Midnight Lessons (Midnight Falls, Texas)

11. Willow

Chapter 11

Willow

I pace my apartment, which suddenly seems too small for the swarm of worries buzzing in my head. Someone’s been following me for the last few days like a ghost—everywhere and nowhere, a phantom with a grudge that won’t let go. I’ve sensed them for days now, this unsettling prickle at the back of my neck. It’s there when I leave the bakery after dark, when I walk to my car in the lot, and even when I’m in line at the grocery store. Every time I turn around, though, there’s no one there. Just empty air and shadows.

I know I’m not imagining things… am I?

The first time, I brushed it off as paranoia. It was late, and Midnight Falls can seem eerily empty at night. But the feeling didn’t go away. In fact, it’s gotten stronger, like a tight knot pulling tighter and tighter in my chest. Even now, alone in my space, the hairs on my arms stand on end like there’s someone outside the door out of sight.

I rub my arms, trying to shake off the goosebumps. It’s probably the fallout from this stupid betting pool—the talk, the stares, the feeling of being watched. All of it is making me jumpy, that’s all.

So why do I feel like I’m being watched?

“Get a grip, Willow,” I mutter, planting my hands on the kitchen counter and forcing myself to take a deep breath. “You’re letting your imagination run wild.”

Should I call Owen? Although we’ve spoken on the phone, we haven’t seen each other for a few days. He’s been inundated with marking papers, and I’ve been snowed under at the bakery with Halloween just around the corner.

I glance at the clock on the wall. He’ll be starting classes soon. I’ll talk to him later when he comes over for dinner. I’ve missed him so much and can’t wait to see him tonight .

I close my eyes, counting to five slowly, grounding myself in the familiar sounds of the apartment—the hum of the refrigerator, the faint ticking of the wall clock, the soft patter of rain against the window. All regular, everyday noises. No creak of footsteps outside my door, no shadowy figures lurking behind the curtains.

Just me. Alone.

With a determined breath, I straighten, rolling my shoulders back. I’m not going to let this control me. I have a life to live, a business to run, and I refuse to become a prisoner of my fear. Whoever—or whatever —is out there, they don’t get to win.

“Enough,” I tell myself firmly. “You’re taking this Halloween thing too far now. Time to get to work.”

I grab my keys and bag from the table, taking one last look around my apartment before heading out. The air outside is damp and cool, morning mist hanging low over the sleepy town. I glance around, searching for anything out of place, anyone who shouldn’t be there, but all I see are empty sidewalks and quiet storefronts.

See? Nothing .

“You’re paranoid, Winters,” I berate myself, turning toward the bakery. “Focus on the good stuff.”

I pick up my pace, the cool breeze nudging me forward, and try to lose myself in the comforting rhythm of my footsteps. The bakery is only a few blocks away, and the routine of getting the shop ready for the day will help settle my nerves. The familiar motions—kneading dough, brewing coffee, setting out the fresh pastries—will push these silly fears to the back of my mind.

Yet as I unlock the front door of the bakery, the bell above it giving a soft chime, a part of me can’t quite shake the sensation that someone’s watching. My fingers fumble with the key, the clink of metal louder than usual in the quiet space.

“Get it together, girl,” I mutter under my breath, pushing open the door and stepping inside. The scent of flour and sugar greets me, warm and welcoming, instantly soothing. This is my domain, the place I built from the ground up. I’m safe here.

I flip on the lights, casting a soft glow over the display cases and wooden tables, and move through the familiar routine. Coffee on, ovens preheated, dough rolled out and lined up for proofing. The normalcy of it helps. Soon, I’m lost in the work, the steady rhythm of preparation calming my frazzled nerves.

By the time the sun fully rises, casting a pale light through the front windows, I’m almost convinced that the whole “someone’s following me” thing is in my head. I’m overly sensitive because of all the attention lately. That’s all it is.

Carol arrives a few minutes later, and our day begins in earnest. My worries are forgotten as we fire up the ovens, make cookie dough and pastry, and fill the display cases.

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted but happy. The closer we get to Halloween, the busier the shop becomes, but seeing people clamoring for my baked treats fills me with joy.

“You head home,” I tell Carol with a knowing smile. “You have a special meal with your husband tonight. ”

“Twenty-five years, can you believe it?” she asks, shaking her head.

“You and Lance are practically an institution in Midnight Falls. You’ve been together for as long as I can remember. Get on home and get glammed up. I’ll clear up here,” I say, shooing her toward the door. “Have a great evening and say congratulations to Lance from me.”

Carol gives me a hug. “Thanks, Willow. You’re the best.”

“No, thank you . I couldn’t do any of this without you,” I reply, spreading my wide to indicate the bakery. “Can you flip the sign to closed on your way out? I’ll lock up in a minute.”

“Sure thing,” Carol says as she leaves with a smile and a wave.

I set about cleaning up, humming softly as I wipe down the counters and put away the trays. Despite the long day, I love this part—the quiet calm after the bustle, the sense of accomplishment in every tidied surface and neatly stacked dish.

When the last of the crumbs are swept away, I let out a satisfied sigh and glance at the clock—almost seven. The late autumn light is fading outside, casting long shadows across the empty street. Excitement bubbles in my stomach at the thought of seeing Owen.

The bell chimes again, and I suddenly realize I forgot to lock the door. I make my way from the back into the shop.

“I’m sorry, we’re closed—” My words dry up as I see who’s on the threshold.

Matthew Crane stands in the doorway, a polished smile on his face that doesn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes, once familiar, now seem… darker. He’s dressed impeccably, as always, his crisp shirt and tailored slacks a stark contrast to the coziness of the bakery. He’s the picture of a successful businessman, and for a moment, it’s like I’ve stepped back in time. Back to the years when I pretended to be his girlfriend, smiling through every family dinner and town event, trying to convince myself it was real. Trying to convince myself he was real.

“Willow,” he greets warmly as if almost a year of silence between us is no big deal .

“Matthew,” I say evenly, forcing a polite smile. “I-I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Why not?” He raises an eyebrow, feigning hurt. “Can’t an old boyfriend stop by for a cup of coffee and some of your famous cookies?”

He may have been part of my life for years, but that ended the moment I realized he wanted more than I could give.

I force a smile. “Of course, but the bakery is closed. I can do you a coffee to take away?”

His gaze sweeps over me possessively, making my skin crawl. “I guess that will have to do,” he says, his voice light. “Black, no sugar.”

“What brings you back to Midnight Falls?” I ask, turning to grab a takeaway cup from the shelf.

“Oh, passing through town on business.” He steps further inside, letting the door close softly behind him. “Thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing. It’s been what? A year since we last spoke?”

“About that,” I murmur. The truth is, I never wanted to hurt Matthew. I wanted to move on. I wanted to love him. But I couldn’t. And when I ended things, he didn’t take it well. I’d expected anger, or maybe relief—but not the cold, bitter look that darkened his eyes. The way his mouth twisted like I’d betrayed him.

He leans casually against the counter. “I see the place is as cozy as ever,” he says, dragging me out of my thoughts. “You’ve made something special here, Willow.”

“Thank you,” I reply quietly, my mind buzzing. Why is he here? Why now, after all these months of nothing? And why so late? It’s… unsettling.

“So,” he says after a moment, an edge to his friendly tone. “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with Owen lately.”

My hand jerks, nearly sloshing coffee over the side of the cup. I keep my back to him, willing my shoulders to relax. “We’ve reconnected,” I say cautiously. “It’s been good catching up.”

“Hmm.” He hums thoughtfully, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. “You know, people are talking, Willow. About you two.”

My heart skips a beat, but I keep my voice steady. “Small towns, Matthew. People always talk. ”

“True.” His low chuckle grates against my nerves. “Must be nice, picking up where you left off. All that history. You think he’s changed? Because I’m not so sure, Willow. Guys like Owen don’t change.”

My pulse spikes as I slide his drink toward him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “It means you shouldn’t be so quick to throw yourself at him now he’s back. I know you still have some idealized version of him in your head, but he left you, remember? Didn’t even look back.”

Anger flares, hot and fierce, but I swallow it down. I broke up with Matthew for a reason. I can’t let him rile me up now. “Part of the reason he left was because I wouldn’t talk to him, and he thought you and I were dating. But whatever Owen and I are to each other now is none of your business, Matthew. My personal life is none of your concern.”

He shrugs and leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “Seems your personal life is everyone’s concern. Rumor has it there’s a bit of a… wager going around. Something about you and your love life. ”

My eyes narrow. “You know about that?”

His smile widens, and something like glee flashes in his eyes. “Small town, Willow. People always talk,” he says, throwing my words back at me. “I’m sure it’s some silly joke. Guys being guys, you know?”

Silly joke?

What an incredibly insensitive thing to say.

My stomach twists. “It’s not a silly joke, Matthew. It’s disgusting.”

I’ve been doing my best to ignore the lecherous looks and smarmy smiles of the men coming into my bakery, but that doesn’t mean I’m unaffected. I know one or two of them as acquaintances—idiots with only two brain cells knocking around in their noggins. I’ve already banned them from my shop despite their protestations of innocence. Innocent, my ass, making degrading personal bets about me.

Bets that Matthew seems to know way too much about. My mind races, piecing together the scraps of information. Could it be… ?

His smile is nonchalant. “Maybe. But who can blame them, huh? I mean, look at you—back with your high school sweetheart. I’m sure that’s only added more fuel to the fire, and they’re all dying to see how it plays out.”

The world tilts. I grip the counter to steady myself, my nails digging into the wood as I glare daggers at him. “You started the betting pool, didn’t you?”

His gaze hardens, and for a second, I see pure hatred in his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Willow. I simply dropped by to say hello to my ex-girlfriend.”

“We were never together like that, and you know it. I was honest with you from the start. I never lied about my intentions, and as soon as you told me you wanted more, I ended things. I’m sorry if you thought there was more between us than there was.”

He shrugs again. “It seems we remember completely different versions of how things played out. I remember being led on a merry dance for years by a woman who promised everything and never delivered. I remember you throwing those years back in my face the second I pushed for more.” He sets the coffee down with a casualness that makes my blood boil. “Enjoy your reconnection with Owen while it lasts. He may be all over you now, but he’ll leave you again. Call me when he does so I can say I told you so and provide a shoulder for you to cry on. Again.”

Aaaand, I’m done. “Get out,” I snap, my voice trembling with fury. “And don’t come back.”

Matthew’s gaze lingers on me, something cold and calculating in his eyes. Then he smiles, slow and mocking. “Good to see you again, Willow.”

With that, he turns and walks out, the bell tinkling softly as he leaves. I hurry to the door, locking it with shaking fingers, my heart racing. Matthew Crane isn’t a jealous ex. He’s deluded. God, I’m an idiot. How did I not see the crazy beneath all that cool, smooth charm?

I pause, biting my lip. Should I go to Sinclair Midnight, the sheriff of Midnight Falls? But what would I say? Matthew never actually admitted to setting up the betting pool—it would be my word against his .

No, I need Owen. A few weeks ago, the thought of calling Owen for help would’ve been ridiculous, but he’s gone above and beyond for me since returning to town.

My hands shake as I snatch up my phone and call him. It rings for what seems like an eternity. I hold my breath, praying he’ll pick up.

“Hey, Low. Sorry, I was in the shower,” he says when he finally answers. “Couldn’t wait until later to hear my voice, huh?” he teases, his deep voice like a life raft in the middle of an endless ocean.

“Owen.” His name comes out as a sigh of relief. “Can you meet me at the bakery?”

“What’s up?” he asks sharply, picking up on my distress. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’m not physically hurt,” I reassure him. “I’ll tell you when you get here. Come quickly. Please.”

“Hold tight, sweetheart. I’ll be there in five.”

Owen arrives in less than five minutes. I open the door, throwing myself into his arms.

“It’s okay, Low. I’ve got you. I’m here,” he murmurs, scooping me up in his arms. He moves to a chair and settles me in his lap, his sharp blue eyes sweeping the shop as if checking for threats. Instantly, I feel safe, like nothing bad can happen with him around. “Tell me what happened.”

I spill everything, shedding pounds of worry with every word that leaves my lips—the eerie sense of being followed, Matthew showing up, and what he said about the betting pool.

“Fucker.” Owen curses once I’m done explaining, his expression grim. “Who the hell does he think he is, turning up here like that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for a year. He said he was passing through on business, but it didn’t seem like a random visit.”

Owen cups my face, holding my gaze. “We’ll handle this together, all right?”

I nod. “I feel better now you’re here. It’s just… it was unsettling seeing him again. He was so cold, so smug.”

“This whole online betting pool thing has gone well beyond a sick prank. I think we should call Sheriff Midnight. Tell him what’s been going on. At least that way, he has all the facts and can be on the lookout. And I’ll call Mark again to see if he has any more info. If Matthew is behind this, we’ll nail the bastard, Low, I promise,” Owen says, kissing my forehead.

His promise is a balm to the raw edges of my fear. He’s right. This whole situation is out of control.

“We should consider getting some security cameras in here and at your place,” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world to protect me. “And change the locks to be on the safe side. You shouldn’t feel unsafe in here or your own place.”

I raise an eyebrow. “We?”

He clears his throat, her cheeks reddening. “You. I meant you.”

I grin. “I’m teasing. I like this whole ‘we’ thing.”

He drops his forehead to mine. “Me too, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, O. When you came back, I told you I didn’t need your help. I was still angry and bitter, but now…” I trail off, trying to put my emotions into words.

“You had every right to be mad and bitter, Low. But that was then, and this is now. I know you can take care of yourself; you always have. But sometimes”—he kisses my nose—“even beautiful little cookie-decorating bakers need someone to watch their back. And I’ve got yours.”

I frown. “I’m hardly little. And I think you’re stretching it a bit with beautiful.”

“You’ve always been the most beautiful woman in the world to me, Low. The only woman.” His big hand falls to my hip, squeezing. “And I forbid you to lose these curves because they drive me fucking insane,” he groans, shifting me in his lap so I can feel his thick erection.

He kisses my neck. “Now, how about we grab takeaway from Lou’s Burger Shack and watch one of those cheesy 80s shows you love at yours?”

I laugh, my tension melting away, making Matthew’s shadow seem a little less dark. “That sounds perfect.”