Page 15 of Where the Roses Bloom (Gospels & Grimoires #1)

Rhett

My room wasn't exactly well decorated…or decorated at all.

No—it had been roughly the same since I'd moved back home years ago to take care of Grandma Hazel, and I'd never really customized the place. All that was here was a desk, an old rocking chair, the four post bed, and an antique armoire.

But this morning, it felt like home—like I had everything I needed—because of the woman sleeping soundly beside me.

Willow was curled on her side, long brown hair spread in gorgeous waves across the white floral pillowcase, brow furrowed just slightly as she dreamed. I kept my arms around her, just watching her sleep, enjoying the sight of her.

Would she wake up and tell me it was all a mistake? Just…impulse?

God, I hoped not.

I wasn’t na?ve. I knew the difference between lust and love, and I knew what it looked like when someone got carried away by the heat of the moment.

But last night hadn’t felt like heat—it had felt like gravity.

Like everything in me had been pulled toward her for years without knowing her name, and now the world had finally tipped back into alignment.

I brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, careful not to wake her. She sighed softly and burrowed closer, pressing her bare legs against mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe it was.

Because nothing had ever felt more right than holding her.

I thought about what she’d said— just come inside me —and the way her voice had cracked when she said she wanted a baby. She hadn’t taken it back. Hadn’t flinched or laughed or said she was joking.

And me? I hadn’t felt panic. I’d felt…peace.

Maybe my blood had always been waiting for hers. Maybe this was what breaking the curse looked like—not some big ceremony, not some holy incantation—but just choosing something different.

Choosing her .

I looked down at the soft curve of her stomach and, God help me, I imagined it round. Full. I imagined her laughing barefoot in the garden, hand on her belly. I imagined a little girl with her fire or a boy with her eyes. A family. Ours.

And I didn’t feel scared. I felt ready.

That realization struck hard and fast, nearly knocked the wind out of me.

I hadn’t felt ready for anything in a long damn time.

Not when I was being the oldest brother—taking care of my siblings after our folks died, taking care of Hazel when she got sick, taking care of the house. But now…now I felt like maybe I was allowed to want something.

Like maybe I could build something that lasted, something that didn’t get ripped away.

Willow stirred beside me with a sleepy little moan, one hand drifting across my chest. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, still hazy with sleep.

“Mornin’,” I said, voice rough from not using it.

She blinked up at me with those witch gold eyes, then smiled. “Hi.”

Just that—hi, as if we’d been waking up together for years.

“Sleep okay?” I asked.

She nodded, stretching like a cat and wincing just a little. “Mmm…I’m sore.”

“Good sore?”

Her smile turned wicked, lazy. “Very.”

I leaned in, brushing my lips across her temple. “I can run you a bath if you want. Or just keep you in bed all day.”

Willow laughed, low and breathy. “Tempting…”

Then her smile faltered, just a flicker, and I saw the thought cross her face—that moment of hesitation, of wondering if we were going to pretend last night didn’t mean everything.

I caught her chin between my fingers, gentle but firm. “Hey,” I said. “You okay?”

She bit her lip. “I don’t regret anything, Rhett. Not one second. I just…I don’t want to scare you off.”

“Scare me off?” I echoed. “Baby, last night was the first time I’ve felt found in years. You didn’t scare me off—you brought me home.”

Her eyes filled, lips trembling. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Then cry,” I said, wrapping her up again. “I’ve got you.”

We laid like that for a long time—just breathing, holding, letting the morning seep through the curtains.

Eventually, she pulled back enough to look at me. “Do you remember what I said last night?”

I nodded. “Every word.”

“And…you’re not freaking out? ”

I searched her eyes for any possible cue on how to respond. “Is it…wrong that I'm not?”

She let out an awkward laugh. “It's a little weird, I guess. Not wrong.”

“Willow…” I paused, searching for the words. “Ever since you showed up in my driveway, it's been more like you're comin’ home than anything else. I don't…I don't know what it means, exactly, but I have this feelin’ fate has a hand in this.”

Her brow furrowed. She lifted her hand to my chest, fingers splayed.

“The curse,” she murmured. “Rhett…do you think it’s real?”

I hesitated.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about it.

Hell, I’d lived under the weight of it my whole damn life.

Watching my parents be so in love only to die in that crash.

Watching Silas lose the only woman he’d ever truly let in.

Watching Hazel warn us, year after year, that love didn’t last for a Ward—not real love. Not the kind that stayed.

But then Willow landed in my life, and I hadn’t had a single damn moment of doubt since.

“I used to,” I said finally. “I mean…how could I not? After everything that happened to this family?”

She nodded. “I get it. I do.”

“But now?” I traced a slow circle on her back, watching the way her lashes swept down. “Now I’m startin’ to wonder if the curse only had power because we believed it did.”

She looked back up at me. “So you think we can break it?”

I nodded. “I think maybe we already started to.”

Her smile was tentative, but blooming. “Then maybe we should finish the job.”

I arched a brow. “How d’you mean?”

“I mean—what if it is real, Rhett? What if it’s something deeper than old grief and bad luck? What if there’s something we’re supposed to do? Some way to end it for good.”

Willow sat up against the headboard, pulling the sheet with her. “I want to know everything,” she said. “About the curse. About what you’ve heard. What Hazel believed.”

I let out a long breath.

“Alright,” I said. “You sure you want the whole story?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I want to understand what we’re up against.”

I shifted, propping myself up beside her and taking her hand, my thumb drawing little circles on her knuckles as I told the story.

“The Wards were one of the first families in Willow Grove,” I said. “Back in the early 1700s, before Georgia was even a formal colony. They staked their claim near the river bend—land that was wild, fertile, sacred. They didn’t come with much, but the land gave back. Hazel always said it knew us.”

Willow watched me closely, her fingers tightening around mine.

“But the story doesn’t start with the land.

It starts with Ezekiel Ward—one of our ancestors.

A hard, pious man, devout to a fault. He led the charge when folks in Willow Grove accused a midwife named Isadora Stratham of witchcraft.

They said she was consortin’ with devils, usin’ heretical practices.

But all she did was help a woman through childbirth usin’ herbs and prayers Ezekiel didn’t like. ”

Willow’s brows knit, her jaw tightening.

“They burned her herb garden. Called her a heretic. Hung her from a tree not two miles from where our barn sits now. But before she died, she cursed him.”

I could still hear Hazel’s voice the first time she told it…deadly serious, like it wasn’t just a story.

“Let love be your ruin. Let your line bloom, but never hold. Let your sons be kind and brave…but never to find love that lasts. And let each and every one of your daughters be the witches you couldn’t burn.”

Willow sucked in a sharp breath, her hand clutching the sheet tighter.

“Ever since,” I said, “no Ward man has ever kept the woman he loves. They die. They leave. Somethin’ always takes them.

And the Ward women…they’ve always been a little different.

Wild-hearted. Strong. Witchy, some folks say.

But not many survive past thirty. Hazel used to say they burned too bright to last.”

Willow sat in silence, her knuckles pale where they gripped the edge of the sheet. Her eyes didn’t leave mine—not even to blink.

“That’s…” she breathed. “That’s horrifying.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“And Hazel believed it? Like, really believed it?”

“She wouldn’t talk about it with just anyone,” I said. “But with me and Silas? Yeah. She believed. Said it explained things that nothin’ else could. Our parents. Silas’s fiancée. The way love never lasted around here—not for the Wards. Said she spent half her life tryin’ to find a way to undo it.”

“Did she ever find anything?” she asked.

“She claimed she had bits and pieces. Old letters, journals. She used to say, ‘The past leaves breadcrumbs if you know where to look.’ But toward the end, she got…protective. Like maybe she was scared of what she’d stirred up.”

Willow leaned forward, the blanket falling to her waist, her bare skin glowing in the morning light. “Do you think she left something behind? Something that could help us?”

I let out a breath. “If she did, it’d be in the attic. She kept most of the old family things up there—boxes of letters, records, even a few trunks that belonged to her mother and grandmother. She never let us toss anything. ”

“Then that’s where we start,” Willow said, resolute. “We go up there and look. Today.”

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. “You always this bossy in the morning?”

Her brow arched. “Only when I’m trying to undo generations of grief and misfortune.”

“Fair enough.” I leaned forward, brushing a kiss over her shoulder. “We’ll go up after breakfast. I’ll make you some eggs first.”

“Deal,” she whispered.

We stayed close for another minute, her forehead against mine, the weight of the story still between us but not heavy in the way it used to be.

It felt…possible.

Possible that Hazel had left us a path forward—that the curse wasn’t as invincible as it once seemed. Possible that whatever had bound our family in grief might finally be loosening.

Willow pulled back just enough to study my face. “You really think we can break it?”

I pulled her hand up to rest on my chest, to let her feel the steady thrum of my heartbeat.

“I think something broke the moment I saw you sittin’ in my driveway,” I said. “And I think maybe that’s the start of something better.”

She smiled then.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go find the rest of it.”