Wildwood Hearts

  Wildwood Meadows

  Book 1

  Haven Fox

  Haven Fox Books

  Contents

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Copyright © by Haven Fox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited.

  About the Author

  Haven Fox writes romance novels featuring alpha men, strong female protagonists, and loyal friends. All of her books are available through Kindle Unlimited.

  Things I Love: breaking grammar rules, the em dash, strong heroes, and the f word

  Please don’t forget to leave a review after reading. Each one makes a huge difference!

  You can find me on social media in all the normal places & join me there. I love to chat with my readers.

  My current book catalog:

  Wildwood Meadows (small town romance + suspense)

  Wildwood Hearts | Wildwood Secrets | Wildwood Wishes |

  The Commission Novel Series (mafia)

  Maxim’s Promise | Conall’s Reign | Angelo’s Vengeance | Belonging to Ilias

  Iron Brotherhood Motorcycle Club (MC + Bratva)

  Saving Helena | Sheltering Hollis | Pike’s Redemption | Claiming Veronica

  Join Haven’s Newsletter List for exclusive news: HERE

  Prologue

  Easton

  The summer before I left Wildwood Meadows, the heat came early.

  The kind that made the air heavy and the sawdust stick to your skin. Levi Holt always said you could tell what kind of man you were by how you handled summer work. “If you can sweat through a July afternoon and still be decent company, you’ll make it just fine,” he’d told me once, handing me a hammer.

  We were building a porch that day for one of the neighbors off County Road 9. The kind of job Levi liked — nothing fancy, just honest work. He’d driven us out in his old blue truck, radio singing some old Merle Haggard tune, the bed full of lumber and tools that rattled when you drove over the bumps. I remember thinking how steady he looked behind the wheel. Levi was unlike anyone I’d ever known, with a calmness that made me want to be that kind of man someday. He worked hard, not caring if it meant blisters and sunburns.

  “Don’t cut corners,” he said, measuring a board. “A man’s work is what stays when he’s gone. Might as well do it right.”

  I’d rolled my eyes, fifteen and too full of pride. “You sound like a damn fortune cookie, Levi.”

  He laughed, deep and easy. “That right there’s your problem, Easton. You’re in too big a hurry to be older than you are.”

  I sank the nail anyway, to prove I could do it just the way he’d shown me.

  When the last board was laid, we sat side by side on the new steps, the smell of cedar thick in the air, our boots dusted with sawdust. Levi handed me a bottle of root beer from the cooler, cold and sweating in the heat. “You’re good at this,” he said. “Building things. You could make something of it if you want.”

  “Yeah?” I tried to sound indifferent, but my chest had gone tight. No one but Levi Holt had ever told me I could be something before.

  “Yeah,” he said again. “You’ve got hands that know how to make something stay standing.” He paused, looking out over the fields. “That’s a gift, son. Don’t waste it.”

  I didn’t know then that it would stick in my head for years. It would echo every time I picked up a hammer, every time I tore something down or built something up again.

  By the time I graduated, I’d packed up and left Wildwood Meadows, thinking I’d build something bigger somewhere else. I told myself I’d be back for the following summer. I was, once or twice. Then life got away from me. Work. Distance. Pride. I’d wanted to build something for myself to prove I could.

  And one day, Levi Holt was gone. An accident. Just like that.

  The sound of the phone call still lives somewhere in the back of my skull — Wade’s voice, tight and brittle, saying words that didn’t make sense at first. After that, I stopped coming home. I figured maybe the hurt would fade if I stayed gone long enough.

  But grief doesn’t fade. It waits. It builds, like pressure behind a wall you never fixed right.

  1

  Easton: Present

  At the top of the ridge, the Holt farmhouse came into view—weathered but proud. The white paint could use a coat, and the porch boards sagged in places, but the rocking chairs still waited, the barn roof gleaming behind it. Time had left its fingerprints, but the place looked more alive than anywhere I’d lived since.

  Before Maggie and Levi, home had been a string of foster homes, mattresses shared with kids whose names I didn’t remember. Before that, a father who bailed and a mother who overdosed. The Holts’ was the first roof that felt like it might actually stay over my head.

  I parked in the gravel driveway, killed the engine, and let the silence stretch. The fields were damp and green from spring rain. Memories of Levi hit me hard: his laugh, his calloused hands teaching me to square a frame or sand a board smooth. He was the one who told me I was good at building things. Thinking of him still made my throat tighten.

  The porch creaked under my boots. Through the screen door came the smell of coffee and something baking. Hopefully, Maggie wasn’t up on her feet, but knowing her, she probably was.

  Voices drifted from inside. The Holts were all here, minus Delphina. My stomach twisted. It had been a long time since I’d walked through that door.

  “East!” Sage launched herself from a chair, smile bright enough to burn through the tension. I caught her and squeezed, the familiar calm she carried wrapping around me.

  “Hey there.”

  “Let me have a turn.” Kipp clapped me on the back, his game warden uniform smelling faintly of pine. “Good to see you, brother.”

  “Geez, take it easy. I’m gonna bruise,” I muttered, but my grin was half-hearted. Everywhere I looked were photos of Levi, and grief pressed down again, heavier for the years I’d tried to outrun it.

  Wade leaned against the counter, his police uniform shirt buttoned tight even off-duty. He gave me a nod. Chloe crossed over to kiss my cheek, already fussing.

  “You look tired,” she said. “Long drive?”

  “Something like that.”

  “How’s Maggie?”

  “She’s sleeping.” Chloe poured me a glass of sweet tea and slid it over as Kipp dropped onto the stool beside me.

  “The doctor says the break was bad,” Kipp said. “She might have a limp.”

  The words thudded in my chest. When Wade called, I’d imagined the worst. Maggie had been cleaning gutters alone before a storm, fallen, and broken her tibia badly enough that she’d had to crawl to a phone. The image still made me sick.

  We’d all been off living our lives while she’d been here, getting older, doing too much alone. I’d been avoiding her (and avoiding the memories). Now she was paying for my absence.

  “She’s strong,” Chloe said. “Eight to twelve weeks recovery. We just have to keep her off her feet.”

  Wade grabbed a notepad from the junk drawer. “We’ll make a schedule. I’ll take what shifts I can, but⁠—”

  “I can be here,” I cut in. “My jobs are flexible.”

  We mapped out time slots: Sage between the flower store she had in town, Chloe between nursing shifts, and Kipp taking time off. Somehow, it almost felt like the old days, everyone pulling together.

  Then came a thump in the hallway.

  “Mom,” Chloe
scolded as Maggie appeared, maneuvering her crutches like she was marching into battle. “You should’ve waited for help.”

  “Got to move or lose it,” Maggie said, ignoring her.

  “East.” Her face softened when she saw me. “You here to sign my cast?”

  I eased her into the recliner, my chest tight. She looked smaller than I remembered, but her eyes were bright.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. “Looks like they’ve already been decorating.”

  “They’ve done some artwork,” she teased, pride lacing her voice. “Now don’t fuss over me. Chloe’s got me all set up. I’ll be fine.”

  Sage handed her a plate with a cinnamon roll the size of my fist. The smell hit me first—warm, buttery, sweet enough to knock me sideways.

  “That’s one of Lila’s,” Maggie said, catching me looking. “You can have half.”

  I didn’t argue. It was the best damn thing I’d tasted in years.

  “Who’s Lila?” I asked, licking glaze from my thumb.

  “You remember Nora Merrick’s shop downtown?” Wade said.

  I nodded. The bookstore-coffee hybrid had been a haven when I was a kid—quiet, full of paperbacks and the smell of coffee.

  “When Nora passed, her granddaughter took over,” Chloe said. “Lila. She added a bakery case. Her cinnamon rolls are famous now.”

  Sage nudged me with a grin. “You’ll love it. She’s across from my shop, and customers fight over whatever she drops off.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” I muttered, though my curiosity sparked. I couldn’t place her face, but the name tugged at something.

  “She’s good for this town,” Maggie said. “People need a place to sit and talk. She makes it feel like home.”

  That word. Home, landed hard. It always did. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from it or reach for it.

  The evening blurred into family chatter. Wade worked out duty shifts. Chloe fussed over meds. Kipp disappeared, and Sage hummed while clearing dishes. Eventually, the house quieted until only the crackle of the fire and Maggie’s slow breathing filled the air.

  “East,” she said softly. “I’m glad you’re home.”

  My throat burned. “Didn’t mean to stay gone so long.”

  Her hand found mine. “You were never a burden, East. Not for a second.”

  That did me in. I bent and pressed my forehead to her hand. “I’ll be here, Mags. However long you need.”

  She smiled, eyes closing, already half-asleep. I got her to bed and sat for a while, listening to the house settle around us—the same old bones holding steady.

  When I finally moved to the kitchen, the plate from her cinnamon roll still sat on the counter, sugar crystals glinting in the lamplight.

  Maybe tomorrow I’d stop by Lila Merrick’s shop. Just for a cinnamon roll. Just for a bit of sweetness to cut through the rest.

  2

  Easton

  Chapter & Crumb was nothing like I remembered.

  For one, an idiot in an inflatable dinosaur costume was running wild in the back of the shop, stomping around like its tail was on fire.

  For another, I’d slept like absolute dog crap, but Maggie wanted me to come down for some rolls. I could never say no to her (or to a roll).

  I almost turned right around and walked right out, but the smell of cinnamon and sugar was too tempting to pass up. Howls of laughter erupted from a table of people on the bookstore side. All of them looked like they were pushing seventy-five and loving every second of this nonsense.

  “It’s a hoot and a half, right?” the girl behind the counter said with a grin. She had hot pink streaks in her hair and an expression that suggested I was supposed to find this funny. “I’m going to get one of those suits to scare my boyfriend.”

  The T-Rex mock-roared, tiny arms flailing, bouncing around the table like it was playing some prehistoric version of duck-duck-goose. I frowned. “Is that a good idea? Scaring people like that?”

  Her brows knit in confusion, as if I were the one being an idiot. “What do you mean? Scaring them? They’re having a great time.” Her eyes narrowed at me.

  Sure enough, the dinosaur lunged at another woman, who shrieked and clapped like it was the highlight of her week.

  “Looks like someone could have a heart attack with that person jumping around like that,” I muttered, trying not to sound like I didn’t have a stick up my ass and failing miserably.

  “Not even close. It’s reveal day for book club.” The counter girl leaned forward, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Lila always cooks up something fun to match the book. This month, it’s going to be Jurassic Park.” Her eyes glittered in amusement as she looked back at the dinosaur prancing our way, tripping down the steps before righting itself.

  Whoever was inside the costume was obviously having technical difficulties due to the suit’s unwieldy nature.

  Of course, it was coming over here.

  The T-Rex pranced closer, wobbling on the steps.

  “Anyway,” I said quickly, wanting out before the Jurassic clown show reached me. “Can I get two cinnamon rolls to go?” I shoved a twenty on the counter, as if it might speed things up.

  “Sure thing.” She was already half-laughing at me, not even pretending otherwise. Snorting a little as she tried to cover up how hilarious she thought I was being, which just made me crankier, as if other customers might not find the whole thing irritating.

  “Mia! Can you get the zipper? I need a new suit—this one’s on its last arm.” The dinosaur waggled one pitiful arm in my direction, the entire inflated body jiggling. “Sorry! This’ll take a sec. I’m dying in here.” The muffled feminine voice that came from inside the suit surprised me.

  “Sure,” Pink Streaks said. “Sorry.” She gave me what might pass as an apologetic look, but she was very obviously not sorry. “Lila, can you grab the fan?” she asked the person in the suit (Lila, I assumed).

  The dinosaur twisted and wobbled dangerously. “Oh! Oh no!” came a muffled squeak as they tipped and stumbled.

  I groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Against my better judgment, I lunged forward just as the oversized lizard tipped backward toward a coffee table and plant stand. I managed to catch an armful of squeaking, flailing plastic dinosaur, but there was no saving the inevitable.

  We went down in a heap, the air wheezing out of the suit as we hit the floor with a thud. The table missed us by inches. The plant stand didn’t.

  “Wrangle that T-Rex, young man!” one of the women hollered from the peanut gallery.

  The shop erupted in chaos as the deflating dino rolled, wriggling like a fish. I had no choice but to hang on until someone finally unzipped it.

  And then… like some ridiculous magic trick, a woman suddenly appeared from the collapsing suit, and my dick immediately hardened as a curvy brunette emerged. Brown curls tumbled free, and hazel-green eyes lit with laughter. “Sorry, sorry!” she gasped, brushing hair from her face. Then, grinning at the crowd, “Jurassic Park, this month, everyone. Ta Da!”

  One of the women crowed. “Janice, get the books!”

  So this was Lila Merrick, Nora’s granddaughter. She shed the last of the suit and looked straight at me. “Thanks for catching me, handsome.” Her smile was bright, genuine, and infectious.

  And then her gaze swept over me, still sitting on the floor, one hand steadying the toppled plant. Her mouth curved. “Oops. Sorry, I landed on you. You okay?”

  “I didn’t fall. You pushed me,” I deadpanned, because apparently sarcasm was my survival instinct.

  Her smile vanished like I’d slapped it off. “Right,” she snapped. “Because I begged you to throw yourself across the room and rescue me.”

  Hands went to hips. She somehow looked prettier when she was pissed off, which was annoying. It made me want to dive between those thighs even more.

  I hauled myself to my feet, righted the plant, and brushed off my hands. “I just want my cinnamon rolls. Then I’ll get off this ride, and you can get back to your circus.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Mia. Get this jackwipe his rolls. If there are any left. Maybe we’re out.” She stuck her tongue out at me like she was twelve years old.