Page 29 of Where the Roses Bloom (Gospels & Grimoires #1)

Rhett

She was home.

That was the only thing I could focus on right now—her body tucked against mine, warm and solid and alive. Willow’s breath ghosted over my chest, steady and soft, her hand resting just above my heart.

I hadn’t realized how tight I’d been wound until I got her back in my arms. Not until I’d seen her sitting in the dark in her stalled-out car, pale as a ghost herself, shaking like a leaf. I’d wanted to wrap her up in flannel and firelight and never let her go again.

Silas was on the couch downstairs. Neither of us said much when we came in—just shared a look that said we’re not done with this, and left it there. I didn’t want to think about Carter. Not yet. Not when I’d just gotten Willow back.

She shifted against me, her leg sliding over mine, and I held her tighter.

“You didn’t tell me everything,” she murmured against my chest.

I let out a breath. “Didn’t want to scare you before you got home. ”

“You were scared.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I was.”

Her witch-gold eyes met mine. “What happened?”

I exhaled again, like I couldn’t quite get enough oxygen in or out. “Phones were down all day…heard a voice in the house, saw some shit. Somethin’s wrong, Willow.”

“You should have looped me in.”

“Figured you had enough to worry about, what with delivering a baby and all that.”

She didn’t laugh. Just looked at me like she already knew—like she’d felt it too.

“I think Carter’s still here,” I said finally. “I think he’s attached himself to the house. Or to me. Or maybe to you. And it figures…pissed the guy off enough before he had to go and die.”

Her brows pulled together, and I could see the flicker of fear she didn’t want to show. “The bouquet. The static. The engine dying…”

I nodded. “It’s not coincidence.”

Willow was quiet for a long time, her fingers tracing an absent shape against my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was entirely random or if she was casting a spell. Whatever it was, I didn’t care.

“I don’t think he’s angry,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “I think he’s possessive. Like—he came here to get me back and that turned into his unfinished business.”

“House was never haunted in a bad way before,” I muttered.

Willow sucked in a breath.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed.

I turned toward her fully, hooking a hand around the back of her neck and pressing my forehead to hers.

“Hey. No,” I said, low and firm. “You don’t get to apologize for him.”

Her eyes were shining now, and that undid me more than anything. Not the static. Not the voice. Not even the cold that had crept into the bones of this house.

But this? Her thinking this was her fault?

“He was the one who treated you like an accessory,” I said. “He was the one who came here trying to dig his claws back in. You’re not responsible for the way a man breaks himself over what he thinks he owns.”

She blinked hard, but didn’t look away. “He used to say I belonged to him, even when he was treating me like garbage. Like…in a God-ordained way.”

My grip tightened just slightly. “You don’t belong to anyone.”

She exhaled, shaky. “I do now.”

The breath went out of me like I’d been punched in the gut. I tucked her tighter into my chest, kissed her hair.

“You’re mine because you choose to be,” I whispered. “That’s different. That’s sacred.”

Her fingers curled into my shirt.

“And that asshole ain’t the only thing hauntin’ this land,” I said.

“Maybe I only half-believe it, but if I’m leanin’ in…

Isadora brought you here for a reason. Hazel wanted us to be together.

And they’re here too, rootin’ for us. He’s not strong enough to steal this place from us, or to steal you from me. ”

Willow didn’t say anything at first, just pressed her face into my chest like she could burrow right through me.

“You really think that?” she asked, her voice muffled against my skin.

I nodded into her hair. “Yeah. I do. Maybe I didn’t used to, but now?”

I tipped her chin up gently so she could see me when I said it.

“You were meant to be here. Meant to find this house. Meant to love it back to life. And Carter Thompson can rot in whatever space between worlds he’s crawlin’ around in—because he can’t touch what we’ve built.”

Her hand slid up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing my cheekbone.

“We have to finish this,” she said. “We have to get rid of him.”

“We will,” I said. “But for now…tell me about the baby?”

Willow’s face softened instantly, the tension melting from her brow. This…this was her happy place, the thing she loved most. My heart warmed at seeing her light up with it, with the joy of helping moms…and fuck me, it made me want to knock her up more than ever.

Her lips curled into a small smile. “She’s perfect. Anita Mae Evers. Full head of dark hair and the most dramatic scowl I’ve ever seen on a newborn.”

I chuckled. “Strong lungs, huh?”

“She screamed the second she hit the air,” Willow said, that quiet light blooming brighter now. “And then she latched like she’d been planning it all nine months. Jasmine was incredible—so calm, so steady. Caleb cried. I pretended not to notice, but he cried.”

The more she talked, the more alive the room felt. The cold that had lingered all day—the eerie stillness that had clung to the corners of the house—seemed to recede, drawn back by the warmth in her voice.

“It felt like everything was working the way it was supposed to,” she said. “No fear, no drama. Just a baby being born, like the world hadn’t forgotten how to do that.”

I stroked her hair. “Sounds nice.”

She nodded against me. “It was. The kind of moment that makes you feel like everything broken can still be put back together. You should’ve heard her cry, Rhett. It echoed through the whole house…chased every shadow away. ”

“I’d believe it,” I murmured. “Sounds like that baby’s already got a little magic in her.”

She smiled into my chest, and I held her close, letting the warmth of her words fill every corner that had gone cold. This—this talking, this remembering, this honoring of something new and bright—was a ritual. A kind of banishment.

We laid there in that glow for a while, our bodies wrapped together like nothing could touch us, like warmth and words alone could keep the dark at bay.

Then Willow went quiet again—not in the way she’d been earlier, with fear knotted tight in her throat. This was different. Hesitant. Almost shy.

She lifted her head from my chest and looked at me, her brows pinched like she was working through how to say something without spooking either of us.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” she said.

I brushed a thumb along her temple. “You can tell me anything.”

She hesitated. “My period’s late.”

My heart didn’t stop—but it definitely caught. I waited.

“I don’t know anything for sure yet,” she added quickly, her voice low. “I haven’t taken a test. I…I don’t want to just yet. I think I need to sit with it a little longer.”

I could feel the weight of her words pressing into my chest, the way her breath quickened after she said it. Like saying it out loud made it real.

I didn’t feel panic.

I felt peace.

I cupped her cheek. “You think it’s really possible?”

She laughed, and it made me feel so damn good to hear her laugh again. “Well, Rhett, we’ve been fucking like rabbits…so I think it’s more than possible.”

I huffed a laugh, more relief than amusement, and buried my face in her neck. “Yeah, alright. Fair point. ”

She squeaked as I rolled her just enough to cage her against the mattress, my body stretched half over hers. I wasn’t trying to start anything, not really. I just…needed to feel her.

“You mad?” she asked, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “That I didn’t say anything sooner?”

“Mad?” I kissed the underside of her jaw. “No, baby. Not even a little.”

“Just didn’t want to test it yet,” she said again. “Didn’t want to break the moment if I was wrong.”

My hand slid low over her stomach, gentle as a prayer.

“You’re not wrong,” I murmured. “I don’t need a test to tell me something’s growing here. I can feel it.”

She exhaled, all her tension softening.

“I’ve wanted this for such a long time that it doesn’t feel real,” she whispered. “And I thought I just wanted a baby in general, but then I met you…and I knew you were it. I know it sounds crazy?—”

“It doesn’t sound crazy,” I said, cutting in before she could spiral. “I felt it too.”

She stared up at me like I’d reached into her chest and seen something raw—something tender even she didn’t want to look at too long.

“I thought I’d have to do it alone,” she said, voice small. “For years, I thought…I’d wait as long as I could, and then when it was time, I’d just—go to a clinic. Do it myself. Raise a baby on my own, maybe in some rental apartment with hand-me-down furniture and not enough sunlight.”

My throat went tight.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have a partner who’d want the same things. Someone who’d see it like I do—not as a burden or a backup plan, but as something beautiful. Something sacred.”

I brushed her hair off her forehead. “You do know I was ready to marry you the second you looked at me sideways from the driver’s seat, right? Lookin’ at me like I’d poisoned your coffee, and I was head over heels from the very second.”

That pulled a startled laugh from her—one of those rich, surprised ones that started in her chest and lit up her whole face.

“You’re such a liar,” she whispered.

“I’m not,” I said, grinning. “I told Beau that day—I said, ‘I think I just met the woman I’m gonna spend the rest of my life tryin’ not to piss off.

’ You didn’t think it was a little strange how the town just…

decided to play matchmaker? They all knew.

Delilah, Mabel…all of ‘em. From the get-go, the whole coven was on your side.”

She studied me for a long moment, her voice quieter when she finally spoke again. “If I am pregnant…is it too soon for you?”

I didn’t even have to think about it.

“No,” I said. “Not if it’s with you. Willow…anything we do together is just catching up on lost time.”

Her breath caught again, her hands framing my face.

“I love you, Rhett Ward,” she whispered.

“I love you too, Willow Rhodes.”

We stayed like that until sleep finally started to pull her under—her body curled against mine, my hand spread over her stomach like I could already feel something blooming there. Something new. Something ours.

And the house creaked and moaned…but it was that familiar creak—like our resident ghosts were trying to chase the new spirit away.