AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter8
Bex
This was a fucking terrible idea.If Alex had asked what I was thinking when I fought Dev for the right to protect Wren, I wouldn’t have had an answer. Only that Dev’s casual touches - platonic as they were - and reassurances toward Wren when they first arrived atIn Bloomhad put me off-balance. I had enjoyed forcing Wren to reconcile her attraction toward me with the anger she still felt after our fight at the house, especially since our interaction also served to scare away that woman who wouldn’t even fight for a claim on Wren.
So the idea of Dev making a claim, taking over the job Alex assigned me and taking my place next to Wren, felt like needles pricking my brain. My rejection of his offer hadn’t even been conscious, just a knee-jerk reaction to competition for a job that I considered asmine.
Once my brain caught up with my gut reactions, I wasn’t unhappy with my decision. It made sense, having someone move in with her for protection. We had no idea how long the person who targeted Wren had been watching her, waiting for their moment to strike. They knew where she worked, which meant they could know anything about her: where she lived, where she liked to eat, her favorite places to shop.
So she needed full-time security, and considering Dev was busy with his own mission, I was the obvious choice. Besides, forcing Wren to spend time with me, time where she couldn’t ignore me for her own safety, seemed perfect. That time would give me plenty of opportunity to continue the games we’d been playing.
Only as I stood in the doorway of Wren’s apartment, a duffel bag in hand with enough clothes to last me the week, I realized I would have to up my game.
Flowers spread on every surface in varying stages of bloom, some in vases and others planted in flower pots of assorted colors and shapes and sizes. Their fragrance suffused the small space, the familiar smell all too reminiscent of Wren’s scent.
I’d done hours of research on Wren when I first met her, needing to check out the people who were now my sister’s second family. Though I’d done the same with Alex and Dev - less successfully, considering they both knew how to cover their tracks - I looked into Wren’s life specifically because of how she dug under my skin. But knowing her passcodes for every internet account she’d ever created, her favorite products and most-listened to artists, her bra size and favorite place to shop online, her social security number, all that meant nothing. Because nothing had prepared me for this.
“Your couch is pink,” I pointed out the obvious, the words slipping from my lips before I could rein them in. It was a rose pink monstrosity, with fluffy white pillows and a matching, faux-fur throw.
“Yes,” Wren agreed, eyes on her feet as she slipped off her shoes and tucked them into a rack alongside a dozen pairs of equally bright shoes. I followed suit, placing my boots in an empty space, something about seeing my larger, black boots sitting next to a pair of small pink flats fucking with my head.
The whole apartment fucked with my head, the colors and smells overwhelming my senses until all I could see and smell was Wren. I tried to get my bearings, thinking up some sort of biting comment to put Wren in her place, but she already was in her place. The pink couch, the lavender walls, and the gold accent pieces all screamedWren, as did the clearly-DIY’d large textured art piece taking up the back wall. I knew she had made it herself because Dev had taken her to buy the supplies for it one afternoon, dropping out of a meeting early to meet her at the hardware store.
She stood next to me as we took in her apartment together, no jokes, no attempts at flirting. Just standing, shoulders tight as if preparing for the impact of the jab she knew I was formulating in my head. I thought of a few, the comments coming to mind easily as I took in the space:Did you hire a preschooler as your interior designer? How many unicorns did you have to skin for that couch?But instead, I said what would fuck with her the most: nothing.
* * *
I spentthe rest of the night installing yet another security system, having picked up the equipment along with my clothes. It was similar to the one at the shop but slightly more secure, since we’d be asleep and unaware most of the time we were here. Wren stayed up with me, sitting in the living room binge-watching some K-drama about a trio of high school students that continually distracted me. I kept expecting the three to form a throuple, but when it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, I grew bored, moving toward the rest of the apartment.
The installation itself didn’t take that much time, but I was continually distracted by all thethingsstrewn about Wren’s apartment. Considering I’d lived with half a dozen friends and partners within the last year, I never had much interest in clutter. Everything I owned lived in a few duffel bags and a backpack. It made moving in and out quick, and moving on even easier.
But it would take Wren days to move, along with a handful of movers to carry the furniture I knew her arms wouldn’t be able to lift. She had flower pots on every surface, plus a dozen vases holding cut stems and a variety of other trinkets. She had a walk-in closet filled with clothes, along with a couple dressers stuffed so full they didn’t close.
I spent my time looking through each drawer, taking stock of her cute socks with little animals and a drawer full of ribbons for her hair. I found her stash of lingerie, pleased when I realized they were shoved to the back of the drawer, likely because she hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a while. Then I grabbed the skimpiest pair and shoved them in my pocket, just because I could.
Her bedroom wall was covered in photos, some newer while others were faded from age. There were a few framed pictures of her and an older couple that I knew from my recon were her parents, younger Wren standing alone in a graduation cap, hair cut to her chin in a way that made her look younger. But most of the wall of pictures were of Alex, Dev, and Ames.
Alex bending Ames backward as he kissed her in the kitchen of their house, Dev flexing his muscles while he winked at the photographer (Wren if his amused smile was any indicator), Ames and Wren grinning as they floated in the pool, Alex smiling softly at Wren while she hugged him around his waist.
Then, toward the bottom of the wall, there was a picture of me. It was a candid, taken at Wren’s birthday party over a month ago. The three of us girls stood in a loose circle in the kitchen of Ames’s house, just before Wren’s birthday present was revealed. Ames’s back was to the camera, but I was smiling at her, one of the few people who could make me grin so broadly. And Wren stood at my side, looking at me with that same look she always gave, the one she thought she hid quick enough for me not to notice. The look of hope, of lust and friendship and maybe something more, the one that she gave me when I ate her tears and dressed her in my clothes. The look that made me feel that same off-balance feeling from earlier today, that made me feel like doing something reckless.
* * *
I wokeup late the next morning, staying up well into the night to keep an eye on Wren until she finally turned off the tv and went to bed. I tossed and turned for another hour, double-checking the security system and trying to block out the floral scents that kept inching their way under the guest room door. My bedroom shared a wall with Wren’s, so close that I could almost hear her soft breaths, and I fell asleep imagining the sound of them.
The next morning, I left the bedroom still in my pajamas, pulling my sleep-tangled hair into a ponytail as I stopped at the end of the hallway. Wren stood in the kitchen wearing a frilly pink apron with ruffles around the shoulders and hem, the fabric splattered with what I assumed was flour. She looked like some kind of housewife, if you failed to notice the phrase written in dainty cursive across her chest -Fuck the Cook. I ignored the images that the apron brought to mind, sitting at the counter where Wren had clearly been waiting for my arrival.
I looked around the kitchen, which was spotless despite the flour dusting Wren’s apron and the tips of her hair. She must’ve woken up early if she had time to make some kind of breakfast - likely pancakes, if the flour residue and the sweet, doughy smell lingering in the kitchen was any indication - and I made a mental note to set an alarm for tomorrow morning.
I didn’t have a lot of experience, but waking up at the same time as your charge was likely a big part of bodyguard duty. I resolved to swallow my pride and text Dev for any pointers later that day, pushing the thought aside as Wren opened the oven and arranged something on a plate.
I wasn’t surprised when I saw the stack of pancakes, but I was caught off guard when she pushed them in my direction, smiling shyly as she glanced up at me under her lashes.
She passed me a fork, and I took my time cutting into them and taking the first bite, staying silent. It was a mini version of our game from yesterday, though I wasn’t sure if Wren picked up on it, eyes too focused on my mouth as I chewed and swallowed. But even if she wasn’t aware of my games, it was an easy way to fuck with her, something I’d picked up from Alex, who used silence to his advantage with such success that I’d adopted it for myself. I took a second bite, Wren’s eyes brightening when she realized I like them.
“I asked Ames what kind of pancakes you like,” she admitted, gesturing toward the blueberries sitting next to her, “She said you don’t like chocolate so I made them with blueberries instead.”
I stayed quiet again, counting in my head as I waited for her to fill the empty air.One…two…three…four…
