Page 72 of Where the Roses Bloom

“You don’t have to do anything, darlin’,” I said. “Not a single thing.”

Willow exhaled through her nose, her shoulders sinking. A couple tears streamed down her cheeks, and she sniffled.

“I feel like I should be sad,” she murmured, flicking the tears away. None came after. “Like I should mourn the idea of him, the good parts. But…the only thing I feel is this weird ache. Like a splinter just worked its way out of my skin, and now I’m waiting for the sting to fade.”

I reached out and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You get to feel however you feel,” I said. “That’s the thing about grief. You don’t decide how or when it hits.”

She nodded, leaning into my hand like it was the only thing keeping her tethered. Her skin was warm. Alive. And I wanted her to stay that way—wanted to wrap us both in this moment and never let anything else in.

“I don’t want him to haunt me,” she whispered. “Not even as a memory.”

“He won’t,” I promised. “You’re here now. With me. And nothing from before gets to come in unless you invite it.”

We sat there a while longer, just breathing. The wind picked back up—gentle and clean this time, like the earth had let out a sigh of its own. The trees creaked a little. A cardinal landed on the railing and hopped once before darting away.

It felt like a turning point. Like we’d crossed over something we couldn’t come back from—and maybe that was okay.

She reached for my hand again and twined our fingers together. “It’s weird,” she said softly. “But for the first time since I got here, I feel like I can really start.”

“Then let’s start,” I said. “Whatever you want. A new garden, a new name, a whole damn life.”

Willow smiled, small and sincere. “Yeah. I think I do want all that.”

She stood slowly, letting go of my hand to stretch—and that’s when she paused.

Brows pulling together. Head tilting toward the front step.

“Rhett,” she said carefully. “Didn’t you throw those away?”

I turned.

The flowers.

The same ones Carter had brought—the lilies and pink carnations he’d hurled into the dirt like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They were sitting on the top step to the porch, right where Jesse had left, neatly placed.

The ribbon was damp with dew.

The petals were curling at the edges—but not crushed.

So I stood up and picked them up, flashing Willow what I hoped was a comforting smile. “Guess I forgot,” I said. “I’ll take care of that.”

But I hadn’t forgotten…and it seemed there was a chance we were haunted after all.

CHAPTER 25

Willow

I was still reelingfrom the news about Carter when I got the call.

The landline downstairs in the kitchen woke us, Rhett’s arms wrapped around me, our legs tangled together…dressed in PJs for the first night in weeks. We hadn’t had sex last night—it had felt too strange after the day we’d had, finding out my ex was dead. And that bouquet on the porch…

…it hadn’t sat right with me.

But Rhett said he would take care of it, and I believed him.

And now the phone was ringing, and I had other things to worry about: namely, that Jasmine and Caleb Evers were about to have their baby.

I slid out of bed as quietly as I could, but Rhett stirred anyway, his hand brushing across the warm place where I’d been.