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I ruined everything.
My stomach cramps, and I fall to my knees, holding back a sob and cursing my decision to stay in this town and not move on like I’d planned.
Nora should have never given me a job. She should have never befriended me and given me a reason to stay.
And Rowan…
I feel strong arms circle my body, and I am drawn into a heavy chest. I’m weak to resist the comfort he’s offering.
“I’m sorry,” I sob into his arms. “I should have left before he found me.”
“It’s okay,” he soothes, running a hand down the back of my head and smoothing my hair. “I’ll take care of him, Willow.”
“But—”
“I don’t want you to worry about any of it. I believe you when you say you had nothing to do with your father’s crimes. I will take care of anyone who thinks they have any right to come after you,” he promises.
I push back from the hug to stare at him. Does this mean he knew about me the whole time?
“I—”
“You don’t need to run anymore, Willow.”
I drop my head to his chest and burrow into his warmth. “Nora is going to kill me for bringing trouble to her shop.”
“My sister is smart enough to have looked you up before she hired you. She cyberstalks everyone. What makes you think you are the exception?”
I chuckle in his arms, tucking my head in the crook of his neck and basking in his warmth.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper after a prolonged silence.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. I…you have me now. And Nora too. We love you.”
“We?” I ask, pushing back once again and staring into his gray eyes.
“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes not wavering from mine even for a second. “I love you, Willow Shepherds.”
“I love you too, Rowan,” I cry, hugging him, and this time, I don’t let go until the cops come to arrest my uncle.
I was wrong. Staying is the best decision I ever made.
EPILOGUE
Rowan
Six years later
I am just getting ready to leave the office when I receive a call from my assistant, informing me that I have one more appointment for the day.
I tell her to push it, but she insists that it isn’t possible to reschedule and that the rest of my week is booked. I run my fingers through my hair and resist the urge to growl into the receiver.
Tomorrow is Saturday, and it’s Valentine’s Day. I promised my wife I would spend the entire day with her, but first, we need to drop our daughters off at Nora’s for the night.
“Push the meeting to next week,” I tell my assistant.
“I’m afraid it can’t wait, sir.”
Damnit!
