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I shook my head, thinking I heard wrong. “What?”
I stepped toward her, but that seemed to cause more panic. She turned to run again, but there was nowhere to go. The ground seemed to drop out from under me as she grabbed one of the metal crossbeams and pulled herself up onto the railing of the bridge. She teetered, and I froze, calling her name.
She looked down at me, hugging the metal beam with both arms. Her hair whipped around her face in the wind.
“This isn’t funny, Wren. Get down.”
She shook her head and as she did so, one of her feet slipped. Someone nearby screamed as Wren lost her balance and tipped over the edge.
I barreled forward as fast as I could, catching her around the waist before she fell into the water. I heaved her over the railing, and we both crashed down to the safety of the bridge’s solid, wooden planks.
I held her tight to me as I caught my breath, the adrenaline pumping through me. Her body trembled in my arms as she cried. “Are you hurt?” I breathed in her ear, too shocked to loosen my grip on her and check her out myself.
She nodded, her face pressed against my chest. “Yes. Yes I am.”
The adrenaline spiked again, sending panic through my veins. “What hurts?”
“My heart,” she cried. “Atlas, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“That you already had a girlfriend!”
I paused as her words sank in. But they didn’t make any sense, even when I thought them over. “What are you talking about?”
Wren stiffened. “Liv. Why didn’t you tell me you were with her?”
I loosened my grip and gently coaxed her face from against my chest, lifting her gaze to mine. Her eyes were swollen and unfocused. She definitely had too much to drink tonight. I searched her body quickly, relieved that she hadn’t been talking about physical hurt.
“Wren,” I said firmly, my eyes on hers. “Who told you Liv was my girlfriend?”
“She did. At the restaurant this afternoon.” She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “She’s really awful. But she’s so pretty.”
I cursed, anger igniting. I glanced around us. A crowd was watching us now. We needed to go.
“She lied then. She’s not my girlfriend.”
Wren stilled, her glassy, red-rimmed eyes looking at me blankly. “What?”
“We went on a few dates. But she’s not my girlfriend. She never was my girlfriend.”
Her mouth fell open. “She’s not?”
I shook my head. “No.” I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in her scent that was still sweet and fresh under the stink of alcohol. “Are you telling me you almost jumped off a damn bridge because you thought I already had a girlfriend?” The thought was asinine, but for some reason my lip tipped up.
Wren hiccupped. “I wasn’t trying to jump,” she said softly. “I was trying to get away from you.”
I wrapped my arms around her again, this time getting my legs up under me and standing with her cradled against me. She gripped my neck tentatively, as if she wasn’t sure.
“You reckless, reckless girl,” I whispered in her ear. She shuddered in my arms as I walked back to my truck.
“Atlas,” she said, her voice muffled from where she had her face pressed against my shoulder.
“Hmm?”
“I wasn’t trying to jump.”
I rubbed a hand up and down her back. “I know, starlight.”
Her body relaxed at the sound of her special nickname. But there was a sense of discomfort in my gut. The fear when I thought she’d once again tumble to her demise was crippling.
Loving Wren was like loving a firecracker: unpredictable, hot, full of light…but dangerous.
