as he panted and shuddered into her shoulder. Her heart matched his in a vicious race. He could feel it slamming against his as every moment was stamped by their unreliable beats.

Shame. So much shame he wanted to die from it. It curdled up the length of his spine and choked him.

She hadn’t come. He knew she hadn’t. How could she when he had done nothing to pleasure her? Instead, he’d rutted against her like some animal, and to boot, he’d come in his pants like some thirteen year old flipping through his first porn magazine.

“Don’t.” Maybe she could sense him closing down around her, because her arms tightened around his neck. “Please, Damon,” she pleaded.

“That’s not how it was supposed to happen,” he choked out.

“I don’t care. It was beautiful.”

He wanted to laugh. How could his patheticness be beautiful? But she kept holding him and the longer she did, the harder it became to fight her off and run.

She drew back when it was clear she had successfully won and peered up into his face, her eyes soft and her mouth smiling gently.

“It was perfect to me,” she whispered. “I like knowing I can make you lose control like that.”

How the hell did she do that? How was she able to take one of the most embarrassing moments of his life and make it okay? He couldn’t fathom it.

“It’s not supposed to be over that fast,” he told her. “And there’s supposed to be more. You’re supposed to like it, too.”

To his mild amusement and slight annoyance, she laughed.

“There will be. We just have to keep practicing.”

The thought of practicing with her spurred excitement through him. It must have shown on his face, because she chuckled again and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“I’ll clean up while you shower. Then we’ll head over to my parent’s, okay?”

Gathering up their cold coffee and the plate of banana bread, she disappeared inside, leaving him standing out there alone with a wet, sticky mess in his pants and mortification still riding high on his cheeks.

Family dinners had started out as a Sunday gathering, something they did after church, but somehow, it had become a two day long event that started early Saturday afternoon and ended late Sunday night. As teenagers, they had all fussed about giving up their social lives, but Damon secretly never minded. Weekends usually meant a full day of seeing all the people who had loved him enough to keep him. It meant being surrounded by all the things he still wasn’t sure he deserved, but was selfish enough not to want to lose. Sundays were full of too much food, too much laughing, and an array of bad jokes from Cole, sneaking off somewhere with Willa, and the occasional game of football with Jared and Toby. It was being normal and happy. It was security in the knowledge that there were people who would miss him if he died. Most wouldn’t understand that fear, but after having come too close too many times, it was important to him. It was important he didn’t die alone.

That Saturday was no different. They arrived at Lily and Sloan’s with their overnight bags packed into the backseat just as Jared’s truck rumbled up the road behind them, kicking up clouds of dust on the otherwise frozen earth. They turned onto the dirt path together and pulled to a stop in front of the yellow house. The sight of it still hit Damon as strange. Who the hell painted their house yellow? But Lily had asked and Sloan had put the whole family up to the job one blistering hot summer afternoon.

“Hi!” Willa was beaming even before she had unhitched her seatbelt and rolled out of the Jeep. She bounded across the lawn, arms open for the little boy already fussing in his father’s embrace to get to her. “Hey!” She scooped Colten into her arms and crushed him close. “How’s Auntie’s big boy?”

Colten’s answer was to band chubby arms around her throat and bury his tear stained face into her shoulder.

“He just woke up from his nap.” Calla sighed, pushing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes. “He’s miserable.”

“Aw!” Boy held close, Willa started for the house. “Let’s see if we can’t find something to cheer you up, huh?”

“No cookies!” Calla called after them. “It’ll ruin…” Her protest was silenced by the slam of the screen door. “And they’re gone.”

Jared put his arm around her and pulled her into his side. “One cookie never hurts anyone.”

She glowered up at him. “You only say that because you want one, too!”

“True.” Jared nodded slowly. “But you know Willa’s rule.”

Calla rolled her eyes. “Wait until she’s a mom. I’ll see how she likes that rule.” But it was said without any heat. In fact, Damon could have sworn there was amusement in her eyes when they rounded on him. “How did last night go?”

“Fine,” he muttered, not sure why she looked so pleased with herself.

“Uh huh … and?” she prompted.

“And what?” He looked from one to the other, bemused by the expectance on their faces. “I told her.”

“And?” Calla exclaimed.

“And nothing!” he shouted back.

Some of Calla’s excitement slipped and her eyes narrowed. “Did you guys talk? I mean, what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Damon retorted. “I told her everything.”

One finely penciled eyebrow lifted. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Damon repeated, feeling his agitation beginning to swell. “Think whatever you want, but I don’t lie to Willa. I sure as hell would never hurt her.”

His passionate declaration was met with confusion and exchanged glances.

“But what did Willa say when you told her?”

Damon shrugged. “She thought it was funny.” He pursed his lips. “Said Michael never stood a chance—”

“I meant when you told her how you felt about her,” Calla interrupted. “You did tell her that, didn’t you?”

The spit in his mouth inexplicably vanished and he was forced to lick his lips before he could speak.

“She said she loved me, too.”

“What kind of loved?” Calla prodded. “Like how I love Toby, or how I love Jared?”

“Why the hell does all this matter to you anyway?” Damon demanded. “You seem awfully concerned about … you guys set this up!”

He had no idea how he figured it out, but it suddenly dawned on him that he was being played.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” Calla countered. “You finally know how Willa feels about you and she knows how you feel about her and now, you guys can finally start giving me nieces and nephews to spoil.”

As tempting as it was to start having babies with Willa, Damon was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that his best friends had tricked him into confessing one of his greatly guarded secrets.

“Was all of it fake?”

“Who sets up a poker game on a Thursday night?” Jared said in response.

He honestly had no idea whether to be impressed by their cleverness or appalled.

“Were Michael and Anthony in on it, too?”

“Michael was,” Jared replied. “Anthony’s too stupid to keep a secret.”

“I can’t believe you guys!” he shouted, hands slashing through the air in fury. “I was freaking out that I was going to lose her because of this!”

“Seriously?” Calla stared at him in dry disbelief. “This is Willa we’re talking about. You could have committed murder and that girl would still be crazy about you. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you could do to make that go away. Besides, we made sure it wasn’t something serious, just enough to work on your guilt.”

“I should hit you!” he growled. “Both of you, you assholes!”

“Aw, come on, Damon.” Calla took a step forward and pulled him into her arms. He didn’t hug her back. “We were trying to help.”

“By telling me what a waste of space I am?” he mumbled. “Or how I wasn’t worthy of Willa?”

Grimacing, Calla drew back and peered into his face. “I’m really sorry about that, but I had to make it seem real, otherwise it wouldn’t have worked.”

Damon shook his head. “See, I’m not even pissed about all that. I don’t care that you hurt me. I’m furious over the fact that you upset her, that you tormented her the entire day into thinking something was wrong all because you wanted to get at me.”

“I wasn’t—”

He ignored her and continued. “You know how sensitive she is and you just kept at her, tearing her to emotional shreds, and then sending her to me to hold together.” Anger crackled down his arms to twist around his bunched fists. “I can’t believe the lengths you guys would go through to make a point. I mean, it was none of your business when or how I told Willa. This was between me and her. What if your little plan hadn’t worked? What if she’d left me? What was the plan then, huh?”

Some of the color in her face dissolved a little. Guilt dropped her shoulders and she stared at him with the stunned expression of someone who’d been smacked.

“Damon…”

Damon pushed on. “You had no way of knowing she wouldn’t have been upset. You guessed. My only reason for living was gambled on your assumptions.”

“Dude, we were only trying to help—”

“Well, stop!” he cut Jared off. “Because my life isn’t here for your amusement. My feelings for Willa aren’t a toy for you guys to play with and manipulate for your own amusement. Don’t you ever use them again to make one of your ridiculous points.”

Without waiting for them, Damon turned on his heels and marched towards the house.

“Damon, wait!” Calla jogged after him and took his arm, pulling him to a halt at the bottom of the steps. “Please. We are so sorry. We really were only just trying to help.”

He wrenched her hold off and glowered at her. “Then stop playing us. You guys are supposed to be my friends.”

“We are!” Jared said, coming up next to his wife. “We love you and Willa. We just didn’t want to see you guys unhappy.”

Damon frowned. “Did we seem unhappy, because the only time I’m ever happy is when I’m with her?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jared replied.

“It just seemed like you guys were stuck,” Calla interjected. “Like you needed a push.”

“We didn’t need a push,” Damon muttered. “We were doing great.”

“Tell me you’re not out of your fucking mind delirious right now with happiness because you know she wants you just as much as you want her,” Jared countered hotly. “Tell me last night wasn’t one of the best nights of your life.”

He couldn’t. It had been. Knowing she loved him, wanted him would forever be one of his most cherished memories.

“It still wasn’t right,” he mumbled.

“No, it wasn’t, but we did it out of love,” Jared said. “Willa deserves a future with you. She deserves to keep moving forward, and I understand why you were scared to tell her, but you both needed a nudge out of that rut.”

He could do no more than stand there and glower at them, hating that he could see no fault in that logic, because Jared was right. Willa deserved a future and he’d been holding her in the same hole as himself, too afraid to let either of them out. But that hole was no longer there. They were both free and tentatively moving forward together.

“I hate you guys.”

The tension dissolved from both their shoulders and grins worked across their faces. Calla reached for him again and drew him in for another hug.

“Well, we love you.”

Pulling back, she slid her arm through his and propelled them both up the stairs to the front door.

They were greeted by Colten’s shrieks and Willa’s giggles as she teased the boy about stealing his nose.

The pair were on the sofa. Willa had Colten straddling her knees, nibbling on a cookie, and laughing every time she plucked at his tiny nose. Every time she did, she’d gasp and Colten would squeal and laugh. Damon watched them, his heart melting in his chest.

“Oh no! I think we’re caught!” Willa hissed to the boy, who squealed and flopped backwards when she gouged her fingers into his sides.

“Auntie Willa!” Calla moved forward and snatched the squirming and flailing boy out of her sister’s arms. “What did I say about cookies? Look at you. You’re a mess.”

Panting, the boy wiggled even harder. “No cleaning!” he wailed as he was hauled towards the kitchen. “No cleaning, Mommy!”

“I swear, that boy would live in his own filth if we let him,” Jared mumbled to himself.

“But he would be the cutest dirty boy in the world,” Willa stated with affection.

Damon stalked around the armchair and coffee table to take the spot next to her. His arm went around her middle and she immediately snuggled into his side.

“Hey Will.” Jared moved to take the armchair. “How are you today?”

“I’m okay.” She smiled at him. “How are you?”

“Meh.” He jerked a massive shoulder. “Fine. I like your hair.”

Her fingers drifted to the strands falling over her shoulders. “Thank you. It was Calla’s idea.”

Jared nodded. “Anything new or exciting happening with you guys?”

Damon glowered at his best friend, warning him silently to shut his mouth.

“Um…” Willa glanced over up at Damon, silently asking him.

“Stop toying with her.” Damon shot at the other man. “He knows,” he told Willa. “He’s just being a dick. The whole thing was a set up.”

Pink flags darkened Willa’s cheeks. “Oh.”

“We’re really sorry if we hurt you,” Jared said. “We were trying to help.”

“I’m not upset,” Willa assured him quickly. “I wasn’t upset last night either. I’m glad I don’t have to wonder anymore.”

Jared smiled at her, the relief bright in his gray eyes. “Glad to hear that.”

Calla returned with a clean and sullen Colten trotting along next to her. His face was scrubbed pink and there was an apple in his hand that he kept staring at like it was the cause of all his misery.

“Glad to hear what?” Calla asked, perching her bottom on the armrest next to her husband’s arm.

“That I’m not upset about what happened,” Willa said.

“Oh, Willa.” Calla smiled at her. “You know we would never hurt you.”

“I know.” Willa grinned. “Now we just have to find a way to break the news to everyone else and avoid being tossed into the gossip grinder.”

“Oh what fun is that?” Jared teased. “You’re a McClain. I think people expect it.”

Willa chuckled self-consciously, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Jared said, easing an arm around Calla’s waist and dragging her down into his lap. “I don’t think many people will notice the difference even if you don’t tell them.”

Calla nodded. “Half the town thinks you guys have been dating since you were teenagers, so I think the biggest news will be that you weren’t until now.”

Willa nervously nibbled on her lip and turned uncertain eyes up at Damon. “Do we have to tell people? I mean, if they already think we’re together … can’t we just let them keep thinking that?”

His fingers absently stroked back her hair in a gesture of comfort that seemed to work when she relaxed a fraction.

“It’s none of their business anyway,” he told her.

Her smile was grateful. “But we should maybe tell our parents. I don’t want to lie to them.”

He gave an imperceptible nod. “All right.”

“Speaking of parents.” Calla glanced over the living room.  “Where’s Mom?”

“The Mustang was out front when we drove up,” Jared said, relinquishing his hold on her when Calla shoved to her feet. “So, she has to be here somewhere.”

“Mom!” Calla called, moving towards the stairs.

“Maybe she’s already at Uncle Cole’s,” Willa supplied, twisting around on the sofa to watch her sister disappear up the stairs.

“Colt, stay here,” Jared called his son when the boy started climbing the stairs after his mother.

“Mommy!” the boy said, pointing a tiny finger in the direction of the stairs.

“She’ll be right back,” he told Colten. “Come wait for her here.”

Colten peered up the dark stairway a second longer before, easing his way back down the single step he’d climbed and toddled his way to the armchair and his father’s lap.

“Found her!” Calla’s voice floated down.

A moment later, she returned with Lily in tow. The other woman looked blurry eyed and pale. Her sheet of blonde hair was in tangles and her clothes were rumpled. She yawned and smiled sleepily at the group.

“Hey! Is it one already?”

“It’s two,” Calla said anxiously.

Willa hurried to her feet and skirted around the sofa to take her mother’s other side. “Are you okay?”

Lily waved the concern away with a wave of her hand. “I fell asleep. I’m fine.”

Willa and Calla exchanged concerned glances.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Willa said carefully. “You never fall asleep at two in the afternoon.”

“I was just extra tired this morning,” Lily said. “I’m fine. I promise.” She took a deep breath and glanced at Jared and Damon. “Are we going to Cole’s or are they coming here?”

“I think we’re supposed to go there,” Jared said cautiously. “Like every other weekend.”

“Mom, are you sure you’re okay?” Calla demanded.

“I’m calling Dad!” Willa dug into her pocket.

“No! Please don’t.” Lily set her hand over Willa’s, stopping her. “He’ll worry and I swear I’m fine. Let me just wash up and grab the stuff from the kitchen and we’ll head on over.”

No one spoke as they watched her sprint upstairs. Glances were exchanged, but no one knew what they were supposed to do.

“I think I should call Dad,” Willa whispered. “If something happens…”

“It could be nothing,” Calla stated. “It’s normal to be a little confused when you wake up.”

“But she doesn’t look good,” Willa protested. “She was very pale.”

Calla had nothing to say to that. She nibbled anxiously on her bottom lip and shot worried glances towards the stairs.

“Maybe one of us should stay with her,” she decided at last. “I will. You three go on ahead. If anything happens, I’ll call.”

“No, I should stay, too,” Willa offered. “One of us might need to stay with her while the other gets help.”

“Will you two stop!” Lily appeared on the stairs, looking amused and weary, but slightly less bedraggled. “I can hear you two deciding how I’m going to die from all the way upstairs.”

“Don’t say that!” Willa gasped. “That’s not funny.”

Chuckling, Lily wandered over and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’m sorry, love. But I really am fine. Now, Jared. Damon. Can you boys help me with the pots in the kitchen?”

Damon and Jared did as they were told and hurried into the kitchen. The premade items for supper that evening were neatly stored away in the pots, pans, and dishes placed in a row on the counter. Damon grabbed half and Jared grabbed the rest and together, they marched outside to the cars.

“My Jeep has a trunk,” Damon said, already moving in that direction.

“My truck has a trunk!” Jared protested defensively. “It’s just bigger and … open.”

Calla and Willa were still hovering by the front door while Lily drew on her coat. No one bothered locking up as they descended the stairs. Maybe it was because they were in the middle of nowhere and no one ever went that far out of town, or because they were only going down the road, but the McClain family had a disturbing habit of never locking their door. It drove Damon crazy.

“Do you want to ride in the truck, or the Jeep?” Calla was asking her mother as they joined the boys by the vehicles.

“I can drive my—”

“You just woke up,” Willa protested. “You’re not steady. Let us drive you.”

Lily stopped and looked from one daughter to the other. “You two better be this enthusiastic when I’m too old to clean my own butt.”

Damon and Jared burst out laughing when Willa and Calla both recoiled at the casual remark.

Lily laughed. “I’ll meet everyone there.” With that, she made her way to the Mustang. But stopped halfway. She turned. “Maybe I should get a lift,” she decided, walking back. “No sense us all taking our cars to the same place.”

She wound up taking the front seat of Damon’s Jeep while Willa climbed into the back.

“Where’s Dad?” Willa asked as Damon drove the five minutes up the road.

“He had to run into town for plywood,” Lily said. “The railings on Grandma’s ramp are getting wobbly so he’s going to patch them up this week.”

“I wish Grams and Gramps would come out on the weekends for dinner,” Willa said. “I hate that we don’t see them enough.”

Lily sighed. “I know, but you know Grandpa still works and it’s hard for Grandma to get around in her chair. Plus weekends, they like to lie in and relax.”

They arrived at Cole and Beth’s house. Toby was seated on the front porch, balanced on the railings with his game system in hand. The boy looked up when the cars pulled into the driveway and grinned, all lopsided and mischievous. It was Cole’s grin, through and through. Toby was all mischief, and a lawsuit waiting to happen.

At sixteen, Toby McClain was almost as tall as Damon with a head full of hair that was growing darker with each passing day. It was nearly a dark sandy brown with hints of gold. Unlike his sister and his cousin, he was darker in complexion as well, which was odd considering he rarely went outside. His entire life was spent stooped over some electronic device. But he had the faint golden glow of someone who spent hours outdoors, basking in the sun.

He hopped down and wandered over as the engines were cut and doors were opened. He walked straight up to Damon’s side of the Jeep.

“Dad needs you at the back,” he said.

Damon frowned. “What’s at the back?”

Toby shrugged. “I’m just the messenger.” His blue eyes shot in the seat over. “Hey Aunt Lily.”

In the process of shoving her door open, Lily glanced over and smiled. “Hello sweetheart.”

Toby waited until she’d jumped out and was walking towards the house before focusing on Damon once more.

“Hey, can I borrow sixty bucks?” He glanced around them for eavesdroppers. Spotting none, he lowered his voice and leaned even closer. “I have a date and I’m short.”

Damon blinked in feigned surprise. “With a girl?”

Toby jerked back in utter outrage. “Dude, really?”

“Well, who is it?”

“Lindsey Jordan. She’s the hottest chick in school.”

“First of all,” Damon hopped out of his seat and slammed the door. “Girls don’t like being called chicks and secondly, what happened to your allowance?”

“Are you going to give me the third degree, or the cash?”

Exhaling, Damon reached into his pocket and withdrew a fifty. “That’s all I have.”

Grinning, Toby snatched the bill from him and hurriedly stuffed it into his pocket. “Sweet. Thanks, bro.”

He scurried off to intercept Calla.

“You know he doesn’t really have a date, right?” Willa slipped her arms around his waist from behind.

“I know.” He turned and pulled her in closer.

“So why do you always give him money?” she asked.

Because he knew what Toby used the money for and it wasn’t on girls.

“It’s brother stuff,” was all he told her.

Willa smiled up at him. “You’re an amazing guy, you know that?”

With a kiss to his chin, she left his arms to join her mom and Beth on the front porch. Damon watched her walk away and sighed.

Toby was a good kid that did a lot of really stupid things. But in all that stupidity, occasionally, he did something that was actually worth supporting, like paying off the overdue lunch cards at school so kids who couldn’t afford it could eat. He never told anyone about it and Damon knew he never would. Despite his many flaws, Toby never bragged about his accomplishments and as a result, always came off as a troublemaker. But Damon had seen the school print out. He knew that wasn’t something the school would just hand out freely to anyone, so odds were that Toby had hacked into the school computers … again. But Damon couldn’t chastise him for it, not when he realized what Toby was doing. Every time he asked for money, it was the exact amount marked on the page. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing and Damon couldn’t have been prouder. There were days he contemplated just giving him the whole amount for everyone, but Toby didn’t know that Damon knew and Damon couldn’t bring it up without confessing to snooping. Plus, if it was such a big deal for Toby to keep it a secret, Damon would let him. At least he wasn’t getting into trouble and it was for a good cause, one that Damon wished someone had done for him when he’d been in school.

For the first six years of his life, Damon’s idea of food had been whatever he could sneak out of the lower cupboards without getting caught. Whatever his father wouldn’t notice missing. Watching the other kids munch down on lunches their parents had packed for them and silently starving had been a unique type of torture. No one had ever noticed and when they did, he always claimed not to be hungry, because he knew if word got back to his father, gut wrenching hunger would be nothing compared to the punishment he would receive for humiliating him. Before being adopted, there were days he had gone without eating anything, because there had been nothing to eat. His father would spend every last penny on booze and hardly anything else. Occasionally, he’d buy himself food and Damon would sneak something small when his father wasn’t looking. He’d take it into his room and hide in his closet to eat. There were times he’d stretch that single item for days, taking tiny bites before wrapping it up in tissue and tucking it away. When he started school, he would take food from other kid’s lunch boxes. Half a sandwich here, a granola bar there, a juice box, or an apple. Just enough to get him through the day. He never saw real food until he went home with Beth and Cole. He hadn’t even known what food was before then.

Before the age of six, Damon had already known every manner of abuse on earth. He had known fear so strong that he had lost all ability to control his bodily functions. He had felt pain that made him long for death. He had suffered in ways no child should ever have to endure and still carried the scars, if not physically then emotionally. Even at twenty five, he still flinched when someone raised their voice. He still broke out in cold sweat when the fridge or cupboards got even slightly empty. These were small things compared to the wreck that he had been when Beth and Cole had found him, but they still haunted him.

“Hey.” Jared nudged him. “You okay?”

Sucking in a shaky breath, Damon nodded and turned away, away from the memories and pain. “Yeah.”

He helped Jared haul pots and pans into the kitchen. The house was already overflowing with people and voices. The smell of spices, fried tomatoes, and onions soaked into the scent of lemon floor cleaner and Beth’s favorite cherry blossom candles. It got stronger the closer he drew to the kitchen.

“Hey baby!” Beth McClain turned away from the large pot boiling on the stove and wiped her hands on the dishrag tucked into the waistband of her jeans. “Just put all that on the counter over there.”

Damon took his haul to the counter by the fridge and set it down. Then he turned back to the woman he’d been calling mom for the last nineteen years.

“Need anything else?” he asked.

Beth shook her head. The motion unraveled a coil from the elastic containing the dark riot so it bounced against her flushed cheek. “I think that’s it. How are you?” She walked over to him and touched his face. “You look tired.”

Damon snorted. “That’s because someone woke me up at the butt crack of dawn to make banana bread.”

Beth laughed. “One of these days, you’re going to have to bring some of that magical banana bread over so the rest of us can have some.”

“You’ll have to fight Willa for that. I almost lost a finger once.”

She was still laughing when Lily walked into the kitchen, followed by Jared and the rest of the items.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, walking over to the island already piled high with things.

“Just discussing what a selfish child your daughter is,” Beth told her.

“What?” Calla stalked in and set Colten down. “What am I?”

“The other daughter,” Beth clarified. “She won’t share the banana bread.”

“Ah!” Lily said, like it all finally made sense. “My girl certainly does seem very fond of your baking, Damon.”

“Well, that certainly solves the mystery, doesn’t it?” Jared sauntered over and punched Damon in the shoulder. “She’s obviously not keeping you around for your looks.”

Damon shoved him back. “Shut up.”

The two grinned at each other.

“Well, it’s clearly a talent you got from your mom,” Lily stated, organizing the island.

No one in the room was confused by the casual remark. No one asked which mom, or wondered how that was possible when Damon had never met his mom, or if he had, he’d been too young to remember it. His father used to tell him she left because Damon was such a little fuck, but it could have been for any reason. None of which Damon ever cared to learn about. All he knew was that she had left him alone with a monster and he didn’t care what became of her.

Beth may not have given birth to him, but she was his mom just as Cole was his dad. They had raised him, cared for him, and given him more love then he knew what to do with. They had given him a home and things most kids took for granted like clothes, food, and security. They had given him a future, something he honestly never thought he would have. He may have only been six the night Beth found him bleeding and broken across his bedroom floor, but he knew exactly the sort of life he would have had if they’d left him there.

So yes, Beth was his mom and he loved her with every piece of his heart that she had helped put back together.

“And Aunt,” Damon put in as he made his way towards the backdoor. “Can’t rule her out.”

Lily flushed prettily. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

With a salute, he went to see what Cole needed.

The man stood glowering down at a heap of metal, torn pieces of cardboard, and a litter of plastic. Damon stepped up alongside him and studied the mess.

“What are we doing?”

“We are trying to build a barbeque,” Cole stated.

“What happened to the old one?”

“Tossed it.” Cole rubbed his palms on his thighs. “Was making weird noises.”

Damon nodded slowly. “Well, you are doing a fantastic job, Dad.”

He grinned at the scowl Cole shot him.

“Don’t be cute. Help me get this up.”

Snickering, Damon snatched up the manual and flopped down on a bench.

It took two hours, four men, and a whole box of band aids, but they got the piece of crap up and running, no help to the women, who stood by the door, ate potato chips, and shouted out suggestions.

“Baby, I’m pretty sure they don’t just give you a whole baggy of screws for no reason,” Beth said, eyeing the four tiny screws laying innocently in the palm of her hand.

“Sure they do,” Cole protested. “In case you lose one, or something. It’s fine. Look, it lights up and everything.”

Damon was proud of their efforts. So long as it didn’t blow the house up, he considered it a success.

Leaving the group arguing about whether or not the screws were important, he wandered back inside to clean up and found Toby sitting alone on the sofa in the living room.

“Hey runt, what you doing over there?”

Back turned to Damon, Toby shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Need any help?”

He started to shake his head, but stopped, seemed to think better of it, then turned to face Damon.

“Did you always want to work with Uncle Sloan?” he asked.

Considering the question while making his way over to the boy, Damon shrugged. “Not really, but it’s a good job and I like to think I’m good at it.”

“Then why did you go to school for math?”

Damon chuckled and propped himself down on the coffee table across from Toby. “I went to school for accounting so I could help Uncle Sloan with the payroll and finances. But I figured it would also help in the long run if I ever wanted to do something else.”

“So you don’t want to be a mover forever?”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible to be a mover forever,” he countered. “But, no, I’ll find something else when I’m ready.”

Toby narrowed his eyes. “Like what?”

Damon shrugged. “I dunno. Something.” He looked the boy over. “What’s eating you?”

Thin shoulders moved in a shrug. A patch of sandy hair flopped down over his brow when he lowered his head. His fingers tapped an anxious tattoo on the worn leather of his scheme book. Damon sat quietly and waited.

“Don’t tell Dad, okay?” Toby finally blurted, his voice low, his eyes apprehensive when they darted up to Damon’s. “I don’t know if I want to go into computers.”

“Well, that’s fine. You know Dad won’t care as long as you’re doing something you’re happy with.”

Toby shook his head. “You know how excited he is about the whole thing. He thinks I’m going to take over the business and I’m just not … I mean, I love computers and all, but I want to do something else.”

“Okay, what?”

Toby shot a quick glance over his shoulder towards the kitchen doorway. His fingers fiddled with the bits of paper sticking out of his book. He pried off the elastic keeping the thing together and flipped the battered cover open. Bits of paper scattered into his lap and he quickly shoved them back between the pages before flicking to the very back. Damon caught sight of betting slips, the occasional receipt and pretended not to have seen anything.

“This.” Toby fished out a pamphlet and held it out for Damon to see.

“The Royal Canadian Army Cadets.” Damon whistled softly and looked past the smiling teenagers hiking to the one watching him. “Really?”

Toby nodded and hastily shoved the thing back into his book like it was some crack pipe.

“I just don’t know how to tell Dad. He’s going to be so bummed out. I’m like his last kid. Calla has the store and you got your … whatever. He was counting on me to … you know, follow his footsteps.”

“He’s counting on you to be happy,” Damon replied evenly. “Sure he’ll be bummed out, but it’s not like you want to grow out your hair and become a hippie living off bark and free love. This is a good cause. He’ll appreciate you being honest with him.”

Toby wrinkled his nose. “Maybe.”

“But you know what this means, don’t you?” Damon rose. “No more hacking into government servers.”

“Well, that sucks,” Toby mumbled. “What else am I supposed to do in my spare time?” He grinned up at Damon. “Also I could totally pull off being a hippie, just so you know.”

Chuckling, Damon ruffled his hair. “Get cleaned up. Food’ll be ready soon.”

Nothing was ready when Damon returned from the bathroom, except the food from the kitchen had been moved out onto the back patio. Steaks, chicken, and potatoes were on the grill, occasionally being prodded at by Cole while he sipped on a Coke and talked to Sloan.

As brothers went, they looked it, except Sloan was bigger in the chest and wider in the shoulders whereas Cole was lean like a boxer. Both had the same blond hair that was beginning to streak with gray and the same blue eyes. It was a trait they’d passed down to their daughters and Toby. The entire McClain clan seemed to be a colony of blonds, except for Jared and Damon. Thankfully, some of the paleness in Toby’s hair had begun to darken to a light, golden brown or it would be like the making of the Corn Children.

It was impossible not to tell who was a McClain when heading into town. Everyone knew them, or, at the very least, knew of them. They’d become somewhat famous thanks to Calla before she was even born.

Call was the offspring of Cole and Lily back when both were young and stupid. Calla had been conceived during a pact that went horribly wrong. Later, Lily married the man she was in love with, who also happened to be Cole’s brother, Sloan, and had Willa. Cole went on to marry Beth, his college sweetheart and had Toby, but not before they adopted Damon. It was as odd as it could possibly get, but it was family.

“Hey.” Willa bounded up next to him. Her hand slipped into his as it had with seamless ease since they were children. His fingers automatically closed around hers. “Walk with me.”

He let her lead them through the house and out the front door. There was no point asking where she was going; if it wasn’t upstairs to his old bedroom, it was down the road to the muck-muck—as Willa used to call it when they were children.

It wasn’t any place fancy, or pretty, just a flat rock wedged in a puddle of mud overlooking a pond that had once been a manmade hole that filled with rain water and became a breeding place for frogs and mosquitoes. But it was down the road from both their houses and no one else ever went there so it had become theirs. He and Willa spent nearly every summer there, catching frogs and playing pirates on the rocks. Later on, when they got older, they’d just sit there and talk or read. At least, Willa would read. He would sit there and let her use his lap as a pillow. But no matter how much it had hurt his ass and made his legs fall asleep, he never told her so. He’d even furnished a makeshift pathway over the mud to the rock. During the summer, it wasn’t so bad. The mud dried into hard flakes. But when it rained, it was like crossing quicksand and Willa would get in trouble for walking into the house with clumps of mud caked on her shoes. One summer, he’d tracked down every flat rock he could find and placed them in a row from the road, all the way to the boulder just for her.

He helped her cross them now, her white flats barely making a sound on the stones. Her pale, pink dress with its tiny pink and white tulips fluttered around her bare legs with every graceful little skip. The sun caught in her unbound hair, making the pale strands shimmer and the pink tips seemingly glow. He helped ease her up onto the boulder and moved up behind her when she sat. His legs parted around her and he tucked her into the V between his thighs.

She sighed and her back moved against his chest. Her head pillowed on his shoulder and he turned his face into the soft curtain of her hair.

“What do you think happened to Spots?” she asked after several minutes of silence. Her blue eyes stayed fixed on the green waters rippling out before them. “Do you think she went on to have babies?”

Spots was dead. She, or he, had died the night it was captured and Willa had taken it home. It had been dead for a whole day in its fancy shoebox full of leaves, twigs and a jar lid filled with water.

“She hasn’t moved in a while,” she’d told him, concern forming a tiny crinkle between her brows. “Do you think she’s sick?”

Damon had known right away that Spots the Frog had gone off to the great froggy pond in the sky, but he had also known Willa would have been devastated if she ever found out. She would blame herself for bringing it home, for not caring for it properly, for a million other things.

“It’s just sleeping,” he’d told her, taking the box out of her tiny hands. “I’ll put it outside to get some air, okay?”

She hadn’t argued and let him take the box to the porch. He’d set it down in the shade and had gone back inside. At lunch, he’d told her he had to go home a minute, but he’d be right back and then he’d run like his life depended on it to the pond to find a replacement Spots. Afterwards, when she’d seen the replacement creature moving around in the box, he’d convinced her to set it free and she had. So, maybe, in a sense, Spots II had gone on to have babies.

“I’m sure she did,” he replied evenly.

“Damon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember when Calla was in the hospital and I asked if you wanted babies?”

A deep, warm feeling swirled in the pit of his stomach as it always did at the thought of babies with Willa.

“Yeah?”

Her head slid to the side and she peeked up at him. “Did you mean with me?”

His heart tripped into his ribcage and he was sure she felt it.

“Yeah.”

She smiled and turned back to the pond. “Good. I never liked the idea of you having babies with someone else. I always hoped it would be me.”

It was a mystery just which part of that hit him harder, but his arms restricted around her, crushing her to him as he buried his face into the space between her shoulder and neck.

“Jesus, Will.”

“I still want two,” she added in that teasing tone of hers.

“I’ll give you as many as you want,” he growled into her neck.

With a chuckle, she kissed his cheek. “You have a deal, Mister.”

Chapter Six ~ Willa

Willa had been ten years old the afternoon she realized Damon Comb was the man she would one day marry. Even at twelve, he had already been more grown up then any of the boys in her school and he had been hers. Her best friend. Her playmate. Her confidant and the first and only boy she had ever loved with every fiber of her heart and soul. Nothing else had mattered, except being with him. And he let her. He never once looked at her like she was a pest. He hadn’t cared when his friends would take off to have fun without him. He hadn’t cared that the other kids thought it was weird that he would rather spend time with a girl than hang out with kids his own age. For as long as Willa could remember, he’d been there, waiting in the hallway at school for her, waiting outside by the front doors, or out on the playground. He was always there with his hand out and his fingers open. The only time he hadn’t been there was the three years he’d gone to college. But he’d come down every weekend to see her, or they made plans for her to go see him. For nineteen years, he had been her entire world, so much so that she didn’t know how else to live.

She thought about that while brewing the coffee later that week. The sky outside the terrace was white with the promise of heavy rain. It must have poured the night before, because the world below it was already damp. Puddles glistened like oil slicks across the pavement and everyone was decked out in boots and umbrellas. Willa wasn’t a fan of rain. It meant cold and wet. Unlike snow, it was more of a hindrance than a beauty. Granted, she did like curling up on the sofa with a mug of coffee and a book while it poured outside. But being out in it did nothing for her.

Pursing her lips, she picked up the steaming cup she’d fixed for Damon, the one with two sugars and a drop of creamer. Her sock clad feet slid across the hardwood as she skated her way carefully down the hallway. The morning chill nipped at her bare legs and she partially wished she’d thought to pull on pants rather than just socks. Nevertheless, she slipped into the bedroom and padded to the bed. The mugs were set down on the end table before she climbed onto the mattress and crawled to the slumbering lump on the other side.

He lay on his back, one arm slung across his eyes. The sheets were tangled around his legs. She studied the length of him, everything from his bare feet, to where the cuff of his pants had bunched up around one calf, to where his t-shirt hem had ridden up over the waistband of his bottoms. Her gaze fixed on the exposed strip of flesh. She could just make out the hard, square muscles stamped into his abdomen and knew from personal experience that the rest of him, everything hidden beneath the clothes, was a work of art. That he had the body of a professional swimmer, lean and powerful. She had felt it often pressed against hers and every moment of it had filled her with a longing she could never seem to sate. It only got worse the longer she was with him. But like any good drug, she couldn’t stop.

“Damon?” She leaned over him. “I’m going to work.” She kissed his chin lightly. “Love you.”

Careful not to wake him, she crawled out of bed, took her mug, and went to get ready.

“God, it’s such a mess out there,” Calla said the moment Willa stumbled her way into the shop. “I hope it doesn’t start snowing on top of all this.”

Shaking out her umbrella, Willa stuffed it into the slender canister placed next to the door for that purpose before starting on the buttons on her coat.

“It’s awful,” she agreed.

“Damon didn’t drive you?”

Willa shook her head. “I let him sleep. He seemed so tired.”

“Why didn’t you drive?”

Most people wouldn’t know it, but Willa did have her own vehicle. It was a silver four door Nissan that her parents had gotten for her when she’d gone off to college. Aside from the mileage spent going back and forth those four years, it was still in fairly good condition and barely used anymore.

“I don’t like driving if I can walk,” she told her sister. “The apartment isn’t that far from here anyway.”

Calla shook her head in amusement. “So what are you doing today?”

“I don’t know yet, honestly. Maybe work on a few touchups?”

“Want to help me unpack a new shipment?”

Willa agreed, but only because, unless someone came in to get their pictures done, she really had nothing to do.

They were halfway through the shipment when their mother hurried in, shoulders hunched against the elements. She fluffed a hand through her hair, shaking out raindrops and scanned the room.

“It’s a mess out there,” she declared, spotting her daughters. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much business today.”

“Great. Grab a box,” Calla teased.

Undoing her coat, their mother hung it up and turned to them. “At least this weekend will be nice,” she mused. “I was thinking we could go for a picnic. I have a feeling it’ll be the last good day before winter hits.”

Willa had always loved winter. Everything about it was crisp and clean and new. She loved how it covered the world in a fine, white layer and shone like fairy dust under the sunlight. All her best childhood memories happened in the snow. But she seemed to be the only one.

“I’d love to go for a picnic,” she voted. “I’ll let Damon know.”

He was waiting for her when she got off work early, due to lack of actually working. Her mom left as well, leaving Calla to close shop alone. He was parked right outside and grinned when she climbed into the Jeep.

“How did you know I was getting off early?” she asked him once she was seated.

“Jared,” he said simply. “Calla texted to let him know she was closing shop early and I was over there playing with Colten.” He pulled carefully out of the spot and turned in the direction of home. “Why didn’t you wake me up this morning? I would have driven you.”

“I know, but you were sleeping and it wasn’t raining as hard.”

They made it to the apartment a second before the heavens exploded and drowned everything in a thick sheet of rain. Willa paused just inside the apartment foyer and dug out her phone.

“Are you okay?” she texted Calla. “We can come back and pick you up.”

She waited a minute for her sister’s response.

“I’m fine. Thank you. Did you guys get home okay?”

Assuring her they did, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket and followed Damon upstairs.

It was dark and gloomy inside. Even when she snapped the lights on, the dullness crept into the corners and painted everything a dull gray.

“I’m tempted to just go back to bed,” she grumbled, hanging up her things and shuffling into the sitting room.

“That is not a bad idea.”

Before she could react, he had her tossed over his shoulder and was marching into the bedroom. Her squeals and laughter were ignored as she was pitched unceremoniously onto the bed and covered by his body. Automatically, her arms slipped around his shoulders and she drew him in tight. His beautiful face hovered inches from hers, twisted in a playful grin that never failed to make her insides sigh.

“Hey,” she whispered, smiling up at him.

His nose bumped hers gently. “Hey.”

“Miss me?”

He pulled in a breath. “So much.”

She kissed the end of his nose. “Me too.” She pulled him down next to her on the mattress and rolled half on him. “Mom thinks we should go picnicking this weekend.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed. “You guys do realize it’s winter, right?”

“It’s autumn,” she corrected. “Almost winter.” She chuckled at his disbelieving glower. “She says it’ll be nice.”

He sighed. “Fine. If we must. But if I get sick, you better take care of me.”

Willa pouted. “Don’t I always?”

Damon shrugged. “Well, there was that time you abandoned me in my time of need…”

“I did not!” she gasped in amused outrage. “I went to the pharmacy to get you medicine. I was barely gone twenty minutes. You’re such a baby!”

His blue eyes sparked with something she never got the chance to decipher when she was shoved onto her back in one quick motion. Lean hips forced her knees apart and settled high between her thighs. The apex of his sex settled over hers, igniting sparks that replaced all humor with an unstoppable throb. Her body opened to his obediently. Knees widened. Hips rose. Nails clawed into toned shoulders and curled into soft fabric.

“Damon…”

The longing rolled off her lips in a pleading gasp that darkened his eyes and tightened his jaw muscles. Against her mound, his body swelled to a hard, thick bulge that pinned her to the mattress.

It had been three days since she’d held him in her arms while he shuddered his release against her hip. Three days since he’d finally touched her the way she’d always longed for. Three days since she’d prayed every night that he would do it again, only to be left disappointed. She couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Do you think it’s wrong to touch me?” she wondered, peering up into a face hot with desire and dark with hesitance. “Or do I just not turn you on?”

A sound between a brittle laugh and a groan shook his shoulders. He gave the slightest rock of his hips against hers so there was no mistaking the extent of his want for her.

“Does it feel like you don’t turn me on?”

“So you think it’s wrong?” she pressed. “Because we share a family?”

His gaze flicked away from hers. “No, not wrong.”

“What then?” She touched the side of his face with loving fingers. “Why won’t you touch me?”

He pulled away from her and she let him go. The mattress dipped and rolled as he climbed off the bed. Willa pushed into a sitting position and watched as he moved away from her to the TV. His fingers idly straightened the remote to align perfectly with the DVD player. He absently rubbed his free hand back through his hair. Tension tightened along the widths of his shoulders, drawing the curves up to his ears as they only did when he was scared or uncertain. She hated the thought of being the cause of his sadness.

“Damon…?”

“I’ve never been with anyone,” he blurted before she could unfold off the bed and go to him. “I don’t know how not to hurt you.”

Her heart broke at the embarrassment and self-loathing that seemed to band around those eight little words. Tears welled even as she fought down the lump in her throat. Springs jingled with the loss of her weight as she rose off the bed and went to him.

“You won’t hurt me.”

“I will.” He turned to face her, his face a mask of torment. “I know I will.”

She took the balled fist hanging at his side and unfurled the fingers, letting blood leach back into each digit before drawing the palm to her cheek.

“When have you ever hurt me?”

His jaw muscles tightened. “This is different. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to stop myself if I lose control.”

“You won’t hurt me,” she said again, putting all her faith and certainty into the statement. “You won’t!” she stressed when he opened his mouth to argue. “We don’t have to have sex right away. We can go slow until you’re comfortable.”

His blue eyes lifted to her face. A sad little grin turned up his lips.

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

Willa shrugged. “Your line. My line. Doesn’t matter.” She went to him and flattened her palms to his chest. “What matters is that there is no one I trust more than you with all of me.”

Her mom had been right. That weekend turned out to be one of the last gorgeous days of the year. The whole world seemed to be fresh and beautiful with the sun glowing down over a landscape of lush green. Everyone in town seemed to have had the same idea. The park was filled with the sound of laughter, the shriek of children, and the scent of food. Her Aunt Beth had scored a great spot under an oak tree overlooking the pond. It was void of its usual ducks, but it was still peaceful to see as couples crossed the bridge where children stood dropping rocks into the water.

Willa snapped several pictures of the sun bouncing off the clear surface and the ripples caused by the pebbles. Behind her, Damon warmed her back with his chest and the side of her neck with his breath. The clean, soapy scent of him swirled around her in a comforting blanket. His hands burned through the thin material of her sundress where they lay flat against her abdomen.

“You smell like chocolate pie,” he murmured against the curve of her jaw. “It’s making me hungry.”

Willa laughed and lowered the camera from her face. She turned her head and nuzzled his cheek with her nose.

“You just finished eating and what happened to pies being evil?”

“I like to think I’m still growing and chocolate pies aren’t like normal pies so they don’t count.”

Still chuckling, she turned away from the pond and took his hand. She tugged him back to the carpet of blankets laid out a few yards away where their family sat talking and laughing. Calla and Jared were missing. Willa guessed they must have taken Colten to the park. Toby had bolted the first opportune moment to join his friends on the other side of the lake, leaving behind her Mom, Dad, Aunt Beth, and Uncle Cole drinking wine and laughing over something Uncle Cole was saying. They all glanced up when Willa and Damon joined them and claimed a corner of the blankets.

“Get any good shots?” her mom asked.

Bundling her camera safely back inside its case, Willa nodded. “I think there are a few that would look really nice in a frame.” Zipping her case up, she set it aside and sat. “What are we talking about?”

“Just reliving the olden days.” Aunt Beth sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “What are you guys up to?”

Damon and Willa exchanged glances and shrugged simultaneously.

“Not much,” Willa said.

“I came for pie,” Damon said at the same time.

Chuckling, Aunt Beth dug into the picnic basket and unearthed the last slice of chocolate pie and handed the whole tin to him along with a fork and napkin. He ripped off the plastic wrap and dug in with gusto.

“Aunt Beth?” Willa waited until she had the other woman’s attention before continuing. “Have you ever thought about not working at the hospital?”

Aunt Beth set her wine glass down and considered the question a moment. “No, not really. Why?”

Willa absently brushed grass off her skirt. “I was thinking I want to open a bakery.”

Damon glanced at her. “I thought you said restaurant.”

“At first, but Ma really scares me,” she only half teased and earned a few chuckles. “It actually came to me last weekend while you were baking banana bread.”

Damon choked a little on the lump of pie he’d stuffed into his mouth. His cheeks flushed an endearing shade of pink. The thought of him remembering their time together on the terrace made her inwardly grin. While outwardly, she felt her own cheeks grow warm. The heat rose when he peeked over at her, fork poised between delicious lips. Their eyes met and the need blossomed up through the core of her, spreading throughout her entire body in a slow boil.

“A bakery?” Her mom broke the moment and Willa was almost relieved. It was torture trying to restrain herself and go slow. She didn’t know how Damon did it. “Why a bakery?”

“Because Willow Creek doesn’t have one. I mean, we do, but they only sell bread. I want to sell everything. Pies, cookies, cakes, brownies … banana bread.” She nudged Damon when she said it and grinned. “We could even serve chili and soups and salads. Maybe even sandwiches.”

“So it would be like a café,” Beth summarized.

Willa thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s an interesting idea,” her mom said. “Willow Creek doesn’t have a coffee shop so it could actually be a good thing.”

Delighted by the encouragement, Willa perked. “You think so?”

“It’s a good idea, but opening a business isn’t something you should just jump into without doing your research,” her dad chimed in. “Put together a plan, talk to the bank, and—”

“What’s everyone talking about?”

Calla and Jared joined the group with a sleepy Colten slumped in his father’s arms. They took a seat on the other corner of the blanket.

“Willa wants to open a coffee shop,” Beth said.

Calla’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

Heat prickled along her neck and face, but Willa nodded. “Thinking about it.”

“You should talk to Lucas,” Calla said. “He opened a coffee shop with Jared a few years back and it is doing phenomenal.”

Jared nodded. “If you’re really interested, I’ll give you his number. He’s a good guy with a good nose for the business.”

Willa smiled. “Thanks!”

“Who are you thinking of hiring to work there?” her dad asked. “As I recall, you nearly set the house on fire making eggs.”

“Sloan!” Her mother lightly slapped his arm.

“I’m not being discouraging,” he said quickly. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I haven’t actually thought that far ahead,” Willa admitted. “It’s still a thought in process.”

“All right, well, we’re all here if you decide to go through with it,” he said. “I think a coffee shop is a great idea.”

“We could expand the shop!” Calla blurted, blue eyes going enormous. “Tally’s Stamp Emporium next door isn’t renewing his lease at the end of the year. We could lease it, knock down the wall and combine the coffee shop with the boutique and studio.”

Their mother winced. “That’s a little too much, don’t you think?”

Calla shook her head. “Jared can do it.”

“No, I mean a photo studio, clothing boutique, and a coffee shop?”

“No, it’s perfect!” Calla argued. “Women can come in, browse the shop, get a bite to eat, maybe book an appointment to get their family portraits done. I think it’s a fantastic idea.” She turned her excited gaze to her uncle. “What do you think?”

Willa’s dad scratched his chin, face bunched in deep thought. “Maybe if you add a door separating the two, or you’ll have clothes that smell like coffee and chili.”

Calla nodded. “Good point. But we can figure all that out once we look at Tally’s place and determine if it’ll work for a café. Oh! You could have a patio in front. It would be adorable and Lucas knows a guy who gets him the best coffee.”

Their mother laughed. “I guess that’s a go on the coffee shop.”

As elated as Willa was at the prospect of starting her own business and taking that first step into adulthood, the prospect terrified her. It all sounded so great when Calla was putting it out there, but did she have her sister’s flare for business? Would she be able to properly run and maintain such a huge responsibility? She suddenly wasn’t so sure it had been the best idea to reveal her ideas when they weren’t fully cooked.

“I’ll bake for you,” Damon murmured into her ear.

She smiled at him gratefully and reached for his hand.

“I think I’m going to go see if the rosebushes are still blooming,” Willa decided, reaching for her camera. “I want to get a few pictures before the frost gets at them.”

“Want me to come with?” Damon asked.

She shook her head. “I won’t be long.”

Giving him a reassuring smile, she rose and started further towards the lake and the community garden on the other side. Her mom used to bring her and Calla there every spring to help plant vegetables and flowers for the whole town. Willa still did when she had time, but everyone chipped in to help and the garden was usually a breathtaking sight come summer.

The rosebushes had been planted around the garden, a beautiful wall that rose about six feel in all directions. They weren’t blossoming anymore and had lost most of their buds back in August. But there was the odd bulb that hadn’t bloomed and sat brown and shriveled on its thorny vine. Willa dislodged her camera from its case and took a few shots, her heart and mind not in it. She was still tense about the idea of owning something so much bigger than her and all she could think was, what if it failed? It wasn’t as though she went to school for business. She was a photographer. She had no right trying to be something else, and why a coffee shop of all things? Why not a photo studio, or something?

God, this was a bad idea.

All concerns vanished when a light bump from behind had her turning on her heels and peering down at a fat, blue ball peering innocently up at her, void of its owner. Her surprise deepened as she threw her camera strap around her neck and picked up the ball. The thing was new. It even had its price tag still glued to the bottom. But there was no child in sight. There was nobody. Just her and the roses.

“Hello?” she called, moving a few steps forward.

The bushes straight ahead gave a twitch. Willa watched as a pair of enormous blue eyes poked around the side and blinked at her.

She smiled. “Is this yours?”

The eyes continued to watch her.

Running a tongue over her teeth, Willa edged closer. She stopped when there was a safe three feet between them.

“I’m Willa,” she said, crouching down and setting the ball between them. “What’s your name?”

A small, pale face came into view, surrounded by a riot of thick, black hair.

“Charlotte.”

Willa’s smile widened. “That is a pretty name. Are you here with someone, Charlotte?”

Charlotte nodded. “My daddy.”

She nudged the ball and sent it rolling to the girl. “Don’t wander off too far from him, okay?”

She got another nod before the ball was snatched up and the girl sprinted away in the opposite direction.

Willa watched her go until she vanished behind a cluster of trees in the far distance. Then she got to her feet, dusted off her skirt and started back to join the others.

Chapter Seven ~ Damon

He hated Friends. The whole TV show annoyed him. There were no spies, explosions or … well, there was sex, but not hot sex. Plus, the canned laughter was beginning to grate on his nerves. But Willa liked it. Every so often, her tiny frame would tremble against him with her giggles and that kind of made up for the torture.

She lay curled against his side with her head pillowed on his stomach. Her hair spilled across his chest. Every so often, he’d drag his fingers through the soft, pale strands and watch as they glided over his skin before floating back down to join the others.

He sighed. The sound had her shifting. Her body twisted off her side onto her stomach and she folded her hands one on top of the other on his breast bone. Her chin rested lightly on her knuckles and she peered up at him with those incredible blue eyes.

“You’re falling asleep.”

He was. At least, he was winding himself down to it. Now all he could focus on was how her breasts were mashed against his ribs and the only thing separating them was their t-shirts.

“I don’t like this show,” he reminded her.

She huffed slightly and her bottom lip puckered in a cute little pout. But she said nothing as she reached over and flipped the TV off.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

The remote hit his hip when she dropped it back down in the new darkness that had blanketed over them.

“I know,” she murmured, resuming her resting position across his chest. “But I want to spend time with you and I can’t do that if you’re sleeping.”

Even in the obscurity, her eyes seemed to glow with their own inner light. They shone like bright gems embedded in dark fabric. He studied them while continuing the lazy strokes of his hand through her hair.

God, he loved her hair.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

She was quiet for a moment, but he could almost hear her the sound of her mind churning.

“Have you ever dated anyone?”

She couldn’t see it, but Damon blinked. “Dated? When?”

He felt her shrug. “When I was at school, or when you were.”

“No,” he answered simply.

“Not once? Why?”

“Because I was waiting for you.” He twisted a coil of her hair off her shoulder and around his finger. “Why didn’t you?”

He felt her shrug. “Because I don’t think anyone will love me the way you do,” she whispered. “I know no one understands me like you do, or puts up with me the way you do. You’ve been my best friend since I was four and no one knows me inside and out like you do. I think a large part of me knows I will never find that with anyone else.”

It took all his resolve not to drag her over him, under him, and plunder her mouth. He wanted to kiss her until there was never again another thought of someone else. He wanted to hold her and tell her she had him, that he was hers … always.

She chuckled quietly. “I think you’ve ruined me for all other men.”

Damon had never been so happy to hear anything in his whole life.

“You will always have me,” he murmured into the quiet her confession had left behind.

“Always?”

He tugged lightly on her hair. “Always.” He let the strand go and lightly cupped the side of her face. “I love you, Will.”

Even in the darkness, he could almost see her relief. He certainly felt it in her soft exhale and in the slight nuzzle of her face into his palm. The gesture wrenched something in his chest.

“Damon?”

“Yeah?”

Against his ribs, her heart had picked up pace. It pounded against him like a frightened bird in a cage. But when she spoke, her voice was an even whisper.

“Will you kiss me?”

His own heart slammed into his chest. He knew she must have felt it beneath her flattened palms. But all he could focus on was her timid request.

“What?”

She shifted, not to get away, but the gesture skimmed her hardened nipples against his side and the front of his boxers tightened.

“Just a kiss.”

The hand still curved along her cheek tilted and he brushed her moving lips with the pad of his thumb.

“God, yes,” he groaned.

Her shaky breath echoed around them. He could feel her trembling and wondered if it was from fear or anticipation.

She swallowed audibly. “Okay.”

The sheets rustled as she scrambled off him, taking her warmth with her. Damon shoved himself up and reached for the lamp; if he was going to finally kiss her, he wasn’t going to do it with the lights off. He wanted to see her. He wanted to watch her eyes and see the emotions when he finally closed that tiny remaining ounce of space between them. This moment was too important to hide in darkness.

She sat a mere foot away, bare legs curled beneath her. Her hair was a straight, silk sheet down her back and around her hunched shoulders. Her blue eyes watched him, wide and shiny. A wet, pink tongue flicked over her lips and he found himself studying the now moist curves.

He knew their shape. He knew all her shapes. He could draw her from memory alone, every inch of her. She was a beautiful fantasy tattooed to his heart, bright and bold and forever his.

Her mouth was small. The bottom half was full and perfectly curved to compliment the twin little peaks on top. Together, they formed a perfect little heart. He wondered if she would taste as sweet as she looked, as sweet as she felt and smelled. He could barely contain his excitement.

“Come here,” he whispered, motioning her to him with a jerk of his head.

She never hesitated.

She crawled to him. Damon waited until she was just close enough to pull over his outstretched legs. Her knees bracketed his hips as her pert little bottom settled perfectly on his thighs.

There was nothing intimate in the gesture and yet everything intimate. They had sat like that before. He had held her like that before. But everything about that moment crackled with a pent up tension that made his breath come out short and his heart miss several beats. His hands ached to touch her. His mouth tingled with the need to taste her. He needed her so badly everything hurt.

Just a kiss! He reminded himself. Only a kiss. That was all. Just one kiss.

“Damon?”

It was his turn to gulp.

“Gimmie a second,” he murmured. “I don’t want to rush.”

Her gaze searched his face. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “No.” He offered her a lopsided grin. “You’re not the only one completely ruined for the opposite sex.”

The smile that blossomed across her face was breathtaking. If he possessed even a shred of talent with a brush, or a camera, he would paint it, capture it forever. As it were, all he could do was slide his hands along her waist and up the arch of her spine. His palms flattened against her shoulder blades and he bent her forward. Her smile continued to shine in her darkened eyes, but her mouth had softened. They sat parted and waiting for his.

Just one kiss.

The taste of her exploded across his tongue, a sweet rush of devouring something innocent and forbidden. She poured over his tongue, tempting his taste buds and fanning the fire he was fighting like hell to taper down. Against his mouth, hers was tentative, but eager in a way that was driving him insane.

“Was that okay?” she panted when he could no longer stand it and drew away.

Her lips were moist and a pink that complimented the flush in her cheeks. The pupils of her eyes were enormous and glossy with something he refused to acknowledge.

“Yeah,” was all he was able to manage.

Beneath the tight material of her top, her chest rose and fell in time to her labored pants. The nipples were hard, dark points spearing against the white fabric. Damon tried not to stare, not because he was some fucking saint, but because his cock was a rock hard bulge against the front of his pants and she was sitting on it. The heat of her pussy soaked through all the pieces of clothing separating them to burn him. It was becoming impossible to control himself.

“Damon.”

Her hips rocked over him as she straightened. His mind went a blistering white that muted everything else but her movements. His hands dropped off her shoulder blades and settled on her hips. His fingers curled into place, struggling to restrain her.

“Don’t…”

Everything came to a standstill. Time itself seemed to freeze as they stared at each other through a mere foot of space. The air thickened with a tension that vibrated in all the places they were touching. Above him, Willa was trembling. Her lips were parted and her eyes were dark and she was watching him with a plea he didn’t have the resolve to ignore.

She moved.

Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe it was eight years of sexual frustrations playing with his head. But she rolled forward, up the length of his cock, then back down. The motions were slight, barely enough, yet it was too much.

“Christ, Will…”

Over him, she gasped. Her fingers tightened in the material of his top. Against his lap, he felt the flex of her ass. Her back arched and there was no stopping him from openly studying the firm mounds begging for his attention. It was them that distracted him from his restraint. It was their sweet promise that made him throw all caution to the wind. He tore the material off her in a single, powerful jerk. His greedy eyes devoured the skin exposed, skin that was a timid pink of arousal. The stain had spread across her chest to her cheeks, darkening them. Her eyes had gone an almost black that glinted with same desperate hunger as the one clawing through him. She bit her lip and he was done.

He had her on her back, pinned between him and the mattress with her legs splayed around his hips. His mouth closed on the closest nipple and he sucked with everything in him. He feasted with a hungry vengeance that left marks on her otherwise flawless skin. His hips slammed violently up into hers, needing to ease the pressure building rapidly inside him. Beneath him, Willa cried out and tensed. Her fingers locked in his hair, holding his mouth to her breast and lifting herself up for more.

“I’m ready, Damon!”

Her confession barely made any sense until her hands were at his sides, tugging and jerking at his clothes. Somewhere at the back of his muddled mind, he knew he needed to stop. He was already so close to reaching that place of no return. But his body was no longer his. His brain had no control over what was happening. All it knew was how badly he needed to be inside the writhing woman beneath him.

Their bottoms were gone. As was his top. The whole thing could have been magic if he hadn’t had a vague recollection of tearing them off. Her skin was a warm haven of softness welcoming every hard inch of him to her. She claimed his mouth as he struggled to align himself with her wet opening. The head of his erection slipped and missed the harder he tried to get inside her. Every clumsy attempt only tightened the coil inside him, the one that he knew could snap prematurely and forever embarrass him. Every muscle vibrated uncontrollably and he knew he didn’t have long.

It was her cool fingers curling around the hard shaft that guided him in place. She held the head to her opening and widened her legs. Her eyes locked with his, brilliant and encouraging.

He didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t.

He surged home, tearing through the flimsy membrane in his haste. Willa cried out a sound between pain, wonder, and contentment. Her body bowed to him as the wet walls of her sex greedily sucked the sanity out of him. Her nails raked down the straining muscles of his back. they anchored into his shoulder blades and he snarled at the sweet pain that sliced through him. The tight confines of her body felt like heaven and all he wanted to do was let go and end the suffering. Inside his chest, his heart screamed in triumph and terror with every passing second that he had to fight against moving, against breathing as the pressure built to heights he wasn’t sure he’d survive if he relinquished control. His toes curled against the sheets, tensing right along with every nerve in his body.

Shit. Shit. Shit! Please, God, please don’t let me come before her.

But it was too late.

He squirted deep in the cradle of her body with a strangled growl. The sheer ferocity sent his head back and his vision blurring. His cock twitched for what felt like forever, washing the silky walls of her core with the seemingly endless abundance of seed. The copious amount seeped out around the tight ring holding him inside her and soaked the sheets and still he continued to pump even more inside her until he was certain it would never stop.

“Shit…” he half sobbed into the hammering little pulse at her throat. “God, Will … God I … I couldn’t stop. I’m so sorry.”

Her lips moved tenderly up the side of his neck to his cheek. “It was beautiful.”

Damon shook his head, disgusted. “How can you say that?” He lifted his face to peer down at her. “It’s not supposed to be like that, Will. You’re supposed to come, too.”

“Not all women come the first time,” she stated wisely. “Besides, that was just getting the first step out of the way for next time.”

How could she want a next time? How could she not be upset? That was the second time he’d come before her. The second time she had held him while he humiliated himself. How was she not thoroughly disgusted?

“Damon.” She cupped his face between her hands. “It was special because we did it together.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “I honestly loved it.”

He was still breathing hard, even though he hadn’t hardly done anything. His gaze moved over her, assessing.

“Did I hurt you?”

She shrugged indifferently. “A little, but that’s normal. It won’t hurt next time.” She rolled out from under him and grabbed his discarded t-shirt. “I’m going to take a bath.”

With his shirt pulled down over her, she crawled out of bed and padded out of the room.

Damon just sat there, amid a tangled knot of defeat, embarrassment, and shame. The lingering signs of what he’d done glowered up at him from the stained sheets and he hated himself all the more for not being more for her, for not being better. She could tell him all she wanted that she was okay with what happened, but he knew there was nothing okay about it. There were so many things he could have done differently, so many ways he could have made the experience better for her. He should have worked harder to get her to come instead of seeking his release first.

I’m a selfish bastard, he thought bitterly to himself as he rose and began to tear the sheets off the bed. In the next room, he could hear her moving around, could hear her quietly humming to herself as she gathered all the crap she used in her bath. He balled the sheets and tossed them into the hamper. He was in the process of grabbing fresh linin when a thought occurred to him.

Was it really too late? Sure she hadn’t come in that moment, but was the need gone for her?

Dropping the folded yards of fabric down on the stripped bed, he stalked to the bathroom. But stopped outside the door. Maybe he should wait until she was finished.

No! He needed to do this. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen her naked.

Nailing down his courage, he reached for the door handle and stepped into the miniature-size cubical.

Standing naked in front of the sink, Willa gave a start. She set down the jar of bath salts she’d been holding and turned to him with wide eyes.

“Damon?”

Shutting the door, he went to her. His gaze roamed over her, taking in her long, silky legs, the neat triangle of curls between her legs, her curved hips, tapered waist, and settled on her high, perky breasts barely covered by strips of hair. It was all the things he’d missed when he’d had her on the bed. All the things that made his blood stir all over again and renewed his need to try again.

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.

A soft, pink flush worked up her chest to fill her cheeks. “What are you doing?”

One hand lifted to cup the base of her skull. He yanked her to him. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Her palms curled around his shoulders to steady her as he skimmed her parted lips with his.

“I want you to show me how you like to be touched,” he murmured. “I want you to come.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Show me!”

Her sharp intake of air excited him more than it probably should have. But it was dim compared to the shy brush of her fingers against the back of his hand as she guided him to the place between her supple thighs.

“Here,” she panted, tracing his middle finger over a hard little muscle between her nether lips. “Stroke it.”

The hand in her hair closed and he kept her mouth close, knotting their every breath together. Her lashes fluttered, slipping down to fall half-mast over her dark, misty eyes.

“Like this?”

She licked her lips and nodded. “A … a little faster. Yes!”

Her hiss dissolved into a moan of pleasure. She swayed forward into his chest. Her hips rolled against his hand, urging him on. The place between her legs dampened with just a few lazy strokes. Her slight frame quivered with unadulterated pleasure that sang through him. He followed the path further back to trace the tiny opening nestled beneath a pool of arousal and his earlier release.

“Are you sore?”

Her answer was the tight clamp of her fingers around the back of his neck. She took several unsteady steps back, taking him with her, until she was up against the bathroom wall. One foot was lifted and propped against the lip of the tub. The other went up on its toes. She braced her weight by taking hold of his shoulders.

“Slowly,” she breathed, eyes glazed with a hunger that was doing nothing to calm his control.

Trembling, he bent his knees and aligned himself the same way she had earlier. Her fingers on his shoulders tightened as the head of his cock pushed against her core.

“Slow…” she gasped, head falling back as the cap broke through and he started his descend inside her. “All the way.”

Gripping her just under her backside, he pushed all the way to the hilt and watched with dizzying ecstasy as she cried out and shuddered. The slick muscles around his shaft rippled.

“Come closer,” she rasped, already dragging him to her. “Don’t move, okay? And don’t come.”

He could promise one. He wasn’t so sure about the other when she began to move against him, using him and the wall as leverage to impale herself on him again and again in agonizingly slow thrusts. It didn’t help that with every descent, she only seemed to grow wetter, or that her moans were growing louder. She seemed lost behind her closed eyelids. Her lip was caught between her teeth and her brows were furrowed in concentration.

“I’m coming!” she choked out, her voice edged with panic, desperation, and wonder.

Her eyes flew open and locked with his, pinning him in place as he watched her crumble with a sob of his name.

Every ounce of his self-control vanished. There was nothing except the reckless need to claim. His mouth crashed down on hers as he slammed her back into the wall. His hands closed beneath her thighs and he lifted her to him, imprisoning her to the wild pumps of his hips. Her wails sang in his ears as her fingers tore out clumps of his hair and she begged him not to stop.

He came a second time that night, but this time, his snarl was one of triumph. It was one of arrogant satisfaction that he’d made his woman come. That he had satisfied her first. That she had taken pleasure from him being inside her. When it was over, he slumped against her, crushing her but unable to move.

“That was amazing,” Willa wheezed into his shoulder. “What made you think to do that?”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to fuck you,” he admitted.

Her chuckle was weak and sleepy. “God, I loved it. It made my orgasm go on forever.”

He made a mental note of that for next time.

Gingerly, he set her down, careful to keep an arm around her when she swayed. He brushed her hair off her beautifully flushed face and grinned at the satisfied glow in her eyes.

Much better, he thought before he kissed her.

He woke the next morning to streams of sunlight breaking through the window to spill across the bed. Willa lay on her side, her back a pale, naked curve where the sheets had slipped down to pool around the flare of her hips. Her hair spilled across both their pillows in a pale wave of white and pink.

Careful not to wake her, Damon brushed a kiss to her shoulder blade before slipping out of bed. He made a run to the bathroom before returning to find her awake and watching him.

She smiled around a blush. “Morning.”

Crossing to the bed, he crawled in next to her. “Morning. How do you feel?”

Her cheeks darkened and he laughed, which only seemed to spread the crimson stain all the way to her hairline.

“I’m okay. How are you?”

His answer was to kiss her, long and slow, before pulling back to peer into her face bathed in sunlight and happiness.

Christ, he loved her.

“Don’t go in today,” he murmured. “Stay home with me. We can go to Newburry for the day, or Vancouver and rent a room for the night.”

Willa laughed. “I’m in.”

They stayed in bed a few more minutes, kissing and touching but nothing else. As much as he was dying to get inside her again, he restrained himself. Despite her assurance that she was fine, he knew she must have been sore. Plus, what was waiting a day or two when he had her forever?

Showering and dressing, they grabbed their coats and left the apartment just a little after eleven. Willa called in to the studio and told her mom she was heading out of town for the day and wouldn’t be coming in. Damon couldn’t hear Lily’s end of the conversation, but it must have been fine, because Willa hung up and smiled at him before climbing into the Jeep.

He drove to Vancouver. It was six hours of open highway and idiot drivers, but even that didn’t bother him as it normally would. Next to him, Willa held his hand in her lap. Her head was turned away to watch the miles of harvested fields zip by. On the floor by her feet, her camera bag sat waiting to be snatched up at a moment’s notice. But she hadn’t touched it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She turned her head to him and brushed a stray strand behind her ear. “I’m a little sore, but I feel great. How are you?”

He nodded, keeping his gaze focused on the road. “I’m all right.”

Her fingers squeezed around his and she went back to watching the window.

It was a cloudy sort of day with a cool wind, but it wasn’t unbearable. Most of it was blocked by the towering skyscrapers when they finally parked in an overnight parking garage and ventured out to explore the city. Like New York, no one really drove anywhere if they could help it. Most of the people were on foot or the bus. Damon and Willa had toured every corner of it at some point or other and knew the place almost intimately. They had their favorite shops. Their favorite restaurants and cafés and they made sure to visit each of them whenever they were in the city. By nightfall, they were both exhausted. They left the Jeep in the garage and found a hotel.

“We didn’t bring any overnight stuff,” Willa pointed out as they climbed the stairs to the third floor.

“They’ll have everything in the room,” he said, absently flipping the room key between his fingers.

It was an average type of room with one queen sized bed, a dresser, TV, a table set and a mini fridge. Willa walked right in and set her camera down on the dresser and kicked off her shoes.

“My feet hurt,” she groaned, flopping down on the end of the bed and rubbing her toes.

Damon shut the door and set the keycard down next to her camera. “I’ll start you a bath.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

Removing his coat and shoes, he hung one up and set the other down underneath it. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater and stepped into the bathroom.

It was white with cream colored tiles. The shower was a glass cylinder next to a deep, Jacuzzi style tube. He fiddled with the knobs, getting the temperature just right. While it ran, he grabbed a towel off the top rack and set it down on the lip of the tub, followed by all the little lotions and things they had for that purpose lined along the counter. He’d let Willa decide which ones she liked.

“It’s ready!” he called, drying off his hands and moving into the next room.

She had discarded her coat and was standing at the window with her camera pressed to her face. She turned when he stepped into the room.

“There’s a group of ducks flying in a V formation,” she said. “I got a picture of it.”

Damon grinned. “They might be the last ones we see for the year.”

Nodding, she set her camera down on the table and crossed to him. “Will you join me?”

He shook his head. “Not this time.”

She peered up at him. “Why not?”

“Because you said you were sore and if I get in that tub with you, I won’t keep my hands off you.”

She laughed and kissed him.

“Next time then.”

Moving around him, she disappeared into the bathroom. The door was left open and he was given a clear view of her undressing in the mirror. The soft, pale light shimmered off every stretch of exposed skin, painting her a delicate gold. Damon watched her breasts lift and strain with the arching of her spine as she gracefully twisted her hair into a messy knot and contained by the elastic she fished out of her pants pocket. The tips were puckered and a dusky pink that made his mouth water. Her stomach was smooth and flat, dipping into her delicious center. Her ass was firm and perfectly proportioned with the rest of her. She was breathtaking, and it wasn’t just how effortlessly flawless her body was. She was, in his mind, the very definition of beautiful. And she was finally his.

“What do you want to do for the rest of the night?” Her voice carried through the room, over the rush of the water.

“I thought we could go downstairs for supper and then come back and watch whatever’s on TV.”

He could see the wrinkle of her nose even before she spoke.

“Can we order in?”

Unable to stand there any longer, he moved into the bathroom.

“If you like.”

She peered up, only her head visible over the lip of the tub. “I want the steak burger,” she said. “With—”

“Fries and gravy?” he finished for her with a grin.

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t act like you know me, Mister.”

Chuckling, he crossed to her and knelt down next to the tub so they were eyelevel. “I know you,” he murmured. “I know and love everything about you.”

The water sloshed in the confines of the porcelain as she leaned to one side and folded her arms on the lip of the tub. She rested her chin on her forearms and met his gaze.

“I eat babies for breakfast,” she stated evenly.

“With barbeque sauce. I know,” he replied, kissing her nose.

Willa laughed. “That’s so wrong.” She leaned back and he was given access to the full length of her. “This bath feels so good.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “And there’s room for two.”

He bit back his grin. “Stop tempting me, woman. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

She popped one eye open and peered at him. “Do you think it’s strange that I want you again, even if I am sore?”

All amusement vanished in a liquid rush of heat that automatically hardened between his legs.

“No,” he forced out, struggling not to throw caution aside and take her.

“I hope it goes away soon,” she went on. “The soreness,” she clarified. Her cheeks darkened. “I want to try what we did last night again.”

Christ!

His sweater hit the corner of the room with barely a sound and he rose to his feet. Both her eyes snapped open and she watched him curiously as he unfastened his pants.

“Move up,” he ordered, kicking out of his jeans, socks and boxers.

She did. The water lapped against the sides with her hurried motion.

He slid into the tub behind her and dragged her back into the V between his legs. His hands immediately went to her thighs and he dragged them apart so both her legs were thrown over his, spreading her open wide.

“Damon…?”

He silenced her with the hand he cupped over her mound. His free arm banded around her waist when her body jerked in reaction. His fingers delved between her lips and found the spot she’d shown him the night before.

“Here?” he murmured into her ear.

Her head bobbed rapidly. “Yes!”

He teased it slowly, loving how she was already coming undone in his arms. Her labored breathing was broken by her pitiful little moans and despite his arm, he could scarcely contain her thrashing hips.

Releasing her, he moved his hand up to cup her breast.

“Show me how you like them played with,” he coaxed in his best low voice.

“The nipples,” she panted, arching her back.

“Show me.”

He removed his hand and watched hers replace it. She cupped the spongy mounds and teased the tight little buds with slow, circular strokes of her thumbs. It was in time to his lazy flicks of her clit, he noted. It also dawned on him that she’d done this before. She knew exactly what her body liked. It hadn’t clued in the night before, but she had positioned him in such a way that guaranteed her release.

“Have you ever played with her?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Willa nodded and a quiet chuckle escaped her. “Since I was thirteen.” Her head tipped a notch in his direction, her expression teasing. “You trying out for basketball in high school and seeing you getting all sweaty and hot and then taking off your top mid game was my first orgasm fantasy.”

“Jesus!” The motion of his fingers quickened. “When was the last time you touched yourself?”

“The other night. You were sleeping.”

The thought of her in his bed, legs sprawled around the hand pleasuring her while he slept next to her nearly destroyed him.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because I had promised you we would take things slow, but I woke up with you pressed hard against me and I…” Her words trailed off in a husky purr that bowed her hips into his palm. “Harder,” she panted. “I’m so close.”

He did and was rewarded with the exquisite shudder of her body as she came apart. Her hand clamped down over his, holding him to her while she grinded against his palm and the erection cradled against the cleft of her ass.

Sated, she slumped back against him, breathless and limp. Her hand was still holding his to her pussy and he could feel the faint twitch of her clit long after she had calmed down.

“Better?” he teased.

“Mm,” was the only answer he got.

“Good.” His lips followed her jawline to her ear. “Next time you wake up wet, you better wake me up, too.”

“Promise,” she breathed.

Satisfied, he rose and reached for the towel. He dried himself off and climbed out. He grabbed a fresh towel and motioned her up along with him. He dried her off before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bedroom.

She gasped as the cool sheets came up against her bare back. Damon didn’t notice as he pitched her towel into the corner and climbed between her raised knees.

“Damon…”

Her moan was a sultry mewl that was followed by the wide spread of her thighs and the greedy lock of her fingers in his hair. He was dragged to her pussy and he didn’t ask why.

His own cock burned for release and all he could do was gouge it into the mattress as he swept an eager tongue from hole to clit. Her sweet, tangy flavor spilled across his tongue, becoming his favorite new treat as he repeated the motion, doing everything he’d seen in pornos. Her whimpering chants of his name assured him he was doing something right.

“Suck!” she gasped, reaching down to part her lips for him. Her clit winked up at him, slick and swollen for attention. “Here.”

He did as she asked and suctioned his lips over the bundle. Carefully, he eased two fingers inside her and worked the tight muscles while tugging and nipping at her clit with his lips.

Willa went absolutely insane. Her body writhed as though she were on fire. Her wails ricocheted off the walls and skated down the length of his spine. She fisted both hands in his hair and held him to her as she thrust up her hips and lifted her feet up over his head. The position folded her in two, but gave him perfect access to her core.

“Stop!” she suddenly cried, shoving at his head. “Stop!”

He did and jerked his head up. “Did I hurt—?”

Her answer was her hands in his hair again and forcibly drag him up to her. She claimed his mouth still smeared with her juices and locked her ankles around the small of his back.

“Get inside me!” she panted.

Bemused and in unimaginable pain, Damon stared at her. “What?”

“Get inside me!” she shouted, nudging him down with her feet.

“You said—”

“Damon!”

Maybe it was the crazy, lust filled glaze in her eyes, or the fact that he was sure he was about to die, but he slammed up inside her and actually got it in on the first try. Her walls immediately closed around him, trapping him in place as she bowed off the mattress. Her head flew back as her entire body tensed. Hot liquid rushed over his pounding cock in a flood that soaked the sheets. Her nails raked down his spine, all the way down to his ass where they dug in and pulled him in deeper, triggering his release. He was spilling deep inside her when she let out a sob and broke around him. He knew she was coming. He could feel the ripple of her body sucking at him. He could feel their combined release trickling over his twitching cock. Both spilled around the seam where their bodies connected and added to the ruined sheets. Her pussy kept pulsing long after his cock had spilled free of her; he could feel it with every tremor that passed through her.

She was a limp mess under him as he lazily littered kisses along her throat and shoulders. His grin mashed against her hot, damp body as he patted himself on the back for another job well done. While it was cheesy and pathetic, he really was proud of himself.

“Did I hurt you?”

Her head rocked on the pillow, but no words came out. Her eyes were closed and she looked about two seconds away from falling asleep.

He kissed her on the mouth once before reaching down and gathering up the sheets. He dragged her into his chest and swaddled them up for the night.

They stayed in bed the next morning until the last possible second before grabbing a shower and getting dressed. They checked out of the hotel and made their way back to the parking garage to pick up his Jeep and breakfast. Neither spoke overly much, but the quiet was comfortable. It was filled with smiles and tender kisses. It was the kind of morning he would have given his soul up to have every day for the rest of his life.

It was five in the afternoon by the time they rolled into the parking space of their apartment building. He killed the engine and they climbed out.

“I think I’m going to head over to the studio and see if I can’t at least help Calla and Mom close up,” Willa decided as he let them into the building. “I feel bad for abandoning them for two whole days.”

“Why don’t we change and I’ll drive you over.”

It never got that far.

The moment they approached their door, he knew something was wrong. The wood stood ajar, three inches of darkness forming a strip where there should not have been one. The frame was splintered where the deadbolt had kept intruders out, leaving no doubt that someone had broken in.

“Damon?”

He thrust out an arm to stop her, even though she hadn’t moved.

“Stay here.”

“Wait!” She grabbed the back of his sweater. “Don’t go in there. We should call the sheriff.”

“You call the sheriff. I’m just going to take a look.”

Apprehension shone in her eyes and reflected in the pinch lines around her mouth. “Damon…”

“It’s fine,” he assured her gently. “Call.”

He left her dialing and stepped quietly into the tiny foyer. His heartbeat seemed infinitely loud beating against the cavity of his chest. A chill skated down his spine, dampening his skin against the soft material of his top and making him itch. At his sides, his fingers curled, tightening into fists that trembled with his rage. Impenetrable darkness closed in all around him, hollowed out by an unnatural silence that drummed between his ears. It took him a moment to realize the fridge wasn’t running. That someone had unplugged everything, even the stove. The blinds had been drawn over all the windows, blocking out any access light. The vast isolation of his surroundings churned his stomach. It mutated into images of him locking himself in the dark bathroom all night while his father pounded against the door. Locks had been the only thing that kept him alive most of his life. Locks and darkness. He had learned to find even a strip of it to crawl into and hide. Being enclosed by it now, in his home, in his place of safety, made him want to vomit.

He reached for the switch in the hallway and snapped it on. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it flared on with a harshness that made him wince. The low wattage formed pockets of darkness stopping just in the thresholds of each room. Behind him, he could hear Willa’s low, frantic murmuring and knew he only had a few more minutes before she followed him in.

Moving quickly and quietly, he checked every room, under every bed and inside every closet. It wasn’t until he reached the hallway cupboard that it hit him what had been taken, because all three TVs were still in their places. The surround sound in the living room, the DVD player in his room, all of Willa’s jewelry, and even their appliances were all exactly where they should be. Everything was there, except…

“Oh my God!”

Willa’s gasp had him whirling around. She stood just behind him, eyes enormous over the hands she’d clamped over her mouth. Her face was frighteningly pale, making her eyes seem extra blue in contrast.

“Will…”

She wasn’t looking at him. Her focus was fixed on the empty shelves where her photography equipment used to sit.

Chapter Eight ~ Willa

“It was Lisa Sheridan.”

Calla’s heels snapped like angry hounds with every agitated pace across the length of Willa’s foyer. The rest of the family sat or stood in various spots around the apartment. Willa stayed by the terrace, watching rain shatter against the glass and trickle down to join all the other raindrops forming a puddle on the concrete.

Her heart felt broken. Worse than that, she felt violated. Someone had broken into her home, gone through her things and stolen items—while replaceable—not really replaceable at all. Each one had been a gift from Damon, or her family. They had all been precious to her, every single piece.

“Why do you say that, Mrs. Dumont?” Sheriff Henley adjusted his thick belt over the heavy set of his belly.

“Because she’s a bitch!” Calla seethed.

“Calla!” Their mother glowered at her disapprovingly before turning her attention to the sheriff. “What my daughter is trying to say is that Willa had an altercation with Mrs. Sheridan a few weeks back regarding photos.”

“What type of altercation? Willa?”

All heads turned in her direction. She could feel their eyes before she even summed up the energy to face them.

“I accidentally told her mother about the photos of Jessie she’d had taken for Christmas.” Even her voice sounded listless to her own ears. She couldn’t bring herself to care. All she wanted to do was sleep. She felt exhausted. “Lisa was upset.”

Well into his seventies, Hank Hanley had been sheriff of Willow Creek since before Willa was born. Hell, probably since before her mother was born. He was a good man, but a shrewd and fair cop. She knew he would do everything in his power to help fix things.

“Walk me through it,” he encouraged.

Willa did, telling him exactly what had happened the morning at the bank.

“But I don’t think it was her,” she added. “Lisa may have been angry, but she’s not capable of breaking and entering, or breaking down a door.”

“Her husband is,” Calla countered. “Maybe he got tired of hearing his wife bitching about their ruined Christmas gift and he decided to take matters into his own hands.”

Sheriff Hanley put his hand up to stop her. “Now, let’s not go jumping to assumptions. I’m going to look into this. In the meantime, I would get another lock on that door and maybe an alarm system.”

Her dad walked the sheriff out, heads close as they murmured together all the way to the door. Willa went back to watching the sky bleed tendrils of black and gray. Part of her wondered if it had been miserable like that just that morning when she’d awakened in Damon’s arms, feeling light and blissful.

“Will?” Strong arms slid seamlessly around her middle and she was drawn back against a familiar chest. “It’ll be okay.”

Willa shook her head even as tears threatened to choke her. “It was everything you got me.”

His arms tightened. “I’ll get you more.”

“It won’t be the same.” She pulled in a breath before she could break down. “They were Christmases and birthdays and—”

“Stop.” He kissed the side of her head. “It’s only stuff. I can replace stuff.”

She turned into the warmth and security of his chest and buried her face into his shoulder. “They were in our home,” she croaked into the soft wool of his sweater.

“I know.”

“Who would do that?”

His answer was the tender stroke of his hand moving over her hair.

“I can get that door fixed in the morning,” Jared said from behind them. “The hardware store is closed or I’d do it right now.”

“Come home tonight,” her mom added. “I know I’ll sleep better knowing you’re both safe.”

Damon peered down at Willa, asking her silently if that was what she wanted to do. Willa nodded. She didn’t think she had the courage to stay there overnight knowing it had been tainted by an unwanted presence. She wouldn’t be able to sleep in fear that it might happen again, especially since the door no longer even locked. Not that that seemed to matter to the person responsible.

They packed an overnight bag and followed the crowd downstairs to the parking lot. Damon took their things to the Jeep as her mother pulled Willa into her arms.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “The sheriff will find the bastard who did this and we’ll make sure they pay.”

“I just want my stuff back,” she murmured. “They mean everything to me.”

“I know, baby.” Her mom drew back and cupped her face. “Why don’t we go home and I’ll make shrimp scampi for supper.”

“Then we’ll go for ice cream.” Uncle Cole came up behind Willa and eased an arm around her shoulders. “What? Don’t tell me you’re too old for ice cream. You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Despite the dark cloud choking her, Willa laughed. “Never too old for ice cream.”

He kissed the top of her head. “That’s my girl. We’ll see you at home.”

Her childhood home wasn’t nearly big enough to contain everyone. But somehow, everyone made themselves comfy on the ancient furniture and talked about everything and anything, except what happened. She knew they were trying to get her mind off of it, but it wouldn’t go away.

A cup of steaming tea was pressed into her hands by her aunt and she cradled it close, wishing she could crawl into the brew and soak. Her very bones felt like slabs of ice weighing her down. All she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa and sleep.

From across the room, standing in a tight triangle with Calla and Jared, Damon broke away and crossed around the room to lean over the back of the sofa.

“I’m going to walk Cal and Jare to their car,” he murmured into her ear. “They have to pick Colt up from Tiffany’s. But I’ll be right back.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Adjusting his weight forward, he pressed a deep kiss to her mouth before pulling back and following the pair out the door. Willa watched them go and was about to sigh when she noticed the entire room watching her with varying degrees of surprise. Heat prickled up her cheeks that had nothing to do with the steam rising off her tea.

“What?”

“How long have you and Damon been … together?” her mom asked.

Willa blinked, somehow not expecting that question until she remembered he’d kissed her in front of their entire family.

“A couple of weeks,” she murmured. “We were going to tell you.”

“We just didn’t realize things had … evolved between you guys,” Aunt Beth explained.

“It’s not a bad thing,” her mom chimed in. “We were just not expecting that kiss.”

Willa’s blush deepened. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Aunt Beth said quickly. “I think it’s about time, truthfully.”

“I think you could have waited longer,” her dad muttered and got a teasing elbow from her mom.

“I think it’s great,” her mom said. “He’s a good boy and he loves you.”

Slightly uncomfortable by the attention, but pleased by the statement, Willa smiled. “He does.”

“Well, this officially only leaves one kid,” Uncle Cole stated. “Once Toby’s found himself a girl, we’ll finally get the house to ourselves.”

Beth laughed. “You say that now, but once we do, you’ll be sad that it’s so big and empty.”

“Nonsense, we’ll have grandchildren by then…” Uncle Cole considered this a moment, his face steadily growing into one of dread. “Then great grandchildren … Jesus, we’re never going to be free of children.”

Everyone laughed, even Uncle Cole.

Damon took that moment to walk back into the house. The laughing stopped as all eyes turned to watch him. The attention had him coming short just over the threshold.

“What?”

Willa hid her grin behind her teacup.

“Boy, you and I need a talk,” her dad said in that scary dad tone of his he only used when they were in deep shit.

Damon stiffened. His gaze jumped from her dad to Uncle Cole before returning.

“What did I do?”

Her dad narrowed his eyes. “You know what you did.”

It was incredible how well they were all managing to maintain their blank expressions. Willa could barely contain herself and it was only because she knew her dad was teasing that she was able to bite her tongue.

“Is this about the dent in the truck, because that was Jared?”

Willa winced as her father’s eyebrows lifted in a new sort of interest.

“There’s a dent in the truck?”

Damon grimaced. “No?”

Her mother broke first. “Oh, will you stop teasing him.” She turned to Damon. “Willa just told us you two are officially together.”

Willa expected him to at least relax a fraction, but the tension remained. “Oh?”

“We think it’s wonderful,” Aunt Beth said.

Her dad scoffed. “Some of us.”

While it was a joke, Willa saw the flicker of hurt in Damon’s eyes before he lowered them to the ground. His shoulders hunched inwardly with the slip of his hands into his pockets. He shifted, making the floorboards creak under his weight.

“Don’t listen to him,” Uncle Cole said. “He’s just pissy because his little girl isn’t so little anymore.”

Damon raised his head. His mouth was twisted in a grin, but she knew better. He moved to the sofa and took the spot next to her.

“Right, because you were simply euphoric over Calla getting married.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know, I was very happy for Jared. He married up in the world.”

While they bickered back and forth the way only her dad and Uncle Cole ever could, Willa turned to the man next to her.

“He was only teasing,” she whispered. “You know he adores you.”

He offered her his lopsided smile. “I know.” His hand rested lightly on her thigh. “I’m okay.”

She didn’t believe him, but she let it slide.

“Everything okay with Calla and Jared?”

He nodded. “Yeah, Calla’s convinced it was Lisa. Jared thinks it was some person driving through town.”

Her eyebrow lifted. “And of all the single houses in town, he decided to hit an apartment building?”

Damon shrugged. “They’re only theories.”

“It was personal, Damon.” She set her teacup down on the end table. “They left everything except my equipment. I just wish I knew who I hurt that badly.”

He looked at her. “What makes you think you did anything wrong? They could just be assholes.”

“But maybe if I’d been nicer…”

“Stop.” He took her hand. “Whoever this person is, it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.”

She wanted to believe him, but it didn’t shake the fact that she had upset someone so badly that they would go out of their way to take the one thing she loved doing.

“Are you leaving already?”

Uncle Cole and Aunt Beth rose almost on unison.

“I have to go pick Toby up from his friend’s house. It’s getting late and there’s school in the morning.” Uncle Cole explained. He turned his attention to Willa. “We’re just down the road if you need anything, okay?”

She nodded and forced a smile. “Thank you.”

Both kissed her cheek before leaving.

Willa got to her feet once the door closed behind them. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”

Her mother frowned. “You haven’t even had supper!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just really tired.”

Her mom’s features softened. “Okay, baby.” She walked over and kissed Willa on the head. “Get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

Morning didn’t look better. Neither did the next day, or the next. The sheriff never found the person who broke into her apartment. Whoever they were, they were long gone, taking her stuff with them.

It hit her as odd that, for a town that knew everyone’s business and saw everything, how could they miss this? How could no one have noticed, or heard, someone breaking down a door? Why had no one stopped them? In a sense, she felt betrayed by the people she always thought she meant something to. People she had always been there for. People she had grown up with and were essentially kind of like family. Somehow, that felt worse than the actual crime.

By the first week of December, nearly four weeks since the break in, Willa had given up hopes of ever getting her stuff back. She knew that the odds of the thief still carting camera equipment around were slim. Odds were that everything was already sold off. Gone forever, taking Willa’s love of photography with them, because what was she without her things to photograph with? She still had her camera, she supposed. But all her different types of lenses, her tripod, her lights and flashes and screens … gone, and it would cost thousands to get even half of them back. Part of her wanted to just say screw it and give it up entirely.

“You’re not giving up,” Damon told her firmly one afternoon. “You’re going to use the items from the studio until the insurance money comes in.”

If it comes in, she wanted to tell him. Their insurance guy who had always been helpful in making sure they were paying out the nose to protect their stuff, had inexplicably become impossible to reach and when they did reach him, he spent the time making them run around filing paperwork. He claimed his bosses didn’t understand how nothing else was touched, except for her equipment, which was conveniently the most expensive items on the plan. Willa had been appalled by the implication. But she and Damon had paid a small fortune to make sure everything in their home was protected and she wanted all that money to actually to do what it was intended, like repurchasing her equipment.

“I’m sorry.” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “I’ve been impossible the last little while and it’s not fair to you.”

He touched her face lightly, his fingers warm despite the flurry of snow swirling around their ankles.

“It’s going to be okay.” He kissed her. “I promise.”

Chapter Nine ~ Damon

“All right, boys.” Sloan marched down the front steps of his house and joined the pair waiting for him at the bottom. “We have an easy move today. Three bedrooms, three floors, including the basement.”

Jared and Damon followed after him as he marched to where the trucks were parked in the back.

“Where?” Jared asked.

Tugging his gloves on, Sloan squinted over at them. “Not far. Just up the road. You know the Gacie place?”

“No shit!” Jared snorted and glanced at Damon. “You remember that place, don’t you?”

“Should I?”

“Yeah, we used to go there all the time to jump off their cliff … I mean, explore,” he corrected quickly when Sloan shot him a glare. “We never went there. Not once.”

“Uh huh.” Sloan yanked open the driver’s side door and hopped inside.

But now that Jared mentioned it, Damon did remember the cliffs overlooking some of the clearest waters in all of Willow Creek. Willa had always loved it there. She never jumped off, but she would sit next to the lake and read while the rest of them did some really stupid shit. It was a wonder one of them hadn’t gotten killed, honestly. Not that they thought about that at the time. It was all about having fun and, well, doing stupid shit. What he didn’t recall was a house.

The Stockton Valley was a ten minute drive from Sloan’s house. The lush acreage extended for miles in a wilderness of trees, hills, and a stream that wove all the way around the entire town. Once they had broken through the winding trail and came to the lake, Damon knew exactly which house Jared had been talking about.

It was a two story cottage in a soft, lavender color with white trimming. It sat perched on a field of never ending green that came to a rolling stop on an incline of sand that dipped into calm, green waters. The house was nestled away by the increasing rise where the cliffs began. Damon knew the path they used to take was on the other side of that wall. It went all the way to the other side, away from the house. It was probably why he could never remember the place. They hadn’t crossed it very often. But now, with the grass tucked away beneath layers of snow and the trees bare and the lake a sheet of ice, it looked like a completely different place.

“They’re selling this place?” he asked, unhooking his seatbelt and squinting at the sign swaying in the wind.

“Yeah,” Sloan said. “The O’Connell family had been renting this property for near thirty years, but I guess with their kids all grown, no point staying.”

“How much do they want for it?” he wondered, studying the house.

Sloan looked past Jared to him. “I don’t know. Why? You thinking about buying a place?”

Damon shrugged. “Not really, but Willa would like it. It’s not exactly the ocean, but it’s real pretty in the summer and it’s only up the road from you guys so I know she’d like that.”

“Good luck with that.” Jared chuckled. “It’s owned by Leroy Gacie. That son of a bitch is as mean as they come.”

Sloan nodded. “And he’s probably asking about six million dollars for it.”

Damon said nothing, his mind already churning the idea of getting it for him and Willa, and the family he wanted with her one day.

“You should call,” Sloan said after a moment. “Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Damon programed the number listed on the sale sign into his phone and promised himself he’d call on his first break. He stowed the device away and hopped out of the truck.

Sloan had been right about one thing, the move didn’t take as long as one would expect of a couple who had been living in the same house for over three decades. Most of the items were furniture, the odd trunk, or box, but everything was organized neatly and piled in the front room. It made Damon wish all clients were so thoughtful.

On his break, he called the number listed on the For Sale By Owner sign and waited for someone to pick up.

A woman did, her voice smooth and rich and holding all the proper weight of someone educated and high class.

“Hello?”

Damon drew in a breath. “Hi, I’m calling about a property for sale. Stockton Valley. This was the number listed.”

“That’s right. What can I do for you, Mr. …?”

“Combs, but I prefer Damon.”

“I’m Robyn Gacie. I’m overseeing my grandfather’s property. Did you have a question?”

“I want to buy it,” he said flat out.

“Well, we can certainly look into that. Why don’t we meet up for dinner tonight and talk it over?”

Dinner? How the hell was he going to have dinner with this woman without Willa asking where he was going?

“Is that a problem?”

Damon scratched his chin. “No, it’s not a problem.”

“Excellent. I will text you the address and see you at eight.”

Hanging up, Damon cursed.

Jared, wiping a filthy bandana over his sweaty brow, glanced up. “What?”

“She wants to have dinner,” Damon muttered.

Jared stuffed the bit of damp fabric away into his back pocket. “Who?”

Damon sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, his head pounding. “Robyn Gacie.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want Willa to know about it … this.” He gestured to the house. “I don’t want her to get her hopes up in case we don’t get it.”

Jared eyed him. “You’re serious about this? You really want to buy a house?”

Damon shook his head. “I want to buy this house. It’s exactly what Willa’s always wanted.”

“You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

A frown crinkled the center of his brows. “Why?”

“Because!” Jared blurted. “Buying a house is a big deal. It’s not like adopting a puppy, or—”

“I want to marry her,” Damon stated evenly. “I want to have kids. Lots of them. I want to have a puppy and a kitten and whatever else she wants. I want this house.”

Jared shook his head and sighed. “Okay then. What’s the plan?”

“Wow! Don’t you look handsome.” Willa smiled at him from the open doorway of his bedroom. She was already dressed to stay home in tight leggings and a bulky sweater that had once belonged to him before she stole it along with several t-shirts, and since he liked seeing her in his clothes, he let her. “What’s the occasion?”

Adjusting the collar of his white dress shirt, Damon shrugged, unable to meet her gaze. “No occasion. Just going to have some beers with the boys.”

An eyebrow lifted in question. “You’re dressed up for beers?”

“I lost a bet,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the cuffs.

Maybe it was because he had never lied to her, or maybe it was because it sounded convincing, but she smiled and moved forward to run her small hands along his shoulders, smoothing out wrinkles and making him feel a whole lot worse.

“Well, at least they didn’t make you wear a dress.” Going up on her toes she brushed her lips to his. “Have fun.”

He hated himself. Even while he was doing it for a good reason, it took all his restraint not to tell her everything. Instead, he grabbed his coat, told her to lock the door and set the alarm and left.

The address Robyn had texted him was a French restaurant in Newburry. Damon didn’t speak French, not even the most basic phrases. But he figured he wasn’t there to order anything, and if he did, maybe they had an English menu. His main goal was to act like an actual adult. He had to convince Robyn Gacie that he was the right person to buy her grandfather’s house. But more importantly, he had to be all the things he normally wasn’t with strangers—nice. He had to be friendly and open. Only for Willa, he thought with a miserable shake of his head.

While he wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t very good with being friendly with people he didn’t know. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to make friends. He had Jared and he had Willa. Why did people think they needed more than two? It was part of the reason he became a mover. Moving people didn’t really require a whole lot of chitchat. Plus, he left that aspect of things to Sloan, or Jared. But he would do his best to impress this Robyn woman. He would do whatever, say whatever, he had to in order to convince her he was the one.

He pulled into a parking spot and hurried inside with ten minutes to spare. The fancy-pants bean pole at the door stopped him with a series of words Damon assumed was a greeting of some kind.

“I’m here to see Robyn Gacie,” he said in English.

Whether the man was offended at being interrupted, or that the statement wasn’t said in French, it was impossible to tell. But his thin lips became a white slash against his long face. He regarded Damon a moment down the length of his regal nose before motioning him onward.

“Dis vay,” the man muttered in a very thick accent.

The place was full of woman in luxurious gowns and dripping diamonds while the men wore expensive suits and smiled with a brilliance that should have been saved for daytime television. The low buzz of chatter filled the air, mixing with the scent of rich foods and even richer wines. Damon’s wallet wept without ever having left his pocket. They stopped at a table tucked into one corner containing two people. One was a stunningly gorgeous woman with hair the color of fire and eyes the startling green of polished emeralds. The other was a large, round man with a thick mustache the exact white of snow. Both glanced up when the host loomed over them and spoke in rapid French. Damon waited to be motioned over.

“You must be Damon,” the woman purred. “I’m Robyn.”

She sounded like she looked, Damon thought. Like money, class and power. She also had the most perfect skin he’d ever seen, and she was showing a lot of it in the flowing, silk gown the precise green of her eyes. Despite the yards of fabric that actually made the dress up, it barely covered her. He wasn’t sure how that was possible, exactly, but it slipped off her shoulders and still somehow managed to remain on her body. The bodice dipped low, very low, between high, firm breasts and was pinned together by a diamond pendant the size of a jar lid. It was all that anyone could focus on. The thing kept glittering and pulling the eyes. It was a task to maintain stubborn eye contact with the person and not her chest.

He took the delicate hand she offered him. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Gacie.”

“Robyn,” she corrected with a charming smile. “This is my grandfather, Leroy Gacie.”

“Sir,” Damon said politely. “Thank you for seeing me.”

The man inclined his round head.

“Won’t you have a seat?” Robyn offered when Leroy said nothing.

Damon claimed the seat opposite the pair.

“Would you like something?” Robyn asked, already motioning a waiter over.

“Oh no, thank you.”

The waiter bowed ever so slightly and left just as quickly as he had arrived.

Robyn smiled. “I told my grandfather about your interest in the home and he just had to meet you.”

Damon nodded. “I am interested. I want to buy it for my…” He faltered, not sure what to call Willa. His girlfriend? The woman he planned on marrying? “The woman I plan on marrying,” he decided to go with. “She’s always wanted a house by the ocean. This is the next best thing. Plus our family lives close by and that’s important.”

“That’s so sweet,” Robyn said, settling her elbows on the table and perching her elegantly pointed chin on her fingers. “Why didn’t you bring her with you? We would have loved to meet her.”

“It’s kind of a surprise,” he confessed. “We had a break in and some of her prized items were stolen and she’s been feeling down because of it. I think this will cheer her up.”

Robyn recoiled with a gasp. “That is awful. I am so sorry to hear that. Hopefully no one was hurt?”

Damon shook his head. “We weren’t home.”

One pale hand fluttered like a delicate bird and pressed into her chest, just above the brooch. Her scarlet lips pursed and she shook her head.

“Thank heavens.” She kept rocking her head slowly from side to side. “I would have been simply frantic. It’s almost hard to believe something like that would happen in Willow Creek. Why, I can’t even recall the last time anything ever happened there.”

“She’s really shaken up about it.”

“So where does she think you are tonight?”

Damon grimaced. “I told her I was going out with some friends. My best friend is covering for me in case Willa asks.”

“Willa.” Robyn’s eyes narrowed. “She’s the tiny blonde with the camera, am I correct?”

The description had Damon chuckling. “That’s her.”

Robyn beamed. “I’ve seen her around town. She’s adorable.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I’m sorry.” Robyn smiled sheepishly. “I know most of the town by face more than I know them by name.”

Damon shrugged. “The town’s growing. Hard to keep track of everyone.”

“Yes!” Robyn laughed. “I remember a time when you could throw a rock and hit about three houses all at once.” She sighed and glanced at her grandfather, who had yet to say a word. “It must be even stranger for you, Grandfather.”

“Quite.” He mumbled, green eyes fixed on Damon. “Robyn, why don’t you give us men a few moments to talk business?”

Robyn smiled and picked up her clutch purse off the table. “Yes, of course. I’ll just go powder my nose real quick.”

Damon hurriedly shot out of his seat and moved around to help pull out hers. She smiled kindly at him before strolling away. Damon regained his seat.

“Mr. Gacie, I—”

“I’m not surprised easily,” the man boomed in a voice scratched with age and too much smoking. “But when Robyn told me you were the one inquiring about the property, I just had to see it for myself.” The chair creaked beneath his weight as he shifted to the left and propped an elbow on the armrest. He curled his fingers under his chin and continued to regard Damon in a way that was prickling along the back of his neck. “So, tell me, why do you really want the house?”

Damon frowned. “I’m sorry?”

Leroy moved again, this time to fold his fingers over his protruding belly. “You don’t honesty expect me to believe this garbage about there being some girl, do you? Oh I believe there’s a girl,” he broke in before Damon could speak. “What I don’t believe is that you don’t have an ulterior motive for the house.”

“What could I possibly want with a house, except to live in it?” Damon wondered.

Leroy rolled one large shoulder. “You tell me.”

“Sir, I don’t know what you think you might know about me, but I can assure you that—”

“Oh, I have heard plenty about you.” A twisted sort of smirk darkened Leroy’s pudgy face. “I know all about you, Mr. Comb. I used to know your father.” The triumph in his beady eyes sparked when Damon stiffened. “He was a con artist who weaseled me out of a small fortune back in the day and I never forget.”

It was a struggle not to shift, to not giveaway just how furious that conversation was making him. But Damon somehow managed to remain flat and impassive when he spoke.

“I haven’t seen my father in almost twenty years.”

“Ah, but we both know that an apple never falls very far from the tree, don’t we, Mr. Comb?”

Fury hit the back of Damon’s throat like poison. He tasted the bitter tang of it spread across his tongue.

“So tell me, why should I give you my house?”

It was brewing in him to tell the man to go fuck himself, but the rest came out of him instead.

“Because my father is Cole McClain,” he said with an evenness that surprised even him. “And he raised me to be a good, honest, and hardworking man. He taught me to respect others and treat them with decency and kindness. He taught me that, in life, the only thing worth fighting for is love and family. Because of him, everything I own, I paid for with my own money. Everything I have done up until this moment in my life, I’ve done with his wisdom in my ear. And I have loved the same woman since I was six years old and I still love her more than my own life. That is the kind of man I am. That is the kind of man my parents raised me to be. So if we’re talking about apple trees, Mr. Gracie, then let’s have a look at yours, shall we? Because you’re not the only one who did his homework before coming here tonight. For example, I know that your money came from your ancestors selling sick pigs to the poor and desperate farmers of Willow Creek back in the day. I know that your money is tainted with their deaths—”

There was a slight sort of satisfaction in seeing the other man’s eyes widen. “What are you—?”

Damon plowed on, feeling his anger surging in a white hot noise. “And since we’re talking about sins of the father, what about yours, a sick, perverted pedophile who lured a sixteen year old girl into his car, raped her and then dumped her off on the side of the road. The same girl who showed up on his doorstep nine months later with a baby boy who he and his wife took in and raised as their own after he paid the mother off. Tell me, should the parents of Willow Creek be worried that you’ll be like your father, Mr. Gacie? Apples, right?”

The other man’s face had gone a sickly white that illuminated the wideness of his eyes. “How dare you—”

“It seems to me that the only one between the two of us who should be worried about getting cheated in this bargain is me.” Damon shoved back his chair and rose. “I still want that house, Mr. Gacie. My Willa deserves it. But I won’t be played.”

With an inclination of his head, he turned on his heels and marched out of the restaurant. He had no recollection of driving home, only that he found himself sitting in the parking lot, staring furiously at the building. The sliding doors overlooking the terrace were dark, as was her bedroom window. The only one lit was his room, indicating Willa was still awake and he wondered what she was doing. Probably watching TV, he mused, and waiting for him.

He groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face. He had so hoped he’d have good news to tell her when he returned. In his mind, he’d already had it all figured out. But he knew there was no chance in hell Gacie was going to give him that house now, not after calling him a murdering pedophile. While he didn’t exactly regret his words, he regretted not being able to give Willa her dream house more.

There are other houses, he told himself. He’d just keep looking.

His pep talk didn’t exactly inspire him to go to war, but it gave him enough of a boost to get out of the Jeep. He used his key to get into the apartment and heard the alarm shriek to life.

“Damon?”

He quickly punched in the code, deactivating the alarm and reset it before making his way down the hall.

“It’s me,” he called.

She was sitting on his bed with her back against the headboard clad in a short, pink t-shirt and white boyshorts. Her long, toned legs were bent and she was using her knees as a prop to keep up her book. Her hair was scooped up in a messy knot and she was void of makeup.

She smiled when he walked into the room. “Hi!”

He shrugged out of his coat. “Why are you still awake?”

She held up her book and he squinted at the woman sprawled across silk sheets in nothing but her bra, panties, pearls and ice pick heels.

“Reading.”

Hanging up his coat, he moved to the bed to get a better peek at the book.

“More, a collection,” he read out loud. “A collection of what?”

“Poetry.” She hugged the book to her chest. “Kimberly Hart writes some the best pieces I’ve ever read. I just love her.”

Chuckling, he toed off his shoes and set them down just inside the door. He quickly stripped out of his clothes and tossed them into the hamper before making his way back to the bed in his boxers. She scooted over to make him room as he flopped down on his back and tossed an arm over his eyes.

“How was your game?” she asked. “Did you win?”

A weary snort escaped him. “Not even close.”

He felt her move, then her mouth brushed over his.

“You’ll get them next time.”

With a sigh, he rolled onto his side and nestled his head into her lap.

“What’s wrong, Damon?”

He closed his eyes. “Just tired.”

The book was set aside and her fingers found their way through his hair. Her nails skimmed lightly over his scalp from hairline to crown in a soft scratch that sent shivers down his spine. She tugged lightly on the thick strands, just enough to elicit a groan from him that he pressed into the bare skin of her warm thigh. Releasing that clump, she moved to a different section and repeated the motion until he was a lax puddle under her hands.

“Are you hungry?”

He grinned sleepily. “Are you cooking?”

Her light slap across his shoulder made him laugh.

“I am never living that egg incident down, am I?”

The sulk in her voice had him lifting his head and kissing her.

“Nope.”

He was in the process of tackling her down onto the mattress when his phone vibrated noisily across the wood surface of his dresser.

“Who’s that?” Willa wondered, lifting her head.

“Probably Jared.” He turned his attention back to the woman under him. “I’ll get back to him later.”

“I think I’m going to do it,” Willa declared the next morning from the bathroom. “I want to open that coffee shop.”

Tugging his shirt hem over his jeans, Damon nodded. “Great! What made you decide?”

He moved around the bedroom, quickly straightening out the bed and tossing discarded bits of clothing into the hamper.

“Well, because the town needs one. I know Ma sells coffee, but it always tastes funny.”

Yeah, like burnt ass, Damon thought with a shake of his head.

“And this way people don’t have to drive the twenty minutes into Newburry for their morning fix,” she finished. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” he said, stalking to the dresser to pick up his phone.

The thing buzzed in his hand, reminding him he’d had a call the night before. Frowning, he tapped into the voicemail and brought the phone up to his ear.

Robyn Gacie’s husky purr filled his ear.

“Hello Damon. It’s Robyn. I was hoping to catch you before you turned in for the night. I just want to let you know that my grandfather has agreed to sell you the house in Stockton Valley. I don’t know what you said to convince him, but it’s yours if you still want it. Call me back and we can discuss a time and place to begin the paperwork. Take care.”

The automated voice asking if he would like to delete, save or replay the message looped six times before he realized he’d been staring blankly at the wall over his dresser for the last ten minutes with the phone still to his ear.

He quickly hit delete and shoved the device into his pocket just as Willa stepped into the room, her expression stating that she’d asked him a question.

“Sorry?” he choked out, his stomach and chest doing an odd sort of tango in his throat.

“I was asking if you wanted to grab Toby tonight and go see a movie.”

Any other time, he would have said yes.

“I can’t.” He turned away from her. “I have a few things that I need to do today and I promised Jared I’d help him with something so I might be home late.”

“Oh, okay.” She walked over to him and slid her hands around his middle. Her chin dug lightly against the center of his back. “Toby and I’ll go and I’ll see you when I get home.”

He nodded and forced a smile for her, but his insides were writhing between excitement and guilt. On one hand, they had the place and it would be theirs forever. On the other hand, he was technically lying to her. While he’d lied to her in the past regarding surprises, he hadn’t gone out of his way to sneak around. Usually, he bought the gift, hid it, and then gave it to her. It was as simple as that. He’d never had to tell her he’d be one place, but gone off somewhere else. It was a feeling he wasn’t sure he liked, even if it was for a very good reasons.

He drove her to the studio, kissed her long and deep before pulling out and heading out of town. Halfway to Sloan’s house, he called Cole, who picked up almost immediately like he’d sensed how important the call was.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, no, I was just expecting the school.”

Damon frowned. “Toby’s school? Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just me being paranoid. That kid’s been acting extra weird lately and I’m just waiting … does that make me a bad parent?”

Damon chuckled. “No, he’s a pretty weird kid, but cut him a break, ‘k? I’m sure he’s not doing anything too … illegal.”

Cole sighed. “Gee, thanks. So, what’s up with you? Everything going okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” He licked his lips nervously and tightened his grip on the wheel. “I was wondering if I could talk to you and Uncle Sloan for a minute.”

“Yeah, of course. Now?”

“I’m headed there now so if you have the time…”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten.”

They both hung up and Damon took a deep breath that inexplicably lodged in his throat.

His dad’s car was already parked next to Sloan’s rusty old truck when Damon pulled up. He cut the engine and pocketed the keys before climbing out. Snow crunched beneath his boots all the way to the front steps. The cold, brittle air did nothing to unravel the knot in his chest, if anything, he felt almost suffocated.

Inside, the place smelled as it always did, like pine cleaner, something home cooked, and warmth. It filled him with a sense of nostalgia that almost made him homesick, which was unusual. He shoved it aside and moved down the narrow hall to the sitting room.

“Well, it never would have broke if they hadn’t used the thing as a doorstopper,” Cole was telling Sloan when Damon joined the party.

The two were sitting on the sofa and both looked up when Damon walked in.

“Hey,” he said lamely.

“Everything okay?” Sloan asked, watching him with those ever watchful blue eyes.

Damon nodded. “Yeah, I think so … I mean, yes, everything’s okay.”

Sloan’s eyes only narrowed further. The attention made Damon feel practically nauseous.

“So, what’s going on?” Sloan pressed.

Stomach in angry knots, Damon stepped deeper into the room and struggled to square his shoulders. Then he stood facing the two men he’d respected for most of his life, good men with good hearts, but a mean streak when it came to protecting their family. Damon had seen it firsthand on several occasions. These were not men a smart person pissed off. But that wasn’t what was making Damon’s palms sweat.

“You both raised me,” he began, trying to remember the speech he’d gone over and over again in his head during the whole drive up. But it was all getting scattered the longer the two watched him. “You know where I come from … who I came from, but you never judge me for it. You never saw me the way everyone else in this town did, like I was trouble and not worth the effort. I like to think I’m the man I am today because of you and Aunt Lily and Mom. But also because of Willa. Probably mostly because of Willa, because even as a kid, I wanted to be the kind of man that would treat her the way she deserved, the kind that would be reliable and … and she could love, because that’s all I ever wanted, for her to love me. Because I knew that if I had that, if I had that part of her, I would never be lost again.”

“And does she?”

Sloan’s calm voice made him start mid speech.

“Sir?”

“Does she love you?”

Damon swallowed the nerves clogging his throat. “Yeah, she does.” Something about that stole a weak chuckle from him. “Damn if I know why, but she does. And I … I love her. I’ve loved her since I was six. She’s been my whole world for nineteen years and that will never change.”

There was a ghost of a smile shimmering in Sloan’s blue eyes when Damon paused to take a breath.

“What are you asking me, Damon?”

Every muscle in Damon’s body braced as the words bounced at the back of his throat like a gymnast about to perform a complex leap.

“I’m asking both of you, because Willa considers you both two of the most important men in her life and you guys never really raised any of us as separate families. It’s always been all or none and I know she considers you both like her father so I’m asking you both, but mostly you, sir … I want to marry your daughter.”

A blond brow lifted. “Are you asking for permission?”

Damon thought about it for a full second before giving a brisk nod. “Yes, sir, because I need to do this the right way for her.”

“And if I say no?”

An overwhelming urge to be sick churned his stomach, but he held firm.

“Then I’ll ask you again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that until you say yes.”

For a long time, Sloan said nothing. He leaned back in the sofa, with one hand curled loosely by his mouth and studied Damon from across the room. Cole was watching his brother expectantly. The two exchanged glances for what felt like eons before Damon had their attention again.

“Do you know why I didn’t say anything when Willa moved in with you?” Sloan didn’t wait for an answer, which Damon was thankful for. His stomach was killing him. “Because there is no one I trust more with my little girl.”

It took Damon several seconds to wrap his head around that answer.

“Is … is that a yes?”

Sloan’s smile was unmistakable. “You’ve had my blessing for nineteen years, Damon.” He laughed when Damon continued to stare at him. “Yes, that’s a yes.”

He was still trying to decide whether the nausea was still from nerves or relief when the two rose off the sofa and engulfed him. Their hard fists beat his back, knocking loose a lung before they pulled away to beam at him.

“Will you breathe?” Cole teased. “You’re going to pass out.”

“Did you honestly think I would say no?” Sloan asked, eyebrow arched.

Damon nervously licked his lips. “I thought maybe. I don’t know. My feet are numb.”

Sloan laughed and smacked him on the shoulder. “Come sit down before you fall. I’m not catching you.”

“Actually.” He dug his heels in when Sloan started dragging him to the sofa. “There’s something else. The real reason I came today was to tell you that I got the house.”

Sloan’s eyes widened. “The Gacie house?”

A feeble grin twisted around Damon’s mouth, looking more like a grimace. “Yeah, I got the confirmation this morning.”

Sloan stared at him in full wonderment a moment. Even Cole looked amazed.

“The Gacie house? You mean the one over…” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Damon nodded. “I went to dinner with him and his granddaughter, Robyn, last night and Robyn called me afterwards to tell me the place was mine if I wanted it.”

“Jesus, how the hell did you manage to pull that off?” Cole demanded. “Leroy Gacie is a mean son of a bitch.”

“I called him a murdering, manipulative pedophile…” Damon mumbled shakily.

His dad and uncle stared at him for a hell of a long time before they burst out laughing.

“Good for you!” Cole crowed, punching Damon on the shoulder.

“Deserved it no doubt,” Sloan piped in.

“Yeah, he did.” He cleared his throat. “But the place is mine and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.”

“What did you tell Robyn?” Sloan asked.

Damon shook his head. “I haven’t returned her call yet.”

With a nod, Sloan started around him. “Call her back and set up an appointment to see her tomorrow evening. In the meantime…” He snatched his coat off the hook. “We have to make a stop at the bank.”

Cole followed his brother towards the front door, leaving Damon to trail along behind them.

“Can we keep this between us for a little while?” he asked the pair once they hit the bottom of the front steps. “Christmas is in two weeks and I want to surprise Willa with it.”

Sloan stopped and turned to him, his expression agitated. “You know what, kid, you’re making the rest of us look really bad.”

Cole clapped Damon on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. He’s jealous.”

Sloan reached out to swat him upside the head, but Cole dodged and sprinted for the truck, laughing the whole way.

Robyn answered her phone on the third ring. She sounded distracted, so Damon kept it short.

“How about tomorrow evening at my place?” Robyn suggested. “I’ll have the paperwork handy if you want to bring a lawyer to look them over. Then we can drive over to the house and have a look around.”

Damon agreed and hung up.

“I’ll go with you,” Cole offered. “It might have been a while since I practiced law, but I remember the basics.” He patted Damon on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, okay? We’ll have you and Will in that house in no time.”

The bank was another matter entirely. For the amount Leroy Gacie was asking, they didn’t feel comfortable loaning to a twenty five year old on his own, at least not unless he could come up with a huge chunk in down payment. Things might have been different if Willa had signed up with him, but Damon was adamant to keep her out of it until the very end.

“He has it,” Sloan and Cole said without missing a beat.

Damon nearly bulked. “You guys can’t give me that kind of money!”

Sloan barely batted an eye. “I’m not. I’m giving it to my future grandchildren. It’ll be their home after all.”

Cole nodded. “What he said.”

“Should you guys … what about Aunt Lily and Mom? Should you talk to them first?”

The two exchanged glances.

“Beth would agree,” Cole stated evenly.

“So would Lily.” Sloan turned back to the bank manager. “Draw up the papers.”

Damon didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or hug the two. The lump in his throat made it impossible to do anything though, except sit there and watch as papers were signed and checks were written over. By the time they walked out of the bank, he felt lightheaded and a little sick.

“I’ll pay you both back,” he mumbled, shame burning behind his eyes as he stared hard at the concrete beneath his feet.

“Damon.” Cole set his hand on his shoulder and gave him a slight shake. “You’re my kid, and I love Willa just as much as I love you and Calla and Toby. It’s my job to be there for you guys when you need me. That’s what a parent does.”

“Anyway, it’s like you said earlier, we’re a family. It’s all or none, right?”

Damon could only nod mutely.

Cole squeezed Damon’s shoulder. “Cheer up! You just bought a house!”

But he hadn’t. They had. Sure he’d be making the monthly mortgage payments, but it would never have been possible without Cole and Sloan there. He knew the bank wouldn’t have given him the time of day and the process could have taken weeks, or months. But everyone knew the McClain brothers. They knew they were good for their word. They knew they could be trusted. They may not have been rich, but they were very well known in Willow Creek.

“Look, if it’ll make you feel better, you can pay me back by putting money aside each month,” Sloan said simply.

Damon frowned. “For what?”

Sloan gave a shrug. “College. Trust me.”

He was about to ask what that meant, but Cole’s phone took that moment to ring.

“It’s work. I should take this. You going to be okay?” At Damon’s nod, Cole turned to Sloan. “Don’t worry about driving me back. I’m going to be in town for a little while and I’ll grab a ride with Beth later.”

With a wave, he sprinted away, phone mashed to his ear.

“Need a lift back to the house?” Sloan asked.

Damon nodded. “Yeah, my car’s there.”

Sloan checked his watch. “Mind if I run over to the hardware store real quick before we go? I need to grab a bracket for one of Lily’s shelves.”

Assuring him it was fine, Damon walked with the man two blocks to the hardware store. He waited outside as Sloan hurried in.

“How’s work?” he texted Willa.

She didn’t respond. He figured she was with someone, or away from her phone. But she would when she got the message.

He stowed his phone away.

“Excuse me?” The voice was a barely a squeak on his right.

Damon turned. His gaze dropped downwards to find himself peering into a pair of luminous blue eyes surrounded by a wild mane of ebony. The curls appeared even darker against the scarlet red of her coat and the chalky white of her skin. She reminded him a little of Snow White.

He offered her a smile. “Hey.”

She peered up at him, brows furrowed over troubled eyes. “I can’t find my daddy.”

“It’s all right.” He glanced up and around them. “Where did you last see him?”

One small, gloved hand lifted and she pointed over her shoulder.

Damon nodded. “Okay then, let’s start over there.” He texted Sloan quickly to let him know he’d swing by later to grab the Jeep and to go on without him. Then he offered the girl his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Charlotte.”

They walked for a while in silence. But every so often, he’d catch Charlotte watching him, her stare questioning and something he couldn’t put his finger on. She couldn’t have been more than four or five, but something about her seemed older, like she’d seen too much in her short age. Aside from that, there was something frighteningly familiar about her. Like he’d seen her before, but he knew he hadn’t. Or maybe he had. Maybe they’d crossed paths on the street or at the diner. He didn’t normally pay attention to children.

“Where do you live, Charlotte?” he asked as they walked.

“With my daddy,” she answered.

“Where does your daddy live?”

She squinted thoughtfully, visibly attempting to determine whether or not she was supposed to answer that.

“What’s your last name?” he tried, hoping to learn something that might help him locate her father.

She looked at him. “I can’t tell you.”

He couldn’t tell if that was because she didn’t know, or if she really didn’t want to tell him.

“Where were you with your daddy last?”

“By the shop with the green door.”

She said it in a manner one would if they were repeating something they’d been taught to say repeatedly, with a sort of rehearsed pitch that made him frown. But as soon as the paranoia began to prickle the back of his throat, he stifled it back down, kicking himself for thinking a little girl was up to something. How crazy was he? It was probably just the place she and her father always said they’d met in case they were separated, or maybe that was exactly where she last saw him. Whatever the reason, they were in the middle of town. What could possibly happen?

The green door belonged to Gem’s Gem Gymboree and Nursery, handcrafted jewelry, scarves, handbags and all gardening needs. It was the last shop at that end of the block, separated from its neighbor by an alleyway used as a makeshift nursery. Most of the plants were gone for the season, but they still had potted trees waiting to be planted taking a very large portion of the back. Gem’s place was closed for the afternoon, but there was a sign telling customers to come back later next to a smiley face.

“I don’t see—”

Charlotte jerked her hand out of Damon’s and bolted into the alleyway. Her dark curls flew out behind her in a thick cape. Her boots crunched loudly on the snow. She disappeared behind a row of potted, baby pine trees.

“Charlotte!” Damon hurried after her. “Charlotte, stop!”

Pine needles slapped him in the face as he shoved his way forward. He ignored the sting, pushing onward before Charlotte could get herself hurt by running headlong into the street on the other side of the alleyway.

He found her next to a baby spruce and a man. He had his meaty hand on her shoulder, gripping her in place at his side. Chipped and filthy nails dug into the wool, looking more restraining than comforting. The hand was joined to an arm that was covered in a thick, navy blue coat. It draped over a frame no less than six feet tall and big, not just around the middle. Piercing blue eyes bore into him from a face Damon had seen too often in his nightmares.

“Miss me, boy?”

Chapter Ten ~ Willa

Willa woke the next morning to the slow grind of Damon’s erection against her backside. The steady rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was still sleeping, but whatever he was dreaming about, had him gripping her firmly in place.

She smiled into her pillow and took a moment to relish the feel of him moving against her. It was one of the few pleasures of waking up. Just being with him was another. It just didn’t feel right if she wasn’t suffocated in his embrace.

As it were, she sighed and pushed back against his hips. Her bare bottom slid up the rigid length of his cock and the head slipped between the crevice to catch on her moist slit. It took very little maneuvering from there to arch her spine, part her knees and ease him in.

“Willa!” His sharp, guttural growl was thick with sleep and lust. It burned into the back of her neck as his arms formed a crushing band around her ribs. “God!”

She took him in deep, inch by painfully slow inch until he was settled all the way to the hilt. It wasn’t only because it drove him crazy, but because she loved how his shaft stretched her, how it rubbed against every nerve before she was properly impaled. She loved how his breath always caught, how his heart picked up and how he always gasped her name. What followed was always fun, but that initial penetration was her favorite part. Second was the orgasm.

He made love to her slowly. His thrusts were gentle, but steady and full of a confidence that seemed to grow a little more each time by were together. She loved how he seemed more in charge, how he asked less if he was doing it right and knew already what she wanted. There were still times she had to show him, or tell him how, but it wasn’t as frequent.

“Faster, Damon,” she panted, feeling herself building with every thrust.

She reached around behind her and hooked her nails into his backside, urging him to move faster, deeper. His fingers eased between the folds of her nether lips, teasing them apart to toy with the swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention. The quick little flicks had her hips writhing against his and her back arching. She cried out his name as her world crumbled in six strokes. Damon groaned into her shoulder as her muscles gripped him greedily to her, massaging his length until he was gripping her close and sprayed against the slick walls of her pussy. His heart drummed wildly against her shoulder blade, matching hers as they both lay in a sated tangle and gasped for breath. He seemed to come out of his bliss first as he released her and slipped out of bed.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he murmured, already halfway across the room.

Willa watched him with a growing sense of concern. It wasn’t like him to just leave like that. Normally he kissed her, told her he loved her, then asked if she wanted to join him. The fact that he hadn’t even looked at her made her chest hurt.

Throwing on her clothes, she padded quietly to the bathroom door and knocked softly.

“Damon?”

The water was running and there was a moment of silence where she wondered if maybe he hadn’t heard her. Then…

“Yeah?”

She shifted uneasily. “Is everything okay?”

Another second of silence.

“Yeah, fine.”

Bottom lip caught between her teeth, she turned away and walked to the kitchen. She started the coffee pot while she waited for him to come out. But the moment he did, he ducked into the bedroom and came out ten minutes later already dressed and ready to leave.

“I’m not ready,” she said, hurriedly setting down the coffee mug she’d already prepared for him.

“I know.” He swung on his coat, never once glancing her way. “I have something to do this morning, but I’ll pick you up after work, okay?”

“Damon, wait—”

The apartment door clicked shut between them.

Willa stayed in the doorway between the kitchen and the foyer and stared at the barricade standing firmly between her and the man she knew better than she knew herself and couldn’t help feeling her heart break a little. Not once in all the years she could remember had he ever walked out without saying goodbye to her, or kissing her, or insisting he drive her first. Even as children, he would call her every morning to tell her which spot on the playground he’d be waiting for her on. She didn’t know what to make of what just happened.

It was nothing, she told herself, willing herself not to cry. He was probably just in a hurry. Any minute, he’d text her and apologize and everything would be okay.

But no text arrived. Not when she stepped out of the shower. Not when she got ready for work. Not when she arrived and found Calla scolding Colten for tugging dresses off their hangers. She kept checking, but there was nothing.

By lunch time, she couldn’t stand it anymore. She texted him.

“Is everything okay?”

She didn’t get a response until three hours later.

“Fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Colten held firmly in her arms, Calla studied Willa’s face. “Everything okay?”

Willa shook her head and set the phone down on the glass counter between them. “I think something’s wrong with Damon.”

“What do you mean?”

Calla set a fussing Colten down. The boy bolted across the shop, zigzagging through rakes and crawling under shelves.

“I don’t know. It could be nothing. I could just be …” She mashed her face into her hands. “I just don’t know…”

“Hey.” Calla hurried around the counter and pulled Willa into her arms. “What’s going on?”

She told her sister about that morning, about Damon’s avoidance of her, of his lack of eye contact and his speedy departure.

“Was he acting weird yesterday?”

Willa shook her head. “He was already home after Toby and I got back from the movies. I dropped Toby off and Damon was … fine. We watched TV and went to bed like we always do.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth until she could taste copper. “Did he say anything to Jared?”

Calla frowned. “I don’t think so. I don’t even think they’ve spoken the last few days.”

“What do you mean? They went out the night before.”

The scowl deepened on Calla’s brow. “No, Jared was home with me the whole night.” But she moved away from Willa to snatch up her phone. “Hold on.” She dialed and pressed the phone to her ear. Willa waited, with her stomach up in her throat for answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “Hey baby.” Calla moved away to stop Colten from yanking handbags off a shelf. “No, everything’s fine. Is Damon with you? No? When was the last time you talked to him? No, Willa’s just worried. He’s been acting weird. No, I’ll tell her. Okay. Love you.” She hung up and turned to Willa. “He says everything is fine.”

“But was he with Jared the other night?”

“I’m telling you he wasn’t,” Calla said. “Maybe he meant Michael and Anthony.”

Maybe, Willa thought, but the knot only seemed to tighten.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” Calla took her shoulders gently. “This is Damon we’re talking about. The guy is insanely crazy about you. He’s probably just working on some Christmas surprise for you like he does every year.”

That actually made Willa feel a little better. Damon was always secretive around Christmas. She should have realized that was what it was.

She chuckled. “You’re right. I’m just being overly sensitive about things lately. More so than usual. But I’ll be okay. He’s picking me up tonight. Maybe we’ll go somewhere and spend some time together.”

But he never showed up. Seven o’clock came and went and still no sign of him. Not even a text. Willa pulled on her coat and walked to the apartment, wondering if maybe she’d heard him wrong about picking her up. Maybe he meant he would see her back home. But the apartment was empty.

Anxious and a whole lot more than a little scared, Willa called him. She paced the sitting room while the phone buzzed in her ear.

His voicemail picked up, telling her he was away from his phone but he’d get back to her if she left a message.

“Damon? Where are you? Is everything okay? Please call me. I’m getting very worried.” She bit her lip hard when it wobbled. Tears blinded her, obscuring the painting over the sofa. “I love you.”

She hung up before she could burst into tears. Sweat slickened the device as she gripped it tight and kept pacing. Every two seconds, she checked the screen. Her heart would patter with hope only to shatter in misery. She wandered aimlessly through the rest of the apartment, absently straightening things out even though they didn’t need it. She swept the floors and scrubbed the counters in the kitchen, her phone never more than an inch away from her. She searched for hints of where he might have gone, going through every drawer and cupboard, but there was nothing.

Please, God, please don’t let him be hurt, she prayed over and over every time she called and his voicemail answered. All she could picture was him in some terrible accident, his Jeep in pieces, him in … God, she couldn’t. Every time the though reared its ugly head, insanity followed. She could almost feel herself falling apart at the seams. Already it was taking all her willpower not to scream, not to tear out of the apartment in search of him. She didn’t even know where to look.

It was after two in the morning when the locks snapped. Willa was curled up in the hallway, knees hugged to her chest, almost asleep when the door opened and the alarm chimed, announcing the intruder. Her head came up off her knees and she watched as Damon shuffled into the foyer. Unharmed.

“Damon!”

The phone clattered out of her lap as she lunged to her feet. Pins and needles spiked up her legs, but they were ignored as she raced to him and threw herself into his chest.

“Oh my God!” she sobbed into the cold material of his coat. “I’ve been so worried. I kept thinking something had happened and I…” Her arms tightened around his neck. “But you’re okay. You’re home.”

His arms were around her, but they weren’t holding her. They were just there, limply clasped at her back. In the circle of her embrace, he was rigid, unresponsive. She jerked back, wiping away tears to peer up into his shadow painted features.

“Damon?”

“Yeah?”

Her arms unraveled from around him. “Where were you? Why didn’t you call?”

He took a step back and that single gesture felt like he’d shoved her straight off a cliff.

“My phone died.” He rubbed a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry.”

He started around her towards the bedroom.

“All day?” she called after him. “I’ve been waiting—”

“I said I was sorry.” He paused at the threshold. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m just so tired.”

He stepped inside and shut the door, and that sound, that quiet click, broke her into a million irreparable pieces.

She didn’t sleep that night. She couldn’t. Every time she shut her eyes, all she could see was him closing the door on her and each time felt like he was cutting a piece of her heart out in the process. The pain of having him pull away burned with an intensity that was damn near unbearable, and there was nothing she could do. She didn’t know how to fix it. Damon had always been the one thing in her life that had never needed any thought. It had always just been, like breathing—natural and necessary. Without him, she was suffocating.

“Don’t cry.” She hadn’t heard him slip into her room until the bed behind her dipped and she was being pulled back into the curve of his body. “Please, Will.” His face found its spot between her neck and shoulder. “It kills me when you cry.”

His gut wrenching plea only made her cry harder until the tears felt like fire cutting down her raw cheeks. Her head felt numb and every inch of her ached. He held her until there was nothing left, except to lay there in an exhausted silence with him cradling her.

“I need you, Will. I need you more than I have ever needed you in my life.” His voice broke and his arms tightened. “I need you to trust me and I … I need you not to stop loving me, because I can’t lose you. I’ll never survive this. Not without you. You’re the only thing keeping me together.”

Sniffling, Willa turned over to study his dark features in the soft, navy blue twilight. His eyes glistened through the shadows draped over their frames. Her fingers touched the side of his face, rough with stubble and wet with tears, and her heart broke all over again.

“You’ll never lose me, Damon,” she whispered. “Whatever it is, I won’t let you be alone. I won’t let anything hurt you.” She pulled in a shaky breath. “Just don’t push me away. It hurts so much when you do.”

Her fingers were captured and the tips were kissed lightly.

“I won’t. I promise.”

She woke the next morning to the soft, feather light skims of Damon’s lips moving down her neck. The clean scent of his damp hair filled her senses and tickled her chin as he descended.

She giggled and clasped him to her.

“Morning,” he murmured into her jawline.

Prying one puffy eyelid open, she squinted down into his face. “Morning.”

The bed dipped as he hefted himself up and over her, pinning her to the mattress but bracing most of his weight on his forearms on either side of her head. He peered down at her from a face completely void of the previous day’s disaster. His eyes were bright, his smile brilliant. He looked exactly as he always did. Seeing him again after that nightmare, unraveled the remaining bits of thread that had been noosed around her chest.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Her head hurt. Her eyes felt swollen and her throat hurt. But she smiled and was about to kiss him when the secondary smell hit her, the one that had up until that moment been masked by him.

“Is that … banana bread?”

Coils of damp hair slipped over his brow as he lowered his head and nuzzled her cheek. His shoulders shook under her hand with his silent laughter. When he raised his face again, his smile was still there, but it was hollowed out by the sadness shimmering in his eyes.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he murmured. “I was an asshole and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

The happiness that had swelled inside her deflated a notch.

“What happened?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just a really bad day. It’s over now though.”

“Are you sure?” She skimmed the back of her fingers over his smooth cheek. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

He kissed her, long and slow. Then he pulled back and dragged her up with him.

“Come on.”

The overwhelming aroma of freshly baked bread, the sweet scent of sugar and melted chocolate intensified closer they got to the kitchen. Willa’s amusement increased when she caught sight of the spread laid out across the counter.

“Banana bread and cookies?” She narrowed her eyes playfully at him. “You must really be sorry.”

His lips curled in one corner and he pulled her into his arms. “You have no idea how sorry, Will.”

She kissed his cheek before moving to grab a cookie off the cooling rack. She took a nibble and regarded him thoughtfully.

“How long have you been awake for?”

He shrugged dismissively and moved to start on the pans in the sink. “I don’t know. A little while.”

She paused mid chew. “Did you even sleep?”

“Yeah, I got a few minutes in.”

The rush of water hitting the basin stifled all other questions.

With another cookie for the road, Willa left him to go shower and get ready for work. It was her day off, but Damon had to work and she hated being home alone. It made her question why she had no friends and she realized, she had friends. She just didn’t have friends she went out of her way to spend time with. There was Calla and Jared, but both worked and they had Colten. But aside from them, it was Damon. She really had no desire to have more friends than that, except on days when she had nothing to do, which would no doubt make her the worst friend in the world to have.

He drove her to work, kissed her, and told her he’d pick her up at seven and somehow that made everything better again.

Her mom was behind the counter when she slipped into the studio. Calla was nowhere in sight.

“Calla in the back?” Willa asked, unhooking the buttons on her coat and slipping it off.

Her mom shook her head. “She’s going to stay home with Colten today. He’s not feeling well.”

Concern had her pulling out her phone. “Is he okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. It sounds like he has a small cold.”

Sending a quick text to Calla, Willa hung up her coat and moved to the small mound of boxes stacked next to the counter.

“What’s all this?”

“The shipment that came in this morning,” her mom said with a sigh. “If this keeps up, we won’t have any room in the back.”

“Do you want me to put some of it out?”

She waited as the other woman cast a furtive glance over the shop, taking in the inventory and near lack of space.

“No, I think it would be best not to over clutter. Can you go grab the dolly? We’ll take these into the back and find room for it.”

Despite the semi tolerable weather, the shop was moderately empty. A few women came in in search of something for the upcoming holidays. But in all, it was a reasonably dull day. Willa was actually looking forward to going home and napping. After barely sleeping the night before, she was practically dead on her feet. The exhaustion was at a point she had never reached before. It pounded into her with vengeance that made her physically ache. She was just about to call into the back that she was going home when she caught sight of a tiny face peering at her through the window. Enormous blue eyes blinked from a face surrounded by a thick mane of black, and Willa reflexively smiled.

“Hey!” Scooting around the counter, she hurried to the door and pushed it open to squint down at the child. “Charlotte, right?”

The girl nodded.

“Do you remember me?”

Again, she nodded.

Still grinning, Willa raised her head and peered at the near empty sidewalk. “Where’re your parents?”

“My daddy is over there.” She pointed with a naked finger poking out of a hole in her glove somewhere to the left.

Willa followed the finger and saw no one.

“Are you sure?”

The girl nodded.

“You should get back to him before he starts to get worried.”

The girl said nothing. She stared at Willa from between fringes that needed a cut and hair that needed to be washed. She was visibly shivering and there was just a touch of blue to her lips that made Willa anxious. Up close, she noticed how small the girl actually was beneath her scarlet coat. Her face was too thin, too pale, making her eyes appear too big for the contour. Her coat wasn’t as bright as it appeared either. The fabric was worn and stained like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Her jeans had holes in them that couldn’t possibly be good considering how cold it was outside and her sneakers looked to be two sizes too small and so worn they were held together by duct tape. Something about all that made Willa’s insides hurt.

“Do you want to come inside and get warm?”

The girl hesitated and Willa couldn’t blame her.

“I’m not allowed,” she said. “Daddy said I had to stay here.”

Again, Willa looked down the sidewalk and still saw no one. She peered back at the girl.

“Well, why don’t you just come inside the door and we’ll keep an eye open for your dad in case he walks by, okay?”

It was with great reluctance, but Charlotte stepped into the shop. Willa closed the door behind her and knelt down so they were eyelevel.

“How old are you, Charlotte?”

“Five.”

“Wow! So big.”

She reached out to brush back the hairs curtaining her face, only to have the girl flinch back and slam into the door, sending the bells overhead jingling noisily. Willa jumped in surprise and stared wide eyed at the figure regarding her with apprehension, kind of the way a frightened dog would after a beating.

“Hey.” She put both hands up. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” She offered the girl a gentle smile. “I love your hair.”

“I’m not allowed to cut it,” Charlotte whispered.

“Why would you want to cut it?” Willa chuckled. “It’s so pretty.”

One filthy, mitted hand lifted and touched her scalp. “It hurts.”

Willa opened her mouth to ask what hurt, when her mom stepped out of the back and stopped at the sight of Charlotte.

“Well, hello,” she said. “Who are you?”

Willa shoved to her feet. “This is Charlotte. Her dad’s shopping so she’s hanging out with us for a little bit.”

Her mom said nothing. She stared at Charlotte with a deep crinkle between her eyebrows and a tilt in her head.

“What?” Willa asked.

Her mom shook her head. “She just looks so familiar…” She took a tentative step closer to Charlotte. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Charlotte,” the girl replied.

“What’s your last name,” her mom corrected.

Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

Her mom straightened and continued to study the girl.

“Where do you live?”

“With my daddy.”

“Where’s your daddy?” her mom asked.

“Over there.” She pointed again with the tiny pink finger peeking out of her glove.

“Should we call someone?” Willa asked her mom. “This is the second time I’ve seen her wandering around without anyone.”

Her mom shook her head. “Kids wander, but…” She kept shaking her head. “I just can’t shake the feeling that I know her.”

Willa looked back at Charlotte. “Why don’t I take you to look for your dad?”

Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed her coat and ushered the girl out of the shop. Together, they walked in the direction of Charlotte’s pointing. Every so often, Willa would ask her a question and would get the type of evasive response no five year old should be any good at. It made her wonder if the girl was deliberately being difficult, or if something was really wrong.

“We’re almost at the end of the street, Charlotte,” she said after fifteen minutes of walking. “Any further and we’ll be leaving town. Are you sure your daddy went this way?”

Charlotte stopped walking and turned. She surveyed the rows of buildings making up either side of the street and then, to Willa’s utter horror, she lunged across the street into oncoming traffic. Willa’s scream was swallowed by the shriek of tires as cars screeched to a swerving halt. Charlotte never stopped. She sprinted to the other side, a blur of red and black and disappeared through the alley between Gem’s Gem Gymboree and Nursery and Time Piece clock repair.

Heart drumming wildly, Willa hurried after her. Her frantic breaths puffed out in plumes of white. Snow crunched beneath her boots, echoing loudly between her ears.

“Charlotte!” She pushed through several potted baby trees and precut Christmas pines. Gem looked up when Willa darted past. But Willa didn’t stop. “Charlotte, where are you?”

She broke out on the other side where the alleyway opened onto the street over and spun on the spot, gaze darting in all directions.

But Charlotte was gone.

Chapter Eleven ~ Damon

“She just vanished,” Willa finished with a shake of her head. “I looked everywhere. I swear, if Mom hadn’t seen her too, I would have thought I was crazy.”

“That is so weird,” Beth murmured, nibbling on an asparagus stem. “I wonder what spooked her.”

Next to him at the dinner table, Willa shrugged. “I have no idea, but I almost had a heart attack when she ran across the street like that. The cars barely managed to stop in time.”

“She’s lucky there was no ice on the roads,” Lily countered.

“What’s lucky is that nothing happened to you!” Damon snapped, staring hard at Willa. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You don’t even know who this girl is and you just … run after her like that?”

Willa’s mouth opened and closed several times before words actually came out. “She was just a little girl…”

“No, she wasn’t! I mean…” It took some doing to reel his temper back in. “She might not have been alone. You could have been hurt.”

“Damon’s right,” Sloan piped in. “Everything about that girl seems off.”

“But I swear she looked so familiar,” Lily added. “It’s been driving me crazy.”

Damon felt the contents of his stomach sour. The few bites he’d managed to swallow reared their ugly heads in a rush of bile that threatened to choke him. He stared hard at his plate, willing himself not to throw up more than just his supper.

From the moment Willa had described Charlotte, Damon had wanted to lunge away from the table and run. But there had been no way to do that without raising questions and he couldn’t risk having people wondering, especially people he cared about. Just the fact that he had come so close to Willa made Damon want to lose his fucking mind.

In all truths, he couldn’t blame Willa for helping Charlotte. Wasn’t that what he’d done? It honestly had nothing to do with the girl. It was the darkness forcing her that Damon wanted away from Willa … and Charlotte. It was that evil that had plagued him for too many years, the nightmare that refused to go away.

“Damon?” Willa set her hand lightly on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He could only shake his head, because what else could he do? What could he possibly tell her? To not help a child in need? To turn off everything that made her kind and trusting? Even if he did, she would want to know why and he couldn’t tell her.

“Nothing. I’m sorry.” He leaned over and brushed the side of her head with his mouth. “I worry.”

She lightly squeezed his forearm and mercifully let the matter drop.

“You okay, Will?” Beth popped a bit of potato into her mouth and studied the other woman with shrewd blue eyes. “You’re looking a little pale over there.”

Interrupted mid yawn, Willa nodded. “I’ve just been really tired.”

“Are you not sleeping well?” Lily chimed in, studying her daughter’s face.

“I have been, which is what’s so weird about it. I sleep all night, but I wake up exhausted, which has been making me feel achy and moody. I think I might need sleeping pills or a new mattress.”

Lily and Beth exchanged glances from across the table that no one else seemed to understand.

At the other end, Colten fussed with his mother about the peas on his plate and wound up upending his water. Scolding him, Calla moved his plate away from the mess as Jared hurried out of the dining room to grab a rag.

“How long have you been tired for?” Beth brought everyone’s attention right back to Willa.

Willa shrugged. “Just the past little while. Not long. Why?”

Beth shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but maybe you should have Dr. Phillips have a look at you.”

“I’m taking your grandma in Monday for her monthly check up,” Lily said. “You can come along, if you like?”

Willa smiled. “Yeah! I haven’t seen Grandma in such a long time.”

“Toby, will you stop playing with your vegetables,” Cole broke in. “They’re for eating.”

Toby scowled at his plate and shoved a potato across it with the prongs of his fork. “I knew I should have asked for a dog for Christmas.”

Sunday dinner ended as it always did at eleven. Damon drove him and Willa home and let them into the apartment. Neither spoke through the process of undressing, redressing, and preparing for bed. Willa was already cuddled under the blankets when he stepped into the bedroom.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he asked as he climbed in next to her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she protested, turning so they were facing each other in the darkness. “My iron is probably low.”

Gently, he shifted aside strands of hair off her temple and sighed. “I can take the day off and come with you, if you want?”

He really couldn’t. He couldn’t afford it. Not anymore. Every penny he’d saved up for the last eight years was gone and he needed every shift plus some for the mountain of bills that was sure to come his way before the end of month.

“No, it’ll be nice to hang out with Mom and Grandma for the day. Maybe we’ll go for lunch and catch up. It’ll be fine.”

Hating himself for being relieved, Damon nodded. “All right, but call me when you’re done though, okay?”

She promised she would. Then she snuggled into him and promptly went to sleep.

Damon stayed awake and listened to her soft breathing. Every muscle in his body throbbed with the need for even a few minutes of sleep that he was unable to provide it. His head ached and his gut hurt from being unable to keep anything solid down. It was all things he’d fought like crazy to hide from Willa, but the stress was beginning to get to him. Already he’d snapped at her twice for things that weren’t even her fault. His temper was reaching its thinning point and he couldn’t trust himself anymore. Not with her. Not with himself. Not with anyone. He was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off and kill everyone around him. He was doing his damnedest to minimize the casualty by keeping everyone far away. But he wasn’t letting Damon. Every time Damon thought Willa was safe, he would drag her back into the mess and that had to stop.

He left Willa sleeping the next morning in their bed and set off to make something very clear to the man who shared his blood—that Willa was off limits. That if he went anywhere near the people Damon loved, Damon would not hesitate to kill him. There was no exception to this rule. Damon would do whatever the man asked, including emptying his bank account to buy the girl in Eddy Comb’s incapable care. But when it came to his family, Damon wasn’t afraid of going to jail to protect those he cared about. That now also included Charlotte.

“Say hi to your big brother, Charlotte,” Eddy had mocked after Damon had gotten over his initial shock of seeing his father again after nineteen years.

He had a sister. Albeit one that he didn’t share a mother with, but he could see the resemblance. Worse than that, he could see the fear in her eyes. The plea no one ever really paid any attention to. She had reminded him of himself at that age, but younger. It was because of her he had agreed to give their father the money. To save her. But he should have known that wouldn’t be enough.

The piece of shit RV was parked just on the outskirts of Willow Creek, close enough to have easy access to town, but far enough away to not get spotted. Most of the people in town probably had no recollection of what Edward Comb looked like. Even if they did, the man Damon remembered wasn’t the man who opened the flimsy door for him when he banged a fist on the screen. The Edward Comb before him was fat, balding, and one greasy pit stain away from becoming a bum. The many chins on his face were unshaven. His eyes were bloodshot and his clothes smelled like he’d been living in a pig pen. The man Damon remembered had been broad shouldered with a head full of wavy black hair and penetrating blue eyes that were meaner than a pissed off rattlesnake. He had seemed infinitely larger then, too. But that had been from the eyes of a six year old.

“Did you bring the rest of the money?” Eddy demanded.

“Why did you go to Willa’s studio?” Damon countered. “I told you to stay away from her.”

Eddy eyed him. “I wasn’t anywhere near your girlfriend’s shop.”

He turned and shambled deeper into the RV, leaving the door open so the sour stench of body odor, stale beer, overcooked meat, and urine oozed into the crisp winter chill. Every nerve in his body begged him to stay outside and brave the frigid weather, but it was the need to see Charlotte that propelled him forward.

There was a gash on her bottom lip that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen her. She was huddled in the corner of the u-shaped dinette, still wearing her red coat, her hair a matted tangle around her pale face. She peered up at him when he stepped into the cramped space. There was a roll of clothing next to her that she’d been using as a pillow and a large sweater draped over her curled legs.

Damon turned his head to the back of the place and noticed the comfy bed in the back, mounted high with blankets and pillows, all filthy, but still far warmer than a sweater and a strip of floor.

“What happened to her face?” he demanded. “And why haven’t you gotten her warmer clothes?”

“She walked into a door,” Eddy retorted, slumping into one of the benches at the table. Charlotte recoiled in the opposite direction. “And I’m not here to cloth her. You want her, you dress her.”

“Then let me take her!” Damon hissed.

Eddy nodded. “Sure thing … right after you give me the rest of what you owe me for her.”

“She’s freezing!” Damon took a step forward, his fist curling at his sides. “She could get sick, or worse. Let me take her into town and get her some new clothes.”

“She’s fine.” He took a swig of beer. Never mind that it was barely six in the morning. “As of right now, she’s not your concern. Once you’ve paid for her, you can do whatever you want.”

“I told you, I already gave you all the money I had. I don’t have anything else.”

Bleary eyes focused on his face and narrowed. “You expect me to believe that? I’ve seen the way you live with that family after you betrayed yours. You owe me, boy. I did eight years because you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut. Well, you’re going to pay and if you don’t, maybe I’ll take my business to that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Rage colored his vision red in a way that shrieked between his ears. His body had already propelled him forward before his brain could properly grasp what was going on.

“You go anywhere near Willa and I will kill you.”

The sudden explosion of pain sent him staggering sideways into the cramped little kitchenette. It took him several dizzying moments to figure out why he was on the ground, or why his jaw was throbbing. Over him, Eddy loomed, meaty fists bunched at his sides. Damon hadn’t even heard him move.

“You watch your mouth with me, boy. I’m not like the faggots who brainwashed you. I will beat the all holy god into you. Now get the fuck out and get me my money. The next time you come here without it, you won’t like what I do, and neither will she.” He jabbed a hand towards Charlotte, who cowered as though he had physically struck her.

It took some effort to heave his sore body to his feet. His head was buzzing and his entire face hurt. He couldn’t even be sure where exactly he’d been punched. It just all throbbed.

“Hey,” Eddy called after him before Damon could hit the bottom step. “You remember what I told you? I see even one cop drive by here and I will cut her into a million little pieces and scatter her to hell and back. I’ve already been to jail. I ain’t afraid of going back. But I’ll make sure I take you with me.”

With that, he slammed the trailer door shut, leaving Damon staring at the fourteen footer with a deep sense of despair and hatred.

Chapter Twelve ~ Willa

“Grandma!”

Still impossibly beautiful with hair the color of steel and eyes the warm brown of chocolate, Karen Price beamed when Willa sprinted down the steps of her apartment building and engulfed her. Her chuckle warmed the side of Willa’s face as she was squeezed close.

“Hello my little love.” Her grandmother drew back to peer into her face. “How are you?”

“Good!” she lied. “How are you?”

Her grandmother gave a huff of exasperation. “Exhausted. Your grandfather kept me dancing all night and I am just pooped.”

Willa laughed.

Her grandmother hadn’t had function of her legs since college thanks to a car accident that shattered her spinal column, paraylizing her from the waist down. But it was the same joke she always used and Willa always laughed.

“Are we ready to go?” Her mom stepped up next to Willa and peered down at her mother.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.” Grandmother’s eyes moved to Willa. “Your mom tells me you’re not feeling well.”

Her mom stepped up behind Grandmother’s wheelchair and began pushing her down the sidewalk. Willa followed alongside the chair.

“I’m just tired a lot lately. It’s really nothing. But Aunt Beth thinks I should get checked, just in case.”

Grandmother nodded. “Beth is a very smart woman.” She reached over and took Willa’s hand. “Tell me how you been? How’s that man of yours?”

“Damon’s fine. Stressed mostly. It’s almost Christmas so no doubt he’s trying to do too much.”

“That’s because he’s a good man,” Grandmother said evenly. “Now tell me when you’re going to make an honest man out of him.”

Willa chuckled. “Whenever he’ll have me.”

Grandmother snorted. “I’m pretty sure he’s already got you.”

The two laughed and Willa squeezed her fingers.

“How’s Grandpa?” she asked.

“Old,” Grandmother stated. “But I still love him.”

“I’m sure he’s very happy to hear that.” Willa chuckled.

“Oh, Willa, tell Grandma about your coffee shop idea,” her mom chimed in as they paused at a stop sign.

“Coffee shop?”

Willa nodded. “I’m thinking of opening one here in Willow Creek.”

Grandmother blinked. “No kidding! Well, that is a fantastic idea. Willow Creek could do with some good coffee. The one they sell over at Ma’s tastes like burnt souls.”

They crossed main street and made their way west. Several people waved as they passed and Willa smiled back¸ all the while listening as her grandmother went on about an episode of Hell’s Kitchen she’d seen that had a coffee shop owner in it.

At the clinic, Willa held the door open as her mother pushed the chair in and then followed. The waiting area was empty, minus Nancy Hadley, who sat behind the reception’s desk, idly flipping through her phone with nails as red as her lips. She peered up when they approached the counter.

“Karen Price to see Dr. Phillips,” Willa’s mom said with a kind smile. “She has an appointment.”

Nevertheless, Nancy flipped open her book and peered through it. She found the appointment and made a checkmark next to it.

“Dr. Phillips will be right with you,” she stated dryly before turning her attention to Willa.

“I just need to see the doctor real quick,” Willa said. “Barely a minute. I promise.”

Nancy looked like she didn’t giving a flying crap why Willa was there, or how long she’d be at the doctors. She marked her name down and told her to sit down.

“I really dislike that girl,” Grandmother muttered. “She reminds me of her aunt.”

“Georgia May isn’t so bad,” her mother mumbled. “She’s just…”

“A nosy bitch?” Grandmother offered and earned a gasp of horror.

“Mother!”

“What? I’m old. I’m allowed to say whatever I want.”

Willa was still laughing when Dr. Phillips poked his wizened head out of his office door and beckoned Grandma in. Her mom wheeled her into the room before returning to sit next to Willa.

“How are you feeling?” she asked yet again.

“I’m all right. How are you?”

Her mom blew out a breath. “Overwhelmed, honestly. Christmas is always such a rush and I swear nothing ever gets done.”

“You always say that, but everything turns out perfect.” She took her mom’s hand. “Do you want Damon and me to come over and help with decorations?”

Her mom smiled. “I won’t say no if that’s what you mean. You know I love having you kids over.”

With a sleepy grin, Willa pillowed her head on her mom’s shoulder and closed her eyes, needing a few seconds to rest her eyes before her turn.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

“Dr. Phillips is waiting for you,” her mom said.

Her eyes popped open and she jerked her head up. “What?”

She couldn’t have dozed off for more than a second, yet her grandmother was wheeling herself out and Dr. Phillips was waving Willa in.

“Oh!” Dumping her coat and purse down in her vacated seat, Willa hurried into the office. “I’m sorry,” she said to the doctor.

Dr. Phillips smiled kindly and motioned her to have a seat on the examination table. “What brings you in today, Willa?”

“I’ve just been very tired lately,” she explained. “It’s really nothing serious. Aunt Beth suggested I come in for a checkup.”

The older man chuckled, making the many wrinkles even more pronounced around his small eyes. He nudged up his thick glasses higher on his nose and waddled his way to the stool across from Willa.

“It’s always a blessing having a nurse in the family,” he stated. “Other than fatigue, are you feeling anything else?”

Willa shook her head. “I’ve been a bit moody lately and I’m a little more achy than usual, but I think that’s mostly from not getting enough sleep.”

“Are you not getting enough sleep?” he countered. “How long do you sleep for at night?”

“All night,” she replied. “But I wake up feeling like I haven’t slept at all.”

Dr. Phillips hummed. “You said you had aches, whereabouts?”

She had to think about that a moment. “Thighs, hips … around my chest area. Sometimes my back. I’m going to look into getting a new mattress. Damon’s had his for five years and I think that’s the limit, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Dr. Phillips shook his head. “I’m not an expert on beds, but a new one can’t hurt. In the meantime, why don’t we run some tests on you and see what we’re working with, shall we?”

The tests were straight forward. She offered blood and urine and had her ears, eyes and tonsils examined. Dr. Phillips did all this while chatting away about the upcoming holidays and how each winter just kept getting worse. Willa indulged him and tried to sympathize, but as someone who loved snow, it was hard understand why no one else did.

Finally, once all that could be done was done, he made her wait while he ran the samples out to get tested. Willa stared at a diagram of the hazards of smoking. It was the same one that had been there since she was a little girl and the thing never seemed to get any less disturbing.

She was still studying the poster when her phone chimed. Relieved by the distraction, she fished it from her pocket and checked the message.

“Everything okay?” it read.

“At the doctors now,” she wrote back. “Waiting for diagnosis. Will call you when I’m finished.”

She stuffed the device back into her pocket just as Dr. Phillips returned, holding a slip of paper and a plastic stick.

“Well,” he said, shutting the door. “I have some good news and some unexpected news.”

The paper under her crinkled as she straightened her posture, bracing for both.

“The good news is, you’re perfectly healthy from what I can tell from my external examination. The blood and urine has been sent to get more thoroughly checked, but I’m confident it’ll come back clean.”

Willa beamed. “Well, that is great news. Thank you, Doctor—”

“Not so fast.” He put up a hand to stop her when she started to slide down. “There is the case of your fatigue, aches and pains, and even the slight weight you’ve gained.”

Willa frowned. “I’ve gained weight?” She peered down at herself, seeing none of this change he was referring to.

“I’ve known you for twenty three years, Willa,” he reminded her. “I can usually spot changes in my patients.”

Not sure how to take that bit of information, Willa focused on him once more. “Okay, so, what’s the other news?”

He handed her the paper and the stick.

“Congratulations.”

In all truths, she really should have seen it coming from about a mile away. She and Damon hadn’t used protection once since they started having sex and it really was an inevitable force waiting to happen. Yet, she couldn’t seem to get her jaw off the doctor’s floor.

“Will?”

Tearing her eyes away from the two little lines that had forever changed her future, she blinked at the man watching her.

“Are you going to be all right?”

Scared, excited, and a whole lot numb, Willa snapped her mouth shut and hopped off the bed. “I have to tell my mom,” she mumbled, oddly lightheaded. “Oh! And Damon. I have to tell Damon.” Her unexpected grin took even her by surprise. “We’re having a baby!”

Relief softened Dr. Phillip’s face. “I think you’re the first McClain to actually like that news.”

Laughing ecstatically, Willa rushed forward and embraced the man. Then, just as quickly, she pulled away and hurried to the door. Her mom and Grandmother both glanced up when she stumbled out, flushed and beaming.

“We’re having a baby!” she declared, waving the paper and test.

The news hit both of them about the same way it had hit Willa, stunned silence for about two seconds before she was rushed. Arms banded around her in fierce congratulations. Lips pressed into her cheek as the three of them squealed their excitement.

“Let me see!” her mom said, wiping away tears.

Willa passed her the paper and watched as her mother looked it over.

“How far?” Grandmother asked, making Willa chuckle shakily.

“I’m guessing a month, maybe a month and a half?”

“A summer baby!” her grandmother gasped, doing the math before Willa could even wrap her head around it.

Struggling not to shriek, laugh, and cry all at the same time, Willa pressed both hands to her pounding chest, willing it to calm down long enough so she could think.

“I have to call Damon.” She started to dig out her phone, but stopped. “Maybe I should tell him in person…”

“They’re moving the Penner’s today,” her mom said. “You remember Leslie and Marcus? They’re up by Fernwood and Hawthorne.”

Willa nodded. “Should I wait until he’s done work or…?”

“Do it now!” Her grandmother smacked her lightly on the hip. “It’s not like that boy’s going to wait until this evening anyhow.”

“You’re right.” She laughed. “He’s waiting for an answer and if I tell him to wait, he’ll freak out and think something’s wrong. Plus, I really can’t wait.” Giving a little hop on the balls of her feet she squeaked. “I’m going to do it!”

Kissing her mom on the cheek, then her grandmother, she hurriedly grabbed her things and jogged out of the clinic. She threw on her coat, never slowing her pace. Simultaneously, she tugged out her phone and texted him.

“I’m coming to see you,” she wrote quickly. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Is everything okay?”

Biting her lip, Willa replied, “Yes!”

Stowing her phone away, she zipped up her coat and walked faster. At Alpine, she made a right and sprinted up towards Hawthorne. Her mind was turning with all the ways she would break the news to him and his reaction that she never saw the hand that shot out from behind her and clamped something sickly sweet over her mouth until the world swam black.

Chapter Thirteen ~ Damon

Where was she?

Damon checked his phone again. Then squinted up at the street leading in from town. He knew she was on foot, but it really wouldn’t have taken forty minutes to get there.

“Hey, you okay for a minute?” he called out to Jared. “I just need to run to the bottom of the hill.”

Jared raised a gloved hand and motioned him to go.

Phone clasped in his hand, he jogged down the driveway and made his way to the end of the street where Hawthorne met Fernwood and peered in the direction Willa should have been coming up. He lowered his head and stared at his blank screen.

“Where are you?” he wrote out, then lifted his head to watch in case she came around the corner.

There was still no sign of her.

“Will?”

Feet already moving, he ran in the direction of Main Street. His boots hit the snow hard with every pump. White plumes rose up in front of his face with his labored breathing, obscuring his vision. But he didn’t stop. He did slow, however, and texted Lily.

“Is Willa still with you?”

It took her several seconds to answer. Seconds that felt like years.

“No, she went to see you. Hasn’t she arrived?”

Would I be asking if she had? Damon wanted to snarl at her.

“I can’t find her.” he wrote, feeling panic beginning to hiss up the length of his spine.

“I’ll call her.”

Damon rolled his eyes, but didn’t stop her, hoping one of them would be able to reach Willa.

The phone shrieked to life in his hand and for a moment, his heart leapt.

“Willa?”

“I can’t reach her.” Lily’s voice was frantic. “She should have been there by now.”

“I’m on Hawthorne,” he panted. “She’s not here.”

“It’s okay. Maybe she made a stop somewhere,” Lily rationalized. “I’m sure she’ll be there any moment.”

Damon hoped so too. He was already almost on Alpine and there was still no sign of her.

He was just beginning to wonder if maybe she’d taken a different route when his foot caught on something with weight and he nearly face planted across the sidewalk. He cursed and turned to kick the strap off his foot when he realized what had stopped him.

Willa’s purse lay half buried under a mound of snow. The thick, braided strap had hooked around his ankle, otherwise he never would have seen it. Yet, there it was. Just lying there, abandoned where no one would have found it until spring. The sight of it had his heart dropping to his ankles. The bells shrieked to life between his ears. Denial choked a sound out of him that was lost in the wind. His entire body broke out in hot and cold flashes that made his skin itch and his senses fumble.

“Damon?” Lily’s voice broke through his terror, loud and panicked. “Did you find her?”

He couldn’t speak. He knew he should say something, do something, but all he could do was stare at the soft leather and scramble to decide what that meant, why it was there and where was the owner. It lay alongside a brick wall making up a whole side of a building with no windows, overlooking an endless field of snow. There was nothing and nobody anywhere to ask. But he knew. He knew where she was and who had her.

“Damon!”

The world jittered, a strange kaleidoscope of red, black, and white that sent him to his knees next to the lost item. His stomach recoiled.

“He has her,” he wheezed. “He has Willa.”

It was all his fault. Willa was gone, possibly hurt and it was all because of him. He did this to her. He put her in a position where she could be taken. If anything happened to her…

“Damon, son, I really need you to stay with me.” Sheriff Hanley placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

“He took her,” he choked out, feeling his insides caving. “He took her because of me.”

His face dropped into his hands, both clammy and trembling. His stomach retched and he swallowed the bile back.

“Damon.” Another hand was set on his other shoulder and he was forcibly turned to peer into Cole’s ashen face. “Where is Willa?”

Tears blurred the other man’s features. “I don’t know.”

“Who has her?” Sheriff Hanley prompted.

It should have been odd that it wasn’t odd at all that he was home. That he was standing in the middle of his living room, the one he shared with Willa for over a year, surrounded by every person that they had ever loved and she wasn’t there. But all he could think was how he didn’t have the answers to anything worthwhile, anything that could possibly bring her back.

Everyone had left work the moment the news had hit the circuits. Beth had left the hospital. Jared had abandoned the move to Tom and Stan, and Calla had closed shop. Even Toby had left his sleepover to join the group. They were all ready to do something, anything, to get Willa back. The only person missing was Colten, who Calla had dropped off at Jared’s parent’s house.

“Damon!” Cole shook him. Hard.

“My father.”

He told them everything. It all came out of him in a vomit of words that felt endless. By the end of it, he couldn’t even lift his head. Exhaustion had him slumping forward on the sofa, both hands fisted in his hair.

“He took her,” he panted. “It’s my fault.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Sloan demanded, looking more enraged than Damon had ever seen him.

“He threatened to kill Charlotte,” he croaked out. “I knew he would. He doesn’t care and she means nothing to him. I was trying to…” He broke off in a wheeze that caught in his chest. “She’s my sister.” He raised his eyes up to the other man. “And he has her. He has them both.”

“Okay, I really need you to pay attention to me right now, all right?” Sheriff Hanley perched himself down on the corner of the coffee table, right across from Damon. “I need you to tell me everything you remember about that RV.”

He did. He told them every single detail he could remember, right down to every dent, smell, and color. He’d only seen the thing twice, but it was fresh in his mind as though he were standing right next to it.

Having jotted it all down, Sheriff Hanley rose to his feet and turned to the others.

“I’m going to get this in,” he said. “I’ll have every man looking, but odds are, he’ll have switched cars, or hidden it. In the meantime, stay here, keep your phones on and call me the minute you hear anything. Now, I really need to stress this last bit.” He jerked his belt up and squared his shoulders. “Don’t none of you all go looking for Edward Comb, do you understand? I’m going to find her, but I need everyone out of my way so I can do it. I’ve already called the station over in Newburry and Sounson and they’re sending men and dogs over to help. Mrs. Fowler is putting together a search party—”

“Why can’t we help with that?” Beth demanded, never loosening her hold around Lily.

Sheriff Hanley put up a hand. “You can. In fact, I encourage it. The whole town has signed up to help. They’re meeting up over at the park.” His features softened when they settled on Lily. “I’m going to find her, you hear?”

Lily, who had been an even bigger wreck than Damon, broke into another fit of sobs that Beth shushed into her shoulder.

“You have to find her,” Lily panted, pulling out of Beth’s embrace and turning to the sheriff.

“I will,” the man promised solemnly.

What he didn’t say, Damon noted numbly, was what shape Willa would be in when he did. He couldn’t promise that.

“She must be so scared.”

“Mom.” Doing a much better job of containing her tears, Calla moved to her mother’s other side. “She’ll be okay. She’s smart. She’ll get out of this.”

Lily’s thin shoulders heaved in a broken breath. She crumpled and uncrumpled the Kleenex in her hand, tearing it, but she didn’t notice.

“I shouldn’t have let her go off on her own,” Lily squeaked.

“She’s twenty three years old,” Calla said with a hint of a smile. “You can’t walk her everywhere anymore.”

“But I should have today. I should have known she would be too distracted to pay attention.”

“What are you talking about, Lil?” Sloan asked.

Lily dabbed at her eyes. “Willa’s pregnant. We’d just found out.” Her bottom lip wobbled. “She was so happy.”

Damon was no longer listening. His brain had locked on pregnant and refused to acknowledge anything else.

Pregnant. Willa was pregnant. Christ, she was having his baby.

Yet the news didn’t fill him with the delight it should have. Instead, he was filled with a crippling sort of terror that stemmed from somewhere deep in the very bowels of his soul.

“Damon?”

He blinked and was surprised to find himself on his feet, hands balled at his sides. He stared at the faces watching him and knew instinctively what he had to do.

“I’m going to find her.”

Chapter Fourteen ~ Willa

Willa woke to the taste of sweet candy in her mouth and a coldness she had only experienced as a child when she refused to stop the fun and head inside to warm up. Floorboards creaked as she shifted off her sore back onto her side. The chill followed her, wrapping serrated fingers around her through her coat. Darkness strained against her eyes, blinding her to everything but the putrid stench of unwashed bodies. The sweet and sour stench filled her throat and nostrils, tickling her gag reflexes and pulling tears to her eyes. The bottom of her foot collided with something too close, a wall that thumped noisily in the silence. Her elbow struck another wall as she struggled to sit up.

“Don’t move,” a voice hissed somewhere on her right. “He’ll hear you.”

Breath coming out in ragged pants, Willa shuffled back against the cold barrier confining her.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“My room,” the voice whispered.

Willa tried to feel her surroundings, hoping to find a light switch, or a lamp only to have her fingers brush wall in all directions, close walls, barely five feet in any direction. Beneath her was a floor covered in blankets. Above her, the ceiling brushed the top of her head; they were in a box.

“What is this?” she gasped, struggling not to panic.

“Shh!” the voice said again, this time tinged with alarm. “You’ll wake him up!”

“Who?”

“Daddy.”

It took a full tick of a minute for her to put it all together.

“Charlotte?” She took the girl’s silence as confirmation. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

“Daddy’s angry,” the girl whispered. “Damon made him angry.”

“Damon?” Willa’s heart kicked. “How do you know Damon?”

There was a sort of scuffle in the far corner.

“He’s my brother.”

“What?”

She never got a response to her stunned question when there was a crack and a hatch popped open on her left. Light burst through the unexpected opening, chasing away the darkness by blinding her. The door was barely large enough for a child to crawl into and it was now filled by a pair of feet clad in enormous boots.

“Get out,” a gruff, male voice commanded.

“Go!” Charlotte squeaked.

Willa turned to see the girl, but all she could make out through the shadows was a huddled shape pressed into a corner. Not sure what else to do, Willa lowered herself as close to the ground as possible before squeezing herself through the opening. Her belly and breasts grazed the floor before she was out and scrambling away from the man towering over her.

He was enormous, not just in height, but weight. From her position on the ground, he seemed even more imposing. Everything about him was dark and filthy. He smelled of things Willa refused to acknowledge and looked like he hadn’t seen a proper shower in weeks. His dark hair was matted to a face thick with a beard that hung in straggly wisps to his frayed collar. His green t-shirt had patches of sweat, grease, and leftover food turning it a nasty gray. He wore jeans with holes in the knees and held together by a safety pin and a belt that was missing the tongue end of the leather strip.

Willa swallowed and shuffled back another step.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

Willa shook her head.

The man snorted what could have passed for a laugh as he turned on his boots and ambled deeper into what Willa realized was a living room.

It could have belonged to her grandmother, she realized. The pale tones and lacy doilies gave the illusion of someone well into their age. Even the smell that promenaded the air reeked of cabbages, mothballs, and furniture polish. There were framed photos on the powder blue walls of people Willa had never seen before. Children and whole families smiling down at her from their glass prisons. More lined the mantel and every available flat surface. The closest one to her was on the end table next to a blue with white polka dot loveseat. She studied the faces, trying to determine where she was, but it hit her with a sick sort of realization that they were quite possibly not in Willow Creek anymore. For all she knew, they might not even be in BC. She had no idea how long she’d been sleeping for. It could have been days. But despite all that, the scariest thing there was the man making himself at home in the armchair facing an ancient TV set. He dug into his pockets and removed various items and set them down on the TV dinner table propped open next to his elbow. One of the items, she noted, was her cell phone.

Not sure what to do, Willa didn’t stand, or move. She sat by the open trap door built into the wall and waited to be told what was going on. But the man seemed in no hurry to fill her in.

“Are you after money?” she asked at last. “Because I can get you money. Not a lot, but my family—”

“Oh, I know your family will pay,” the man mused at last. “They owe me, after all.”

Willa blinked. “You … you know my family?”

It was impossible to tell through the thick jungle growing on his face, but Willa could have sworn he grinned.

“I know your family, girl. They ruined my life.”

She started to shake her head. “You must have the wrong person. My family has never hurt anyone—”

“They hurt me!” he growled, making Willa jump. “They took everything away from me. My life, my family, my freedom! All of it. Gone!”

Swallowing hard, she willed herself not to fall apart when she spoke. “Please, I’m sure they didn’t mean to.”

“Oh they meant it.”

Maybe it was the fear and disorientation, but it finally dawned on her who she was talking to. The family resemblance was hidden behind the facial hair and the grime, but it was there in the eyes.

“You’re Damon’s father.”

The smile was more pronounced when yellow teeth were bared. “See? You do know who I am.”

Somehow the new discovery did nothing to calm the churning in her gut, or the fear curdling at the back of her throat.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because your family ruined me and now, I’m going to ruin them.”

Don’t panic! She willed herself, even as she could feel hysterics bubbling up her chest. Every voice in her head warned her to stay calm, to remember everything she’d seen on Criminal Minds and try to channel her inner profiler.

Get him talking. Gain his trust. Wait for help.

Not necessarily in that order, but the first thing to do was to relate to him and keep him calm. There was a little girl in a dark hole and an unborn baby that needed her to keep her shit together.

What would Spencer Reid do? She asked herself while taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” she began softly. “I know Damon was a difficult child so I can understand why you had to do what you did.”

Edward Comb eyed her from across the room.

“If you let me use the phone,” she went on. “I will call my parents and they will get you the money.”

He shifted. “There’s no need for that. By now, Damon will have figured it all out and he’ll come looking for you with everything I want.” He reclined and folded his hands over his bulging belly. “I just need to wait.”

Willa nodded slowly like that made perfect sense. “Can … can Charlotte come out?”

Eyes that were so much like Damon’s flicked past her to the open cubby. “No, she’s being punished.”

“What did she do?” Willa asked, needing him to keep talking.

“She wouldn’t stop crying and I can’t stand disobedient children.”

“So, Charlotte’s your daughter?” she assumed. “She has your and Damon’s eyes.”

Impatience began to darken his features and Willa mentally kicked herself for pushing too hard, for being too curious.

“I hate questions,” Edward mumbled.

“Okay,” Willa said quickly. “What … what do you want to talk about?”

He looked her over. “Tell me about my son.”

That wasn’t what she’d been expecting and she wasn’t sure how to begin.

“He’s a good man,” she started. “He’s kind and caring and he’s loyal.”

“You love him.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered.

“Yes.”

A frown crinkled his thick eyebrows. “And how does that work exactly? What with him being your brother and all?”

Heat crawled up the column of her throat to fill her cheeks. “Damon’s not my brother.”

“Cousin, whatever. Hasn’t your parents told you that’s a big no-no?”

No one had ever told her anything of the sort. Not her parents. Not the town. Not the school. No one had ever blinked an eye when it came to her and Damon. It had always just been a normal fact, like getting the mail in the morning, or going to church every Sunday. People just accepted it for what it was.

“We don’t share blood,” she reminded him. “He was brought into the family. Not born into it.”

Edward scratched his chin, filling the room with the rasping sound of dirty nails on matted hair. “Well, whatever it is, he certainly loves you. Enough so that he’d probably give me just about whatever I want to get you back.”

Anger prickled the back of her neck and exploded from her mouth before she could stop it.

“What exactly do you think Damon can give you? We don’t have much.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. He might not have what I want, but he’ll sure as hell do whatever it takes to get it for me. Why, I could tell him to kill himself and that whole family for your safety and he’d probably do it.”

“How could that possibly make you happy?” Willa wondered, aghast. “He’s your son.”

“I have no son!” he barked, making Willa flinch. “Your family took him. They brainwashed him against me. He’s nobody to me now, except a quick payout.”

Chapter Fifteen ~ Damon

“You need to rest.” Lily’s small, cool hand lightly touched Damon’s stooped back. “You’re going to run yourself into the ground if you don’t stop for a second.”

“I can’t stop.” Without physically slapping her hand away, he dodged out from under it and rose off the sofa. “She’s out there and I need to find her.”

Lily followed his escape attempts. “It’s been two days. Please just lie down for a few minutes. You won’t do anyone any good if you make yourself sick.”

“Stop mothering me!” he snapped, feeling the stress and frustration finally blow up inside him. “Stop caring. I’m the reason she’s missing. It’s because of me that she could be god knows where and…” He scrubbed hard at his mouth with the back of his hand. “How can you stand the sight of me?”

Lily’s round, pale face softened. “Because I love you, Damon.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

He left the room and made his way to the bedroom. He shut the door and leaned against it.

There was a dull sort of numbness pressing against the cavity of his brain that seemed to be spreading down through the rest of him. Every movement was almost mechanical. Half the time, he didn’t even know he was doing something until it was done. His only function had become to search and find Willa. Everything else was just obsolete.

The sheriff had found nothing. The entire town searching had found nothing, nor had anyone seen anything. It was as though his father had the inexplicable powers to vanish into thin air. But it made no sense. How was that possible? He had to be somewhere. Someone somewhere must have seen something. There had to be a clue somewhere. But if there was, Damon couldn’t find it. He’d gone over every conversation, every single second he’d spent in his father’s presence, dissecting and analyzing everything for even a hint of something that could help him find Willa, because he knew his father was waiting for him. He wanted Damon to suffer and he couldn’t get that satisfaction if there wasn’t some way to get ahold of him. Damon just wasn’t seeing it.

He paced his room, one finger tapping against his temples in a rhythmic rap that helped him think whole simultaneously massaging the throbbing pulse just under the skin.

His pondering was interrupted by a brisk knock on the apartment door. Damon didn’t even pause to think. He wrenched open his bedroom door and shot down the hallway, reaching it a second before Lily. He ripped it open.

“Willa?”

Sheriff Hanley peered back at him, face grim. Damon’s heart went from his throat and dropped all the way down between his ankles.

“What?” he croaked, feeling the familiar surge of nausea brewing. “Did you—”

The sheriff shook his head. “Not yet, but we’re still looking.”

Damon stumbled away from the door and his place was taken by Lily.

“What is it? Is there news?” she asked.

The sheriff stepped aside and Damon caught his first glimpse of the small brunette with red rimmed eyes and enough freckles to make an Irishman proud. She was clutching tightly to her purse with both bony hands and looking from Damon to Lily as though they held the meanings to life.

“This here’s Rachel Comb,” Sheriff Hanley stated gently. “She’s Charlotte’s mother.”

“The sheriff said that you might know where my Charlotte was?” the woman choked out.

Lily hurriedly took a step back. “Come inside. I’ll make some tea.”

She looked tired, Damon thought, studying the woman sitting small and fragile on his sofa. Her dark hair was fastened at the back of her neck and she wore a floral printed blouse over jeans. She seemed exhausted and so frail, like at any moment, she might fall apart and never recover. But she held on tight to the teacup Lily forced into her hands.

“Nathanael took Charlotte two months ago,” she said as fat tears dropped down her face. “I looked everywhere, but they were gone.”

“That’s the name Edward was going by,” Sheriff Hanley explained. “Nathanael Comb.”

“How did you meet Ed … Nathanael, Mrs. Comb?” Lily asked, offering her a plate of cookies Damon had made for Willa. He almost wanted to snatch them away from her. But that involved energy.

“Church.” The woman laughed weakly. “He started attending Sunday service and he was just so sweet and kind. We started seeing each other for a year before he asked me to marry him. We had Charlotte eight months later.”

“And you had no idea he’d recently been released from an eight year long prison sentence?” Sheriff Hanley asked.

Rachel shook her head. “He told me he was married before and that he had a son, but they were both dead and he’d been traveling, trying to find himself after the loss. We were married three years before he started to change. I don’t know how it happened, but he just woke up one morning a different person. He was mean and hurtful. That first year, he never raised his hand to me, but then he started to and I was just so scared. I told him I was leaving. That I was filing for divorce. I told him to get his things and be gone before I got home from work. Instead…” Tea sloshed over the rim of her cup and soaked into the rough grains of her jeans. Lily quickly took it from her, but Rachel didn’t seem to notice. “He picked Charlotte up from daycare and … they were gone. He just took her.”

Lily put her arms around the woman when she broke into tears.

“That seems to be his MO,” Sheriff Hanley said with a heavy sigh. “Minute he’s cornered, he bolts. Tried the same thing with Damon, ‘scept Beth was there to keep him from taking off with the boy.”

Rachel lifted her head and peered at Damon. “You look like him,” she said. “You have the trademark blue eyes and dark hair.” Her smile wobbled. “Charlotte has … has it, too.” She pulled in a breath. “Did … did you see my Charlotte? Was she okay?”

Damon nodded. “Yeah, she was okay.”

What else was he supposed to say? That her daughter was with a man who didn’t give a shit if he killed her? That she was probably scared and hurt? What good would that do anyone? Plus it seemed to ease some of the misery in Rachel’s brown eyes and that kind of made Damon feel better.

“Where do you live, Rachel?” Lily asked.

“Langley.”

Damon blinked in amazement at the distance.

“That’s almost a day’s drive here,” Lily said, saying the words in Damon’s mind.

Rachel nodded. “I drove the whole night when the police station called to tell me there was a lead here in Willow Creek. I called into my work and canceled my shifts, got my neighbor to watch my apartment, and just … drove.”

“What do you do?” Lily asked.

“I have two jobs,” she confessed. “I work part time at the diner around the corner from our place and I have a full time position at the local high school. I do janitorial services there at night.” She licked her lips and turned her attention to Lily. “The Sheriff tells me that Nathan … Edward, also took your little girl?”

The sympathetic mask Lily had been wearing cracked and her own pain trickled through. She tried to conceal it with a brave little smile, but even that wavered.

She nodded and lowered her gaze. “Willa.”

Rachel took her hand. “I am so sorry.”

Lily only nodded again.

“The reason I brought Rachel over here is to keep everyone together,” Sheriff Hanley said. “This way, when we bring Willa home, we can get Charlotte home as well at the same time.”

Rachel turned her pretty eyes to the other man and smiled. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

Inclining his head, Sheriff Hanley rose. “I’m going to go check on the search party and see if the others have come across anything. I’ll keep everyone updated.”

Lily and Rachel rose and walked the sheriff to the door. Damon remained in his seat, staring at the patch of carpet between his feet. He tried to determine how he felt about Rachel being there, about his father getting married and starting a new family, about Damon having a new sort of family, and he just didn’t care. He truthfully had no opinion on anything. Didn’t care about anything, except getting Willa and Charlotte home. The rest was just background noise.

Rachel and Lily returned, chattering on like they’d been best friends their entire lives. They sat on the sofa once more and traded stories about their daughters as though Charlotte and Willa were nothing more than a distant memory. The babbling made Damon want to upend the coffee table.

“I’m going to go help with the search,” he muttered, already on his feet.

“Sloan told you to stay here,” Lily reminded him. “In case Willa comes home.”

He shot her a glower. “You’re here. I need to be out there looking.”

Without waiting to be stopped again, he grabbed his coat and left the apartment.

Chapter Sixteen ~ Willa

She couldn’t stop the shivering. Not just her own, but Charlotte’s. The girl was a tiny ball in the curve of Willa’s body and no matter how hard Willa tried, she couldn’t pull her any closer. The single scrap of fabric Edward had tossed into the cubby with them as cover did nothing to stave back the chill that seemed to be radiating from somewhere within the confines. Willa guessed it was the concrete floor beneath the three pieces of felt placed between them and it, or there was a hole somewhere. But if there was, she could never find it. Every part of the wall was ice cold to the touch and the hatch was never left open long enough for a thorough search.

Every so often, it would open and Willa would be summoned out. Twice a day, Charlotte was allowed out, only to use the washroom and eat the food Willa was forced to prepare. She knew it wasn’t any good. Most of it turned out too salty, or too burnt, but the kid ate it like it was her last meal. Edward never touched her cooking. Maybe because he knew what a horrible cook she was, but she suspected it was because he would leave them locked in the cupboard while he went out, possibly to eat.

The house, she found out, belonged to an elderly couple who had gone away to visit family in Florida. They wouldn’t be returning for another two weeks so whatever was going to happen, she guessed it would happen before that. That knowledge also left her agitated and highly on alert. Every creak, every shuffle of movement on the other side of the hatch had her immediately bolting out of sleep to listen. She didn’t know for what, but she wanted to be prepared.

“Willa?”

It was late, well into the predawn hours, and Willa had been awake, staring into the darkness. She’d been awakened minutes, possibly hours earlier thanks to the cramp in her legs from being squished in a fetal position for so long. But fear of waking the girl had kept her still.

“Yeah?”

“Did your mommy not want you, too?” the girl whispered.

Gingerly, she felt her way up the girl’s back to her head and lightly smoothed back bits of crusty hair off her cheek. Her own hair was beginning to cling to her, matted and oily. She had tried to use her bathroom time wisely and washed herself up the best she could, but she was never allowed to help Charlotte.

“What do you mean?”

The girl shrugged. “My mommy didn’t want me. She gave me to Daddy to take away.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She had no idea where Charlotte’s mom was, or what the situation was behind all that.

“I’m sure your mommy loved you very much,” she murmured softly. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Does your mommy love you?”

At the thought of her mother, a lump formed in her throat. Her eyes burned and she felt herself beginning to slip.

“Yeah,” she choked out. “She does.”

“Do you miss her?”

Sucking in a breath, she mashed her face into the top of the girl’s head. “So much.”

“What about your daddy?”

Willa nodded. “I miss him, too.”

“Does he love you?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long patch of silence where Willa thought the girl had finally gone back to sleep. She closed her own eyes and willed her body to relax enough to get a few more minutes of rest before she was forced through another day of interrogation. It was something Edward was very fond of doing, waking Willa up at all hours of the day and night and forcing her to talk. Some days, she thought it was because he was lonely, but other times, she could see the cruel amusement her suffering caused him.

“Willa?”

Her eyes popped open. “Yeah?”

“I have to pee, Willa.” There was panic in her voice, a sort of terror that should have been reserved for monsters under her bed.

Willa’s arms tightened around her. “Hold it in, okay? Just a little longer.”

Charlotte’s head rocked viciously beneath her chin. “I can’t. I really have to go.”

Her little body squirmed in the cramped space and Willa knew there was nothing either of them could do. There was nowhere for her to go and no way to know when the door would be opened, or when Charlotte would be allowed her bathroom break.

“It’s okay,” Willa murmured. “Scoot off the blankets and go into the corner.”

It took some maneuvering, but Willa managed to keep the blankets and Charlotte’s pants dry, which was infinitely more important, because the girl seemed to only have one pair of clothing—the ones she was wearing. The overpowering stench suffocated the air, but at least it was too cold to get too bad. She knew, had it been hot, they probably would have died of the smell alone.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte cried, tiny shoulders shaking. “Please don’t tell him.”

Willa pulled her back into her arms and clasped her close. “It’s okay. I won’t.”

There was no sleep for either of them after that. On the other side of the hatch, she could hear nothing but the inane sound of clocks ticking. Edward, she assumed, was no doubt sprawled across one of the comfy beds upstairs, uncaring of anything but his own peace.

The clock on the mantel pronounced the hour at eleven when Willa was released from the hole. Charlotte was made to stay where she was with the hatch door open as Willa half limped, half shuffled to the bathroom, her body a maze of stiff muscles and bruises. Once there, she scrubbed as best she could before stuffing several towels under her coat. She smoothed them out evenly to conceal the bulges before returning to the cupboard.

Charlotte was sent next and Willa took the time to quickly mop up the previous night’s mess.

“What do you miss most?” Edward asked twenty minutes later while Willa was forced to make herself and Charlotte breakfast.

Damon, she thought automatically. Her family. Food. Her own bed. A shower. There was so much she missed.

“Chocolate,” she replied absently while trying not to chop a finger off dicing onions—she was almost certain there was supposed to be onions in omelets.

“You don’t miss Damon?”

Willa nodded, keeping her back turned to him. “Yes.”

“Why haven’t you asked where we are?”

“Would you tell me?” she asked.

She scooped the crudely chopped onions and tossed them into the frying pan. It hissed and popped and she realized she was supposed to add oil first. Darting to the pantry, she grabbed the olive oil and hurried back. The hissing only increased to the point where she had to snatch the pan off the element. The onions were bits of shriveled crusts and the smell was horrible.

Sighing, she set the pan back down on the fire and turned the element down as far as possible without turning it off. Next, she added the egg mix.

“Probably not,” Edward said and it took her a moment to realize he was answering her question. “But I don’t like that you’re not following the script.”

Wiping her hands, she turned to face her captor. “I didn’t get a script.”

He sat reclined in the armchair, as he so often seemed to do. His dirty feet were crossed at the ankles, propped up so it was all she could see. At least he was wearing pants that morning, she mused. The last time she’d seen him in only his boxers, she’d almost thrown up.

He was studying her, his blue eyes shadowed by strips of hair that needed a cut badly. She hated when he watched her. Hated the way his gaze always seemed to linger on her, hated feeling the prickle of his attention creeping over her skin. It made her all the more desperate for a shower.

“How old are you, Willa?”

Keeping her back to him, she grabbed a flat spatula and began poking the edges of the eggs away from the hot pan.

“Twenty three.”

“Has anyone ever told you, you look eighteen?”

She nodded slightly. “Sometimes.”

The chair creaked, but she didn’t glance back; the eggs were turning a solid color and she knew from her accident the day before that if she didn’t watch it closely, the whole thing could burn.

Something brushed against her back. The unexpected contact startled the spatula out of her gasp. It hit the pan and clattered across the stovetop, and was ignored when hands clamped down on her waist.

“What are you doing?” She tried to wrench away, tried not to panic. But her heart was screaming in her chest and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “Please stop…”

“Shhh.” His sour breath brushed over the side of her face, mingling with the scent of frying eggs. “You don’t want to scare Charlotte, do you?”

His hand tangled in her hair. His heavy pants raked against the side of her face. His gut pushed her forward into the stove. She could feel the heat of the element burning through her clothes. Any closer, and she would be right in the pan.

“What’s the matter?” he taunted when she tried to push him back. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a man attracted to you before.”

“No! Stop…!”

His hand slid up the length of her thigh to the fasten of her jeans. She slapped it away and yelped when he jerked on her hair and shoved forward with his hips, gouging his erection into the crack of her ass. The tip of his tongue flicked over her earlobe and Willa cringed.

“Stop it!” She tried shoving at him. “Get off me!”

He pushed her forward and she slammed into the counter. A callous hand closed around her face, covering her mouth and forcing her neck back.

“Don’t fight me,” he purred, grinding harder into her backside. “If you’re good, maybe we can make this part of the payment arrangement. Your pussy for your family’s life.”

Willa tried to speak, tried to scream, but all that came out were puffed sobs. Hot tears burned down her cheeks as the horror of what was about to happen slammed into her.

“Shhh,” he taunted, reaching around and flicking her button open. “You’ll love it.”

Powerless, terrified, and numb in a way that shouldn’t be possible, Willa could only lay there as her entire world crumbled around her. Her heart raged between her ears and all she could think was how this was not happening.

But it was.

God, it was.

No!

Pushing against the desire to crawl into the dark hole at the back of her mind, Willa bucked. She thrashed and kicked, ignoring the sharp pain in her shoulder where it contacted with the scalding pan. Her unexpected resistance startled Edward. His hand slipped and Willa sucked in air to scream.

Everything burst in an explosion of stars. Pain erupted up the one whole side of her face. It took several minutes to realize he’d slammed her head down on the counter.

“Fucking bitch!”

He hit her again. The pain was dull the second time. She barely felt it past the resounding shriek of agony already slicing through her. Her jeans were roughly forced down her hips.

Dazed, Willa couldn’t even think past the throbbing. But she did squeeze her eyes closed. She kept them shut even when there was a spark of light. For a moment, she thought he’d hit her again, but there was no pain.

Then there was a crack and Edward cried out. The weight of his massive body lifted and Willa nearly slid to the ground when her knees abandoned her. Sobs shuddered through her, one violent burst after another. But she turned, needing to see what had drawn his attention and was horrified to find Charlotte standing half in the living room, half in the kitchen, a fire poker clasped in her tiny hands. Her blue eyes were enormous against her colorless face. Edward was advancing on her, each fist an angry ball at his sides.

“You stupid little bitch!” he roared with a volume that seemed to shake the entire house.

Charlotte screamed. The poker hit the ground at her feet with a clang. But she had no time to flee before he had her. Giant hands closed around her tiny neck and she was hoisted off the ground like a rag doll. Her feet kicked wildly at the air as her life was strangled from her.

Wild with fear, Willa leapt into action. She grabbed the only available weapon to her and swung with every ounce of strength in her. The steaming pan rebounded off the back of his skull with a resounding clang that vibrated up her arms. Charred egg bits flew in all directions and splattered across the linoleum floor. Charlotte was dropped as Edward staggered forward under the blow. She immediately scuttled backwards into the far wall, trembling and sobbing. Willa didn’t wait for Edward to recover. She swung again. Then again. Each time striking him in the head, his back and shoulders. His arms and fingers when he tried to cover his head. Any part of him that she could reach. The task became increasingly easier when he crashed to his knees. She drew back her arm and walloped him with her entire weight straight in the face. The satisfying crunch of bones shattering was swallowed by his howl as he was thrown backwards across the kitchen floor.

“How does it feel?” Willa shrieked over his wails. Each word was punctured by another swing, another kick.

She didn’t stop until he was no longer moving, until he was motionless in a puddle of his own blood. She didn’t stop until she was sure he wasn’t going to get up again for a while. She kicked him with full force in the groin, just to make sure he was really unconscious before dropping the pan and running for Charlotte.

“Come on!”

Scooping the girl up, she darted to the armchair where her cellphone lay next to Edward’s car keys and wallet. She snatched it all up and was about to run for the front door when Charlotte shoved at her.

“Wait!” the girl cried.

“Charlotte, we don’t have time—”

Ignoring her protest, Charlotte shimmed out of Willa’s arms and ran back into the living room. Willa ran after her, refusing to leave until she had the girl. But the girl had what she’d gone for, a dirty, beat up backpack. Willa didn’t ask. She didn’t care. Her heart was about to explode in her chest and she was sure she was going to pass out.

Charlotte’s hand clasped tight in hers, she threw open the front door and shoved the girl through first.

It was too easy. Too easy. Any moment now, Edward Comb would grab her and stop her and beat and rape her. Any minute they’d be in that cupboard again, not stumbling through a sidewalk of ice towards a piece of shit Honda. Their freedom would be snatched away and they would never get this chance again.

“Buckle in!” she shouted to Charlotte as she pried open the back door and pushed the girl inside.

Nerves a jangled mess, she slammed the door shut and threw herself behind the wheel. Her hands shook violently as she struggled to get the key into the ignition, all the while watching the house for even a flicker of movement. In the back, Charlotte was crying softly and that was all Willa wanted to do as well.

“It’s okay,” she said instead. “It’s okay. We’re safe.”

Snow spewed up in a fountain as Willa slammed down on the gas. The back end fishtailed before the whole body jerked forward with speeds that were definitely not safe when she could barely feel her hands.

“Charlotte?” She peeked at the girl through the rearview mirror. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” the girl whispered, sniffling.

“Okay. It’s going to be okay. Just buckle in and … everything will be fine. I’m taking you home, okay?”

The road was one long stretch of nothing but rolling hills of snow. Occasionally, she would catch sight of a house in the far distance, but she still had no idea where they were. Nerves slightly calmer, she snatched up the phone in her lap and swiped a thumb over the screen to unlock it. The tiny battery icon blinked red and warned her she only had three percent life left.

She called her mom.

“Willa?” Her mom’s voice broke with hope and desperation. “Baby? Is that you?”

“I’m okay,” she said straight off the bat. “My battery is dying. I have Charlotte. I think I killed Edward Comb. I don’t know where we are, but we’re coming home.”

The phone died.

She prayed to God her mom had heard at least some of that.

The phone was tossed into the passenger’s side seat and she reached for the wallet. The damn thing was empty except for fifty bucks and a condom. She pulled out the money and tossed the worn leather onto the next seat. The tank was full, but she was starving and she knew Charlotte was too. First chance they got, she was pulling over for a burger.

Chapter Seventeen ~ Damon

The number of people who kept coming out to help search for Willa never failed to astound Damon. There were just so many. Practically the entire town, and while it didn’t exactly surprise him, it did give him a new appreciation for the place he always took for granted, the people he hated because of their busybody, narrow-mindedness. In that moment, seeing them trumping through snow, handing out blankets, hot chocolate, and maps, he loved every one of them, even Georgia May, who was heading the whole thing.

The woman stood by the fold out tables, megaphone in hand, barking orders for everyone to look alive and keep their eyes open. Then she proceeded to break everyone up into groups to search different parts of the town, parts that hadn’t already been crossed off the map. Damon stayed at the back of the group and watched as walkie-talkies were passed out, along with water and clear instructions to report even the smallest thing. Somewhere in all that was Calla, Jared, Cole, Beth, and Sloan. Damon hadn’t bothered searching them out. He couldn’t. He didn’t belong with them anymore. He couldn’t look at them knowing that all of this was his fault. He couldn’t bring himself to meet Sloan’s eyes, not when there was a chance he’d see the hatred and resentment there. Because of him, Willa was gone and he knew that had it been his daughter … he’d kill the motherfucker responsible. He’d sure as hell never forgive the bastard.

“Hey, what are you doing all the way back here?” Jared broke through the crowd and made his way to Damon’s side.

Damon shifted. “Just waiting for my map.”

“Why aren’t you standing with us?” Jared waved a hand in the direction he’d come through. “The others are just over there.”

He shook his head. “I’m good here.”

“Dude.” Jared turned his full attention on Damon. “This wasn’t your fault. No one blames you.”

“I blame me!” he hissed out. “If I had just told someone sooner…”

“Who? He would have hurt Charlotte.” And there was the core of Damon’s problems.

No matter how he looked at it, no matter what he thought of doing differently, it always came down to who would he have picked, Charlotte or Willa? And he never had an answer.

“If anything’s happened to her…”

“We’re going to find her,” Jared promised. “Sheriff Hanley has cops all over BC looking for him. We have the entire town covered. There is nowhere for him to go. Now, come on. You belong with your family.”

Damon didn’t move. He fixed his best friend with narrowed eyes and shook his head.

“What would you do if it was your daughter?”

Jared blinked. “What?”

“Would you still welcome me into the family if it was your kid out there?”

“Are you talking about Sloan?”

Damon looked away. “He doesn’t want me there and I don’t blame him.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Jared took his arm. “Has he said that?”

“No, but I know that’s how I would feel.”

He moved into the crowd and let himself get lost in their bustle. Georgia May glanced up when he approached her table. She said nothing as she handed him a clipboard, a walkie-talkie, and a bottle of water. His group and his assigned area were circled on the map tucked into the clipboard teeth. He was studying them when someone came up behind him.

“I’m done talking, Jared,” he muttered without looking up. “Let it go.”

“I thought I told you to stay home,” said the voice that was not Jared’s.

Damon’s head jerked up and he stared into Sloan’s exasperated expression. “I need to be out here searching,” he retorted.

“You should be home,” Sloan countered.

“I can’t stay home!” Damon bit out. “I can’t just sit there and do nothing! I know you blame me and I get it, because I blame me, too. But I have to look for her.”

The look on Sloan’s face turned from annoyed to confused. “Blame you? Why the hell would I blame you?”

“Because I put Willa in danger. Because I let her get taken. Because I didn’t do more to protect her!” He was yelling and panting and he knew he was drawing a crowd but he didn’t care. “It’s my fault he took her and it will be my fault if anything happens to her.”

Sloan’s eyes softened. “The only person I blame is Edward Comb. That fucker has his name written all over my baseball bat. I sure as hell don’t blame you.”

“Then why didn’t you want me here?” The lump in his throat made it nearly impossible to speak without bursting into tears. “Why do you keep trying to send me home?”

A gentle hand was laid on his shoulder. “Because you’re the first person she’s going to want to see when she returns.”

He hadn’t thought of that. But it still didn’t make him want to leave.

“I want to look for her,” he said evenly. “I have to. I’ll go insane sitting at home, waiting.”

Sloan inclined his head. “Fair enough.” He squeezed Damon’s shoulder. “Come on.”

The others looked up when Sloan guided Damon to the group. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but no one seemed annoyed or upset at the sight of him. They all looked like they expected him to be there.

“We’re going to start out by the Old Mills area,” Sloan said. “We’ll take my truck and—” The phone rang in his pocket, interrupting the plan he was putting into motion. They all watched as he fished it out and checked the screen before answering. “Lily?” His expression morphed almost immediately. His eyes widened and shot to Damon. “Are you sure?”

“What?” Damon demanded, his heart picking up in temp.

Sloan’s hand dropped on Damon’s shoulder, hard, cutting off circulation where his fingers dug through layers of fabric into skin.

“Where?” he said into the phone. “No, we’ll be right there.” He hung up and started to open his mouth when the walkie-talkies all around them burst to life.

“We found her!” a male voice shouted. “We found Willa and Charlotte!”

Damon didn’t even wait to hear the rest. The items in his hand hit the snow and lay forgotten as he spun on his heels and ran blindly through the cheering crowd in the direction of his Jeep.

Chapter Eighteen ~ Willa

The fifty bucks went on a mountain of fries, burgers, and two bottles of orange juice while they waited for the sheriff to pick them up. Charlotte scarfed back everything with a vengeance that made Willa’s heart hurt. She’d managed to get most of the filth and grime off the girl while they’d waited for their food, but wet paper napkins could only erase so much. The welt around Charlotte’s throat, the smudges of dirt on her cheeks and matted in her hair still drew attention from people walking in and out of the truck stop restaurant. Thankfully, no one said anything, because Willa had no idea what her response would be. Probably nothing, because she was just too tired to care what anyone thought. Willa had seen her own reflection in the bathroom mirror so she knew exactly what she looked like with her hair a tangled mess around a face that was gaunt and haggard from lack of sleep. But the worst was the blossoms of color exploding across her temple down to her cheekbone on one side and the gash on her bottom lip that mirrored the blood crusted beneath her nose. She looked like she’d gotten into a fight and lost, which she kind of had and hadn’t. It had certainly been enough to convince the kind woman behind the counter to let Willa use her phone to call the sheriff.

They were in Whitedale, roughly three hours from Willow Creek. She knew she could make it back before sundown, but she wasn’t sure she would be able to direct the police back to Edward if she went too far and she wanted him captured. If he wasn’t dead. For all she knew, his concussion had killed him and he was rotting on the floor of those poor people’s home. It scared her how very little the fact that she could have possibly murdered a man affected her. Part of her actually hoped he was dead. Another part wanted him to spend the last of his miserable life behind bars. Either way, she wanted Edward Comb out of her and Damon’s life forever. She wanted him to never hurt another family. She wanted him to pay for everything he’d done to Charlotte and Damon.

“Willa?”

She blinked out of her bloodthirsty thoughts and focused on the girl across from her. “Yeah?”

“Am I going to live with you?”

She hadn’t thought of that. With Edward gone and her mother who knew where, what would happen to Charlotte? Would child protective services take her? Did she have family?

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “If you want.”

Charlotte nodded. “I want to go home to my mommy, but…” Her little face fell. “She doesn’t want bad girls.”

Heart wrenching, Willa reached for her across the table and took her hand. “You are not a bad girl. I promise.”

Uncertain blue eyes lifted and fixed on her face. “Do you think Mommy will want me?”

Forcing a smile, Willa replied, “We’ll try.”

Nodding, Charlotte went back to nibbling on fries, but not with her original enthusiasm. She seemed pensive and unsure. Willa hated promising her something she wasn’t sure she could supply, but she would do her best to make it possible.

“Charlotte?”

The restaurant doors flew open and a woman Willa had never seen before scrambled inside. But Charlotte took one peek over the seat and burst into tears. She scrambled out of the booth, knocking the backpack she refused to let out of her sight to the ground and ran as fast as her little legs would carry her straight into the woman’s waiting arms. Her arms went around the woman’s neck and her legs around her waist like a baby koala.

“Mommy!”

“Charlotte!” She folded the girl tight to her chest. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I wished for you!” Charlotte sobbed. “I wished for you every day.”

The woman’s face crumpled and she buried her face into Charlotte’s tiny shoulder.

Willa began to slide out of her own seat when the door opened again and her own mom walked through.

“Mom!”

Brown eyes immediately found her and welled. “Willa.”

It was unclear which of them moved, but Willa found herself folded tightly in her mother’s arms. The soft, familiar scent of fabric softener, orange blossoms, and peaches crashed into her, erasing the pain and terror of the last few days. Gentle hands smoothed through her hair and along her heaving spine as she sobbed into her mother’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, darling,” her mother whispered thickly. “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

It took several minutes for her to find the energy to calm down long enough to wipe her eyes and peer at the door in search of all the faces she’d longed to see during her captivity.

“Where’s Dad and Damon?” she asked.

“On their way,” her mom said gently, guiding her back to the booth.

The woman still holding a sniffling Charlotte joined them. Her wet and blood shot eyes met Willa’s and tears spilled down cheeks.

“Thank you so much for looking after my little girl.”

Willa could only nod.

Sheriff Hanley arrived next, followed by two deputies and the sheriff from Whitedale. The other patrons all watched what was probably the most excitement many of them had seen in a while. Willa hadn’t even noticed that they were making a scene. That fact alone surprised her.

“We’ve been looking for you, young lady,” Sheriff Hanley said in a tone void of any real anger. “You gave us all a real scare.”

“Won’t happen again,” she murmured.

The sheriff gave her a ghost of a smile. “See that it doesn’t.” He glanced at Charlotte before returning his attention to Willa. “You feel up to telling us what happened?”

“Not here,” she said, glancing pointedly at Charlotte.

Nodding in understanding, the small group moved to the other side of the restaurant to talk. People watched them, but not with the same intensity now that it was clear that no one was getting arrested.

Willa took a seat and waited for the others to pull chairs up around the rickety table before starting on her story. She told them everything, leaving nothing out. When she got to where Edward had attacked her, her mother rose and moved away with one shaky hand pressed over her mouth. Willa didn’t stop her.

“So he’s still back at the house?” the Whitedale sheriff asked.

Sheriff Hanley had told her his name, but she couldn’t remember.

Willa nodded. “That’s where we left him.”

“Can you draw a map, or do you remember a road sign?” one of the deputies asked, glancing up from his notepad.

She shook her head. “I can draw a map, but I didn’t see any signs until I hit the edge of town.”

She was given a pen and paper and instructions to draw the way exactly. It didn’t take as long as she expected.

“It’s the blue house,” she told them. “I’m sorry I can’t remember much else. I just wanted to get out of there.”

The sheriffs and deputies shook their heads and took the map.

“You did good, Will,” Sheriff Hanley told her. “Sure proud of you.”

She offered him a smile. “Thank you, sir. I’m just glad I can go home.” She paused before adding. “Thank you for looking for me.”

The sheriff touched her arm lightly. “You’re one of mine, you hear?”

With a gentle squeeze, he rose and followed the others out of the restaurant.

Willa watched them leave before getting to her feet and moving over to where her mom stood staring absently through the glass doors.

“Mom?”

The other woman shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking what if…”

“Don’t.” She took her mom’s arm and gave it a slight shake. “Please don’t. I’m trying so hard to pretend none of it happened and I really need you to do the same.”

Brown eyes gleamed with tears as they turned to Willa. “I’m so proud of you, Will.” She took Willa’s face between her hands. “You kept that little girl safe and you got you both out of there. But I am never letting you out of my sights again.”

Willa laughed and it felt amazing.

“Can we go home now?” she asked, sobering. “I really miss my bed … and shower.”

Nodding, her mom led her back to where Charlotte was dozing in her mother’s arms. “Are you ready to head back?”

The woman slid out of the booth. Willa picked up the backpack still lying under the table and hoisted it over her shoulder. Then she followed the group to her mom’s Mustang. The woman, who her mom introduced as Rachel, gingerly set Charlotte into the backseat and climbed in after her. Willa was about to climb into the passenger’s seat when the shriek of tires had everyone in the parking lot whirling around. A bright, yellow Jeep squealed to a halt mere feet from the back fender of the Mustang and the driver’s side door flew open.

“Damon!”

He caught her. His arms were around her before Willa even realized she’d torn across the divide to get to him. His hold on her was bone crushing, the grip of a man unwilling to ever let go. His hand was tangled in her hair in a fierce fist that tore strands from the roots. His face was buried in her neck, burning her skin with every desperate pant.

“Tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded into her ear. “Tell me you’re not hurt.”

Her arms tightened around him as a wave of terror crashed into her that had nothing to do with him, but the memory of everything that had happened.

“I’m okay,” she croaked, more to calm herself then him.

His arms tightened. Her bones cracked.

“The baby?” The two little words were a breathless growl that vibrated with so much fear.

Tears spilled and were soaked up by the fabric of his coat.

“We’re both okay.”

His exhale burned against her skin. She could feel his heart jackhammering through both their clothing. His grip on her in no way lessened.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I am so sorry, Willa.”

“Shhh,” she whispered. “This wasn’t your fault.”

He drew away at last, but kept her in the tight confines of his embrace. One hand lifted and hastily shoved back tendrils of hair to peer into her face. Rage flickered behind his eyes as he took in the bruises, the gashes and dried blood. His nostrils flared.

“Did he do this?”

Fear grappled at her lungs, liberating her of all oxygen to speak, to tell him, and she realized she couldn’t. She could never tell him what nearly happened. He could never know what his father had nearly done to her. Not because she was trying to protect Edward, but she needed to protect Damon. He would never forgive himself. The guilt would eat him up alive. It would destroy him.

“I fell trying to escape,” she lied. “It happened so fast that I didn’t even notice until it was over.”

He searched her face, her eyes, seemingly her soul, and her insides wrenched around the lie. It formed a jagged ball of glass in her esophagus and she was horrified by how easily it had come to her.

“Where’s Charlotte?” he asked rather than push her.

“In Mom’s car. She’s sleeping, but she’s not hurt.”

He kissed her tenderly to avoid disturbing the cut on her lip. He worked his way up the side of her face to her temple.

“I know you’re lying to me,” he whispered into her skin. “I don’t know what he did to you, but if I find out he put his hands on you, I will kill him.”

“I think I already did,” she murmured into his throat. “I don’t know, but I think…”

His grip on her tightened.

“Let’s go home. I need you in our bed.”

She didn’t argue. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet. But midway back to town, they were forced to pull over when her father’s truck finally caught up to them. The rest of her family poured out right there on the side of the highway and she was dragged out of the Jeep.

“Are you hurt?” Beth asked repeatedly, running her hands all over Willa. “We need to take you to the hospital,” she stated. “You and the baby should be examined.”

“We’re fine,” Willa insisted, but agreed that she would stop at the hospital before going home.

Her father held her the longest and the tightest. His large arms made her feel tiny, and so safe. She closed her eyes and let herself get engulfed by all the love and relief that flowed off him in waves.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he growled into the side of her head. “I’d never be able to survive if anything happened to you, Will.”

“I won’t. I promise,” she murmured into the front of his coat.

Behind them, she was vaguely aware of Damon talking with her mother. He sounded like he was apologizing, but she didn’t get the chance to find out why when Uncle Cole, Jared and Calla took their turns hugging her.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Beth pulled her free. “Hospital. Now.”

Too tired to argue, she let herself get bundled back into the Jeep and belted in by her dad, something he hadn’t done since she was old enough to do up her own seatbelt.

“I’ll see you there, okay?” he said, patting her knee.

Willa smiled. “Thank you, Daddy.”

With a kiss to her cheek, he stepped back and slammed the door shut.

Damon waited for her mom to pull out first before following against the red flares of her taillights.

“Tell me what happened, Will,” Damon said into the silence that hummed around them.

The knot in her stomach tightened until she was sure she’d pass out. “It’s not important—”

“I need to know!” he cut in sharply.

“I’ll tell you, but only this once. After this, we will never talk about it, or think about it again, okay?”

She waited, refusing to budge until he agreed.

He did so reluctantly. “Okay.”

She told him everything, every detail, every moment, except what happened at the end. She kept to herself what Edward tried to do. She would never tell Damon. He didn’t need that staining his heart.

“He grabbed me and I screamed. Charlotte hit him with a poker to protect me and he went after her so I hit him with the frying pan,” she finished weakly. “I kept hitting him until he wasn’t moving. Then I took Charlotte and we ran.”

He said nothing. He asked no questions. If he knew she was lying, he never mentioned it. They drove in absolute silence.

She had no recollection of dozing off until hands were touching her, shaking her. Willa came awake with a strangled scream. She lashed out blindly in the dark interior of the car. Her hand rebounded off the passenger’s side window with a crack of pain.

“Easy!” Damon took hold of her flailing wrists. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

Heart pounding between her ears with every ragged breath, Willa blinked at their surroundings. For a moment, all she saw was shiny metal bathed in the dim light of setting dusk and a sharp glint of red that seemed to be coming from everywhere. It took her a moment to realize the crimson hue was radiating from the bright cross perched over top of an enormous, gray stone building.

“We’re at the hospital,” Damon told her gently.

She swallowed the terror down with an audible gulp. “I’m sorry.”

Damon shook his head, but said nothing as he climbed out of the Jeep and hurried to her side.

Her entire family crammed into the emergency waiting room. The stamped of their moving feet, their urgent voices all filled the muggy silence. The few seated around the room looked up, none pleased by the commotion and Willa immediately felt horrible.

“Guys, I’m really fine. You don’t have to come in with me.”

“We are not leaving your side, woman,” Calla declared.

As much as she wanted to tell them they should leave, she couldn’t. A very large, scared part of her needed them there. All of them. Their presence reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

Aunt Beth took Charlotte in first while everyone else found seats and waited.

The only thing worse than the waiting was waiting while she smelled like she’d crawled out of a sewer. It was sitting in the waiting room with people staring at her when she looked like she hadn’t seen a shower in days. Every part of her wanted to get up and leave, but no one would let her. Chalk all that up to the fact that she was exhausted, she couldn’t even pretend not to be in a foul mood. But at least, unlike Charlotte, she was allowed to go home after she was given a clean bill of health. Charlotte was admitted for the night for observation; she was dehydrated and several of her injuries concerned the doctors. Willa wanted to stay. She felt bad leaving the girl alone after everything they’d been through. But Rachel was there and Willa had a feeling the two needed to talk.

At home, Willa shuffled straight into the bathroom. Her clothes were torn off and unceremoniously pitched into the trash bin. Then she stepped under the scalding spray and really wept for the first time in days.

“I’m fine!” Willa laughed as another sandwich was shoved into her hands. “Mom, seriously, if you feed me anymore, I will explode and ruin my sofa.”

Ignoring her, her mom absently brushed crumbs off her lap and swiped gently at the corners of Willa’s mouth with a napkin. All the things Willa had been perfectly capable of doing on her own since she was old enough.

“Did you sleep all right?” her mom asked, gathering up the empty dishes off the coffee table and hauling them to the kitchen.

“I did,” Willa confessed. “It was nice being in my own bed again.”

Her mom returned, dusting her hands. “Maybe we should see the doctor again?”

Willa stared at her, partially amused, partially weary. “Mom, everything is fine. I’m a little dehydrated, a little bruised and banged up, but the doctor already said me and the baby were fine.”

“Are you sure?” She regained her seat next to Willa. “Maybe we should have Beth look at you again.”

“Mom!” Willa took her mother’s hand. “I swear I’m fine.”

Concern continued to glint in the other woman’s eyes as her eyes moved rapidly all over Willa, searching for even the slightest piece of hair out of place to fuss about.

“It’s just, you went through a lot and I want to be sure you’re okay.”

Softening her tone, Willa offered her a smile. “I love you.”

The right corner of her mom’s lip twitched once before she stiffened her chin and returned the grin.

“Love you, too, baby.” She pulled in a breath and looked around Willa’s apartment. “Where’s Damon?” she asked.

“Sleeping.” Willa chuckled softly. “He’s been sleeping for most of the day. Barely moved when I went in there to bring him coffee.”

Lily nodded. “He was devastated. I mean, we all were, but he was taking it hard, blaming himself and worrying. Barely ate or slept in the last three days you were gone.”

Three days. Why did it feel like she’d been gone for years? Somehow, being in that cupboard, not knowing how much time had gone by, had made the situation seem painfully endless. But it had really only been three days.

“I had it much easier than Charlotte,” Willa admitted. “He tortured her. I think to make her pay for what happened with Damon. I think he was trying to break her so she would never leave him. But he couldn’t. She’s so strong for someone so small.”

“She also had you there with her.”

Willa shook her head. “No, I might have helped her towards the end, but she made it on her own.”

Her mother’s shaky fingers combed back bits of hair off Willa’s temple, the one not a beautiful bloom of colors.

“I’m just glad you’re both home safely.”

Nodding, Willa set down the sandwich still in her hand and dusted her fingers off on her jeans. “Has there been any news from the sheriff?”

Her mom shook her head. “Not yet, but it’s still early. I’m sure Sheriff Hanley will inform us if anything changes.”

“Mom?” She lowered her voice. “Do you think it’s wrong that I hope I killed him?”

She swallowed hard, her insides hurting. The confession alone was enough to fill her with guilt and shame. She had never intentionally gone out of her way to cause anyone harm, never mind praying she murdered someone. But she meant it.

“No.” There was nothing in her mother’s tone except a clear conviction that hummed with absolute certainty. “He deserves to die.”

While Willa didn’t think anyone deserved to die, exactly, it made her feel better that her mother hadn’t recoiled, hadn’t scolded her for those horrible thoughts. She started to tell her so when a knock sounded on the apartment door. Willa exchanged glances with her mom before getting to her feet and moving to the door.

Sheriff Hanley inclined his head from the other side.

“Ladies.”

Willa stepped aside to let the sheriff in.

“Is everything okay? Charlotte?”

The sheriff nodded. “I just came by to let you all know that Edward Combs has been apprehended and he’s being taken into custody.”

“I didn’t kill him?” Willa asked, only mildly able to contain her disappointment.

“No, ma’am. He’s badly injured. No doubt will need stitches and some hospital time, but I reckon he’ll live. He will, however, be going to prison for the rest of his life for this. Kidnapping, child endangerment, theft, breaking and entering, just to name a few and I’m going to make sure he gets hit by everything I can throw at him.”

It was a small relief, but she would take it. At least he would never be able to hurt Damon again.

“Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached into the hallway and dragged in a series of black cases, totes and duffles, all familiar, and set them at Willa’s feet.

“Oh my God!”

With a cry of delight, Willa dropped down next to her lost equipment and began tearing through them. Her fingers hungrily moved over every lens, every cable, and cleaning solution. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled not to gather it all up against her chest and sob like a baby.

“Where did you find them?”

“At the house,” Sheriff Hanley said. “He took them. Had them the whole time. Guess he figured he’d toy with y’all a while before making his move. I suspect he’d been watching you for quite some time and knew to hit where it hurt most.”

Lunging to her feet, she bounded over the cases and threw her arms around the man. She hugged him tight before stepping back.

“Thank you so much, Sheriff. This means so much to me.”

He smiled fondly. “I’m glad I could find them.” He patted her lightly on the head. “This town needs your pretty pictures.”

A tear did slip then and she wiped it quickly away.

“There is one thing I was hoping I could ask you … and you, Mom.” She motioned her mom closer and moved the group out into the hallway. “I was hoping you two wouldn’t tell Damon what happened in that house, you know, what he tried to do. There’s nothing Damon can do about it and it’ll just kill him if he knew. Please,” she added. “Only the three of us know and I just … I would really appreciate it.”

“It has to go in my report,” Sheriff Hanley said. “Otherwise he won’t get convicted for what he did, but as far as me telling Damon … I see no point.”

Willa nodded. “Thank you.”

“I won’t tell him,” her mom added.

She reached out and took the other woman’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.

“Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I’ve got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me back at the station and a dirt bag that needs to be taken to jail.”

With an inclination of his head, he ambled down the hallway, leaving Willa and her mom to head back into the apartment and shut the door.

“I think I’m going to make a run into town,” Willa decided as she knelt down and began gathering up her things. “There are so many people to thank and I want to get the sheriff’s office a cake before the officers from the other towns head back and I want to see how Charlotte’s doing. Plus, I have her backpack.”

“I’ll grab my coat.”

Chuckling, Willa placed her bags into the closet and neatly organized them in their proper place. “You don’t have to go everywhere with me, Mom.”

Jacket on, the other woman slung her purse on. “I know, but I lost you for three days so I’m allowed to be clingy.”

Not pressing the issue, Willa wrote Damon a note, left it next to the coffee machine, grabbed her coat and Charlotte’s battered backpack, and followed her mom out the door.

The moment she stepped out of her apartment, she was ambushed by people rushing over to see how she was. Trays of cookies, pans of cakes, casserole dishes of food were shoved into her hands. The sheer joy on everyone’s face at seeing her brought a lump to her throat.

“See? You can never leave this town,” her mom teased as they made their way down Main Street. “No one will ever let you.”

Rubbing at her tear stained cheeks with her shoulder, Willa laughed. “Why would I ever want to leave?”

“Good. Now, let’s go drop those off somewhere.”

Calla looked up from the counter when they walked into the studio. Her face lit up when she spotted Willa.

“Will!” Darting around to her side, Calla pulled her sister into her arms, albeit a bit awkwardly around the bundle squished to Willa’s chest. “How are you?”

“Good,” Willa said, trying not to dump the plates in her hands. “How are you? Where’s Colten?”

Calla drew back and sighed heavily. “I think Jared’s mom has kidnapped him. Every time I go over to pick him up, she tells me they’re busy playing and I should come back later.”

“Well, you better get him back by this weekend,” their mom scolded. “It’s Christmas and I want to see my grandbaby.”

“Speaking of baby!” Calla’s blue eyes widened and darted to Willa. “How is my little niece?”

Willa laughed. “You can’t possibly know it’s a girl.”

“True, but I can hope. No offense, but we girls are getting out numbered in this family.”

Still laughing, Willa shook her head. “The baby’s fine.”

“Good, because…” Moving way faster than any woman on ice picks ever should, Calla darted behind the counter and came back with a tiny gift bag in neon pink with the words It’s a Girl written across the front. “Open it!”

“Calla!” Stepping around the woman, she gingerly set her armload down on the counter and reached for the bag. “You can’t buy her … him … it presents.”

Calla frowned in disgust. “Says who?” She shook the baggy. “Open!”

Secretly excited, Willa shot her sister a glower before accepting the gift. After unearthing wads of pink tissue paper, she drew out a tiny pair of suede cowboy boots in hot, electric pink.

“Aren’t they adorable?” Calla squealed, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “I saw them a few months back in a shop in Newburry and I just had to buy them. I figured if I didn’t have any more kids, then you, or Toby could get use out of them.”

“Of course you’ll have more kids,” their mom said, affronted. “Colten needs a little brother or sister.”

Calla groaned and rolled her eyes. “There are days when I watch Colten and he’s being an angel and I agree with you. I want another one. Then there are days when he’s being a terror and I swear, anyone so much as mentions babies and I want to kill them.”

“I love them,” Willa said. “I can’t believe these will fit anyone though. They’re so … little.”

Both Calla and their mom laughed.

“Trust me. They’ll fit.”

Chapter Nineteen ~ Damon

Christmas never made sense to Damon. Even as a child he had known there was something fundamentally wrong about a fat guy wiggling his way into people’s home in the dead of night, eating their cookies, and leaving behind toys. For one, he’d been taught that any large, hairy man who gave him toys would eventually want him to climb into their windowless van for a joy ride. For another, it made no sense where Santa got his money. All those bits and pieces for all those toys couldn’t have come cheap. So it brought to mind the question, did Santa rob banks in his free time? It would make sense seeing as how he could get into just about anywhere with a wiggle of his nose.

Later on, when he got older and came to the knowledge that it was Beth and Cole leaving said presents, he couldn’t help feeling like he didn’t deserve the things he got since he hadn’t done anything to earn them. They would all just be there under the tree, mountains of them with his name on half and he felt like he needed to do something, to be better in order to pay for all the things they gave him.

But Christmas also meant spending time with Willa as she opened her gifts and it finally made sense why his parents always got him stuff. It wasn’t the gift that made them happy. It was seeing him open them, seeing his face, because that was all he watched for when Willa opened hers. There was nothing more magical than seeing happiness light up behind her eyes, or seeing the smile that spread across her face. To him, that was Christmas.

“Let me help you!”

Calla’s laughing voice carried through the room, weaving with the other voices laughing and chatting from around the room. Everyone, except Colten, was sitting. The boy had been enlisted to bring Sloan boxes that he distributed throughout the room. Colten was taking his job very seriously.

“No, Mommy!” he cried when Calla tried to help him with a large box he had to heave with his entire little body. “I do it.”

Calla put her hands up and stepped back as the box was shoved all the way to where Sloan sat waiting for it.

“Toby,” Sloan said, heaving the box up and passing it along.

“Please let it be Godzilla!” Toby prayed.

“Godzilla?” Cole questioned.

Toby nodded, already ripping into the packaging. “Can you imagine me going to school on the back of a giant lizard? How awesome would that be?”

“Yeah, well, I think we were close,” Beth mused as Toby unearthed a glass tank containing a tiny, green lizard. “You might need to wait for the riding to school bit, though.”

Toby beamed and held the creature up. “I shall call you … Z.”

Damon arched a brow. “Like World War Z?”

“No!” Toby retorted. “Like Z for Zilla.”

The next gift was for Cole, who got a new iPod from Beth. Lily got a spa set from Beth and it went on as the wrapping paper mountain became alarmingly high across the floor and the place under the tree became increasingly bare. In the end, Damon got a multiuse sports watch from Sloan and Lily, underwear and socks from Beth—which he pitched at Toby’s head when he made a crack about his mom still picking out his clothes—a new leather jacket from Cole, a baby book for daddies from Calla—who swore it was the best thing ever written—a neat pocket knife from Jared and a coupon for one free hack from Toby.

“It’s good for anything,” Toby told him. “Credit score, bank, government, or—”

Damon smacked him upside the head. “Are you trying to get yourself sentenced for life?”

“They won’t catch me!” Toby protested, rubbing the injured spot.

Shaking his head, Damon frowned at him. “You know what you can get me? You talking to Dad about what you want to do.”

Uncertainty darkened the boy’s face and he glowered up at him. “I will! Just back off, okay?”

He backed off and went to drop down next to Willa, who smiled at him.

“Hi,” she said, nestling into his side. “I have something for you.”

“Please tell me it’s chocolate,” he murmured. “I’m starving.”

Chuckling, she pulled out a thin, but long box in gold foil from beneath the sofa. “Maybe.”

Curious, he tore off the paper and flipped off the lid. He swept aside the tissue paper hastily and peered down at the glossy frame tucked inside.

From behind a series of rectangular bits of glass was a collage of him and her through every Christmas since the very beginning. In each one, he could see them growing and changing, but always smiling and always together.

“We’ve been together for twenty Christmases,” she whispered. “And we’ve spent them all together.”

He turned his head and searched the face staring back at him. “I want one of these every twenty Christmases for the rest of my life.”

Willa beamed. “Deal.”

“Let us see, Damon,” someone called out.

Gingerly removing the frame out of its resting place, he turned it over and held it up for the room to see.

Lily gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Oh, that is beautiful! Look at you two.”

She hurried over the mess carpeting the ground and took the collage. Beth joined her as the two went over each shot in excited whispers.

Damon turned his attention back to the woman at his side. “I have a present for you as well.”

He saw the flicker of dread before she could mask it. Saw the way her gaze flickered over the room before returning to him with a plea not to do it.

He laughed. “You’ll like this surprise.”

Her smile was tight, but she didn’t speak.

Getting to his feet, he reached into his pocket. The back of his neck prickled as he became of aware of the silence that had descended over the room. He could feel the eyes on him, feel the anticipation in the air, and he wondered if maybe he really should have done it in private.

Too late now, he realized with an inward grimace.

“I actually have two gifts,” he said evenly, keeping all his focus on Willa, on her big blue eyes, her soft lips, the elegant curves of her cheeks. “This,” he said, pulling out the first box and handing it to her.

She undid the bow he’d spent an entire hour trying to get perfect. The crimson sash fluttered down to her lap where it lay across one thigh like a wound. Her fingers trembled as she peeled off the lid.

She blinked. “It’s a key,” she said, pulling out the silver item from its bed of cotton. Her gaze flicked up to his face. “What does it open?”

Behind him, Damon was acutely aware of Cole shifting and Sloan leaning forward. He ignored them.

“That’s actually only a quarter of the surprise,” he confessed. “It goes to a bigger present, but only if you say yes. I mean, it’s still yours even if you don’t, but I want … I would like…”

“Do it!” Cole hissed in a low whisper just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Clearing his throat, his heart hurting in his chest from the unnatural velocity of smashing into his ribs, he withdrew the second box from his other pocket.

“Oh my God!”

He ignored Calla’s gasp, already on the verge of throwing up as he lowered himself unsteadily to one knee.

Willa’s eyes went wide even as her hands flew to her gaping mouth. “Damon?”

“I love you,” he stated evenly. “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what it was. You’ve been my rock, my world, my friend … my drug of choice since I was six and I know you can do better. I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m selfish and I’m so addicted to you that I can’t let you go. I never want to let you go.” He paused to moisten his dry lips. “I may not be able to give you everything you deserve, but I sure as hell will try. I’ll love you, protect you, and support you in every way I can. All I ask … all I want is for you to say you’ll be mine.”

She was crying. The light from the fireplace caught the dampness and made her eyes shimmer. Then she was in his arms, tackling him backwards across the carpet. The crash sent splinters of pain up his spine, but he caught her to him.

“Yes!” she cried into the side of his neck. “Yes, I’ll be yours. I’ll always be yours.”

The breath he’d been holding expelled in a half groan, half sob into her shoulder. His fingers fisted in the soft wool of her sweater as he clasped her tighter.

“This was the best surprise,” she whispered into his ear.

Damon laughed and kissed her before pushing them both up. He reached for the velvet box he’d dropped when she’d ambushed him and pried the top open.

“It’s not what I originally wanted to get you,” he explained, slightly embarrassed by the ring he had to settle for.

It wasn’t hideous, but it wasn’t the one he had wanted. The diamond was a reasonable square cut the size of a woman’s pinky on a silver band. It wasn’t fancy, or impressive like the rings he’d seen other women wearing, but it was what he could afford after giving everything he’d saved to his father.

“I’ll get you a better one,” he promised, sliding the piece gently down her slender finger.

Willa shook her head. “Don’t you dare. It’s perfect.” She lifted her face and smiled at him. “I love it.”

He got a kiss before she was yanked away by the others to see. He was helped up off the floor by Jared who smacked him on the back before yanking him into a fierce embrace. Cole and Sloan followed, thumping him between the shoulder blades and congratulating him. But while the others stepped away after a second, Sloan held on.

“Take care of my girl, Damon,” he murmured into his ear. “Don’t give me a reason to strangle you in your sleep.”

Blinking, Damon jerked back, but the other man merely grinned and moved to hug his daughter.

“I know that look,” Jared said. “Although, Cole’s speech was much longer. I’m a little envious. Did he threaten to strangle you with your spleen?”

Damon opened his mouth when a knock sounded at the door. All heads turned almost simultaneously towards the foyer. But no one made a move to answer it.

“Richard is dead now, right?” Jared broke the silence.

Calla shot him a disapproving glower before moving to answer.

Rachel and Charlotte stepped into the living room. Both were smiling.

“I hope we’re not interrupting,” Rachel said hesitantly. “We’re leaving in the morning so we just wanted to come by and say thank you and goodbye.”

Sounds of protest echoed around the room as woman and child were grabbed and ushered deeper into the room.

“Must you leave?” Lily asked. “We barely got to know you.”

Rachel nodded. “Have to get back to work, unfortunately. But we loved it here. Everyone has been so kind. Plus, you’re kind of the only family Charlotte has.” She smiled at Damon. “I hope you’ll keep in touch?”

Damon nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He looked down at the girl peering up at him with those big eyes of hers. Her hair was scrubbed clean and pinned in shiny curls at the temples. She wore a pretty red dress in soft velvet and flat, black shoes with lacy socks. She smiled at him and he felt his heart melt. “We’re family, right?”

Charlotte nodded. “I have a present for you.”

“Oh! Yes!” Rachel hastily unslung the pack from over her shoulder and handed it to Charlotte.

Charlotte held it out to Damon. “Merry Christmas, Damon.”

Kneeling down, Damon took the ratty bag and undid the top. His breath caught. His head jerked up.

“Where did you get this?”

Charlotte pursed her lips sadly. “Daddy had it. But it’s yours.”

Without even thinking about it, he jerked the girl into his arms. He inhaled her soft, baby scent and closed his eyes.

“You’re an amazing kid, you know that?” he murmured just for her. “And I’m always here for you, okay?”

Her head bobbed against his shoulder. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears when he pulled back.

“What is it, Damon?” Calla asked, craning her neck to see into the bag.

He reached in and withdrew a neatly bundled stack of hundreds. “The money I gave my … Edward Comb,” he mumbled, refusing to ever call that man his father again. “For Charlotte.”

“You ran back for that bag,” Willa said to Charlotte.

Charlotte nodded. “I didn’t want it to get lost.”

Smoothing a hand over her head, Damon leaned in and kissed her brow. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

Willa chuckled and looked over at Rachel. “You have an amazing little girl, Mrs. Comb.” She turned her head to grin at Charlotte. “She saved my life.”

Charlotte blushed as red as her dress and dropped her gaze to her feet.

“I’m lucky,” Rachel agreed. “I don’t know what I’d do without her. And please, just call me Rachel.”

“Well, Rachel, we insist you and Charlotte stay for Christmas dinner,” Beth said. “You’re family now.”

FIVE MONTHS LATER…

“A treasure chest? A locker full of sand dollars? Um … a museum?”

“Will you stop guessing?” Damon poked Willa lightly in the side.

“Well, you won’t tell me what the key’s for so I have to guess,” she replied as they strolled up the path away from her parent’s house.

Damon was careful not to walk too fast and every so often, he’d guide her around any rocks or holes they came across, which seemed to amuse her.

“I’m not so big that I can’t see in front of my feet,” she teased.

“Just being careful,” he said as he always did.

She wasn’t big at all. In fact, her belly was just beginning to strain against the front of her tops. It was almost impossible to tell at all when she wore those flowy maternity dresses. But he knew it was there, just three months shy of finally coming out. The wait was killing him.

“So where are you taking me, Mister?” She rested her head on his shoulder as they started up the incline. “You’re not thinking of going skinny dipping off the cliffs, are you? Because I didn’t bring a swim suit.” The look of horror on his face made her burst out laughing. She hugged his arm to her. “Is that a no?”

“You are very pesty when you’re pregnant,” he decided.

“Pesty?” She wrinkled her nose. “What does that even mean?”

“It means…” He bent at the knee and scooped her up into his arms.

“Damon!” Her squeak was followed by her arms flinging around his neck. “Put me down!”

He ignored her.

“That I barely see you anymore, what with you off getting ready to start your own business and all, then when I do, you deliberately try to make me insane. Also, I can’t put you down. We’re almost at your surprise and you need to close your eyes.”

Shaking her head, she closed her eyes and busied herself kissing his cheek and nibbling on his ear.

“Stop that!” he muttered, starting down towards the cottage. “Don’t start things I’ll have to finish.”

Her laugh rang through the clearing in front of the house. He set her down gently and positioned her to face the water. With the snow and ice gone, it was a perfect green once more. The slice of sand a soft brown that complimented the carpet of lush, green grass that surrounded the property.

“Okay, ready?”

She nodded. “Yes sir!”

“Do you have your key?”

She held it up. The light caught off the diamond on her finger and his stomach clenched as it always did at the sight of it.

“Yup.”

Taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her gently on the cheek. “I love you, baby.”

She chuckled. “I love you, too.”

He took a moment to breathe her in, to remember her in that exact moment with her hair a pale sheet of gold down her back and her stomach full with the life they made together. He felt the familiar kick between his ribs, the flutter of pride, joy, and so much love.

“Okay, open.”

Dusky lashes lifted. She blinked and stared at the stretch of water with her lips parting. She took in the high cliffs tucked against one side and the low valley on the other and frowned.

“I don’t understand—”

Hands still on her shoulders, he turned her to face their home.

Willa gasped. Her hands clapped over her mouth as she did a little hop on the spot.

“No!”

Damon chuckled. “Yes.”

Her head snapped in his direction for a brush of a second before turning back to the house. “No!”

“Yes!”

She turned to him. Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Is it…”

“Yup.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh my God!”

With a squeal she launched her arms around his neck and strangled him for a full second before shoving away and darting for the front porch.

“I can’t believe you did this!” she exclaimed, spinning around to face him. “How did … when did … is it really ours?”

Hands tucked into his pockets, he ascended the two steps to join her at the top. He bent at the waist and kissed her grinning mouth.

“It’s ours. Yours, mine, and all the babies you’ll give me.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not the ocean, but it’s ours.”

A tear splashed down her cheek. “I love it so much, Damon.” Her embrace was much gentler this time. “Thank you.”

He squeezed her as close as her protruding belly would allow.

“But I do have a favor to ask.”

Wiping her eyes with a knuckle, she tipped her head back. “What?”

Taking her hand, he led her to the porch swing he’d installed himself over the few months he’d been waiting for spring to chase away the snow. He’d done a few different installations and repairs around the place, making it the perfect home for them. But the swing had a special meaning for him. It was a place he saw himself sitting with Willa long after they were both too old to do anything else. It was a place they could watch their children and their grandchildren play. A place they could look out over the water and let the day slip by. The swing held a lot of meaning for him.

He set her down on it now and took the spot next to her.

“I want to ask Rachel and Charlotte to move to Willow Creek.”

Willa’s face lit up. “That is a fantastic idea, Damon! Seeing them once a month isn’t enough.”

Nodding, he took her hand. “I want them to move into our apartment, seeing as how we don’t need it anymore.”

“Okay, well, of course that makes sense.”

“I was also hoping you wouldn’t mind giving Rachel a job at Under The Willow when it opens. She has the experience for it. She’s a hard worker and she’s honest and reliable—”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She gave his fingers a squeeze.

He knew she would agree to those, because she loved Charlotte as much as he did and Rachel was an amazing person. It was his next question that made him slightly nervous.

“There’s something else.” He pulled in the scent of moist sand, warm grass and pine into his lungs. “When we get married, I don’t want you to be a Comb. I don’t want our babies to be Combs. I want that name to die with me and Charlotte.”

A fine line appeared between her delicate brows. “But, Damon—”

“No, I’ve already made up my mind about this. When I asked Cole to keep my name the day of the adoption all those years ago, I thought it would make me stronger. I thought that if I knew where I’d come from that I would be able to face anything. But after what happened, the name feels like poison and I can’t stand the thought of it ever touching you or our children again.”

Sorrow and understanding gleamed in her eyes as she reached out and touched the side of his face.

“You were never a Comb,” she whispered. “You’ve always been a McClain. All you need is the title. I know the others will agree.” She smiled. “Damon McClain. I like it.”

Leaning forward, he kissed her, long and deep.

“I like it, too.”

Epilogue ~ Willa

ONE YEAR LATER…

“Colten! If you poke Owen one more time with that stick, I will toss you into the lake!”

Willa laughed and elbowed the blonde next to her. “That’s horrible!”

“The child is barely walking and already he’s being abused by his cousin,” Calla protested. “I won’t have it. No one picks on my favorite nephew.”

“He’s your only nephew.”

Grinning, she popped a chip into her mouth. “Which makes him my favorite.”

Shaking her head, Willa went back to watching as Charlotte and Colten streaked across the yard with Owen toddling after them with his pudgy little legs and his fierce expression. He looked so much like Damon that it was impossible not to want to smother him in kisses. Everything from his thick, dark hair and bright blue eyes to the way he scowled in deliberation before doing anything made her think of her husband. The thought made her smile as it always did.

“We should probably go check on the men before they set the house on fire,” Calla mused with a deep, regretful sigh. “Although, this swing and I have formed a bond and I might not ever get up.”

Willa laughed and pushed to her feet. “I’ll go. I want another drink anyway. Can I get you one?”

Face tipped back against the beautiful July sun, long legs stretched to the railing, Calla shook her head. “Nope.”

“Mommy!” Owen’s shriek brought her up short. She turned just as the toddler sprinted his way to the porch steps. “Mommy!” he said again, his face twisted in desperate anxiety. “Mommy!”

“Okay, baby.” She went down and gathered him up into her arms. “What’s the matter?”

Owen made a series of frustrated, weepy sounds while jabbing at where Charlotte and Colten were hunched over a bucket of sand.

“Are they not playing with you?” she cooed, nuzzling his warm cheek. “Aw, my poor little guy.”

“Give him to Auntie,” Calla said, arms already outstretched. “We’ll go have our own fun. Maybe even steal a cookie or two.”

“No cookies!” Willa scolded as Owen went happily into the other woman’s arms and snuggled into her.

Calla scoffed in mock outrage. “Excuse me? As I recall, spoiling my nephew is part of the Willa Rule, or did you forget that?”

That was one of her rules, Willa thought with too much amusement. As an aunt, it was her job to sugar the babies up and send them home. How could she blame Calla for doing the same?

“Annie…” Own whined nuzzling his little face into the side of Calla’s cheek.

“Yes, baby.” Calla snuggled him close. “Auntie loves you.”

“You know what? You two are lucky I no longer have my pregnancy hormones or I would be jealous of this bond you two have,” Willa teased.

Calla kissed the top of Owen’s dark head. “He’s just Auntie’s boy. You have to deal with that.”

Chuckling, Willa went inside. Her sandals clipped on the tiled floor all the way to the kitchen. She stepped out onto the back patio and squinted at the men struggling over the barbeque.

She grinned. “Should I order pizza?”

“Don’t mock us, woman!” Jared said with flourish. “We almost have her going.”

“It’s push, turn, light!” Damon insisted. “Look, there’s even pictures on the knob.”

“That’s a circular arrow that tells us nothing,” Jared retorted.

Willa laughed. “You two are adorable.” She went to her husband and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t blow up the house.”

She ducked back into the kitchen and filled herself another glass of lemonade. She took it with her to the front and watched as Calla ran through the water with the children. Her long, floral skirt was soaked to the knees. Her hair had come undone from its curly knot and hung around her shoulders and she was laughing as she scooped Owen up and tossed him into the air. Squealing, the boy dropped back into her waiting arms and was pressed into her chest. Her free hand went out and stroked over the sandy brown head of her own son. She said something and Charlotte’s hand shot up into the air like a dart.

Smiling at the sight, Willa went to the swing and sat. She set her drink aside and let the cool breeze wash over her upturned face. It combed through her hair with the scent of lake water, wet sand and freshly mowed grass. Sunlight sparkled off the water and glittered every time the children splashed. Their squeals of delight rang through the clearing and Willa had never been so happy.

“Hey you.”

The familiar voice had her looking up as Damon stepped onto the porch with her. The boards creaked beneath his weight. Then he was on the swing with her, his arm over the back of her shoulders.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Damon hummed. He kissed the side of her head.

“When are you giving me another one?” he asked as they watched Owen drag a bucket of sand into the water, slip, and land on his bottom in the waves.

Chuckling, she rested her head on his shoulder. “Let’s wait. I want to enjoy him a little longer.” She raised her head and kissed him. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t keep practicing.”

His blue eyes darkened in a way that sent her pulse racing. “I want a little girl so you should start going on top more.”

Her laugh carried across the yard in a ripple that caught Owen’s attention. His dark little head popped up and he peered in their direction. His eyes widened at the sight of Damon.

“Daddy!”

Little legs pumped as he clambered his way out of the dune and darted towards them. Damon rose and met him halfway. He tossed the boy up once before squeezing him to his chest, uncaring that he was getting soaked. They returned to the swing together. Damon perched Owen in his lap and snuggled him in close when Owen rested back against his dad’s chest and waved his sand-coated hands against the blue sky. Damon kissed the top of his head.

“Daddy, look.”

“Fingers,” Damon said when the boy wiggled all ten fingers in the air.

“Dirty fingers,” Willa added.

Owen waved them in her face with a giggle.

At the lake, Calla grabbed Colten and pitched him into the water. Charlotte went in after him with a shriek. Both hit and sunk before burst free, gasping and laughing.

“Daddy?” Owen pointed to the group.

“Sorry, little man, but you’re too little for that.”

“Maybe in a few years,” Willa suggested.

Owen didn’t seem to know what that meant, but he frowned thoughtfully and didn’t ask again. Willa studied him, his tiny face that was so perfect and was filled with the type of contentment she never thought possible. It swarmed her in a warmth she wanted to happily bask in for the rest of her life.

“What are you thinking?” Damon asked, watching her.

“That I’m so happy.”

He gave a nod. “Good.” One large hand settled on her thigh, burning her skin through the thin fabric of her skirt. “That’s exactly how I like you best.”

“Yeah?”

He gave another nod. “Yeah.”

“Love me?”

It was in his eyes, in his touch when he kissed her even before he spoke. “God, Will, like you wouldn’t believe.”

Her smile wobbled behind a film of tears that blurred his beautiful features. “Why?”

His smile stole her heart all over again. “Because you saw me when no one else did.”

The End

COMING SOON

His Lullaby Baby (Toby & Addy)

Coming Summer 2015

Acknowledgement

Willa & Damon. It’s incredible how much love and support these two have gotten. I know so many of you have been anxiously waiting for their story and I have been so nervous. I hope you guys enjoy it. Thank you so much for all your support, for sticking by me and bringing each of my characters alive.

More thank yous go to my girls behind the scenes, Katherine, Jessica, Kimberly, Krystal, Jaime, Amber, and Kia. You guys never fail to amaze me with your love. Thank you so much.

My girls on my street team for always having my back, for never thinking any of my ideas are crazy and for just being my escape when I need a laugh. I love you guys so much.

Love you all!

~Airicka

About Airicka Phoenix

Airicka Phoenix is a romance junkie with an incurable addiction to chocolate. She is also a prolific author of several novels written for young adult and new adult romance addicts who love bad boys, hot kisses and a gritty plot. Airicka prides herself in producing quality material her readers can fall in love with again and again.

When she's not hard at work bleeding words onto paper, Airicka can be found cuddling with her family, reading, watching TV shows, or just finding excuses not to do chores.

Be the first for giveaways, teasers and upcoming releases by joining Airicka's newsletter on her website www.AirickaPhoenix.com

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Table of Contents

Chapter One ~ Damon

Chapter Two ~ Willa

Chapter Three ~ Damon

Chapter Four ~ Willa

Chapter Six ~ Willa

Chapter Seven ~ Damon

Chapter Eight ~ Willa

Chapter Nine ~ Damon

Chapter Ten ~ Willa

Chapter Eleven ~ Damon

Chapter Twelve ~ Willa

Chapter Thirteen ~ Damon

Chapter Fourteen ~ Willa

Chapter Fifteen ~ Damon

Chapter Sixteen ~ Willa

Chapter Seventeen ~ Damon

Chapter Eighteen ~ Willa

Chapter Nineteen ~ Damon

Epilogue ~ Willa