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Willow

T he poppy flower over Rocket’s heart is both delicate and bold.

Soft orange petals. Slender green stem. A flower that grows wild, that comes back year after year, and that looks like it could be blown away with one wrong breath yet still refuses to bend.

It’s such a different tattoo from the rest he wears, but this one suits him. The pop of orange brightens all that dark.

He’s not just wearing it. He’s owning it.

Poppy squirms in my lap, fascinated by this place.

She must be able to feel the vibrations of the buzzing or something because it’s nap time and she’s completely awake.

Rocket lifts her up gently, careful of the plastic wrap that’s been put on his chest to protect his new tattoo, and points to the spot.

“See, Popstar?” he says. “You’re always with me now.”

Poppy grins. That sweet smile that owns my heart. She reaches out to trace the outline through the wrap—like she’s done to so many of his other tattoos before—almost as if she’s sewing herself to him. He guides her finger gently over the plastic and lets her trace.

My heart both swells and explodes.

Because this tattoo wasn’t for show. It wasn’t to post on social media to brag about. It wasn’t to pull up his shirt to show a judge in court.

This one was strictly for him.

This is Rocket Caldwell saying,“she’s mine.”

It makes me wonder, will he one day say that I’m his too?

The tattoo artist leaves us in the back room while he runs the bill through the register. Rocket stares at Poppy as tears flood his eyes. He catches me noticing, clears his throat, and blinks them away as his cheeks turn red.

“Well, well, well. The big bad rock star gets one tiny flower, and suddenly you’re all sentimental,” I tease, trying to save him from being embarrassed.

He groans and rolls his eyes, but I can tell he appreciates the levity. “It’s not tiny. It’s meaningful.”

“Oh, of course. Very macho. Nothing says tough guy like delicate poppy petals.”

“Careful, Adams. You keep running your mouth, I might have to tattoo your name next.”

“Better be a prime location.”

“How about right across my ass?”

I burst out laughing, and Poppy claps her hands, delighted even though she has no idea what we’re laughing at.

And then Rocket steps closer. His smile fades only to be replaced by a quieter expression.

He steps into my space and cups my jaw gently as he meets my gaze.

“Thank you. I needed this today. To step outside of my head. To forget about Monday’s hearing. Thank you for knowing what I needed when I didn’t.”

“That’s my job.”

“No. Poppy is. I’m you’re ...” His smile returns as he shakes his head like an epiphany just hit him.

My breath hitches. My heart hopes.

“I love you, Willow. I’ve tried to square it away a million different ways, tried to tell myself it was too fast or too complicated or too fuckingrisky.But I do. And I don’t know what the hell to do with it.”

Everything inside me softens and tightens simultaneously.

I stare at him for a long second, vibrating with the weight of his confession. And then I smile. Soft. Steady. Certain. How can I not when I’ve been waiting to hear those words from this man?

I cup the side of his face and welcome the stubble beneath my thumb.

“You don’t need to know what to do with it.

I’m here and I’m head over heels in love with you too.

Have been for some time.” I brush my lips against his.

“And as to what happens next? We just keep doing what we’re doing.

Laughing. Talking. Taking care of Poppy.

Cheering on each other’s successes. Making memories together. Whatever it takes, right?”

I don’t need a road map when it comes to Rocket.

I already know where I want to end up.