Page 31 of Where the Roses Bloom (Gospels & Grimoires #1)

Rhett

The sun was sinking low behind the trees, the sky streaked with that hazy orange-pink that made everything look softer than it was. I sat on the porch swing with Willow tucked beside me, her bare feet drawn up, her head on my shoulder. The mug of tea in her hands had long since gone cold.

Neither of us said much. We didn’t need to.

Inside, the house was quiet again—too quiet.

Delilah had insisted we “clear the air” before June arrived, which apparently meant incense, salt lines, and everyone muttering different, broken, half-remembered versions of the Lord’s Prayer while Mabel opened every window in the damn place.

The scent of rosemary and lemon peel lingered.

Willow let out a long breath, and I felt her shift against me.

“You okay?” I asked, brushing my thumb along her thigh.

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just…processing. I think the silence is worse now that I know he’s listening.”

I didn’t argue. I just pressed a kiss to her hair .

After a beat, she added, “I should go buy some pregnancy tests.”

“It can wait.” I tried to keep my voice calm, steady. “You don’t have to rush.”

“I think I’m just scared of being wrong,” she admitted. “Like if I say it out loud too many times, it’ll vanish.”

I looked down at her. “It won’t.”

She turned her face toward me, her eyes soft in the fading light. “What if it’s real, Rhett? What if I really am?”

“Then we figure it out,” I said, cupping her cheek. “We hold onto each other and raise the hell outta that baby.”

She smiled, soft and gorgeous—but before she could answer, tires crunched over gravel out front. The headlights swung across the trees, catching the porch in their glow, then a green SUV rolled to a stop beside my truck.

“That her?” Willow asked, sitting up straighter.

“I think so.” I stood and offered her my hand, helping her to her feet.

The driver’s door opened, Delilah already halfway down the steps to greet whoever stepped out.

A woman emerged—tall, with burnished gold hair, dressed in jeans, boots, and a loose white blouse with sleeves rolled to the elbows.

A silver cross hung around her neck, and her eyes sparkled even in the dusk.

She didn’t look like any exorcist I’d ever imagined.

She looked like the sunniest girl in seminary.

Delilah laughed and pulled her into a hug. “You found it.”

“Wasn’t hard,” the woman replied. “I could feel the energy.”

Yeah…she didn’t sound much like an exorcist either. More like some two-bit psychic.

Delilah turned toward the porch. “Everyone, this is June Fontenot.”

June offered a little wave, then her eyes darted up toward the front door. She wasn’t looking at us; she was looking at Silas, who had just appeared in the doorway. I peered at him, watching as he blushed despite himself.

I hadn’t seen him react like that to a girl since Amelia.

Well…that was something , wasn’t it?

June turned her attention solely to me and Willow, then, the porch steps groaning lightly under her boots as she climbed.

She had a backpack slung over her shoulder, but she didn’t much look like someone preparing for spiritual warfare; she looked more like she was about to marry us or somethin’, smiling at Willow.

“You must be Willow,” she said, extending her hand.

Willow nodded, reaching out to take it. “That’s me.”

“And you’re Rhett?”

I raised a brow. “Delilah give you the rundown?”

“Yeah,” she said. “But even so…I could have guessed. There’s something hangin’ over you both.”

Willow stiffened. “You can feel it too?”

“I can,” June said gently. “He’s really woven himself in here in a short period of time, hasn’t he?”

Willow nodded. “What do we do?”

June tilted her head, studying the house. “Let’s start by getting a lay of the land. Delilah said she did some things to prepare…that’ll help.”

“So the house reeking of lemon peel serves a purpose?” I joked.

June huffed out a laugh. “Better that than toxic ex.”

We spent the next hour showing June around the house, Willow’s hand gripped tight in mine, June leading the way.

She moved through each room like we were on a real estate tour, commenting on little design choices, antique furniture.

At one point, she stopped just to brush her fingers across a framed photo of me, my brothers, and Delilah with Hazel, then she smiled over at me.

“She really loved you kids,” June said.

Seemed like an obvious enough conclusion, but it still gave me the creeps—just a little.

“She did,” I said, throat a little tight. “She raised all five of us after our parents died, plus Delilah every so often. Never complained once, just…did what needed to be done.”

June nodded. “You know she’s still here, right? Not like your new guest, not stuck—just watching because she enjoys seeing you grow.”

Willow’s fingers twitched, her free hand absently rising to rest on her lower belly.

I wondered if Hazel already knew.

We moved through the rest of the house in silence, June occasionally humming under her breath, the melody sometimes morphing into a hymn. Silas trailed all three of us while Delilah, Beau, and Whit chatted down in the kitchen, Milo tuckered out from barking at ghosts all morning.

When we reached the bedroom upstairs—our bedroom—June paused and frowned.

“There’s a lot of energy concentrated here,” she said. “Do you feel that? It’s just a couple degrees colder.”

“This is uh…where we sleep,” I offered. “Our room.”

June laughed softly. “I get the feeling you’re doing a lot more than sleeping here.”

Silas sighed, raking a hand through his hair, but Willow laughed too. “Yeah…we’re doing a lot more than sleeping all over the house, though.”

Silas sighed even louder.

June grinned like she wasn’t the least bit scandalized. “Good. That kind of love—it puts down roots. Makes spirits nervous, gives them less space to hang on. ”

Willow squeezed my hand. “We didn’t mean to fall in love like that.”

June arched a brow, stepping into the room fully. “And how did you mean to fall in love? I mean—Delilah told me the story from an outside perspective, but I’d prefer to hear it from you.”

Willow hesitated, chewing on her lip. “It’s…

it’s funny, actually,” she said. “I was just driving—coming off of my breakup with Carter, following the map at first. I figured I’d drive to a new city…

maybe Savannah or New Orleans…and the map rerouted me here.

The GPS glitched, my car sputtered out…and I found myself in town. ”

“In my driveway,” I added on, squeezing her hand back, “like she was supposed to be here the whole time.”

“Ah…” June said. “Well, it’s no wonder, then.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Silas chimed in from the doorway.

June practically rolled her eyes at him, stopping short like she’d suddenly remembered to be serious.

“It means some places are thin,” she said.

“Like the veil between worlds is thinner in some spots…and Willow Grove feels like one of those places, like the divine is just a little easier to listen to here.”

She glanced at Willow again.

“Doesn’t matter what you call it—God, fate, grace, gut instinct.

You got rerouted because something here was waiting for you.

And when your ghost died just outside of town…

he came back because he felt it too. I don’t get the impression he’s evil, just…

lost, or stubborn, or in pain. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like he’s done. ”

I glanced over at Silas, who looked like the priest’s words had hit something in him that didn’t quite make sense. He’d been through too much…and she was speaking to that with every word .

June took another step into the room, her gaze scanning the corners like she could see threads the rest of us couldn’t. She didn’t pull out any tools, didn’t draw a cross or light a candle—she just stood there, eyes soft, hands relaxed at her sides, and somehow it made the air feel steadier.

“Some spirits,” she said, “cling to places because they think that place owes them something. Or they think some one does. Love, apology—doesn’t really matter. The feeling’s the same.”

Willow glanced around the room. “So how do we make him…let go?”

“We give him something louder to hear,” June said, looking directly at her.

“Joy. Commitment. Witness. This house has already seen death and loss and longing—he’s using those shadows like footholds.

But if we flood it with life, with presence and love and people who show up for one another… he’ll lose his grip.”

“So…like what? A house party?” I asked, more to lighten the mood than anything else.

But June just grinned. “Close. A wedding.”

Willow’s head whipped toward her. “I’m sorry—what?”

“I’m not saying you have to get married tonight,” June said quickly.

“But ritual matters. Sacred joy matters. And if you two are already standing in this house like it belongs to both of you—then why not claim it fully? Stake your spiritual ground. Let the dead know they can’t cling to what’s been healed. ”

I stared at her. “You think a wedding is gonna drive him out?”

“I think a ritual of reclamation will,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be vows. But it should be public. Sacred. Joyful. Let the house be filled with light and noise and witnesses. Let him see what he can’t touch.”

Silas made a sound like he was choking on his own tongue. “You’re suggesting an exorcism by potluck? ”

June beamed. “Exactly.”

Willow let out a stunned laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. I looked at her, and her eyes were wide—but not afraid.

“You okay?” I murmured.

“I mean…” She turned to look at me fully, her voice quieter. “I never imagined getting married to drive out a ghost, but I also never imagined any of this.”

I snorted. “A wedding and an exorcism. A wexorcism.”

Silas groaned audibly. “Oh, God. Please don’t call it that.”

“Too late,” Willow said brightly. “I’m putting it on the invites.”