Page 55 of Hating Wren


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“You three and your houses,” she murmured, turning away from me to take in the space that was now hers.

I’d left the backyard empty, knowing Wren would have her own opinions on where things should go, though I’d gotten the grass cut and removed a few of the dead trees to open up the space.

“We can put in the garden bed in the spring,” I told her, resting my chin on the top of her head. “Dev told me that was what you talked about when you toured. Except I do have one point of contention with your dream.”

Wren hummed, turning her head so she could meet my eyes with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re not going to live here as a sad, single lady everyone thinks is a witch. We’ll move in together, and you’ll live here with me. And we’ll be those women everyone thinks are witches - though really, I don’t think anyone is confusing you for a witch - who go all out on Halloween.”

Wren’s eyes filled with tears again, these less sad, and I took my time brushing them away from the corners of her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered, the words never failing to make my heart race, and I touched my lips to hers as I threaded my fingers through her hair.

“I love you too. So, what do you think? Do you like the house? Does it prove my affection for you? My love for you?”

We’d slowed down on our competition after the tattoos, recognizing there wasn’t a rush to prove our affection to one another. Plus, we remembered how ruthless competition could make us, memories of pool-pushing and apples being thrown at heads running through both of our minds.

Wren shook her head in disbelief, eyes wide as she looked up at me. “You didn’t have to prove your love,” she told me earnestly before smiling. “But if you were going to, this house would definitely be the way to do it.”

And because I couldn’t help myself, I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Told you I’d win, little bird.”

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