Page 23 of Where the Roses Bloom (Gospels & Grimoires #1)

Willow

I’d known it was him from the moment his tires crunched in the driveway: Carter. My ex. The guy who’d treated me like garbage for years .

And I knew one other thing: there was no way in hell I was going to let him disturb the life I’d built here.

The screen door creaked behind me as I stepped out onto the porch, Rhett on my heels, the hem of his shirt brushing the tops of my bare thighs. My legs were still sticky with arousal, hair wild, but my heart?

My heart was calm, pulse steady.

Rhett was here. He had my back.

And even if he wasn’t…I knew where I was meant to be now. I knew exactly how to deal with this man.

Rhett hovered in the doorway behind me, still in his boxers, tense and scowling like he was ready to throw hands. But this wasn’t his fight.

“I’ve got this,” I told him without looking back.

Because I did.

Carter was driving a new car, some sleek black sedan that probably cost more than he could afford.

I had to assume his pocketbook was totally out of whack; I’d always been the one to keep an eye on our finances, and he was reckless enough to throw money away if it felt good.

He got out of the car as soon as I stepped out on the porch, ducking his head to grab something from the passenger seat.

He straightened with a bouquet of white lilies and pink carnations in his hand, looked me over, smiling like it was 2019 and I was still the girl waiting for him to grow up…

…then he froze when he actually saw what I looked like.

Half-naked, with a very angry, very muscular man standing behind me.

He hesitated, just for a breath, but I saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes—the way they darted to Rhett, to the house behind me, to my bare thighs. He hadn’t expected this…hadn’t expected me like this.

He’d thought no one wanted me. He’d really believed I was undesirable.

Carter was stuck up enough to think I would have spent years pining for him, but looking at him now…I had no idea why. I had no idea why I’d waited so long for him to get his shit together.

“Willow,” he said, a fake smile sliding into place, holding out the bouquet like it was armor. “You look…damn. You look incredible.”

I didn’t take the flowers.

But I did cross my arms…and let the silence stretch until he let the flowers fall to his side.

“You were hard to find,” he said.

“Did it occur to you that may have been on purpose?” I asked.

He frowned, chewing on his lip. “Guess…uh, guess not.”

“And how did you do it anyway?”

He shrugged. “Well…they didn’t make it easy in town. The librarian told me to get lost and the lady at the diner said I had no business with ‘Rhett Ward’s woman.’ I’m uh…guessing you’re Rhett Ward?”

Rhett didn’t say anything.

Neither did I.

“I came to talk,” he said finally. “To clear the air. I figure we didn’t end things the way we should’ve and?—”

“—and what?” I cut in, my voice cool and flat. “You figured I’d be grateful to see you?”

Carter blinked, momentarily thrown. His mouth opened, then shut. The flowers dropped an inch in his hand. “I figured we could talk. That’s all. I—I didn’t handle things right, okay? I was scared. It was a mistake.”

“A mistake,” I repeated. “Which part, Carter? Lying to my face? Sleeping with her? Or getting her pregnant while you told me you didn’t think marriage and kids were in the cards for you?”

His face flushed. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” I tilted my head. “Because from where I’m standing, it was exactly like that.”

He took a step forward, and I stepped off the porch.

Met him right there in the grass, my bare legs still damp from where Rhett had been between them minutes earlier. I saw the flicker in Carter’s eyes when he looked again—really looked—and understood I hadn’t just moved on.

I’d leveled up.

“I came to tell you it didn’t end up being mine,” he said, lower now, like that would make a difference. “The baby. It wasn’t mine after all. She lied.”

I crossed my arms. “So you weren’t the only cheater in the equation, huh?”

“That’s not fair.”

“Seems perfectly fair to me.”

His jaw clenched. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” I said quietly. “You hurt me over and over again, and I let you. I let you make me small. I let you convince me I was too needy, too emotional, too much.”

The wind moved through the trees. I took another step forward, staring him down like I wasn’t the same woman he used to forget to text back.

“All while you were out there,” I said, “looking for someone else to make you feel like a man. A girl who’d flatter your ego. Who’d tell you how good and kind and funny you were…while you cheated on her too.”

Carter looked like he wanted to argue—but the words didn’t come. His mouth opened. Closed. His fingers curled tighter around the flowers.

“I came here to make things right,” he said finally.

“No,” I said, and this time, my voice didn’t shake. “You came here because you finally realized I was the best thing that ever happened to you. And now you can’t stand the thought that I don’t want you anymore.”

He bristled. The fake charm cracked—just a hairline fracture, but I saw it.

His shoulders pulled back. His jaw set.

“You act like I never gave you anything,” he said.

“Because you didn’t.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Willow…you’re being a real bitch right now.”

I didn’t flinch.

Not even a little.

Because I’d heard that voice before. I’d been on the receiving end of that tone. Not always with that exact word—but with its cousins. Dramatic. Selfish. Cold.

Too much.

Always too much.

But this time?

This time, I didn’t have to answer.

Rhett was off the porch before Carter could blink. One second, he was behind me—tense, silent, waiting. The next, he was stepping between us, broad and bare-chested, the veins in his forearms popping, fists clenched tight at his sides.

“You say that again,” Rhett said, low and lethal, “and I’ll put you in the ground so fast this town will forgot you ever set foot here.”

Carter stumbled back a step, shock flaring in his eyes. Before now, I hadn’t understood how big Rhett was compared to my ex…but he was huge. Rhett had this way of carrying himself with such gentleness that he was never imposing, always kind—but right now, he was terrifying.

And he was mine .

Carter’s mouth opened like he wanted to bark something back—but nothing came out.

Not with Rhett standing there like a storm he hadn’t prepared for.

I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes—some mix of bravado and instinct and plain old fear. He wasn’t used to being the smaller man in the room. Wasn’t used to being the one who didn’t get the last word.

His eyes flicked to me, desperate now. “You really gonna let him threaten me like that?”

I didn’t move. “You called me a bitch, Carter.”

“I was angry!” he snapped. “I came all this way to apologize, and I walk into some backwoods porno scene with?—”

Rhett stepped forward again.

Carter shut his mouth with a sharp click and threw up a hand. “All right. All right. Look, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did,” I said. “You always do.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, frustration crackling off him like static. “Fine,” he muttered. “You wanna play this out like I’m the villain? Go ahead. Rewrite history however you want. But you and I both know we had something real.”

“No, Carter,” I said, voice like iron. “What we had was a story I kept telling myself because I didn’t want to be alone. And now that I’ve been loved right and fucked right , there’s no version of that story that makes sense anymore.”

His jaw clenched so hard I could hear his teeth grind. He looked at the bouquet in his hand like it might explain how everything had gone sideways.

Then he hurled it.

Right there in the grass at Rhett’s feet. A childish, clumsy arc of petals and steamrolled pride.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he said.

I smiled.

The kind of smile he’d never seen on me before.

“Are you done?” I asked. “Because I would really like to go back inside so this man can fuck me senseless.”

Carter didn’t answer.

Didn’t move either.

He just stood there—flowers at his feet, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard like he couldn’t figure out whether to explode or implode.

His eyes flicked to Rhett. To me. To the open door behind us.

And then, he smiled.

Not the charming kind.

The other kind.

“You know,” he said slowly, voice low and oily, “for someone who claims to be over it, you sure sound like a woman still pissed I didn’t pick you.”

Rhett took another step forward, and I put a hand on his arm—not to stop him, exactly, just to remind him I was still here.

“You didn’t pick anything, Carter,” I said. “You sabotaged us. You lied. And now that you’ve realized I made you look good, you want the shine back. But it’s gone. It’s mine now. ”

That smile didn’t leave his face, but something dark flickered behind his eyes.

“I came here in good faith,” he said. “But I see how it is. You’re gonna be one of those women.”

I blinked. “What women?”

“The ones who think they don’t need a man until it all falls apart. Until he shows his true colors.”

I didn’t say anything.

Didn’t need to.

Rhett took another slow step forward and this time, his voice was calm. Quiet. Dangerous.

“Get. In. Your car.”

Carter didn’t argue. Not out loud.

But as he backed toward the sedan, he gave me one last look.

Not longing.

Not hurt.

Cold. Calculating.

Like he was memorizing the house. The yard. My face.

“Have a good life, Willow,” he said. “Hope he’s still around when it counts.”

Then he got in his car and peeled out of the driveway, tires spitting gravel as he drove out of my fucking life.