Page 74 of Jay Bird

Jay Bird didn’t answer; instead, he pulled her closer, one hand settling firmly against the center of her back while his other arm stayed wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Willow could feel the tension in him, like it had been building for years and settled deep in his body, refusing to let go. Grief he had learned to live beside rather than through.

She held him without hesitation, not because she had the right words, but because she knew there weren’t any. Nothing she could say would ease the kind of loss he carried. So instead of trying to fix it or fill the silence, she just stayed with him, letting her presence be the only comfort she could offer.

Eventually his grip loosened slightly, and when Willow lifted her head, she found Jay Bird already looking at her.

There was more emotion in them than she had ever seen before. It was raw, and unprotected, like he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

Willow suddenly felt as though she were witnessing something very few people had ever been allowed to see.

She started to shift to stand up. “I should—”

His arm tightened around her waist. “Stay. Please.”

Those two words settled something inside her, and she slowly relaxed back against him. For a while, they just sat with her legs angled across his lap, and his arm around her waist.

Willow rested her head against his shoulder while the baby monitor sat quietly beside them.

After a while, Jay Bird spoke again.

“I think that’s why you and Lily have fucked with my head so much.”

Willow lifted her head.

“Jay, if Lily and me being here bothers you, just tell me. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable in your own home.”

Jay Bird’s expression tightened. “No. That’s not it.” His gaze held hers. “I like having you here, Willow. Both of you. More than I should.”

“What?”

He ran one of his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think I would ever want that kind of life again. I thought it would just be me and my job.” He smiled faintly. “Then Lily grabbed onto me outside that gym and decided I belonged to her.”

Willow smiled. “She can be persuasive.”

“That’s an understatement.” Then he looked at her. “And then there’s you.”

Her heart sped up. “What about me?”

His gaze held hers. “I think about you when I’m at work. I wonder if you’re okay. If you’ve eaten. If something scared you and I wasn’t there. I come home and see you in my kitchen, and it feels...” he paused. “Right. And that’s fucking terrifying.”

Willow laughed softly, though her eyes were filled to the brim with tears. “At least you’re honest.”

“With you, I’ll be honest.”

He shifted slightly, careful to keep her comfortable on his lap.

“I don’t want to scare you.”

“Strangely, you don’t.”

He shook his head. “I mean with this.” His fingers moved lightly against her side. “The feelings, or whatever this is.”

Willow stared at him. This was the moment she could have protected herself by pulling back, deflecting, and telling him she wasn’t ready. And part of her genuinely wasn’t ready. But another part of her, the one she had kept buried for three long years, was exhausted from pretending she didn’t want anything at all, just because wanting something had started to feel like a risk she wasn’t allowed to take.

“I talked to Mia about you today.”

Jay Bird’s eyebrows rose. “Should I be worried?”