Page 56

Rocket

I don’t remember getting back to the house.

One minute I’m sitting in that courtroom watching them gut Willow on the stand, staying after for a debrief with Sandra while Willow rushes home to get out of the limelight and back to Poppy, and the next I’m here, at home, pacing the floor like a fucking caged animal, my palms still damp and my pulse refusing to settle.

Fucking hell. Her voice . I hear it in my head on a loop. “I’m not here for Mr. Caldwell. I’m here for his daughter and what’s in her best interest. The little girl who knows more love in his arms than she’ll ever find anywhere else.”

Strong. Brave. Shaking. And I just sat there. I didn’t stop her. I didn’t protect her. I fucking couldn’t and felt so goddamn handcuffed.

I scrub my hands down my face and sit on the edge of the bed. But the second I close my eyes, I see her on that stand with her wide eyes and heart on her sleeve, bleeding for everyone to see.

Because of me .

Sandra’s words echo louder now than they did the first time. “Even if that means sacrificing her.”

I should’ve said no, fought harder against it. I should’ve stood up in court and defended her from that fucking prick of a lawyer.

But I didn’t.

Fuck.

I glance over at the bathroom door. Willow’s in there, giving Poppy a bath.

I hear the soft sound of water splashing.

Poppy giggling. Willow’s voice sounds exhausted, spent, and still somehow soothing.

She’s still taking care of Poppy after what she went through today, and I’m sitting out here like the world’s biggest asshole.

It kills me because I know what’s coming.

She doesn’t.

Not yet.

But I feel it rising like a swell I can’t stop. The thought I can’t unthink. The truth that no one would dispute.Willow’s never going to be safe as long as she’s with me.

Not from the bullshit accusations. Not from the stain the ones today will leave. Not from a world that eats women alive simply to spit out headlines.

Because the guy is never at fault. The male is always untouchable. But the woman ... she’s always to blame in their world.

Another round of giggles comes through the door, but they’re only Poppy’s when usually they’re both. That hits me hard because I know, however hard she’s playing off the ramifications of what happened today, of social media that is afire with it all, it has truly affected her.

Restless, I stand and move toward the window. I look out at the dark night beyond and question who is out there, watching? Who tricked their way past the guard shack and is out there waiting to catch a random photo that they can spin to further along the fucked-up story?

And when did I stop trusting the world?

Motherfucker.

I shut the blinds, but still stand there, lost in thought. Sure the PR spin is already underway, trying to discredit the photos, deflect the rumors, and repair Willow’s public image.

But none of itmatters. I know from my own experience. From those of my bandmates. The damage is already done, and Willow’s at ground zero.

All because she loves me .

Fucking hell, I love her too, and that’s what makes this whole situation ten times worse. Because I know now, deep down, that I’d walk through fire for her. That I’d do anything to protect her.

And after today, I think I might have to.

Just not the way I want.

The bathroom door creaks open, and she steps out. Poppy’s wrapped in her bunny towel that has a hood and ears that flop over. Her damp tendrils of hair curl around her face that’s red from the warm water.

Willow meets my eyes. They’re hesitant. Gun-shy. And the sight of it fucking kills me.

Poppy asks for a snack, and Willow agrees way too quickly. She’s trying to escape from having to face me. From having to relive that her presence here fucked her over.

They move to the kitchen, and I follow right behind. She looks over her shoulder at me, and everything inside me hurts. Is her expression one that says she’s glad I’m here or one that says she’d rather be left alone?

I follow anyway because that one look did show she’s already unraveling. It said the thread is pulled taut, and one more tug might snap it.

Maybe I can at least prevent that.

“Hey,” I say.

She looks up at me as she peels and begins cutting a banana for Poppy.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion.

I muster a smile that I know for a fact doesn’t reach my eyes.

“I need to review the documents on this case. There are many, and for that reason, I’d like to reconvene next week at the same time for my decision.”

The judge’s monotone voice replays in my head. I thought this would all be over today, that we could start repairing the damage immediately, but now, of course, we have to wait a week. A week where it can fester and blow up to epic, untrue proportions.

“Tell me it’s going to be okay,” she repeats.

I can’t.

Because it’s not okay.

Not for her. Not anymore.

A quick look at social media has headlines flashing in front of my eyes. Terms like gold digger, slept her way to the top, and lies for money.

All because I kissed her.

All because I love her .

“In time it will be,” I finally say.

She nods, but it’s a nod that’s meant to be brave, not honest. “I got flustered. I feel like I failed you.”

“You didn’t.” And I mean it with everything I have.

“I’m sorry, Rocket,” she says, her voice breaking.

“No, please don’t cry.” My heart sinks. She looks so sad. So vulnerable. “You were perfect.”

She reaches for me. Just a hand on my chest. A question if this is okay in the midst of all this chaos.

I let her touch me, but I don’t give in to the need to pull her closer.

I don’t lift my hand to her waist. Don’t bury my face in her hair like Iwantto. I just ... stand there.

And her eyes shift. I see it. The flicker of confusion. The fear. Why aren’t you holding me back?

“Rocket?”

My chest aches. “Let me finish snack and bedtime for Poppy. It’s been a long day. You should get some sleep.”

She hesitates. The hurt in her eyes fucking owns me. But she nods, presses a goodnight kiss to Poppy’s head, and then she walks past me toward her room without looking back.

And I don’t stop her.

Because I want to pull her into my arms and never let her go. But in loving her, I know that if I really want to protect her, if I really want Poppy and Willow to be okay, then I might have to break my own damn heart.

And hers.

To save them both.