Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Cole
The silence in the car feels louder than it should. Wendy sits in the passenger seat, her arms folded tightly across her chest, staring out the window like the world outside is more interesting than the two of us. Ethan sits in the back probably picking up on the tension, but he doesn't say anything.
I'm glad he doesn't. The guilt in my chest is already a weight, and her silence makes it heavier.
When we pull up to her apartment building, the feeling of unease I've had since leaving the ER twists into something sharper. The building is run-down, the kind of place that screams neglect. Flickering street lights barely illuminate the cracked pavement, and the faint smell of something burnt lingers in the air.
"This is where you live?" I ask, and the words come out all wrong—harsh, judgmental. I know it the second her head snaps toward me, her dark eyes blazing with fury.
"Yes," she bites out, her voice tight and clipped. "This is where I live. Got a problem with that, Cole?"
I raise my hands in surrender, but the damage is done. She's already fumbling with the door handle, muttering something under her breath that I can't make out but know isn't complimentary.
"It's not safe," I say, softer this time, but it doesn't seem to matter.
She slams the car door and strides toward the building as best she can with her limp. Ethan and I exchange a glance before we follow, but by the time we catch up, she's already at the front door, her hands shaking slightly as she wrestles with the lock.
"Wendy, we're not trying to—" Ethan starts, his tone calm and soothing, but she cuts him off.
"I don't need you to protect me," she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "I've been doing this on my own, for a long while, and I've managed to survive without two guys swooping in to save me."
When the lock finally clicks, she shoves the door open and steps inside. The stairwell smells like mildew and stale cigarettes, the light overhead flickers like it's on its last legs. Every step we take echoes, the sound bouncing off the chipped walls.
Her apartment is at the end of the hall, and when she opens the door, it's like stepping into a completely different world. The space is small, cramped even, but clean and filled with the little touches of warmth. A faded throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch. A framed photo of a much younger Wendy on a bookshelf.
And the cherry on the adorable cake?
A pitch-black kitten clutched in Wendy's embrace. The small creature is burrowing into her arms as if it could meld with Wendy.
"This is Scraps," she says, her voice softer now as she cuddles the baby cat. The little one meows loudly and bats at her hair, and for a moment, the anger in her eyes dims, replaced by something gentler.
It only lasts a second.
"She's the biggest reason I can't stay with you tonight," she continues, turning to face us with a determined tilt to her chin. "So thanks for the offer, but no thanks."
"Wendy, you can bring her with you," I say carefully. "You shouldn't be alone after?—"
"After what?" she interrupts, her voice rising. "After I got fired for trying to defend myself? After I got a bottle flung at me because some guy couldn't handle being told no? Believe me, Cole. I'll survive. I've been through worse."
Her words are like a slap, and I don't know what to say. Ethan steps forward, his hands outstretched in a gesture of peace.
"Wendy," he says gently, "we just want to make sure you're okay. That's all."
She shakes her head, cradling the kitten against her chest like it's a shield. "I don't need you to make sure I'm okay. I've been taking care of myself for years. For my whole life really. I don't need two rich guys coming in and acting like they can fix everything with a wave of credit cards."
Her words hit harder than I expect, and before I can stop myself, I blurt, "It's not judgment, Wendy. It's just—It's awe and an offer of help. I don't know how you do it. Not just living here, but working those kinds of jobs after spending a full day in the office. You need a break."
Her laugh is bitter, sharp. "A break? Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I chose this kind of life? My life has been hell since I can remember. And it only went even more downhill after your fucking brother cheated on me. After that I slowly started clawing my way up. So yeah Cole, I need a break. Life isn't fair though, and this is unfortunately my reality."
The mention of Callum feels like a slap. Guilt twists in my gut, and I take a step back, unsure of what to say.
"I—"
"Don't," she says, shaking her head. "Whatever you're about to say, just don't. I don't want an apology. I don't want excuses. I just want to get some sleep before I have to drag myself to work tomorrow."
"Wendy, you should take the day off," Ethan says, his voice quiet but firm.
Her laugh is hollow. "Take the day off? That's cute. Do you think I'm in the situation where I can afford something like that?"
There's nothing else to say. Not when she's looking at us like we're the villains in her story.
"Please," she says, her voice cracking. "Just go."
I want to argue. I need to stay and make her see we're not the bad guys here, but Ethan places a hand on my arm and gently steers me toward the door.
Outside, the cold air hits me like a bucket of ice water.
"Well," Ethan says, his voice low, "that could have gone better."
I lean against the car, staring up at her window. The faint glow of her lamp is still visible, and I wonder if she's sitting on that couch, holding that kitten, trying to hold herself together.
“I screwed up," I admit, the words tasting bitter.
"You didn't," Ethan says carefully as if he's worried he's going to spook me, which is just wrong all on its own.
I glance at him. "You don't think I should've done more back then? When Callum cheated on her?"
"I think you did what you could at the time," he responds, his words sure and confident. "But maybe, now, we have the chance to do more."
I exhale slowly, the weight in my chest easing just a little. "You honestly think we should go for it?"
Ethan smiles, his expression softening as he steps closer. "I do. Wendy's strong, Cole, but she's tired. And she's hurting. If anyone deserves someone to lean on, it's her. But I also think... she could be good for us. I want what my parents have. Someone who compliments us and especially completes us. She's that person."
I glance back up at the derelict apartment building. She's probably sitting on the couch, holding that kitten, the walls around her heart as solid as ever. But beneath them, I know there's something soft, something worth fighting for.
The guilt in my chest shifts, morphing into something closer to determination. "I don't want to push her," I say, turning back to Ethan. “She's been through too much. If we do this, we need to go slow."
Ethan nods, his hand finding mine in the cold night air. "Slow, then. We'll show her she's not alone. That she doesn't have to fight every battle by herself anymore."
I squeeze his hand, drawing strength from the steady warmth of his touch. "Yeah. Slow." My voice softens. "But I don't think she's going to make it easy."
Ethan chuckles, his laugh low and comforting. "When has anything worth it ever been easy?"
He's right. Wendy isn't just worth it—she's necessary. The ache in my chest tells me that much. She's already carved out a space in my mind, in my heart, without even trying. And if I have anything to say about it, she'll stay there.
As we climb into the car, I take one last look at her building. "We'll figure it out," I murmur, more to myself than to Ethan.
He smiles as he starts the engine, his voice steady and sure. "We will."
The drive back to our house is quiet, but the silence between us isn't heavy anymore. It's full of possibilities, plans waiting to be made. Wendy doesn't know it yet, but we're not giving up on her. She deserves more than the life she's had to claw her way through. She deserves laughter and warmth and stability.
She deserves all the good things. And we'll find a way to show her that, while also hoping she'll include us in those good things.