Page 45

Willow

T he hotel room is quiet for once.

Poppy’s napping in the bed behind me, her little body curled around her rabbit like it’s an extension of her spine. I’m in the corner by the window, phone pressed to my ear, eyes trained on the skyline of downtownDes Moines,and trying not to feel like the walls are closing in.

“Girl. You realize you’re freaking everywhere, right? TikTok, Insta, random-ass gossip blogs I didn’t even know existed.” Lily snorts. “Did I not tell you this was going to happen?”

“Yes. You did. You were right.” I groan and sink lower into the chair, dragging a hand over my face. “I’m just the nanny though.” It’s a lie that very few people, including her, know differently on, but it bears repeating.

The people jumping out of bushes to blind me with their flashes, who have no regard for Poppy or how scared it makes her, are my least favorite part of this trip .

Yes, it comes with the territory—or so I’m learning—but it doesn’t make them any less of an asshole.

“Just the nanny? More like you’re officially the hot new thing,” she says.

“Which also makes me thehatednew thing.”

“Fuck them,” she asserts in a way that only she can. Like those two words are empowering rather than angry.

“I mean ... yeah. But it’s still a mess.”

“You realize how crazy this all is, right? Like ... you’re in Iowa. On tour. With a rock star. His kid. And you’re literally the center of internet speculation.”

“Trust me. I realize it. Every second of every day.” I sigh. “It’s both the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life and also the most draining.”

“Because all of the great sex you’re getting to have?” she teases playfully.

“I was going more for the emotionally draining aspect.” I can’t help the quiet smile that spreads across my lips. “But that doesn’t hurt either.”

She snorts. “I’m living vicariously through you in that aspect and only that aspect.”

“Noted.”

She goes quiet for a second, then says, “Just so you know, when these articles say, “a source says” ... that source is not me.”

“I never thought you were—”

“A few calls came in—you know, fake PR people, paparazzi, one girl who claimed to be writing a documentary on the ‘domestic lives of the rich and famous’—people who have connected us as friends through social media, but—”

I groan. “God, Lil, I’m sorry.”

“—and I told all of them you’re just his nanny and then blocked the number.”

I laugh, but it’s hollow. “I appreciate the help, but no one believes that. Not anymore.”

“But they’ll believe Chris Hemsworth had an alien baby with a rhinoceros or whatever that shit was I saw in the National Enquirer the other day.”

“Yes, because men get passes and women get blamed. It’s fine.

I’ve stopped trying to figure people out.

The thing is, I wouldn’t care about any of it, but me being with Rocket—or the public thinking I am—isn’t a good thing.

It’ll risk my credibility at the custody hearing. The outcome. It’s a total shitshow. ”

I glance back at the bed. Poppy shifts in her sleep, lips twitching like she’s dreaming of something that makes her happy. Probably the zoo.

She loved the zoo.

Just like she loved the inflatable park and all its slides in St. Louis. The pirate ship hotel pool in Omaha. The petting zoo with the goats that tried to eat her pigtails. The band that spoils her like crazy and makes her laugh and feel loved, treating her like she’s one of their own.

Then there’s Rocket. She lights up the room when he walks in. Everything about her shifts and changes, and it’s the most incredible sight to watch.

All of it.

And now we’re both trying to navigate this insane meeting tomorrow with Olivia’s parents, and I canfeelthe stress emanating off him even when he’s smiling.

But I know his lawyer is right—seeing she has other family is good for Poppy. That might look favorable to a judge if this custody protest moves forward. It’s necessary, even if it’s terrifying.

“How’s she doing?”

“She’s a kid. She adjusts well. I mean, she misses her routine. She still ends up crawling into bed with me halfway through the night, but she’s happy. She’s loved. It shows.”

“And how’s your heart, Willow Adams?”

That question lodges somewhere behind my ribs. “I love her. Plain and simple. She’s hard not to.”

“I wasn’t talking about Poppy,” Lily says quietly.

Ooof. That one hits me in the gut. Having to face reality—and own your emotions will do that to a girl.

“In case you misunderstood what my lips just did, I’ll repeat myself with words. I want to kiss you every goddamn second I’m around you, Willow. Just give me time to figure out how to do it without losing everything in the process.”

I stare out the window at the fading sky, and then at the blur of cars below.

How I appreciate Rocket’s words. He’s already at tonight’s venue, doing all of the pre-show checks, interviews, and the typical pre-concert meet-and-greets.

I’ll leave it up to Poppy if she wants to attend the concert tonight.

Some nights she wants to dance, other nights she wants to snuggle, watch cartoons, and eat room service.

She thinks it’s the coolest thing in the world that food can be delivered to your bedroom .

“Willow?”

“I’m trying to protect it. I swear I am. But he makes itreallyhard.” The words catch in my throat. This—these feelings that keep growing—weren’t supposed to happen.

“Because he’s not who you thought he’d be?” she asks.

“Exactly. I mean, he’s ... good.” I pause and then say the next part more to myself than to her. “That sounds weird. He’s good, but not in a perfect, polished way, but in this raw, gritty, I’ll bleed for you kind of way. He shows up. He tries. He fights.”

“Sounds like someone you could fall for.”

“Truth?” I ask.

“Always.”

“I think I already have.”

We sit in silence for a beat, connected by the hum of the line and the weight of what I just admitted.

“I’m happy for you. You deserve to be swept off your feet and shown the world. But two things ...”

“Oh, God, you’re going to make a list.”

“I am.” She chuckles. “First, he’s a star, but you also deserve the limelight. Second, protect your heart, but don’t guard it so hard that you run from something real.”

“I’m not. I’m just scared of what happens when the spotlight fades.”

“Then make sure you’ve got something that still shines when it does.”