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She squints at me, eyes still adjusting to the bright lights. “Oliver?” Her voice is still groggy from sleep. “What time is it?”
“Around two. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Why are you here?” Her question catches me off guard—I’m not wanted—and regret has me in a chokehold, closing off my airway and ability to speak.
I shouldn’t have come. Capricious hope laughs in my ear at how flat and disinterested she appears, not in the least bit happy to see me.
“Oliver?” She leans against the wall, clearly still half asleep and needing a bed or something to keep her up.
This I can do. In two quick strides, I’m at her side and hook an arm around her waist to bring her close. I prepare for the worst. For her to stiffen or pull away. She does neither.
Instead, she sinks into me, her head falling to rest against my collarbone. She turns her face into my chest.
She breathes me in as a tiny, contented sigh sails past her lips. “You smell so good.”
I chuckle in relief as warmth spreads through me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come without calling, but it was late and I?—”
“I’m happy to see you.” She flicks off the lights and takes my hand.
Trudging up the dark stairway to her bedroom, she pulls me along even though she needn’t. I’ll willingly follow. Gretzky and Jordan take up the rear, and my lips rise at the corners at our little quartet.
Perfection. Everything about this feels right. Like puzzle pieces finally snapping into place. Home. This is what I was missing, longing for, all those nights I lay awake in Eddie’s guest room.
Fatigue settles in, a bone-deep exhaustion, the culmination of too many sleepless nights, and I can’t wait to get into bed. I want nothing more than to pull Wren into my arms.
Slowly, my eyes adapt to the dark and I can make out her bedroom.
She doesn’t turn on any lights, drops my hand, and makes a beeline for the bed. “You’re staying the night.”
It’s more a statement than a question, her tone devoid of emotion. I don’t want to presume anything.
“If you’ll have me.”
She slides under the covers, mumbles “Sure,” yawns, and rolls over.
Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I’d hoped for some kind of affirmation that she wanted me with her. Always.
I shed my jeans and shirt. Like their mother, the dog and cat pay me no mind. Both snuggle into their respective cushioned beds on the floor at the foot of the bedframe as if I’m not even there.
Only in boxers, I slide in beside her and hesitate to do much else. Now what? I want to pull her close, yet I’m sensing a distance from Wren.
“You asleep?” Even as I ask the question, I know she isn’t. She lies beside me, back to me, her posture too taut to be asleep.
She rolls onto her back and then to face me. “What are you really doing here?” The skepticism in her voice is like a jab to the gut.
Tentatively, my knuckles glide along her cheekbone. “I miss you.”
She shivers and closes her eyes but doesn’t say anything similar. Until now, I never realized how desperately I wanted to hear her tell me the same. To know that we’re still in this together.
Her eyes stay closed, and she presses her lips together in a twist of anguish. Everything about her guts me.
“Wren, apart from the obvious, what’s wrong?”
Her eyes pop open and it’s too dark to make out their intensity, hot or cold. “Where do you want me to start? We might not get any sleep tonight.”
“I don't care about sleep. I care about you.” There’s more edge to my voice than I intend and she stiffens. I soften my voice and slide my hand to the side of her neck, resting it there on the warmth of her smooth skin. “Tell me what's wrong. This sucks, I know, but it feels like there’s something more going on.”
“Dot paid me a visit. She threatened to kill Bright Horizons if I didn’t stay away from you and keep my mouth shut. Said all it would take was for her to talk to her father.”
