𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧.✓ completed

Untitled Part 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Beck

I didn't expect today to go down like it did. Sure, I knew Willow had secrets, but the weight she was carrying around was heavier than I thought. How she even managed to carry all of that shit around with her is mind-boggling. What's even more astonishing is how much she blames herself. Seeing the pain connected to her nearly tears my heart in half.

As she grasps me like I'm her lifeline with her legs and arms wrapped around me, I hold on to her with everything I have in me, afraid to ever put her down again. When a woman enters the bathroom and starts having a shitfit over me being in there, though, I know it's time to leave.

That doesn't mean I'm letting Willow go anywhere.

"Will you come back to my place with me?" I whisper in her ear.

She bobs her head up and down. "O-okay."

The woman shoots me a nasty look as I pass by her, heading for the door with Willow in my arms.

"You're lucky I don't get the manager," she sneers with her hands on her hips. "It's so disrespectful for you to be in here."

"Oh, no, not the manager." I slip my arm underneath Willow's butt and hold her against me while I manoeuvre the door open.

"You little punk," the woman snaps. "What's your name so I can go report you?"

"It's go-fuck-yourself-and-leave-me-alone. I'm trying to help a friend," I retort back before stepping out and letting the door shut.

Willow chuckles with her face pressed against my shoulder. "That was kind of rude."

"No, what was rude was her making a big deal when it was clear I was in there helping out a friend who is having a really hard time." I make my way past the tables, disregarding the stares we get.

"Yeah, I guess you might be right." She lifts her head, her muscles tightening. "Maybe you should put me down. People are staring."

"Well, people need to mind their own business," I say loudly enough for everyone to hear then smile when some of them look away.

Willow rests her head on my shoulder with her face turned toward my neck. "You know, I'm always saying you're my hero, but you really do feel like one right now ... carrying me out of here like this. It seems very hero-ish."

"That's because I am secretly a hero. A superhero, actually." As I reach the front doors, I turn around and walk through backward.

When I step outside, I head for the crosswalk. Neither of us speaks, we only hold on to each other as I cross the road and hike across the grass toward the parking lot. When I reach my car, I open the passenger door with one hand then set her in the seat and place her bag on her lap. Keeping my eyes on her, I close the door then hurry around to the other side.

Once I get in and start up the engine, I back out of the parking space and steer out onto the road. The longer we drive in silence, the more I want to say something. But I'm not sure what to say, and honestly, I want her to talk first so I know she's ready to talk.

"She broke my snow globes," she says so abruptly I jump.

Gripp

ing the steering wheel, I let my heart settle before I speak. "Who did?"

She turns her head away from the window, her eyes glassy with tears. "My mom. When she asked me for money yesterday, she broke them ... all except the one you gave me, which was completely by accident, but I was still so glad." She rolls her eyes at herself and sighs. "I don't know why I just said that. Out of all the things I could've said, that's my opening line."

"I'm glad you told me." I reach over and lace our fingers together, hoping she doesn't pull away. "What I don't like is that she broke them. I know how much they meant to you."

She stares at our interlaced fingers. "They only meant something to me because my dad was gone and I thought I'd never see him again. Now that I have ... I'm kind of glad they broke." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling before lifting her gaze to mine. "How bad of a person does it make me that I want to forget my dad exists?"

I shake my head. "It doesn't make you a bad person at all. I want to forget my dad exists, and he didn't even walk out on me."

She angles her body toward the console. "Yeah, but he treats you so poorly. He doesn't even deserve to be in your life."

"And neither does your dad if you don't want him to," I tell her, skimming my thumb along the back of her hand. "You earned the right to hate him the second he bailed on you. You don't owe him anything, just like you don't owe your mom anything. The only person you do owe something to is yourself."

"I don't agree with you," she mutters. "I haven't done anything to deserve anything."

I think she's referring to that job again. When she told me about it, I wanted to track her mom down and scream at her for being a shitty parent and making Willow think she needed to do anything to take care of her, things that are causing her self-torment. And her dad isn't any better. He never should've left her to begin with. Although, after telling me about the creeper he chased off last night, I'm glad he decided to try to come back into Willow's life. But fuck, the fact that she was even in that situation makes me want to lock her up and keep her safe forever, even if that does make me sound like a controlling asshole.