Maybe Cherise’s hand bobbed, or maybe her vision wobbled. Wren couldn’t tell.
“Because I made it past twenty-three,” she said as though this was obvious. Her words might have slurred, but she couldn’t be sure. Her tongue was definitely heavier.
“What?” Cherise squinted at her. “What does that mean?”
“Laurie was twenty-three when she died. My Uncle Lyle was twenty-three when he died,” she explained. “The day I turned twenty-four, I started the phoenix tattoo because I’d outlived them. It felt sort of like a big deal for my family… like we were coming out of the ashes.”
Cherise narrowed her eyes at Wren, but it seemed to happen in slow motion. “There’s more to it than that. I can tell when you’re holding back.”
Wren sighed. Even with three shots down, Cherise knew her too well.
“I knew then that what killed Laurie wasn’t going to kill me.”
“Heroin?” Cherise asked, frowning.
“Not heroin,” Wren said, shaking her head and losing her balance just a little. “Heroin was the instrument of her death, but it’s not what killed her. She couldn’t live with what happened to me… with what she allowed to happen to me.”
Cherise said nothing, but her gaze never faltered.
“For a while… for years, I wasn’t sure I could live with it, either. I wasn’t sure if it would take me too,” Wren said the words aloud for the first time. “That’s what the phoenix is about. It’s sort of a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let that shit kill me.”
Cherise’s hand shot forward and grabbed Wren’s. “You’d better not let that shit kill you, girl.”
Wren smiled at this, squeezing back at the hand that held hers. “I’m not planning on it.”
Cherise looked at her hard for a moment. “But you know what? It can kill you in different ways. If you let it steal something good that should be yours, you’re letting the shit win.”
Pulling her hand away, Wren flopped back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. The room tilted, so she picked her head up again. “Lee Hawthorne shouldn’t be mine.”
“Bullshit.”
“I might puke if I do another shot.”
Cherise rolled her eyes. “Lightweight. Fine. Just listen then. That guy is crazy about you. When I sat across from you two at Dwyer’s, his eyes were on you the whole time.” She leaned forward and grabbed Wren’s hand again. “The look on his face… it was like he was having the time of his life just eating breakfast with you.”
In spite of herself, Wren’s smile broke free. She’d seen that look. She’d felt its power. It had washed over her like a warm rain.
“And that look right there,” Cherise said, pointing in her face. “That’s what you looked like when I caught you staring at him. It was so cute, I almost barfed, and I want you to have that forever.”
Wren looked down at their hands. “I can’t. I’d always feel like I was ruined… like I carried a stain.”
“So clean it off,” Cherise whispered.
Wren felt her face fall. “I don’t know how.”
At that moment, her phone chimed.
Cherise reached for it, but Wren snatched it up just in time. “Um, mine, thank you.” She looked at the screen.
She shouldn’t have looked.
Lee:It’s humbling, you know? You disappear on me for a couple of hours, and I have no peace. I’m completely at your mercy. Please tell me you’re okay.
Guilt twisted in her heart. Lee would start a twenty-four-hour shift at 6:00 p.m. He really needed to be resting up for it. Ignoring him, she realized, was just selfish and cruel. She held her breath and typed.
Wren: I’m okay. With Cherise.
His response was immediate.
