Page 49

Jack

My knee bounced as I finished my tea, passing the mug back and forth between my hands. Despite the chatter around I was aware of the full mug of tea on the table before me, and I was becoming increasingly concerned. I hadn’t seen Willow since I’d left for the kitchen to make the round of drinks.

I collected Willow’s full mug with mine and stood, pulling my parent’s attention from their discussion about whether they needed more ducks for their pond.

“I’m going to bed. Thanks for a lovely evening, see you in the morning,” I murmured, before stepping over my sleeping dogs, who were enjoying the heat of the fire far too much to care for my whereabouts.

After dropping the mugs in the kitchen, I went in search of Willow.

My body was vibrating with the need to tell her exactly how I felt, show her exactly how I could love her if she was willing to open her heart to me.

There was always the chance she’d reject the suggestion, the niggling thought flickered in my brain like a smoke alarm whose battery was failing.

But the reminder of the many near kisses we’d shared was enough to propel me forward.

Upstairs, I knocked on the closed door of her bedroom, softly and again when there was no answer.

After the third set of knocks and overwhelming silence, I opened the door to find an empty room, the bed as perfect as it was on our arrival.

There wasn’t even a press in the bedding where she might have sat.

Panic laced through me. Where Willow was in my life, I suspected I’d always panic – or at least worry – about her.

It was a different type of worry to the parental-panic, though.

If you were a quality parent, it was ingrained in you from the second the sperm meets the egg that your job was to protect and worry for your mini-me.

But with Willow, I felt permanently out of control.

If I knew of her whereabouts, I could rest easy.

The second that was in question – a reel of worst-case scenarios spun through my mind and sent me right back to the bedroom I found her in.

I stumbled out of the room, back down the stairs and into my parents who were heading to bed .

“Have you seen Willow?” They stopped under the automatic door frame, mouths gaping and shutting as they looked between each other. I hurried them. “I went to check on her, but she’s not in her room.” They shook their heads, concerned.

My mind reeled until I felt dizzy. I turned to grab my coat, finding hers next to it.

I froze, eyes widening in shock with my hand hovering over the puffer coat.

She’d left the house with no coat in near-freezing temperatures.

I shrugged my coat on and grabbed hers from the hook, bounding from the front door without a second glance to check whether it shut.

My parents called after me, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than Willow’s safety.

I called out her name around the pond, only for the resident ducks to quack their displeasure at the disturbance. I jogged down the semi-lit driveway, unable to see beyond the edges of the tarmac.

“ Willow !” I roared her name as I spun in a circle, desperate for my voice to travel. I was met with silence, and when faced with the increasing frustration, I thwacked her coat off my outer thigh, the noise echoing into the night.

I stalked back to the front of the house and stood, clueless as to where to look. I stood in the Scottish winter’s night, desperate for a sign of Willow. I held my breath, willing for something to break through the silence.

Suddenly, a crash. My head snapped to the direction it came from – the right of the house. I forced my feet to move as quickly as possible.

When I rounded the corner, I found the door to the outhouse open and more crashing coming from inside. Curious, I proceeded quietly. I rounded the old oak tree, placing my palm against the furrowed trunk to keep me steady on the uneven ground.

My heart jolted as Willow burst from the door, a humongous rock on her shoulder, which she was somehow carrying from the dilapidated building to the skip. She crouched down, groaned with frustration and lobbed the rock into the skip with a loud, dull clunk.

She turned, hunched with her arms crossed to retain heat and retreated to the outhouse, presumably to continue her mission. I took my opportunity.

“Willow?” She jumped, my presence unexpected. Her face froze into a scowl, but she continued on her journey. “Willow, what are you doing out here?”

She continued to ignore me, stomping inside and returning outside, now with a broken plank of wood over her shoulder. When she reached the skip, she smacked the plank off the edge of the skip, a loud crack reverberating through the air.

“Willow,” I whispered, stepping behind her, pushing her coat under my arm and placing my hands on her shoulders. The second I touched her, she shot out of reach, turning to me with fury and hurt radiating through her. A thud clattered through the silence as she dropped the broken plank of wood.

“Don’t touch me!” She held eye contact and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to make herself bigger in front of me. Her anger caught me off guard. She’d never been grumpy with me, never mind angry. I stood my ground, determined to find the reason for her sudden mood change.

“Willow, what’s happened?” Silence. Eye contact, and heavy breathing, but still silence.

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” I moved to push strands of hair from her face, only for her to swat my hand away.

I let it drop to my side but forged on. “Why are you out here on your own? Doing this?” I glanced at the skip, then back to her.

She moved, trying to push past me, but I quickly grabbed onto her shoulders, holding her in place.

“ Willow , just talk to me. Why are you so angry?” Her eyes met mine again.

“Go inside Jack.”

“Not until you talk to me.” I crossed my arms in defiance.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

My head reared back in surprise. Now I was annoyed at her little strop.

“There’s clearly something wrong for you to stomp around my parent’s back garden at eleven o’clock at night. Talk to me, Willow. This is how we work, we communicate. I need you to talk to me.”

Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched as her shoulders rose to her ears. I could never have expected the next words to come out of her mouth, especially not with the bitterness and poison they did.

“Yeah? Well, I don’t need you .”