Page 107 of Love so Hot
"Sorry," he mutters, his voice a broken whisper, "I don't know."
"Damn it," I curse under my breath, turning on my heel. The hospital lights buzz overhead as my frustration mounts with each step I take away from River's room. Anger and concern are a tangled knot in my gut. Where could she be?
I storm through the corridor, my footsteps echoing too loud in the tense silence that blankets the second floor. As I reach the sliding doors at the exit, they part, only to reveal a chaotic swarm of reporters, still hungry for a story.
"Can you comment on the explosion?" one yells, shoving a microphone towards me.
"Is it true Earth Defenders caused this?" another shouts, camera flashing in my eyes.
"Get out of my way," I snap, dodging the forest of extended arms and pointed questions. The air outside is cold, but I barely feel it as I push past the media vultures.
I slam the car door behind me. My hands are shaking as I jam the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, mirroring the turmoil inside me. I need to find Willow. I have to make sure she's okay.
I dial her number, but there’s no answer. Not even a voicemail box that’s been set up yet.
"Think," I mutter to myself, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. "Where would you go, Willow?"
The car lurches forward as I hit the gas a little too hard. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. River's confession plays on a loop in my head. He seemed so defeated, so unlike the firebrand I've known him to be. And Willow... she just vanished into thin air.
"Dammit, Willow, why didn't you tell me where you were going?" I say out loud, hoping the sound of my voice will fill the empty space and help me think.
Pieces of our last conversation drift through my memory. "Come on, give me something," I plead, as if the memories could answer.
Her passion, her drive—she'd go somewhere meaningful, somewhere significant for her cause.
My foot presses harder on the accelerator, the scenery blurring as I navigate the familiar roads. Each mile marker ticks by like a second hand in my head. I tap the steering wheel, trying to sync the rhythm with my racing thoughts. Where would Willow go? The question gnaws at me, relentless.
Then, all at once, it clicks.
"Of course," I say aloud, the answer so clear now.
I jerk the wheel hard left, tires screech, and the car lurches as I make a U-turn. My pulse hammers in my ears, matching the thud of rubber on road.
"Coming for you," I promise the empty seat beside me. "Gonna make this right."
Chapter Fifty-Two
Willow
The gentle whisperof leaves mingles with a distant trickle of water, providing a serene backdrop as I nestle into the earthy scent and sheltering arms of the old oak. Its cascading boughs sway slightly, granting me privacy in this quiet corner of the forest. The rest of the world feels miles away, the din of daily life replaced by the subtle chorus of nature's own.
Suddenly, a rustling sound interrupts the tranquility. I stiffen, my senses heighten. The branches part, and there he is—Larry, his approach almost as silent as the shifting shadows around us. His eyes find mine, conveying a mix of concern and relief that seems to pierce through the veil of leaves.
"How did you find me here?" I ask, my voice barely above a murmur, yet carrying clear surprise.
He steps closer, the dappled sunlight painting patterns on his face. "I just had a feeling you'd be here," Larry admits, his gaze never wavering. "It's where we first met."
I nod. "And it was my first victory. You never cut down this tree."
His eyes linger for a moment, searching my face as if to ensure I am truly unharmed. The light breeze plays with the loose strands of my hair, and in that brief silence, the weight of recent events lays heavy between us.
"Are you alright?" My voice breaks through the stillness, carrying with it an undertone of concern. The echoes of the explosion seem to reverberate within the question, its impact still fresh in my mind. Was he there when it happened?
He exhales slowly, and even though his posture remains upright, I can see the subtle release of tension in his shoulders. "Yes."
A pang of guilt surges within me, and I cast my eyes downward, unable to hold his steady gaze. "I should have told you what River was planning," I murmur, the apology feeling inadequate even as it leaves my lips.
But before the words fully register in the air, Larry closes the space between us. "I don't care about that right now," he interjects, his voice firm yet laced with a vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings. "I'm just so relieved that you're okay."