Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 44Willow

Chapter Forty-Four

Willow

I step out of the Uber and onto the old gravel path leading into the Earth Defender's campsite, my boots crunching beneath me. It should feel like coming home, but the air's thick with something that makes my skin prickle—tension, raw and biting.

"Hey, Willow," someone mutters, not quite meeting my eye. I nod, trying to shove down the lump in my throat. This place, with its scent of pine and earth, used to be my sanctuary. Now, it feels like I'm wading through a swamp of silent judgment.

"Back so soon?" The question comes laced with ice, and I turn to see Marcy, her arms crossed, her gaze sharp as flint. I manage a half-smile, weak and unconvincing even to myself.

"Just need to clear things up," I say, but she's already turned away, her silence speaking volumes more than words ever could. I swallow hard, my resolve solidifying. I have to talk to River.

Eyes follow me as I walk, whispers fluttering in my wake like leaves in a storm. I know what they're thinking—traitor, liar, two-timer. It stings, sure, but I can't let it show. Not now.

"Willow's back," someone hisses from a tent I pass by. My name sounds foreign on their lips, a reminder of how far I've drifted from this life, from them, from him.

"Probably crawling back after Sinclair kicked her to the curb," another voice joins in, snide and mocking. I clench my fists, forcing one foot in front of the other.

I can't blame them for hating me. If I were in their shoes, maybe I would act the same way. All they saw was the engagement announcement. Nothing about the community initiatives I was starting had been announced. As much as it hurts, their hate is justified.

Doesn't matter. I'm here to see River. I push forward, eyes fixed on the spot where I know he is, determined to set things right, or at least try.

The rustle of maps and the scratch of pen against paper draw me to him. He's hunched over a makeshift table strewn with plans, his green eyes scanning lines and dots that only he seems to understand. I hesitate, my heart thumping in my chest like it wants out. "River, can we talk?" My voice barely rises above a whisper.

He doesn't look up immediately. When he does, those piercing eyes are like steel traps. "What do you want, Willow?" His tone is sharp, a clear warning.

I inch closer, trying to ignore the heat from his gaze. "Just a minute of your time." My words float between us, light and hopeful. But hope feels like a butterfly in a net here.

I plant my feet in the patchy grass, fighting for a steadiness I don't feel. "I need to know what the plan is," I say. My voice doesn't waver, a small victory. "I want to help."

River's eyes narrow, the green in them growing stormy. He shakes his head slowly, a silent drumbeat to my racing heart. "I don’t trust you, Willow. You’ve been too close to Sinclair." His words hit like a cold splash of creek water.

There's a tightness in my chest, and I force air through my lungs. This is it—no turning back. "I called the whole thing off with Larry," I say and then shake my head. "I mean Sinclair." I lock eyes with him, willing him to see the truth in mine. "I should have listened to you from the start."

There's a flicker in River's gaze, something that might be surprise, or maybe I'm just seeing what I want to see. "That's great, Willow, really," he says, and it feels like the earth shifts beneath me. "But I still can't trust you. You’ve been with him too long. How do I know you’re not still working with him?"

My heart pounds against my ribcage, fighting to keep hope alive in the face of his doubt. The smell of pine and damp soil fills my senses as I search for words that might bridge the gap between us.

"River, please." Desperation leaks into my voice, a foreign tremor that betrays my usual calm. "I’ll do anything to prove I’m on your side. I want to help stop the pipeline. Just tell me what you want me to do."

He watches me, unreadable as ever, the weight of his gaze holding me in place. This is Greenwood Hollow, where we once dreamed together under starlit skies. Now, here I am, begging for him to believe me. Begging for a chance to make things right.

The silence stretches between us, thick as the underbrush that surrounds our camp. I can see the gears turning in River's head, his sharp green eyes flicking over my face like he's reading a map of all the places we've been and the roads we've yet to travel.

"Alright, Willow," River finally says, breaking the quiet with a challenge that rings of old times and new beginnings. "If you really have called it off with Larry, then maybe you can prove your loyalty. But you’ll have to earn back our trust."

His words hang in the air, a dare I'm ready to take head-on. I square my shoulders, feeling the resolve cement itself within me. This is what I need, a test to show them—show him—I'm not just talk.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, my voice steady, stronger than I feel.

River eyes me, probably trying to figure out if I'm the same person who left, or if Lawrence has changed me. I hope he sees the truth—that I'm here, standing in front of him, ready to fight for what I believe in. At least, that's what I try to tell myself.

He crosses his arms, a barrier that I'm determined to break through. "You can start by telling me everything you know about Lawrence Sinclair."