Page 14

Chapter

Thirteen

HOLLY JOLLY HEART

Willow

“How could I forget that sweet voice?” – M

“ O h, baby! I knew it. I knew you’d love it there. Look at you, sweet girl— you’re in a Christmas wonderland!” My mom’s excited and happy voice burst through my phone as I stroll through the hotel grounds, ready to start a brand-new day.

With each step, I breathe in the salty air that blends with the festive scent of pine and cinnamon from the decorations all around. The aroma wraps around me like a warm hug, making me feel all cozy inside, even though it is ninety degrees outside.

“Oh, my goodness! Look at all that red and white. You know how I love a candy cane- theme Christmas, Willow.”

I laugh, spinning around to give her a full view of the entire pool area. “I know, Mom. The whole resort is decked out like candy cane madness today. Every corner feels like stepping into a holiday dream.”

My dad chimes in, his voice full of amusement. “Are those fat fucks wearing speedos?” He leans in closer to the screen for a better view of the inflatable Santa’s, while Mom rolls her eyes playfully and pats one of the butterflies he had inked on his skin for her.

I nod with a smile. “Yup. They’re so cute, Dad and they wave at you, too.”

My mom bursts out laughing. “Santa in a speedo? That’s adorable! Giant, I think we should get one of those to put next to the tree!”

“You two and this damn holiday,” he grumbles, sounding like a big grump.

“Oh, hush. You love it,” Mom whispers, beaming at him.

Dad instantly melts, poking her nose before giving her a quick peck on her lips. “I love you.”

Mom sighs dreamily, then turns her gaze to me. “And our Willow girl.”

“Always our Willow girl.” Dad adds.

God, I love my parents.

“I love you both,” I whisper back.

“Show us more, baby!” Mom says.

“Look at those seashells, Mom. They’re so shiny.” I reply, twirling to show off the small, glittering seashells hanging from the palm trees. “Oh, and look at the snowmen made out of sand wearing Christmas hats— I think they’re my favorite out of all the quirky decorations.”

Mom gasps, “At the beach? Are they really putting up sandmen?”

I pan the camera over to where a cheerful sandman, complete with a Santa hat and sunglasses, standing proudly with a smile made out of tiny seashells. “Yes! The kids on the beach have built multiple sandmen and decorated them with Christmas scarves. It’s adorable!”

It really is. While most people wait all year for snow to build snowmen and have snowball fights, these kids won’t get to do that during Christmas week. Instead of feeling sad about it, they’ve embraced the sand and made the most of their holiday spirit.

Dad chuckles in the background, his voice muffled yet clearly entertained. “How’s the weather over there? It looks like you’re in the middle of a heatwave. Maybe you should come home…”

“Stop it, Riagan,” Mom gently chastises him, her voice low as if I couldn't hear her.

I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow, laughing. “I’m fine, Dad,” I say, smiling wider as I see him visibly melt. “And it’s scorching, but it’s worth it. I really love this country. Look at this—they’ve even set up a Christmas tree made entirely of seashells on the beach.”

I pan the camera over to the beach, where the sea sparkles under the hot Brazilian sun. A massive tree, adorned with shells and starfish, stands proudly by the water’s edge. The scene is surreal, a perfect blend of sand, sea, and holiday magic.

My dad shakes his head in amazement. “It truly looks beautiful. Kind of cool that they’ve gone all out like that for the holidays. Never seen something quite like it, my girl.”

I nod. “It’s just magical here, Dad.”

My dad’s eyes soften. “I’m glad you’re having a nice time, baby girl.” Then he leans in, as if looking for something on the screen. “Hold on,” he says, sounding more serious now. “Where is your Uncle Cianne?”

I pause to think for an answer that won’t get uncle in trouble with dad.

“Oh, um... Uncle Cianne isn’t here.”

Dad’s expression darkens a bit, the concern in his voice clear. “And where, might I ask, is he?”

“He, uh, had a bit of a late night,” I reply, my tone amused. “He was drinking and having fun with one of the Santa inflatables.” I raise my hand to stop him from responding. “But before you get mad… Uncle was drinking responsibly in the comfort of our suite.”

Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Santa inflatables? What the fuc?—”

“Yeah,” I cut in quickly, trying to keep the tone light. “He got so into it that the poor guy looked like he’d been through a marathon this morning. I tried to wake him up for breakfast, but he was out cold. I ended up turning off his alarm and letting him sleep in.”

Mom’s eyes widen in surprise. “I guess your crazy uncle is really making the most of the holiday spirit,” she laughs, trying to brighten Dad’s sudden shift in mood.

Dad shakes his head, though there’s a hint of a smile on his lips now. “You should’ve thrown a bucket of ice on the asshole, Willow. I don’t like that you’re unprotected.”

I brush it off, convinced I’m safe here. No one here knows my family—or at least, I hope they don’t.

What I don’t tell my parents is that since I’ve been here, I’ve felt eyes on me. It’s weird. I don’t feel like I’m in danger, just that I’m being watched. Suddenly, black eyes flash through my mind.

Cold eyes, beautiful eyes.

“Hey, do you guys remember Madden?” I ask, trying to gauge their reactions. His name has been a sore spot in our home for years. Of course, my parents know he’s a famous formula 1 driver, but that’s about the extent of it. He disappeared one night and we never heard of him again. Not even my father’s connections helped find him until he was already grown and by then it was too late.

I watch as Mom’s face falls a little, her eyes misting with sadness. “Sweet boy. Yes, of course we remember him,” she says, letting out a sigh.

Dad’s eyes narrow. “Why do you bring him up?”

I take a deep breath, feeling a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. “Well, this is actually his hotel.”

Dad’s expression darkens, and he barks, “No. Not for you, baby. You stay away from that.”

Mom quickly reaches over and places her hand over Dad’s mouth, her eyes pleading with him to stop. “Oh, hush, you beautiful giant.”

A moment of silence passes, and all I can think about is about my father’s reaction to Madden. He was never a fan of his, but then again, he’s never been a fan of any man with a pulse who gets near me or Mom.

The conversation turns awkward after Dad’s comment but then Mom’s smile reappears, though tinged with a bit of sorrow. “Well, honey, we’ll let you go. Please stay safe and enjoy the rest of your day.”

I nod, trying to shake off the tension. “Thanks, Mom. I will. I love you both.”

Mom’s hand still lingers on Dad’s mouth for a moment before she gently removes it. “Love you till the sun dies, Mo Chuisl e, but for all that’s fucking holy stay away from boys.”

Boys. He still sees me as his little girl, so of course he refers to men my age as boys.

“Will do, dad!” I reply with a quirky smile. “Love you more. Talk to you soon!”

As the video call ends, I stare at the screen, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me.

With a positive attitude and with a light heart after talking to my parents I make my way towards the tent reserved for our research project.

As I walk, I notice Ethan approaching from the side, his casual stride and easy smile lighting up his entire face. He holds something out to me as he gets closer, and I can’t quite make out what it is until he’s right in front of me.

“Hey, Will,” he says while signing. “I saw this and thought of you.”

He extends his hand, revealing a beautiful yellow puka shell necklace. The tiny shells are strung together in a simple yet elegant pattern, their natural sheen catching the sunlight.

I blink, momentarily taken aback. “ Oh, wow. This is really beautiful. ” It is. I also love the color. Yellow. It’s my favorite color after green.

Ethan grins, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I thought you would like it. I saw it and thought it would look good on you.”

That was… nice.

I take the necklace from him, feeling its cool weight in my hand. The shells are smooth and worn, each one unique, giving the necklace an antique charm. “ Thank you. It’s very thoughtful. ” I sign.

Glancing up at him, I catch him looking at me with a small smile on his face. A flutter of nerves stirs in my stomach as I slip the necklace over my head.

The shells rest comfortably against my skin as I look up at him.

Ethan’s eyes sparkle with something unreadable as he takes in the sight of the necklace on me. “It really does suit you,” he says softly while signing. “You look beautiful, Willow.”

I smile shyly. “ Thanks ,” I sign back.

“You’re welcome.” Ethan’s grin widens.

An awkward silence follows before he speaks again. “Let’s get to work then.”

I nod, returning his smile.

We start walking towards the tent together, and as we approach, I can see three figures moving swiftly around inside. The sound of zippers and the clinking of metal fills the air. Bernie, Cleo, and Maya are already at work.

Bernie is hunched over a laptop, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He looks up briefly, a grin spreading across his face as he signs, “Ah, Willow. Ethan. Good morning! We were starting to think we’d have to start without you.”

I wave and smile in greeting.

Ethan speaks first while signing for my benefit. “Morning. You guys been here long?”

Our eyes move toward Cleo, who is crouched over a set of mushroom specimens, adjusting a microscope. At Ethan’s voice, she glances up and waves us over. “Not really and you got here just in time. We’ve got the preliminary data coming in, but we need you to help us validate the readings.”

Maya is next to Cleo, organizing samples and jotting down notes. She looks up with a spark of enthusiasm. “Everything is almost set. We’ll soon be able to see if our data on these endangered babies reveals any new insights.”

“ Good .” I sign back to her, matching her excitement.

Bernie then waves towards a mess of equipment. “We’re running final tests on the soil samples we gathered and checking the viability of our species collection. We need to ensure everything is accurate before we start the main data collection. I can’t wait for the results.”

The excitement in the tent is infectious, and I can’t help but smile.

Ethan nods, already moving to assist Bernie with the setup. “I’ll start with the soil samples. Willow, could you double-check the specimen tags and make sure we’re tracking everything correctly?”

I nod, taking the stack of data sheets from Maya. “ I’ll make sure everything is in order and ready for tonight’s observations. ” I sign.

Maya beams and signs back. “Thank you.”

As I start organizing the specimen tags by color, I can’t help but think of my notes and the focus of our research. We’re here to study rare and endangered mushrooms, highlighting their ecological roles and the impact their extinction could have on ecosystems. At the same time, we’re also exploring the parallels between fungi and human biology—a project that I believe has the potential to uncover astonishing new insights for science. The thought of uncovering how mushrooms mirror human systems is both thrilling and humbling. I’ve always felt a rare connection to them and I hope more people will understand their value to nature after this.

As I keep busy with my task, the tent’s warm glow is interrupted by a loud, jarring sound—like a gust of wind or a distant thunder. My head snaps up from the specimen tags, and I see Ethan and Bernie’s faces shift to ones of confusion. The noise grows louder, and then the tent flaps are pulled aside with a sharp snap.

In the doorway stands Madden.

I blink twice and glance at the others to see if they’re also seeing the same thing or if I’m stuck in a daydream. They all wear looks of surprise as well.

So, he’s really here and he’s not a beautiful figment of my imagination.

The first thing I notice is that his usual polished business attire is replaced by casual sportswear—black sweatpants, a fitted athletic shirt to match, and sneakers. It’s weird seeing him dress so normal.

As usual, his expression is unreadable, and his black eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. For a moment, I’m frozen, caught between his magnetic pull and the surprise of his intrusion.

Ethan is the first to recover, breaking through the stunned silence. “What are you doing here?”

Bernie steps forward, glaring at Ethan. “I think Ethan meant to say, Good morning, Mr. Hunt. What a pleasure to have you here.”

Ethan rolls his eyes, and I can’t help but wonder about his sudden bursts of anger towards Madden. Thinking about it, he's been rude every time Madden has approached our group.

Huh.

Madden’s gaze remains fixed on me as he steps fully into the tent, the flaps falling back into place behind him. His voice is calm but carries a weight that immediately grabs everyone’s attention. “I’ll be joining your team for today.”

The tent erupts into murmurs. Cleo’s eyes widen in disbelief, and Maya exchanges an excited glance with Bernie. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Madden, my mind racing with a thousand questions. Why is he here? What does he want from us? And why is he looking at me as if I’m the only person in the room?

Ethan steps forward, his brow furrowing. “Joining us? But why? This is a scientific expedition, not a social event.”

This time, I am the one who glares. Whatever issue he has with Madden, he should be professional enough to set it aside for the research. Besides, I don’t like anyone treating Madden that way. Not at all. He’s been hurt enough.

Madden’s gaze finally shifts from me to Ethan, and the sudden cold stare makes my stomach drop. “I’ve taken an interest in your research. I’d like to see it firsthand.” He then turns his attention back to me. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his words hanging in the air. My pulse quickens as I wonder why someone as important—and undoubtedly busy—would take an interest in our research.

When the silence starts to turn uncomfortable, I step in. “Mr. Hunt, with all due respect, our research might take quite a while, and it may not be what you expect.”

Madden suddenly frowns, looking angry. “I’m aware. I’m here to learn. If there’s any issue with my presence, I’ll be happy to leave.”

I gulp, sensing the tension in the air. “ There’s no issue ,” I sign, but he raises his hand, stopping me.

“Use your words, Wild One.”

Anger and embarrassment twist in my belly. My cheeks heat up as I wrestle with the frustration of him asking me to speak, when he knows why I prefer not to. Staring up at him; he raises an eyebrow, challenging me. But before I have the chance to stand up for myself, Ethan steps in.

“Alright, Mr. Hunt,” he says through gritted teeth. “We’ll brief you on what we’re doing and how you can assist. But please, keep in mind that our primary focus is research.”

Madden gives a curt nod, his attention still fixed on me. “Understood.”

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, but it is futile; It’s beating a mile a minute. My fingers absently trace the puka shell necklace Ethan gifted me just moments before. Noticing the movement, Madden’s eyes drop from my face to the necklace, and I don’t miss the sudden change in his expression. His previously unreadable gaze darkens and the curiosity that was there before fades giving way to something colder, more menacing. His jaw tightens, and his black eyes narrow, looking at the necklace as if the object offended him.

The air seems to thicken around us even more than before. The change is so abrupt and stark that it almost feels like the temperature in the tent has dropped.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Hunt?” Ethan’s voice cuts through the thickening tension, and I can see him casting wary glances between Madden and me.

Instead of turning towards Ethan, Madden’s gaze remains locked on the necklace around my neck. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his silence heavy and quite frankly scary. Finally, he looks up, his eyes meeting mine with a cold, hard edge. “No problem at all.”

Madden

I did something idiotic and quite frankly beneath me. What the fuck was I thinking when I decided to crash the nerds’ research? No bullshit, I know what happened. I wasn't thinking.

I was fucking jealous and that shit clouded my judgment.

And now half an hour later I find myself with four nerds and a blushing fairy inside a chopper as we soar towards the amazon rainforest.

I ended up stuck next to an overly chatty woman who could probably bore me to death with her never-ending lecture on fungus. She’s babbling about the various fungal species she’s excited to find, and some detailed biochemical processes that are frankly beyond my interest and understanding. Why does this woman’s science talk feels like slow torture, while I used to find it endearing when Willow did it?

Chatty’s voice is a steady drone in my ear, though I barely register her words.

My attention, however, is fixated on Willow, who sits across the aisle and a row ahead of me. She’s next to the ugly vest asshole, who is looking at her as if she hangs the moon and stars in his sky. Pathetic.

The sight of her, the way she interacts with him, the subtle smiles they exchange—it’s all grating on my fucking nerves.

From where I sit, I can see the fucker’s arm brush against Willow’s as he hands her some folders. She smiles prettily at him and signs the words “thank you”. My top lip curls as I watch them together and I start feeling hot all of a sudden. My blood is fucking boiling.

But then it hits me. She only uses her voice when she’s around people she trusts and feels comfortable with. So… this fucker with his corny gifts and cringe as fuck smiles is not one she feels comfortable enough to share her voice with.

Good.

That’s good.

The way he’s looking at her— with those eyes full of affection and unspoken feelings—makes my skin crawl. For fuck’s sake, it’s like watching a bad romance movie starring a beautiful princess and downright ugly frog.

Feeling beyond annoyed and fed up with the noise around me, I try to drown out Maya—aka Chatty’s— incessant chatter by staring out the window. Not even my god-awful personality can negate how beautiful this country is. I find little to no beauty in most things, but the view outside the window could take my breath away if I let it. The amount of green below is mesmerizing. There’s a whole lot of yellow too. The color reminds me of the scene I witnessed earlier. The fucker gifting a hideous yellow necklace that looked more like a collection of worn shells than anything remotely desirable yet it made her smile as if he had gifted all the diamonds in the world. Then there was the way he looked at her while giving it to her, like he was presenting her something precious—it sent a sharp, uncomfortable pang through my chest.

Again… what the fuck is this feeling?

I don’t care for it.

Maya is still talking, her voice rising in excitement as she describes some ecological bullshit of certain mushroom species. I don’t acknowledge her as I turn away from the window and catch glimpses of Willow’s profile as she talks to the fucker about their plans for when we land. There’s an ease between them, a familiarity that is irritating the hell out of me.

While I sit here ignoring the chatterbox next to me, I daydream about how I might get away with murdering that flirty fuck, Ethan but then my genius thoughts are interrupted by the slight jolt of the helicopter as it adjusts its altitude. The movement made Maya nervous enough to stop talking. Thank fuck for small miracles.

Casting a long glance at Willow, I notice she’s perfectly still and doesn't seem the least bit nervous or bothered by the helicopter jolting. The more I stare at her, the more everything and everyone else fades into the background. Her wild curls are, well, wild, and her eyes are hyper focused on a map spread out in front of her. I can’t help but wonder what she sees in the idiot next to her that’s trying way too hard to get her attention. I wonder why she smiles so easily around him, and while she can’t even look at me without turning red.

The thoughts gnaw at me, and I force myself to look away from her, not wanting to deal with what any of this means. Feelings are uncharted territory for me, and they always have been. Shit, for so long, I’ve trained myself not to feel anything, but here I am, unable to untangle the mess of emotions swirling in my head whenever I look at her.

The helicopter begins its descent, the rainforest growing closer with each passing second. The roar of the engine intensifies, and the vibrations grow stronger. As we land, I’m the first to step out, my sneakers hitting the soft, damp earth with a squelch. The humidity hits me like a wall, wrapping around me like a warm blanket that clings to my skin. Fuck, I hate humidity.

Shit, I hate everything inside this place. The plants, the animals— especially the fucking insects.

Like a bad joke, a mosquito lands on my hand, and I swiftly crush it then wipe my hands on my sweats. “Fucking gross,” I grumble under my breath then glance back at the helicopter as the others begin to climb out. My eyes land on Willow, who is still seated, her attention divided between her equipment and her annoying colleague Maya.

I then glance over at the ugly vest-wearing lover boy, busy with his own equipment but with his eyes fixed on Willow. Any moment now, he’ll swoop in to help her climb out, acting like the perfect gentlemen the motherfucker thinks he is. Irritation surges through me as I watch him watching her.

But before he can make his way over to her, I take a few purposeful strides back to the helicopter. Interrupting her conversation with the chatterbox, I extend a hand towards Willow, who looks up, surprise flickering across her perfect face. When she freezes in place, I reach out and gently grip her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Something that feels a lot like electricity zaps me the moment her skin comes in contact with mine. My breath hitches as I feel her small waist beneath my fingers, and I can sense the gentle rise and fall of her breath. My grip is firm but careful, and as I gently help her down from the helicopter. Our faces are dangerously close that I can feel her hot breath against my skin. Fuck, how can someone be this beautiful? Her beauty isn't the kind shoved down our throats by Hollywood and social media. No, Willow’s beauty is the kind that needs no surgeries or makeup. She just is. Effortlessly and real. Her deep, mesmerizing blue eyes lock onto mine, and I see a hint of something—an emotion that mirrors my own confusion and yearning.

For a brief moment, nothing else exists. The roar of the helicopter’s engines, the murmurs of her team—it all fades into the background. It’s just Willow and me, like it once was. She subtly raises her hand and taps her chest three times. Tap. Tap. Tap.

I frown, wondering if it hurts, but she doesn’t seem in any pain.

As I guide her down, I’m acutely aware of every detail—the softness of her skin under my harsh fingertips and the delicate scent of her shampoo blending with the earthy aroma of the flora that surrounds us. Willow’s gaze flits nervously between my eyes and my hand on her waist, her cheeks flushing a pretty and soft pink. She looks shy, almost uncertain, as if she’s unsure how to react to my closeness.

That makes two of us.

I notice her pupils dilate slightly as her breath catches in her throat. Her reaction is subtle, but it’s there, and it’s enough to make my heart skip a thousand beats. I can feel the same ache in my chest from before that intensifies every second we’re this close.

I guide her the rest of the way down, reluctantly releasing her waist once her feet touch the damp ground. As she steps away, the air between us seems charged, and with each step she takes back, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something.

Willow smiles shyly, her blush deepening. “ Thank you, ” she signs.

All of a sudden, I’m hit by a surge of irritation because why is she using sign language with me? Her voice is beautiful like the rest of her. “Use your voice around me, Willow. I can hear you just fine.”

The words are out before I can stop them, and the immediate look of shock and hurt that flashes across her face is like a rusty knife to the heart. Her movements falter, and she glances at her team behind her, who all give look at her with sympathy. Fuck. Fuck. Willow’s cheeks flush a deep crimson, her gaze dropping to the ground as she struggles to respond.

Crack.

The ache in my chest turns to something ugly.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammers, her voice barely audible so only I can hear. The tremor in her tone breaks something inside of me that I thought was broken long ago.

Fuck.

I didn’t mean it like that.

I didn't mean to hurt her heart.

Goddammit. Not her. Never Wild One.

The weight of my hurtful words hits me like a sledgehammer when I see the effect they’ve had on her. She looks as if she’s looking for somewhere to hide like when she was little and didn't want to use her voice with me afraid that I would laugh.

I’m a real piece of shit.

I can feel it.

Her embarrassment and her vulnerability as everyone looks at her.

A wave of guilt washes over me, and I feel like a stupid fuck for letting what was clearly jealousy get the best of me enough to hurt the sweetest creature to ever live.

I’m so lost in her and the way that I made her feel that I didn’t notice that fucker, Ethan, stepping forward, a furious look on his face. He glances between Willow and me, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Feeling like a villain who just hurt the princess’s heart, I turn on my heel and walk away from her, the rainforest’s oppressive heat suddenly feeling even more suffocating. I walk as far as I can where the sounds of the team fade into the background. I pace back and forth, trying to settle down my heart and control the roiling emotions inside me.

I fucked up.

But that’s just like me, isn’t it?

I ruin everything I touch.

Everything I love.