Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(52)

Her eyes grew wide. “Oh, God, do you think she’s going to be upset?”

“No, I think she’ll be stoked. The blow will be to my wallet when she insists we throw a party to celebrate.” I pulled the covers back. “Get in bed.”

She grinned without moving. Just standing there, devastatingly beautiful and completely out of my reach. “I like parties.”

“Good. I’ll get the Daddy-has-a-girlfriend balloons ready. Now, get in my damn bed.”

She giggled, biting her bottom lip, but she finally made her way around and crawled under the covers. The only problem being that the bed was a king and she was hugging the edge like I’d just developed a case of leprosy.

She squeaked as I hooked her around the waist and dragged her toward me.

“Caven, this isn’t hanging out. Your door is wide open. She could walk in at any second.”

“Okay, so she sees us cuddling. The balloons have already been ordered, Willow. You’re stuck.”

She turned, rolling into me and tangling our legs like it was the most natural thing in the world while continuing to argue. “You haven’t ordered any balloons. We’ve been together for approximately twelve seconds. This time last week, you hated my guts.”

I bent my arm between us so my hand was under my head, and I rested the other on the curve of her hip. “I didn’t hate your guts.”

“Oh, sorry, my mistake. You only hated that you didn’t hate my guts.”

“True. But I still loved you.”

Her eyes lit, and whatever fight she was holding on to left her in the next heartbeat. Her whole body relaxed into mine. “Caven,” she breathed.

I loved the way she said my name. It was only two syllables, but she made it sound like a symphony.

“I could get used to this with you, ya know?”

Her green eyes twinkled. “I want that.”

Teasing at the hem of her shirt, I slipped two fingers beneath it and traced the scar on her side. Every raised seam caused an ache in my chest. But it soothed me as well.

She was Willow.

My Willow.

Well, almost.

Giving her a tight squeeze, I murmured, “I want you to be Willow again.”

Her brows drew together. “I am Willow.”

I trailed my fingers up her side and then moved in to dance across her collarbone. I’d never forget how many times I’d imagined tracing my tongue over the delicate curve of her neck while she was sitting at my dining room table, doing some silly craft with Rosalee. Given who she was, or who I’d thought she was, it had been wrong on more levels than I could count.

But it’d never felt wrong.

I’d had no idea she wasn’t Hadley at the time. Though, deep down, some part of me recognized her. She was all grown up, but my draw to that woman was just as strong as it had been from the start.

It was like I had known she would be my salvation.

There had been dozens of people in that mall that day.

People closer to me.

People farther away from Malcom as he’d paced his path of destruction.

And then there’d been her.

I remembered cussing to myself as I made my way over to her, crawling on my stomach, my hat pulled low as if I honestly thought my father wouldn’t recognize his own son because I was wearing it.

But even at fifteen years old, nothing could have stopped me from getting to her.

That didn’t change when she came back.

It didn’t matter that it had been eighteen years. Or that she had a different name. Something inside me recognized her. And it was that same something that overrode all logic and reason the first time I kissed her.

My need to be with that woman was inexplicable. And while daydreaming of tracing my tongue across her collarbone was how it had manifested in the beginning, I could have lived the rest of my life having her safe, smiling, and breathing my name like a prayer.

“No. I want you to be Willow again. The real Willow. You’re not Hadley when you’re inside this house. But the minute you walk out that door, that’s exactly who you become. And it’s dangerous, babe. I hope your sister rests in peace—genuinely, I do. But she left a shitshow behind and I don’t want you getting wrapped up in that any more than you already are.”

It was an innocent request not intended to upset her in the least. However, in the very next second, it was as if a fire had been lit between us.

She suddenly sat up, crisscrossing her legs like a physical barrier. “She was my sister. My name being Hadley isn’t going to wrap or unwrap me from her.”

I sat up too, propping my back against the headboard. “I don’t mean it like that. I just mean you could finally be free from her chaos.”

Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth fell open “Free from her chaos? Seriously?”

I tipped my head to the side, confused and incredulous. “Yeah, seriously. You’re currently staying at my house after a man attacked you because he thought you were Hadley. That’s chaos. And if word got out that you were not your sister, that chaos would disappear.”

She scrambled from the bed, rising to her feet and crossing her arms over her chest. “Maybe I don’t want it to disappear.”

“What the hell are you talking about? That makes no sense. You could finally be yourself again.”