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“Maybe I will.” She smiled and glanced at my mouth. For a second I thought she might kiss me. Then her hand tightened around the strap of her bag and she sat back.

She wanted more from me too. I could see it, and I understood why she’d stopped herself. I’d hurt her in front of everyone we loved. The apology I’d given her at the boathouse was true, but it was only part of what I owed her. I still hadn’t told her how ashamed I was of the things I’d said while they all watched or that I’d played that video in the common room.

“What does better look like?” she asked.

“Keeping my eyes on you. Every second. I don’t want to miss a single part of your set. You don’t need me policing the customers, Wren. Best security in the business, remember?”

She caught Dion’s eye in the rearview mirror. “Yeah. They are.”

Dion grinned, and Wren smiled back at him. When she turned to me, though, she was still studying my face. “Do you actually want to be there, Seb? Or do you think you ought to be?”

“I want to see you dance. I thought that much was obvious.”

“It is.” Her knee touched mine again. “I wanted to hear you say it.”

Dion stopped outside Robin’s house. Wren said goodnight and went inside. The hall light came on behind her, then disappeared as she moved deeper into the house.

She didn’t look back. I watched until the door closed anyway.

Dion drove me back to the cottage without saying a word. He left the engine running while I got out.

“Night,” I said.

“Yeah.”

I was closing the door when he spoke again.

“That man was leaving before I reached the door,” Dion said. “You handled him from your chair.”

He drove away. I went inside thinking about Wren’s knee against mine.

Chapter 19

❧

— Wren —

Ileft Sparrow with Robin at nine thirty for some quality Uncle Robin time. When I told him I was going to see Seb, he looked at me for a moment, then took her from my arms. “We’ve got the morning. Go.”

I could have waited until Friday, when he’d see Sparrow anyway. But I hadn’t spent half the night awake because of Sparrow. I’d spent it remembering Seb’s face when I smiled at him from the stage, and the way he’d apologized for glaring at a man who’d said my name.

I parked outside the cottage and sat for a minute. Last night he’d asked if he could come again. I’d wanted to say yes. I’d nearly kissed him in Dion’s car. Then he’d called the one honest reaction I’d seen from him all night a slip.

Seb opened the door before I knocked twice. “I’ve been up since five. I know what I got wrong—”

“Good morning to you too.”

He stepped back. “Sorry. Come in.”

The kettle went on. I sat at the kitchen table while he stood beside it, watching me. He’d been here nine weeks. His bed was still in the front room, and fourteen boxes of my things filled one of the bedrooms. He hadn’t made himself a home.

“What are we doing, Seb?”

“Sparrow comes first. I’m here for her.”

“I know you are. Is that all?”

He gripped the edge of the counter. “No.”