CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Return to Willow Creek

EVA

The closer we got to Willow Creek, the harder it became to breathe.

I watched the landscape change through the car window—the mountains giving way to rolling hills, the pine trees thinning out to reveal familiar roads I’d thought I’d never see again. Every mile marker felt like a countdown to my own execution.

Grayson’s hand found mine somewhere around the halfway point.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask if I was okay or try to reassure me with empty platitudes. He just laced his fingers through mine and held on, his thumb tracing slow circles across my knuckles.

I held on back like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to earth.

“We can turn around,” he said quietly when we were about twenty minutes out. “If you want. We can turn around right now and go back to the cabin, and I’ll handle the board meeting remotely.”

“No,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I said I’d come with you. I meant it.”

His hand tightened around mine.

When the “Welcome to Willow Creek” sign appeared on the horizon, my stomach dropped.

Ten years.

It had been ten years since I’d fled this town in the middle of the night, crying so hard I could barely see, my father’s hand on my shoulder and my mother’s sobs echoing from the backseat.

And now I was back.

By choice.

God, what was I thinking?

Grayson’s penthouse was in downtown Willow Creek, in one of those modern glass buildings that definitely hadn’t existed when I lived here.

The doorman greeted Grayson by name and didn’t even blink at my presence, which I appreciated. The elevator ride to the top floor was silent except for the quiet hum of machinery and my own racing heartbeat.

When the doors opened directly into his apartment, I stepped out and stopped.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire town. I could see the church where my father used to take us every Sunday. The park where I’d spent hours reading under the oak trees. The high school in the distance, its brick facade unchanged.

Everything looked smaller than I remembered. Less threatening. Just a town like any other.

“Eva?” Grayson’s voice pulled me back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I think so.”

He set our bags down and was about to say something when there was a sharp knock at the door.

Grayson frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

He opened the door, and Cynthia burst in like a hurricane.

“Grayson Holt, what the actual—” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw me. “Eva?”

“Hi, Cynthia,” I said weakly.

Her eyes went wide. Then they narrowed. Then they zeroed in on where Grayson and I were standing—close enough that it was obvious we’d arrived together.

“What’s going on?” she asked slowly.

“Cynthia—” Grayson started.

“I’m not talking to you,” she snapped, then turned to me. “Eva, can I speak to you privately? Please?”

Grayson looked at me, clearly ready to intervene if I wanted him to, but I shook my head.

“It’s fine,” I said. “We can talk.”

Cynthia practically dragged me into what I assumed was Grayson’s bedroom and shut the door.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” I said.

“You’re fine?” she repeated incredulously. “Eva, the last time we talked, you were heading off to spend twelve days with a stranger from the auction. And now you show up here with Grayson Holt—the man who destroyed your life—looking like you’re together? That’s not fine. That’s insane.”

“Things changed,” I said.

“What things? How? When?”

I took a deep breath and told her everything. About discovering Grayson was the buyer. About the past few days at the cabin. About the conversations we’d had, the truths he’d shared, the ways he’d shown me he wasn’t the same person he’d been in high school.

Cynthia listened without interrupting, her expression cycling through shock, disbelief, and something that might have been concern.

“So you’re telling me,” she said when I finished, “that you’ve forgiven him?”

“I’m telling you I’m trying to understand him,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

“Eva—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “I know it sounds crazy. I know it probably is crazy. But Cynthia, I’ve spent ten years hating him. Ten years carrying around this rage and pain and shame. And I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of it.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to—”

“I’m choosing this,” I said firmly. “I’m choosing to be here. I’m choosing to give him a chance to prove he’s changed. And I’m choosing to do it with my eyes wide open.”

Cynthia studied me for a long moment. Then she sighed.

“Okay,” she said. “If this is what you want, I’ll support you. But Eva—if he hurts you again, I will destroy him myself. And I mean that literally. I have resources and connections and absolutely no moral qualms about ruining a man who deserves it.”

Despite everything, I smiled. “I know you do.”

She hugged me tight. “I’m glad you’re back. Even if the circumstances are completely insane.”

“Me too,” I said. “I think.”

That evening, I needed to get out of the penthouse.

Grayson was buried in paperwork for the board meeting, and I was restless, so I told him I was going to take a walk and grab some groceries.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said. “We can order in.”

“I want to,” I said. “I need some air.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he just nodded. “Text me if you need anything.”

I grabbed my coat and headed out.

The grocery store was exactly where I remembered it, just updated with a new facade and automatic doors. I grabbed a basket and started wandering the aisles, not really looking for anything specific, just existing.

I was in the produce section, examining apples, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Oh my God. Eva Rose?”

I froze.

I knew that voice. It had haunted me for years—high-pitched and cruel, always ready with a cutting comment about my weight or my clothes or my existence.

I turned slowly.

Jessica Morrison stood there with a shopping cart, staring at me with wide eyes.

She looked older. Tired. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. She had two kids with her—a toddler in the cart and a baby in a carrier on her chest.

“It is you,” she breathed. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so… different.”

“Hi, Jessica,” I said, my voice flat.

“Wow,” she said, still staring. “You look amazing. I mean, you really lost a lot of weight. You look like a completely different person.”

I waited for the familiar sting of shame, the automatic urge to shrink and hide.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, I just felt… nothing.

“How have you been?” she asked, and she actually sounded sincere. “I heard you left town after graduation. I always wondered what happened to you.”

“I’ve been fine,” I said.

“That’s good. That’s really good.” She shifted uncomfortably, glancing at her kids. “Listen, Eva, I… I wanted to apologize. For high school. For the things I said and did. I was a horrible person back then, and I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. About how cruel we all were. And I’m sorry. I’m really, genuinely sorry.”

I looked at her—this woman who’d made my teenage years hell, who’d laughed when Grayson humiliated me, who’d spread rumors and whispered insults and made me feel like I was less than human.

And I realized something.

I didn’t care.

Not about her apology. Not about her guilt. Not about any of it.

Willow Creek didn’t have power over me anymore.

“Thank you for the apology,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“Do you forgive me?” she asked hopefully.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I’m not angry anymore. And I think that’s enough.”

Jessica looked relieved. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair.”

Her toddler started fussing, and she gave me an apologetic smile. “I should go. But it was really good to see you, Eva. Really good.”

“You too,” I said, and meant it.

I watched her walk away, and something tight in my chest loosened.

I finished my shopping and headed back to the penthouse feeling lighter than I had in years.

I found Grayson at the dining room table, surrounded by papers and his laptop, looking stressed and exhausted.

“How’s it going?” I asked, setting the grocery bags on the kitchen counter.

“It’s going,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just trying to anticipate every possible argument Alexander might make and have counterpoints ready.”

I walked over and looked at his screen. Financial projections, board member profiles, strategic plans.

“You’re overthinking it,” I said.

He looked up at me. “What?”

“You’re trying to out-maneuver him,” I explained. “But that’s what he expects. He knows you’re smart. He knows you’re prepared. So he’s going to try to throw you off balance emotionally, not logically.”

Grayson blinked. “How do you know that?”

“Because that’s what bullies do,” I said simply. “They can’t win on merit, so they win by making you doubt yourself.”

He stared at me for a long moment. Then he smiled—genuine and a little amazed. “You’re right.”

“I know,” I said. “So stop trying to predict his every move and just focus on your truth. What you’ve built. What you believe in. Why you’re the right person to lead this company.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

I made coffee while he reorganized his notes, approaching the presentation from a different angle. When I brought him a cup, he pulled me down to sit next to him.

“Tell me what you think of this,” he said, turning the laptop toward me.

We spent the next hour going through his presentation together. I asked questions. Pointed out places where his passion showed through and places where he sounded too corporate. Suggested ways to frame his arguments that would resonate emotionally as well as logically.

And somewhere in the middle of it, I realized I’d moved behind him, my hands on his shoulders, massaging the knots of tension I could feel there.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said quietly. “You’re going to walk into that boardroom tomorrow and remind them exactly why they chose you in the first place.”

Grayson reached up and covered one of my hands with his, turning his head to look at me.

The expression on his face made my breath catch.

He was looking at me like I was everything. Like I was the sun and the moon and every star in the sky. Like I was the answer to every question he’d ever asked.

And God help me, I wanted to kiss him.

Wanted to close the distance between us and find out if his lips were as soft as they looked. Wanted to lose myself in him and forget about board meetings and half-brothers and contracts that were ticking down with every passing day.

But I didn’t.