Chapter 22 Wren
Twenty-Two
Wren
As soon as Tate and Lili slip into the back room, a heavy silence settles over Eryn and me. It feels palpable, like an invisible
wall between us. The hum of the museum’s air conditioner fills the space, but it only amplifies the tension.
“Did you have to call out at the café?” I ask, my voice low, not wanting to disturb the fragile stillness.
Eryn adjusts the strap of her bag, glancing briefly at the clock on the wall. “I asked Elliot to cover for me. He didn’t mind.”
Right, the new guy she’s been talking about. “That was nice of him.”
A small smile touches her lips, and I can’t be sure if it’s for me or him. “I told him I’d help him perfect his bear claw
recipe on Wednesday.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “I figured you wouldn’t mind since you and Lili were going to
be here working.”
So on our only mutual day off, Eryn and I will each be with other people. And for some reason we’re both pretending that’s
fine.
I start trying to flip the scenario in my head. What if it were the other way around? What if Eryn had spent the night with Elliot, had fallen asleep with his arms around her?
Would I be angry? Hurt?
I honestly don’t know.
“Eryn?” I say her name softly. She hesitates before meeting my gaze. “Are we okay?”
Her brows knit together. “Why wouldn’t we be?” But it feels forced, as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as
me.
I sigh, my shoulders tensing. “I don’t know. Doesn’t something feel . . . off?”
She smiles, but it’s shallow, not reaching her eyes. “I think we’ve just been busy. We’re fine.”
The words fall flat between us. I shake my head slowly. “I’m going to tell Lili I can’t help her anymore.” My throat tightens
around what feels like a confession. I haven’t been much help to her anyway, and last night only proved how much more drawn
to her I’ve become—too much for comfort.
Eryn’s smile falters for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face, before she straightens. “I think you’re
overreacting. Don’t you enjoy having someone to geek out over history with?”
I do. More than I should. “Yes, but—”
“Then don’t quit.” Her voice is firmer now. “We’ll figure it out, we always do.”
But we won’t talk about it.
That used to feel like a relief, a reprieve from the constant probing questions everyone else threw my way after the accident.
Being with Eryn meant I didn’t have to explain, didn’t have to relive every painful moment.
She never asked about physical therapy or what it was like to wake up in a body that no longer felt like mine.
She didn’t push me to talk to my dad when our visions for the museum clashed—she probably didn’t even know.
She’s aware that my mom left when I was little, but nothing like what I told Lili last night.
And I’m no better when it comes to her life. I don’t know why I sometimes see her waiting tables at the café instead of being
full-time in the kitchen, or if she’s upset about that. I don’t know if her parents still fight the way they did when we were
in high school. We’ve gotten so used to existing in a space where deep questions are off-limits that we don’t even think about
them anymore.
That used to feel right, or at least easier. Right now it just feels like an excuse.
I look at her, really look at her, and wonder if she’s ever thought about what it would’ve been like if things were different.
If we hadn’t kissed on the beach that day, if I hadn’t broken my back days later. Overnight she became the girl whose new
boyfriend was in the ICU, fighting to hold on to his life.
What choice did she have?
What choice did I have?
I want to reach out, to touch her hand, to find some reassurance that we’re still solid, still us. But my hands stay at my
sides, clenched into fists, holding back the words that would unravel everything.
“We’ll figure it out,” she repeats, softer this time.
I nod, but my chest tightens. We’ve built our relationship on the foundation of avoidance, and I’m starting to feel the cracks.
Whatever Tate and Lili are talking about cuts off abruptly when I enter the back room. They aren’t doing inventory or anything
else that I can see.
“Eryn take off?” Tate, for once, doesn’t have a snack, and he looks awkward, unsure what to do with his hands.
“Yeah. She said she’s making orange-flavored morning buns and she’ll save some for us if we all want to swing by at lunch.”
Lili looks pained hearing this, but Tate just scoffs.
“Wow, are you the luckiest—” But then he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Never mind. I think you know exactly what you are
right now.”
Yeah, I do.
He starts backing toward the door. “Guess I gotta go do the things.”
“What things?” Lili asks, her voice edged with something close to panic at the prospect of being left alone with me.
“You know, the things. I don’t just walk around here looking pretty.”
I hold the door for him.
“Right. So, I’ll see you two night owls”—he pushes the word through his teeth as he holds my gaze—“for buns at noon?”
Lili doesn’t respond, but she’ll go. I’m not letting her skulk around, blaming herself for something that was more my fault
than hers.
“Buns at noon,” I say.
And then it’s just me and Lili again. She pretends to stack books on the table, her movements too deliberate, too staged.
I watch, giving her a minute to drop the act and face me, which, thankfully, she does.
Slamming a final book down, she squares her shoulders. “Okay, fine. You’re mad.”
“I never said I was mad.”
She snorts. “Well, you usually are, so it’s a fair guess.”
I stare at her, taking in her appearance for the first time this morning. Her lips are extra red from how much she’s been
biting them, and her hair has tumbled loose from the hasty braid she pulled it back in while we were driving here. She looks
like she just woke up in the best possible way, and after last night, I know exactly how soft her skin is.
Unlike her, I was still awake, barely, but enough to feel it when her head gently settled onto my shoulder and her tablet
slipped from her hands. And when she curled into me, I was aware of wrapping my arm around her. I only meant to hold her for
a moment. I even rationalized it by telling myself that I could more easily wake her if I was holding her. I was still rationalizing
when I fell asleep too.
So, no, I wasn’t mad last night, and looking at her now, I’m not sure I can summon anything close to that emotion. But I should be mad at myself. Instead, I’m thinking about how close we were, how easily we fit together. And how wrong it feels to want
that again.
“You don’t have to say it,” she continues. “I know you’re mad that I steamrolled your apology out there and stole your chance
to fall on your sword. And you know what? I’m not sorry for doing it, because thanks to me, you still have a girlfriend.”
“And that’s what you want?”
I don’t know who is more surprised by that question, me or her. I wasn’t planning on asking it, but now that it’s out there
I know I won’t take it back.
She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times. And then I catch the faintest hint of fear in her face. “Wren.” That’s all she says, but it’s enough to shock me back into reality.
I mutter a curse under my breath.
Lili nods as if she can see the wheels turning in my head, that I’m trying to reel myself back in. My anger finally bubbles
up, a delayed reaction, but there nonetheless.
“I never asked you to say anything to Eryn.”
“No, but I could tell you were about to do something idiotic.”
I lower my lids to half-mast. “I’d love to hear what you think idiotic sounds like.”
A spark lights in her eyes, relief maybe, or something more. “You were going to drag her through every single thought you
had last night, everything that could have happened, and all the nothing moments that did.” She crosses her arms. “I told
her what actually happened. You were going to destroy her over something that only exists in your guilty conscience.”
I don’t have an immediate response to that. I didn’t have a plan when I arrived here and saw Eryn, I just knew I wasn’t going
to lie to her. I do feel guilty about last night. Maybe I didn’t cross that big line, but I pushed it, more than once, and
unless I’m mistaken, Lili pushed it too.
“So that’s why you did it? You took all the blame so that Eryn and I wouldn’t break up?”
Her arms slide down to her sides, and when she answers, I can hear the weariness in her voice. “I did it because Eryn doesn’t
deserve to be hurt over nothing.”
I don’t challenge that statement out loud, but I don’t look away from her either, and my silence says a lot.
She breaks the stare first, glancing at the books she stacked. “I don’t think we need to talk about this anymore. We don’t open for another hour and a half, so I’m going to make sure the gift shop is ready for customers. Maybe you can—”
“Stay back here? Yeah,” I say, fighting to keep my voice even. “And maybe . . . we should ease off the research for a while.”
She goes perfectly still for a moment before giving me a quick nod.