The candle flame is low, and shadows are cast across the ceiling. I think about the Halls, about all the Christmases our families spent together. Dad and Mr. Hall working the grill even in the rain, both pretending they weren’t secretly competing to see who could keep the fire going longer. Mom and Mrs. Hall gossiping in the kitchen, laughing over eggnog that only they liked. And the kids—me chasing Nick through the backyard while Wren hung back, watching us with a look I never understood until now.
She’s always been there, in the background of my memories. Now? Front and center.
I glance at the dress again. Tomorrow night, both of our families will be there, the same as always. Traditions, small talk, and food will own us. Except now, when I walk through that door, I’ll seeher.
Part of me wants to cancel. Fake a migraine and save myself the complication.
But the other part? The one that wonders if I don’t have to leave town to have a brand-new adventure? That part wants to see Wren’s reaction when she realizes I showed up, anyway.
I want to see if she still looks at me the way she did in that truck, like she knew me in ways no one else in this town has,including her own brother. Like her ability to observe and notice things extends to my body and mind. My fingers tingle where hers had brushed mine. The memory jolts me back awake.
I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes, pretending I can fall asleep. But sleep doesn’t come easily. Everything is warm inside of me. Every breath is a little heavier than the last. My mind keeps looping the same memory—the heat of her touch, the press of her body against mine, the sound of rain hitting the windshield, the taste of coffee and bad pie on her tongue, and the low, ragged blow of her breath when I touched her. The way her hair had fallen into her eyes, framing a face that I had never stopped staring at so intensely before. The feeling of being seen, finally.
It’s been years since anyone made me feel like that. Since anyone made me feel like I mattered in ways that couldn’t be measured by how well I do my job or pay my damn taxes. And now it’s Wren paying so much attention to me. A woman. Until now, I haven’t even really faced the fact that I’ve never properlybeenwith a woman before. Only Nick and my high school boyfriend, despite my intense, internal yearning for a woman like Wren. I know that now. The posters on my bedroom wall, the music I listened to, and the women I paid the most attention to in movies suddenly make much more sense. Damnit! Somebody wants me!
I shift beneath the blanket, my thighs pressed together because I don’t trust myself otherwise. But it doesn’t help. My body remembers the brush of her touch against my skin, the friction of our legs in her truck, and the way I’d felt her lean against me, asking without words formore. That memory wraps around me like a warmer top blanket, coercing my chin up as if some invisible ghost is about to kiss me. I close my eyes and pretend. I swear the one kissing me doesn’t have a face, no form, and certainly no gender. My hands twitch, hoping to explore thespace between my legs, but I clamp them together. My blanket is the only thing I touch.
I imagine Wren tomorrow, across the dining room, maybe trying to get in good with my parents. Maybe she’ll glance up at me and catch me watching her. Naturally, excitement takes me over, because why wouldn’t I want that? Why wouldn’t I want her to know that I’ve been thinking about her since the moment I left the diner?
My chest is insanely heavy, and I realize that I’m holding my breath. I lean back against the headboard, walking my fingers across the sheet, imagining it’s Wren’s hand. I want her to reach for me. Lean in, brush my hair back, press her lips to mine, and make the world shrink even smaller than what I feel outside my front door. I want to fold every “big” part of me I’ve carried into something tangible, and I want her to receive it.
Every rational part of me screams that I should stop. That I’ve never even kissed a woman before today, and that small-town eyes and my own careful life have kept me in check. But my body betrays me, throbbing with anticipation. My thighs tense again. What the hell am I even supposed to do to feel normal?
I imagine the feel of her hair against my skin and the weight of her falling against me as if she can’t hold herself back anymore. And in that moment, the ache becomes nearly unbearable. You’d think I have never fantasized about someone before. You’d think I’d be old hat at this by now. That I’d be over the embarrassment of conjuring the perfect partner to go to bed with me and make me feel like the center of the universe.
I breathe out the largest exhale of my life and tuck the blanket closer around me.Tomorrow, I tell myself. I’ll keep my distance. I’ll smile, nod… be polite, I’ll be normal. I’ll navigate the Hall family’s expectations, my own pride, and my family’s rules. I’ll sit across from Wren and hope, secretly, that she notices the way my hands hover a little too long over the edge of the table, andthat she senses the way my heart rate spikes every time our eyes meet.
But even as I think it, my body betrays me again, desire spreading and sending a shiver down my spine. My fingers curl into the sheet, nails pressing lightly into fabric, and I realize that this craving is something I’ve carried for years, buried under the careful image of who I thought I was supposed to be. And now it’s awake. Damnit, it’s like someone—not me, totally not me—has hit it with a baseball bat and I’ll never be the same again.
Tomorrow, everything will change. It’s like a new school year, but this time, instead of the kids moving on to the next grade at the end of spring, I can live the same ups and downs year in, year out. Assuming there’s any kind of future remaining with the Hall family. Because, you know, I thought I had moved on, despite being invited to the party. Yet here is another chance to get entwined with the Halls—the family of the illustrious Nicholas Hall, attorney at large and potential future senator.
Oh, and of Wren Hall, who knows how to put a bike together.
Suddenly, I can’t wait for tomorrow.
Chapter 4
Wren
My childhood home reeks of furniture polish. Same as it did when I was a kid, running in with wet boots and getting yelled at for tracking mud through the kitchen. The walls are that familiar shade of pale yellow my mom refuses to repaint, and the living room still hosts one of those brown entertainment centers that showed you had certainstatusin the ‘90s. You know, a place for all of your VHS tapes and, later on, a DVD player to go with your PlayStation. Never mind that it was bought before my brother and I were even born in the late ‘90s. Or that my parents have since invested in a huge leather sectional that requires the flat-screen TV to be mounted on the wall. Over the years, we’ve taken the entertainment center apart to make room for modern amenities.
It’s not a bad house. Two stories, a slanted roof, and a porch that could use new outdoor furniture. Back when Dad was haler, he built a deck out back for barbecues that only occasionallyhappened outside of Father’s Day. The siding could use a good power wash, and the baseboard heaters clank when the wind smacks against the house, but it’s home. Or itwas.
Now it just feels… old.
“Wren, honey?” Mom’s voice floats in from the kitchen. “Still take sugar in your tea?”
I shrug off my boots, rubbing my hands together for warmth. “Yeah. Two spoons.”
She’s already pouring it when I step in. Heather Hall moves like someone who never stopped being a mother. Hair pulled back, glasses sliding down her nose, and still in her work clothes, though it’s well past dinner. She sets a mug in front of me and pats my arm before turning back to the sink.
“Thank you for coming tomorrow,” she says. “I know it means a lot to your brother.”
“Sure,” I say, taking a sip. The tea is strong and sweet. Only when the sugar fully dissolves do I recognize lavender Earl Grey. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Well, that’s a lie.
“Nick’s been so busy lately,” she continues, rinsing out a casserole dish. “All that travel for work. I swear, I hardly see him anymore. He said he might be up for that promotion next year. The firm’s really impressed with him.”
