Midnight Lessons (Midnight Falls, Texas)

15. Willow

Chapter 15

Willow

The cursor blinks mockingly on my laptop screen as I scan through the latest batch of screenshots Mark has sent. It’s a digital paper trail, each click and scroll unveiling more of the cruel bet that turned my life into tabloid fodder for Midnight Falls. Owen sits beside me, his jaw set in a hard line while we sift through the evidence.

“Ready?” Owen asks, his blue eyes meeting mine with an intensity that promises retribution.

“Let’s do this.” My fingers fly across the keyboard, inputting information into the social media page dedicated to revealing truths. With a final click, the identities of those who placed bets go live for the entire community to see .

The next day, the doorbell chimes over the bakery door like a confession booth bell. Men shuffle in, sheepish and remorseful, forming a line that snakes past the display case filled with my cookie artistry. They come bearing guilt heavier than the pastries they purchase.

“Willow, I’m sorry,” murmurs one man I’ve never met before, his gaze dropping to the floor. “My wife, she set me straight last night. What we did was wrong.”

“Thanks.” My voice is steady, but my heart’s doing acrobatics. One by one, they approach, each apology chipping away at the barricade I’ve built around myself since I found out about the bet.

Owen leans against the counter, watching the procession. As the last man exits, he clears his throat, capturing the attention of the few stragglers and Linda, who’s pretending to peruse the day-old bread rack.

“Thanks, Owen,” I whisper, squeezing his hand in gratitude.

“I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll see you this evening,” Owen says, planting a kiss on my forehead before he leaves.

The bell above the bakery door chimes non-stop throughout the day, a steady stream of women replacing the men from earlier. They come with kind eyes and words that wrap around me like a soft embrace. The support is overwhelming, and I can’t help but feel a little less solitary in this mess.

Finally, the clock signals the end of my shift, and Owen’s there, just as he has been through all of this. We escape out the back door into the crisp evening air. We’re quiet as we walk to my apartment, a silence filled with shared relief and the subtle buzz of a day that’s tilted our world slightly back on its axis.

Once inside, we sink onto my secondhand couch, hands finding each other without a word.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Today was something.”

He squeezes my hand. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees, his blue eyes locking with mine. “But we got through it.”

“Because of you,” I point out .

He shakes his head. “Because of us,” he corrects.

He’s right. This has been a team effort from the start.

“Let’s not let this night end on the couch,” I suggest, eager to keep this newfound momentum. “How about we celebrate at The Pasta Crypt? I could kill for their mac ‘n cheese.”

“Sounds perfect,” Owen says with a smile that makes my heart do a little flip.

We leave my cluttered apartment behind, our laughter echoing down the stairwell as we head toward our favorite pasta spot.

Dinner is a blur of comfort food and easy conversation. Between bites of cheesy goodness, we talk about everything and nothing until the subject of the future comes up.

“Willow, I’ve been thinking,” Owen starts, his fork pausing mid-air. “Maybe it’s time we took a step forward, you know?”

“Like choreographed dance lessons?” I tease, unable to resist .

“Very funny.” He chuckles. “I mean, moving in together. It’s time I sold Mom and Dad’s place. Fresh start and all that. We can start looking for a place here in Midnight Falls together. What do you think?”

The idea sends a thrill through me. A home with Owen, full of love and yes, lots of Halloween decorations. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had since coming back to Midnight Falls.”

“Then it’s settled,” he says, reaching across the table to lace his fingers with mine. “We’ll make it happen.”

I nod, excitement bubbling up inside me. A month ago, the thought of a future with Owen was unthinkable. But now, with him by my side, everything seems possible. We’re a team in a crisis and in life. And as we finish our meal and step into the night, I’m ready for whatever comes next.

Memories assail me as Owen steers the car toward his parents’ home, but this time, their good ones, full of the promise of our future together.

The familiar scent of pine and old books surrounds us when we step inside. The house is just as I remember—the worn rug in the living room, the framed family photos lining the walls, and the slight creak in the floorboard by the kitchen door. It’s like stepping into a time capsule of Owen’s life, where time hasn’t moved since his parents’ accident, the warmth of their love still lingering in the air.

Owen stands inside the doorway, scanning the room as if searching for ghosts. I want to reach out, to break through the barrier of grief and loss wrapped around him. But I hold back, giving him the space he needs. This house, this place—it’s more than just four walls and a roof. It’s a part of him. A part he hasn’t fully let go of yet.

“You okay?” I ask softly, squeezing his hand.

He nods, but his gaze is distant, fixed on a photo of his parents on the mantel. “Yeah. I’ve spent more time at yours than here since I came back to town. This place holds a lot of memories.”

The pain in his voice tugs at my heart. “I know.” I squeeze his hand, hoping to convey everything I can’t put into words. “But we’re making new ones now. Good ones.”

His smile is small but real. “Yeah, we are. ”

I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be surrounded by so many memories, knowing you have to let go of them piece by piece. “Take your time,” I murmur.

We move through the house slowly, not touching anything yet. There’s no rush today. We’re only here to grab a few of his belongings—his clothes, some books, and a few keepsakes. The bigger job of sorting and emptying the house will come later. But even this small task seems monumental. It’s a strange, surreal experience—saying goodbye to the past while looking forward to a future finally within our grasp.

Owen stops in the hallway, his gaze lingering on a framed photograph of his parents smiling by the lake. His dad’s arm is slung around his mom’s shoulders, and they’re both laughing, caught in a moment of pure joy. I can see the resemblance to Owen in his father’s easy grin and his mother’s bright eyes.

“They were always happy,” I say gently. “Always together.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “They were. ”

We continue upstairs to his old room, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips as we push open the door. It’s like a snapshot of teenage Owen—sports posters on the walls, a worn-out desk cluttered with notebooks, and a shelf filled with dog-eared sci-fi novels. It’s a little dusty, but it’s still him.

“Still looks the same,” I tease, stepping inside. “You sure you don’t want to keep the glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling?”

He chuckles softly, and the sound warms me. “Hey, I worked hard on those.”

I glance up, grinning. “I know. I remember you dragging me in here to show off your ‘constellation masterpiece.’ You made me sit on your bed for an hour while you explained the placement of each star.”

A smile tugs at his lips, and for a moment, the sadness in his eyes fades. “I was a real nerd before I turned into a jerk, huh?”

“Ah, but you were the cutest nerd. And you were still my jerk,” I counter with a grin, crossing the room to run my fingers over the spines of his old books.

His laughs. “A nerdy jerk.”

“Not anymore. Now you’re my sexy sweetheart.”

His gaze softens as he looks at me. “And you’re my bewitching baker.”

I press my index finger to my lips, pretending to think. “Hmm, now that sounds like a great name for a bakery.”

Owen chuckles as he turns to the small closet by the window and pulls out a few shirts, shoving them haphazardly into a duffel bag. “This is all I need for now,” he mutters, grabbing a couple of paperbacks from the shelf and tossing them into the bag. “We’ll tackle the rest later.”

I nod, understanding. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time.”

He zips up the bag and stretches. His muscles flex under his shirt, and I can’t help but admire the view. Strong, dependable Owen.

His expression is wistful as he glances around the room. “I used to think I’d never want to let this place go,” he admits quietly. “But now... I just want a fresh start.”

“With me?” The words slip out before I can stop them.

“With you,” he says softly, his eyes meeting mine with a steady intensity. “Only with you, Low.”

I cross the room to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “We’ll do it together, O. One box, one memory, one goodbye at a time.”

He holds me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. “I’m gonna need you to keep reminding me of that.”

“I will,” I promise, squeezing him tighter. “Every step of the way.”

“Thanks for helping.”

“Are you kidding? This is exciting. I can’t wait to share a toothbrush holder with you.”

I lean into his solid frame, the steady beat of his heart against mine. Our journey hasn’t been easy, misunderstandings, heartbreak, a community turned upside down, but we’ve weathered it together. Everything we’ve been through has led us to this moment, this transition from individuals to partners.

Owen kisses me, a deep, passionate affirmation of our bond. It’s a kiss that speaks of a future filled with shared dreams, whispered secrets, and the promise of endless Halloweens together.

After a few more minutes, we make our way back downstairs. Owen pauses by the mantel again, picking up a small photo of his parents at their anniversary dinner. His thumb traces the edge of the frame, and he lets out a long, slow breath.

“I think I’ll take this one,” he says quietly, tucking the picture carefully into his bag. “For now.”

My chest aches for him, but I keep my voice steady. “Good choice.”

He glances around one last time, then shoulders the duffel bag. “Okay. I’m ready.”

We step onto the porch, and the cool night air wraps around us, crisp and clear. As we head toward the truck, I see movement next door and glance over to see my parents standing on their front porch, chatting with Melvyn .

My mom waves, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Owen! Willow! We saw your car. Something you want to share with us?”

“We’re moving in together,” I say, my cheeks heating at my parents’ knowing looks.

Mom nods, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “Need any help?”

Owen smiles. “Thanks, Mrs. Winters. We’re good for now. Just grabbing a few things.”

My dad’s eyes crinkle with concern. “You sure, son? Don’t be shy about asking for help.”

Owen’s smile is genuine. “Thanks, Mr. Winters. I appreciate it.”

“Considering you’re our future son-in-law, I think we can dispense with the whole Mr. and Mrs. Winters thing,” Mom says boldly.

“Mom!” I squeak, my cheeks growing ever hotter.

“Well,” she huffs, not looking the least bit sorry. “We all know that’s where you’re headed. Isn’t that right, Owen? ”

Owen laughs. “You’re not wrong, Mrs. Win—Penny. I love your daughter and plan to make her my wife before long.”

I turn to look at Owen, my heart in my eyes. “Really?”

He nods, dropping a kiss on my nose. “Really. And I know exactly how I’ll propose when the time’s right.”

“Bout time you two got your heads out of your asses and figured it out,” Melvyn grumbles, his voice gruff but affectionate. He’s standing off to the side, watching us with that knowing look he always has, as if he can see right through to the heart of things.

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. “Nice to see you too, Melvyn.”

He huffs, leaning on his cane. “Don’t screw it up, you hear me? You’re both stubborn as mules.”

“Don’t worry,” Owen replies, his arm sliding around my waist. “We’ve got it from here.”

“Good,” Melvyn says, his gaze softening a bit. “You take care of her, Owen. ”

“I will,” Owen promises, his voice steady. “Always.”

“Love you,” Mom hollers as we walk to Owen’s car. “Stop by for coffee soon.”

“We will. Love you too,” I call as I slide into the passenger seat.

Owen starts the engine and reverses off the driveway, his parents’ house receding behind us. It’s just a house, I remind myself. But as we pull away, I know it’s more than that. It’s a place full of memories, laughter and loss, and beginnings and endings.

But it’s not the end for us. We’re just getting started.

The key turns in the lock, and the familiar creak of my apartment door welcomes us into a place that’s about to become “ours.” Owen steps inside, flipping on the lights, and I follow, closing the door behind us with a soft click. It feels different tonight, like crossing a threshold into a new life.

“Home sweet home,” I murmur, dropping my keys onto the small entryway table .

“Home,” Owen echoes, his voice warm as he wraps his arms around me from behind. We stand there, taking a moment to breathe.

I lean against him, his heart thumping steadily, a comforting drumbeat to the quiet night. We’re exhausted, but it’s the good kind of tired.

“Let’s just crash,” I suggest, tilting my head to catch his gaze. “We can unpack tomorrow. I have a better idea for tonight.”

“Fuck, yes,” he mutters. “Need you, Low.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “You sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything, Willow. I just wish I had more sense when I was nineteen so we didn’t waste all those years,” Owen mutters, his lips at my ear, his hands starting to wander.

“Oh, they weren’t wasted, darling. We were growing up. And believe me, grown up Owen is the only man I’ll ever want.” I whisper.

Owen hums with satisfaction. “Good, because grown up Willow? She’s as hot as fuck, and I love her to Halloween and back. ”

I smile as Owen picks me up and carries me to our bedroom. We’re a couple now, the way I always dreamed about but gave up hope of ever seeing.

This man? He’s my soulmate. My lover. My perfect Halloween treat.