Briar Valley: The Complete Duet

16. Willow

CHAPTER 16

WILLOW

WHERE IT STAYS – CHARLOTTE OC

“Wow,” Ethan’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“Yes. I know it’s a bit radical.”

“You could say that.” He chuckles. “Where’d this idea come from?”

Sitting at the table in Lola’s kitchen, I nurse my green tea, almost losing the mug in the stacks of paperwork and bound files. This place is an absolute mess.

On the opposite end of the table, Albie is combing through a box full of receipts for Lola’s monthly expenses. He hasn’t spoken a word since we got to work a few hours ago.

“Me,” I answer honestly.

“Making a public statement against Dimitri Sanchez is a very bold move,” Ethan points out. “You’ll be making even more of a target of yourself.”

“I prefer to look at it as defending myself. He’s been speaking about me to the world through the press for months. I deserve the right to offer some kind of defence.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Ethan replies. “Just concerned for your welfare. This won’t be an easy thing to do, but we can help you to do it if that’s your wish.”

Looking up, I meet Albie’s eyes. He’s staring at me now, his focus no longer on the receipts. Holding his gaze, we share a silent conversation. I can see his fear and concern. It’s all there on his face.

But there’s something else.

Something more.

It’s a look of respect… and pride. Mouth gently curving upwards in a small, encouraging smile, he nods and returns to his task. I blow out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

“It is,” I confirm.

“Alright, then.” Ethan clears his throat. “Our PR representative, Lucas, will be in touch to discuss the details. Start to think about what message you want Sanchez to receive with this.”

“That he’s a sick son of a bitch, and we’re coming for him?”

“Maybe not that.” He laughs back. “We want to play our cards close to our chest until we’re ready to make a move. Clear your name without setting off his suspicions even more.”

“Got it. Do we have an update on the car accident?”

“We’ve been investigating the two perps. Both are ex-inmates who have long rap sheets for paid illegal activities, least of all murder-for-hire.”

My blood freezes. “Seriously?”

“He paid them, Willow. Of that we’re certain. We may not be able to prove it right now, but we will in time. Someone must’ve spotted you in London and reported back to him.”

“Who on earth would be able to do that?”

Ethan hesitates. “I… don’t know.”

There’s pain in his voice at admitting that. I wish I could give him a hug. He’s got the shitty job of steering this crazy train to its final destination.

“That’s okay, Ethan. We’ll figure it out.”

“I really hope so, love. Give Ryder a kiss for me?”

“I will. Be safe.”

He ends the call, and I lock my phone, dropping it in between the stacks of files.

“Damn, Willow.” Albie smirks. “Hell of a move.”

“I have to do something.” I knead the back of my neck. “We can’t go on like this forever.”

“I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“You do?”

“Hiding from this shit isn’t going to make it go away. The last year has proved that much already. It’s time to get up and fight the bastard.”

My chest warms with appreciation. “Thanks, Al.”

“You got it, kid.”

Standing up to refill our drinks, I peek outside the kitchen window at the garden and vegetable patch. Hyland is standing outside while Tara takes her break, nursing his coffee and watching the perimeter.

It’s been weird, getting used to being followed around everyday. Arianna quickly adjusted to having an escort to school after the first few days, but I’m still finding the whole thing a bit odd.

“Isn’t he cold?” I wonder.

“That man’s made of fucking steel,” Albie answers in a gruff voice. “Never seen such a lump of meat in my life. Doubt he even feels the cold.”

“He must.”

Tara and Hyland have been welcomed by the town, taking one of the smaller, older cabins at the edge of the property. They don’t spend much time in it anyway.

Ethan calls to check in with them every day, along with regular contact from the rest of the team. Having them here does give me a sense of reassurance as we heal from the accident.

“What else is there to do?” I change the subject.

“Most of the necessary arrangements are done.” Albie flicks through his papers. “The lawyer will deal with Lola’s will, and we’ll have to take it from there.”

“Okay, good.”

Diving back into organising the papers I’ve got strewn around us, we don’t come up for air until the guys arrive with lunch. Killian has made it his mission to feed me at any available opportunity.

He slaps down a thick-crusted ham sandwich in front of me and growls in his low, gravelly voice, sounding more like a wolf feeding its cub than a grown human.

“Eat.”

“Yes, sir,” I snark back.

“Good girl.”

Zach suppresses a laugh as he boosts himself up on the kitchen counter and dives into his sandwich. He and Killian are covered in sawdust after working on a new cabin on the east side of the town.

Micah pauses to kiss my cheek. “Afternoon, angel. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.” I beam up at him. “What are you painting?” I swipe a lick of wet paint from his cheek.

“That’s a secret.”

He winks, causing prickles of desire to sweep through me.

“Even from me?”

“Even from you,” Micah replies.

Plopping himself down on the counter next to Zach, Micah’s eyes are filled with humour. He’s been working on some secret project for the past week, since the accident.

The change in him has been huge in the last few days. He’s been coming out of the studio for meals and sleeping in his bed again. Even showering everyday, without my assistance.

He’s coming back to us.

Slowly but surely.

“What’s with you guys?” Albie watches us suspiciously.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s up.” He studies each of our faces, his gaze pinging between us.

“No, it isn’t,” I lie.

“That’s some steaming bullshit right there.”

Zach looks like he’s ready to burst. When his face begins to turn pink from the force of holding it in, I finally crack.

“Fine.” I sigh dramatically. “You can tell him.”

“Really?” Zach grins.

“Just no one else.”

“If we tell Albie, then we have to tell Ryder too,” Killian reasons. “That’s only fair.”

“Guys! We said we weren’t doing this until twelve weeks!”

Connecting the dots, Albie’s face lights up. “Oh God.”

It’s been a long time since I saw him with a genuine smile on his face. Albie abandons his work and scoops me into a huge hug.

“Willow! Are you…?”

“Yes,” I breathe into his flannel shirt. “Around six weeks.”

“Heck!” he bellows.

Stomach fluttering with excited butterflies, I hug him until he puts me back down in my chair. Albie’s smile hasn’t faded. It’s plastered on and oh-so-bright.

But I spot the moment it hits—the grief. Filtering in like the inevitability of night swallowing day, his features fall as his eyes fill with pain.

“Your Grams… she’d be over the moon.”

I grasp his hand tight. “I know, Al.”

“I wish she were here to see this day.”

“She is. Somewhere.”

His throat bobs. “Somewhere.”

Releasing my hand, Albie slips out of the room to take a moment to himself. The guys are all wincing and looking a little contrite for setting him off again.

“That went well,” Killian rasps.

I scrub my face. “We should’ve known it would upset him.”

“We can’t tiptoe around Albie and the others forever,” Zach says. “This is our good news to share. We deserve the chance to celebrate it.”

“He’s right,” Micah chimes in.

Sitting back down before the nausea sets in again, I take a big bite of my sandwich, which tastes like dust in my mouth. All of this is so bittersweet.

With lunch finished, the guys hang around, waiting for the lawyer to arrive. Albie makes a reappearance, and we all stand up when the growl of an engine approaches Lola’s cabin.

Hyland moves to the front of the house to greet our guest. Stepping outside onto the front porch, I watch the tall, willowy woman from Highbridge get a pat-down search for weaponry.

“Apologies,” Hyland tells her.

She appears flustered. “Why is this necessary?”

“That’s our business, ma’am. Thanks for your cooperation.”

Checking her briefcase for good measure, he declares her clean before she’s allowed to approach the cabin. Her slick brown hair is slightly rumpled from the thorough search over.

“Good afternoon. Are you Killian Clearwater?”

Killian steps forward. “That’s me.”

“Pauline Arkwright.”

“Good to meet you. Come inside.”

Ushering our guest into the cabin, we return to the kitchen and quickly clear some space on the table. Micah sets to work making Pauline a hot drink as I take the seat opposite her.

“Mrs Sanchez,” she begins, eyeing me. “I understand you have some concerns about our discretion regarding your identity.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s correct.”

“Allow me to assure you that any information discussed here is protected by client privilege. I am not at liberty to disclose your identity to anybody. You can be honest with me.”

Reassured, I nod back. “Thank you.”

“So to confirm, your full name is Willow Sanchez?”

“That’s correct.”

Her eyes sparkle with recognition. “Very well.”

After we questioned the identification procedure, I had no doubt that her office would investigate me. My name is splashed all over the news, courtesy of Mr Sanchez’s PR campaign.

“I was Lola’s lawyer for twelve years,” she continues, seeming to soften. “I’m sorry for your loss. She was an incredible woman.”

My throat tightens. “That she was.”

“Lola has a significant number of assets that we need to discuss, most of all being Briar Valley.”

Snapping open her briefcase, Pauline pulls out a glossy manilla folder then slides it over to me. I gingerly accept it, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

Inside, the lines of text and complicated legal jargon blur across the page. I’m too overwhelmed to understand any of it. This is the final confirmation I didn’t want.

Lola’s gone.

Dead.

Never to return.

I thought it had hit me at the funeral, but sitting here, confronted by the monumental task of settling her affairs, the realisation deepens.

She isn’t going to walk through those doors at any moment. This is it now, all we’re left with is paperwork and happy memories. It feels wrong for such a huge presence in our lives to amount to so little.

“Lola recently changed her will,” Pauline reveals. “A little under twelve months ago. She has made you the sole beneficiary of her entire estate.”

“M-Me?” I gasp.

She nods. “You will be inheriting the deeds for Briar Valley, her cabin, and a significant lump sum of assets and cash amounting to two hundred thousand pounds.”

“Fuck me,” Zach mutters.

Wiping off my sweaty palms, I fight to keep my voice even. “I… d-don’t understand. Why so much?”

“Lola has been resettling families for the government for decades and reaping the rewards of that arrangement. She invested in a wide portfolio of stocks during that time.”

Holy. Freaking. Shit.

“This is too much!” I protest. “I don’t want the town. I don’t even want her money.”

“It’s yours now,” she explains kindly. “Lola has gifted her estate to you. She must have loved you very much and wanted you to have it.”

Feeling dizzy, I take a moment to breathe. Briar Valley. It’s mine. She wanted me to take the town in the event of her death and continue the work she started here.

The town that saved my life.

The town I love, more than anything.

“Oh my God,” I say to myself. “I c-can’t do this alone.”

The warmth of a hand circles between my shoulder blades, offering silent support. I can smell Killian’s musky, pine tree scent behind me as he ducks low to whisper in my ear.

“You’re not alone, baby. We can help you figure this out.”

“I’m here to help too,” Albie speaks up.

I glance at him. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

He shrugs. “Might’ve.”

Zach and Micah crowd me so I have the warmth of three bodies pressing into me. Their touch grounds me before I lose my mind over what’s happening right now.

“I need you to sign some paperwork for me.” Pauline taps the folder. “Property deeds will be transferred into your name by the end of the week.”

This can’t be happening. I’ve barely come to terms with last week’s surprise… Now this? It’s all too much. Abruptly standing up, I make my apologies and bolt outside.

“Willow?” Hyland calls as I rush past him.

Halting, I clutch my tight chest. “I’m fine. Just need a moment.”

He moves to stand next to me. “Take a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Let’s do it together.”

Clasping my shoulders, he mimics the breathing pattern and encourages me to follow. I take several deep breaths, forcing air into my panicking lungs.

“That’s it,” he whispers reassuringly. “You’re doing good.”

We stand like that for several long moments. I can practically feel the pressure of the guys’ gazes through the kitchen window, giving me a moment of privacy.

When the rush of fear has begun to abate, I breathe clearly and murmur my thanks. Hyland releases my shoulders after a final squeeze.

“My kid brother has OCD,” he informs me without me asking. “He’s suffered with panic attacks for years. Used to scare the hell out of me when we were younger.”

“You’re good at calming people down.”

Hyland offers me a toothy grin that doesn’t match his rough exterior. “It’s my job to look after you.”

“Thanks.” I force a wobbly smile.

“Go back inside. Those men of yours are about to lose their shit, if their faces are anything to go by.”

Snorting to myself, I slip back inside. Everyone’s where I left them—drinking and chatting. Thankfully, no one says anything about my outburst and lets me quietly sit down again.

Retaking my seat, I pick up the pen that Pauline left and flip to the last page. It’s a legal contract, allowing me to officially accept the contents of Lola’s will. This is it.

“Where am I signing?” I ask, itching to escape again.

Pauline points towards a dotted line. “Right here.”

Hand shaking, I manage to scrawl my signature across the line before placing the pen back down. Seeing it there, spelled out in ink, ignites a sudden rush of determination that overtakes everything.

I can do this.

For Lola. For us.

I have to continue her legacy.