Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(7)

“What’s wrong?” I repeated more slowly, striding toward her. “Beth!” I yelled, attempting to snap her out of her stupor. “What the hell is going on?”

And then, all at once, she exploded off the wall, nearly knocking me off my feet as she threw her arms around my neck. “Willow!” she cried. “Oh, God, Willow. You’re alive.”

I was alive.

I was very, very much alive.

But if she thought I was dead…

“I don’t understand?”

She leaned away, palming each side of my face. “I buried you. But you’re alive. Oh, Willow.” She drew me in for another hard hug. “Oh, God, you’re alive.”

I pushed her away, my gut sinking to the floor, knowing without knowing. “You buried me?”

I’d never seen such an incredible combination of hysterics and elation as she continued to wail and rejoice. Well, except for that day after the mall shooting when I roused to consciousness for the first time after surgery and saw Hadley sitting at the foot of my bed. I’d assumed she was dead.

I’d assumed wrong.

Beth had assumed I was dead.

She’d assumed wrong.

Which meant…

“Hadley?”

Tears hit my eyes as my knees gave out, sending us both crashing to the floor.

She was gone. They were all gone.





Present day…



I was pacing the polish off the wood floors in my living room as the conversation I’d had with Trent played on a loop in my head.

I’d wanted to tell Caven that I was Willow as soon as he’d led me up to his bedroom. The confession was all but burning on the tip of my tongue, but no matter how hard I’d tried, I couldn’t make the words come out—not at the risk of losing her.

I’m Willow, I’d thought over and over, hoping that he could read the truth in my eyes, all the while praying he didn’t.

You saved my life at the mall. I’d implored him to hear my silent confession.

But I was such a coward. That was all it would ever be—silence.

There had to be a way to stop this wrecking ball before it destroyed us all.

Trent hadn’t said any more about my identity after Caven and I had come outside. I’d waited, expecting him to spill it all at any second. I was ready to lie and deny it with every fiber of my being.

But that hadn’t been necessary. Trent had simply sat back, propped his feet up, and sipped a beer as he’d watched his niece fawn all over me.

I’d put on a brave smile as I ate cake with Rosalee sitting on my lap, but as I’d left Caven’s house, I’d hugged that little girl extra tight, terrified that it might be the last time I felt her arms wrapped around my neck. Then, on the way home, I’d called Beth in a frenzied panic, giving her the rundown of the latest mountain we were forced to climb. I hadn’t been home ten minutes before she came bursting through my front door.

My whole body shook as we made eye contact. There was no denying that I was on the verge of a panic attack—and not the kind a script from my doctor could head off. There was no stopping this runaway train.

“He knows. This is bad. This is so, so bad.”

“Relax,” she soothed, approaching me with caution as though I were an animal in the wild. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a huge deal. He’s going to tell Caven that I’m not Hadley. He’s going to tell him.” My voice cracked as the reality of what it’d mean if Trent told Caven crashed over me.

She half shrugged. “What are the chances that Caven would even believe him?”

“I don’t know. Trent’s his brother. Why wouldn’t he believe him? Once he introduces the idea to Caven, that’ll be it.”

“Be real here.” Beth lifted my arms to inspect for bruises. “This asshole cop who doesn’t know how to keep his damn hands to himself has no proof. Speculation holds up in court about as well as an eye witness description from a wet dream. He’s not dumb. He’s not going to spill some crazy conspiracy theory without something to back it up.”

I shook free of her hold and raked my hands through my hair. “It’s true though. He was totally right, and if he keeps searching—”

“He can’t prove it.”

“What about my medical records?” I croaked out over the pounding of my heart as it attempted to escape through my ribs. “You said it yourself. They’re the only flaw in my plan.”

“Yes, but Hadley’s appendectomy will explain away your scar. A judge isn’t going to order an invasive physical based on hearsay.”

I yanked up the side of my shirt. “No one is going to buy this as an appendectomy scar. No one.”

“Then I’ll make them believe it.” Her gaze roamed over my face, her eyes imploring me to believe her. “This is my job, Lo. All we need is reasonable doubt, and we’ve got that in spades. We’ve got her journals and details about that night with Caven that no one but Hadley could ever know. I wouldn’t have agreed to help you if I didn’t know we could handle whatever came up along the way. I’m not worried about one man’s hypothesis. You shouldn’t be, either.” She punctuated each word with a jab of her finger.

I shook my head and resumed my pace. How had this gone from Wednesday and Saturday art classes, birthday dinners where Caven called me his family, and a night of passion and orgasms to being one name away from losing it all?