Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Peach
Scream My Name – Thomas LaRosa
M y favorite smell is the one of trees after the rain has fallen. They’re suddenly so pure, so alive. The line of red cedars behind our school are the gates to the Stoneview forest, and after a storm, I love to come and climb them. If I manage to get high enough, the smell is a perfect blend of earth and sky. Like freedom.
“Penny, please. I’m scared.”
“You’re fine,” I throw back at my friend Alexandra.
“You’re going to fall.”
I look down at her. She’s biting her fingers, her wide eyes looking everywhere around us.
Sometimes Alex isn’t fun. She’s always scared of everything. Even climbing trees.
“My daddy says little girls shouldn’t play around in the mud.” She looks down at her shining black shoes now covered in mud. I told her, first to get to the big branch that looks like a snake wins. But she said no.
Pushing on my foot, I grab a thick piece of the trunk sticking count. If I can just reach the lower branch, I’ll sit there for a while and breathe in the tree.
“Don’t tell your daddy about this, then!”
“But my daddy says I shouldn’t lie.” I look down at her again, and her lips are trembling as she twists the skirt of her uniform. That’s what she does before she cries. Alex cries a lot.
“Alex, we’re not in kindergarten anymore. We’re second graders now. We’re not babies, and we don’t have to tell our dads everything. Right, Ella?”
When my other best friend doesn’t reply, I look down again. “Ella?”
I’m just about to grab on the branch when Alex says, “She went to get the boys.”
“No!” I tell her off. “They suck!”
“You can’t say that word,” Alex cries out. “Please, come down. I’m scared.”
“I’m almost there—” My foot slips against the trunk and my leg scrapes along the bark as I fall. It happens in a split second, a shriek leaving my mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for the impact as Alex screams. But there’s something weird. It doesn’t hurt that much. It’s a soft landing, like when Daddy used to throw me in the air and catch me. Except this time, there’s also a big grunt and then another fall.
“Ow,” I moan as I roll onto my back in the mud and look above me. There are clouds in the sky, but they’re mostly hidden by the branches of the trees.
“Are you okay?” That’s Ella.
“She’s hurt.” And that’s Alex crying. “She’s bleeding! Oh, no, Penelope…”
Something moves next to me, and then my friend Wren’s face is above me. He’s scowling like my daddies when I do something bad.
I didn’t do anything bad.
But my wrist and knee hurt.
“Are you trying to get us killed?” he says.
“Us?”
“Who do you think caught you?”
It’s only now that I realize he’s sitting on the ground next to me, his uniform muddy. He caught me.
“You’re always getting yourself in trouble.” So grumpy. “And now you’re covered in mud.” Boys suck.
I close my fist in the gooey soil next to me, staying on my back as I slap mud on his face.
“Now you’re covered in mud too.” I giggle.
“Penelope, stop!” Wren groans as he wipes it off his cheek. “I just saved you.”
“Yeah.” I blow on strands of hair falling in front of my face as I sit up. “That’s why I can keep getting in trouble. You’re always here to save me.”
He helps me up and wipes the blood off my knee and shin. “Your dads aren’t going to be happy.”
But I don’t care about the mud and the knee. Right now, I care about the pain throbbing in my wrist.
“It hurts,” I whine, showing my limp hand to Wren. “My wrist…it really hurts.” I try to keep the tears at bay, not wanting my friends to see me cry. But…
Fuck. My wrist really fucking hurts. The first thing I know is that it was another blackout.
I keep my eyes closed, trying to put the night back together while I fight my horrible headache. I can only remember up until the drink I had with Elijah. There was some bright light at some point. Like some sort of flash. I think I laid down too? Fuck, I don’t even know how I got home.
I twist in bed, and something hits me. It smells good, like cedar trees and earthy citrus. It smells like Wren. For a few seconds, I let myself bask in it. His scent is the most reassuring thing in this world, and I love having it all around me. I roll onto my side, rubbing my cheek against the sheet. And that’s when it hits me a little clearer…
It smells like Wren.
My eyes snap open at the same time as I sit up. I haven’t been in this room in forever, but I would never forget Wren’s room. It’s so impersonal. The walls are painted a sand color, the furniture a rich, earthy brown. It’s a large but simple room. A lot of space but not a lot of life in it because Wren has always refused to accept this house as his home.
I know the two doors lead to a black marble bathroom and a walk-in closet. The third is the way out of here, which I should seriously consider using.
I check my clothes, noticing I’m wearing one of my friend’s t-shirts. How do I not remember getting here or getting changed at all? I don’t see Wren, but I assume he’s in the shower I hear running in the bathroom. I throw the covers to the side, getting out of bed as quickly as I can. Holy shit, I slept with contacts in. That's bad.
My wrist feels so much worse than yesterday afternoon. I try to move my fingers as much as I can with the brace restricting my movement, but the pain it sends up my arm stops me from trying again.
I need to check the time. It’s Saturday, and I have to be at the women’s shelter on the North Shore of Silver Falls before ten a.m. I spot my dress and handbag on the floor across the room, and I’m about to grab my stuff, when something catches my eye. Wren’s clothes are piled in a corner, and the shirt of his tux has drops of red splattered on it. Surely, that can’t be blood, right?
Curiosity gets the best of me. I abandon my initial goal to go to the corner and instead pick up what was a crisp white button-down yesterday, squinting my eyes at it. Not so clean looking anymore with splatters of what is definitely blood.
“What are you doing?”
My heart jumps out of my chest as I snap around to face Wren. I didn’t hear him come out.
“You scared me,” I huff.
Droplets of water drip from his light-brown hair, rolling down his forehead and getting lost in his dark eyebrows. As my eyes travel lower, I notice he’s only wearing a towel around his waist, and his damp six-pack is doing things to my body I’m not sure I should allow. Just like I shouldn’t allow the way my tongue darts out to lick my lip when I stare at his Adonis belt.
“Peach.” Startled, I look back into his eyes. “My shirt.”
His waiting hand prompts me to give him his shirt, and I finally come back to reality.
“Is that blood on it?” But he’s already throwing it to the side.
“How’s your wrist?” he asks, softly grabbing my forearm to look at the bandage.
“ Is that blood on it? ” I repeat through clenched teeth. Does he think I’m stupid?
“Obviously, it is. Now answer my question.”
“Whose blood, Wren?” I’m talking slowly now, making sure he can’t pretend he doesn’t get what I’m asking.
My friend has always been a private person, not one to share a lot about his family, his childhood, or whatever goes on in this house. But lately, he feels more mysterious than he’s ever been, and I remember the drop of blood I found on his face a couple of weeks ago. The way he and Achilles refused to tell me where they’d been all night.
He pauses, his thumb subconsciously drawing smoothing circles on my inner arm. As his gorgeous blue eyes dart between mine, his face softens.
“Probably mine. I cut myself when I picked up the pieces of that glass you smashed against Caleb’s head.”
That sentence triggers a flashback of last night, and I can feel my headache coming back tenfold.
“Wait…” I step back, forcing him to let go of my arm. “Caleb…he was being an asshole.”
“Don’t worry about it. You put him back in his place. I got you out of the situation as usual. It’s all done.”
I rub my temples with the tips of my fingers. “Fuck.” Yeah, I remember now. “I swear I didn’t drink that much. And I only did that one line?—”
“Save it, Peach.”
“But it’s true!”
“I’m sure you can’t remember punching a guy in the face because you were completely sober, yes.”
That’s why my wrist is so much worse than yesterday. I punched Caleb. Narrowing my eyes at Wren, I attempt to cross my arms, but the pain rings out again. “I wasn’t sober, but I didn’t drink enough to black out.”
He doesn’t believe me, I can tell. I’m not really sure I believe myself anyway.
Putting his hand in front of me, palm up, he cocks an eyebrow. I hesitate for a few seconds. He cares, he wants to make sure I’m okay, and I probably put him in a shit situation yesterday. Sometimes I know when to stop being so stubborn. So I put my hand in his and let him undo the brace.
“You complained about not wanting to take a break from cheer, yet you still put yourself in a situation where you injured yourself. Make it make sense.”
I roll my eyes, attempting at the same time to not stare at his shirtless form. I look to the left and at the Scrabble pieces on his desk. With my left hand, I put together a few letters. I notice a ripped piece of paper on there, Caleb Mitchel written on it, but I ignore it to finish aligning the letters.
“I don’t need a life lesson right now,” I say before pointing at the desk.
His gaze follows, and I feel him hold back a laugh when he reads the plastic squares I put together.
FUK U
Licking his lips, he goes back to being serious. “You always need a life lesson, Peach.”
He checks my wrist, moving it and asking how it hurts before nodding to himself and putting the splint back on. His hands land on my hips, and I gasp when he turns me around and presses me against the desk, my back to his chest. His deep voice is in my ear before I can say anything.
"Did you like our kiss yesterday?"
My breath gets stuck in my throat, my muscles tightening with need. I'm ready to lie, but I can't get myself to. I can't push the truth out of my mouth either. So, I stay silent.
"Tell me, Penelope." His lips skim the skin below my ear, and he presses a kiss on my pulse. "How many times are we going to play this game before you truly give in?"
I take in a trembling breath, my head falling to the side.
"You and me…it's not going to happen, Wren. Giving in isn't exactly in my nature."
One hand goes up to my hair while the other slides down the t-shirt I'm wearing until he can wrap his palm around my thigh.
"Okay," he says against my skin. "I'll speak your language. Did you hate our kiss yesterday?"
I shake my head, incapable of thinking straight now that he's pulling my hair, his skin so hot against mine.
"No. I didn't think so," he purrs. "And do you hate it when I'm there to clean up the messes you make?"
My head is moving again, telling him a silent "no."
"What do you think this is, huh?" Pulling at my hair, he forces my head back, dragging a harsh exhale out of me. "That I'm your little puppy at your beck and call every time you need help? That I'm always taking care of you because I'm a good guy ?" He growls the last words, bringing his hand from my thigh to between my legs.
His fingers test the wetness there, and I bite my lip to keep myself from moaning.
"I'm not a good guy. You know that. I'm good to you . Only you, Peach, can be my weakness and my strength. In sixteen years, you've put the biggest smiles on my face, and were the cause of the little tears I shed. Do you have fun doing it? Giving me hope and crushing it in the palm of your hand?"
One of his fingers pushes inside me, and I can't control the moan that falls from my lips. Fuck, he feels too good.
"Answer."
"Yes," I pant. Because it's the truth. I love having him wrapped around my finger. It makes me feel powerful, and I love power.
Until Wren takes it away.
"You love being special to me, don't you?" he purrs, moving his finger in and out of me. "You love watching me turn down other women, knowing that it's because of you." As he pushes a second inside me, my knees buckle.
" Yes ," I whimper. "Fuck."
"Bend over the desk."
"What?" I gasp, moving my hips to the rhythm of his fingers.
Until they disappear.
"Bend. Over. The. Desk."
I try to turn around, understanding he's taking it further than we ever have when he presses his rock-hard cock into the small of my back.
"Wren—"
The pull on my hair hurts in the best way possible.
"You've been taking and taking from me. It's time to give back."
He pushes me forward, and I plant my forearms on the desk so I don’t crash onto its surface.
"Spread your legs."
When I don't, he slaps my pussy with a strength that makes me cry out.
"Fuck!" I spread my legs at the same time as I breathe through the pain.
"Tell me you don't want this," he murmurs softly as I hear the towel drop. "Tell me that all the time we spend together is just friendship." He pulls the t-shirt all the way to the middle of my back. "That every time you wake up in my bed after a night out is a mistake. That the times you've allowed me to touch you were to fuck with me."
I feel his tip at my wet entrance, and I struggle to not push back against him.
"Tell me that I'm just your foolish best friend with too much hope, Penelope. I want to hear it cross your lips."
"I can't," I moan, nearly shivering with need.
"That's what I thought," he growls.
He presses forward, and I freeze, a flash of clarity pushing through the fog.
"Condom!"
When I try to lift up, he holds my head hard against the desk, and I blindly slap his body behind me.
"Peach, baby, it's no secret I don't fuck anyone else." He laughs proudly before adding, "And I know you haven’t been fucking anyone because my word is law at SFU. And the law says stay away from what belongs to Wren Hunter."
I can’t even find it in me to reply, too lost to the desire clouding my mind. He pushes slightly farther in, and the movement makes my eyes roll to the back.
"I want you to stay still and let me use you exactly how I want. Do you understand?"
There’s only one thing in me that tells me not to do it, and it's a tiny voice in my brain that I shut down right away.
I want to enjoy. I want to let go. And I want Wren Hunter to fuck the living hell out of me.
"Yes."
The second the word is out of my mouth, he surges deeply inside me. My jaw drops open, and my breath catches until he pulls back and slams back in.
"Fuck," I pant, clenching around him. "Fuck, you're big and…really deep right now."
He presses harder against the back of my head to keep me in position.
"And you're going to take it like the strong girl you always say you are."
I lose myself completely when he thrusts again, forcing my hips to hit the edge of the desk as I pant breaths. Pushing onto my toes, I try to meet his movements as wave after wave of pleasure wash over me with every drag of his length.
I can’t formulate a single thought when he slows down and rasps, "Fuck yourself on my dick. Show me you want this just as badly as I do."
I push back with all my strength, but it's nothing compared to the way he was destroying me a second ago. The difference makes me needy, and despite putting everything into it, a hopeless whine escapes me.
"More," I pant as I writhe my hips. "Wren…"
"You don't get what you want out of me when I have my dick inside you, Trouble. You take what you're given."
"Fuck you," I whimper. "Shit…"
He leans over me, kisses my shoulder, and just as he bites into it, he thrusts into me again.
Every movement is a statement to how big he is, and how I adapt to every inch of his cock like we were made for each other.
"Your little cunt is desperate for me. Almost as much as I'm desperate for you."
He accelerates, so powerfully that the desk bangs against the wall in a repetitive telltale sound. The building of pleasure makes me sweat, and I can feel my muscles stiffening as I’m driven closer to the edge.
"Wren…" I moan.
"That's it, Trouble. Call my name when you come. And get fucking used to it."
"Fuck , Wren! " I scream as I explode around him, stars blurring my vision as my entire body pulses with sweet relief. He doesn't give me a break as his fingers come to caress my clit slowly in a drastic comparison to his thrusts.
"W-wait," I sigh, the sensations too much, too good.
Like he already knows my body by heart, he delicately strokes me again, and pushes deeper inside me.
"Oh God…oh God…"
"Wait to come again before you call me your god. Wait"—he presses his whole body against mine, and the edge of the desk pushes against my lower stomach—"until I show you"—he presses some more, stroking my clit at the same slow pace —"what I can make your body do for me."
With his dick deep inside me and angled just right, the wood pressing at my front, his fingers bring a pleasure like I’ve never experienced before. And that's when I feel it leaking out of me uncontrollably.
"Fuck," I whimper. "I can't stop…"
"I know, baby. Keep going. Squirt all over yourself for me. Soak my dick like a good girl."
His voice wavers, and I feel him climaxing inside me as he shortens his thrusts.
Absolutely nothing feels real anymore when he pulls out of me. Right away, his cum spills down my thighs, and I can't even seem to care about it.
"Don't move," he says softly. "I'll get you something."
"As if I could move," I whisper, my eyes closed as he walks away.
I'm barely awake when he comes back, and I feel a warm, wet cloth at my entrance.
"Let me," I say as I try to grab it, but he softly pushes my hand away before caressing my lower back.
"Just stay still."
"This is weirdly…intimate," I mumble, my cheek still against his desk. I think I'm resting on a few Scrabble tiles.
"You just squirted all over me, but yeah, me taking care of you is where you should draw the line."
"Ah. Ha," I deadpan as he finishes and delicately helps me stand on shaky legs.
We end up facing each other, his t-shirt still on me and now back into place, and his towel back around his waist. Our eyes cross, and my heart plummets to my feet.
Oh. God. This is where I draw the line for intimacy. That look in his eyes that tells me this was just the beginning is terrifying. That dimple on his cheek that barely holds back his pride at finally getting me. And the way he bites his lower lip, announcing he's already hungry for more.
"Um…" I scratch my throat.
I'm not ready for this. Not ready to know what Wren is like when he fully unleashes on me.
"Do you want to have a shower here?"
I shake my head. "You won't have the right shampoo for my hair."
He arches an eyebrow at me. "I have your shampoo. The tea tree and peppermint one. Of course, I have it."
"Okay, uh, weird," I admit. "And I changed shampoo last year. I use one with coconut oil in it now because my hair is longer than it used to be."
"Oh…you changed? Well, you didn't tell me." He sounds accusing, like I’m the one who did something wrong by not keeping him in touch about which shampoo I use. He grabs his phone that's on his desk and starts typing on it.
"I didn't tell you because you shouldn't keep my shampoo at your house. You don't even live here."
"I keep it everywhere, just in case," he mumbles as he keeps on typing. "Your hair is beautiful, and I know you like to take good care of it. It's important to you. So it's important to me."
This is too bizarre for me to process when I'm still throbbing inside from his dick pounding into me a minute ago. I'm about to ask what he's writing on his phone when a sound in the hallway startles us both. A door opening and closing. Something shifts in him. It's instant, like a mask that settles on his face as his features harden.
“Let’s get you home."
I jump on the chance to change the topic.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask as he grabs my dress and gives it to me. “You hate this place.” I don’t know why I feel the need to remind him. I haven’t been here in forever because Wren rarely comes anyway.
“I just had some stuff to deal with. Get dressed. I want to leave sooner rather than later.”
It’s annoying to walk through Wren’s house in yesterday’s clothes. Like I’m some sort of girl he brought home for the night and he’s now kicking out. He’s so serious suddenly, and I want to snap at him that if he’s going to be so cold, he shouldn’t have brought me here. He shouldn't have fucked me the way he did. I hate this vulnerability building within me. I feel raw and open, and as much as I was scared of intimacy, I also can't take the unexpected coldness.
“Come on, Peach. Don’t you have to be on the North Shore before ten?”
His words make me realize I stopped on the last step of the grand marble stairs.
“Uh, yeah.” I shake my head. “What time is it?”
“Seven.” He looks around as he presses a hand on my lower back and urges me forward.
“Seven?” I look up at him, feeling the sweet warmth of anger pulsing up my neck. “You’re kicking me out of your house at seven in the fucking morning? What am I, some random Wren Hunter groupie you picked up at the Stoneview ball?”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing before he presses his full lips together. Still, it doesn’t stop the smug smile from tipping the corner of his mouth.
“I’m just trying to get us out of here before anyone wakes up. But you’re spoiling me, Trouble.” His gravelly voice sends electricity down my spine. “First, you sleep in my bed. Then, you finally let me sink my cock into you. And now you get all needy on me?”
His hand slips through my hair, pressing on the muscles at the back of my neck. Dear God, his hand is too strong for a girl to stay sane.
“If the next step is being clingy for the rest of the day, just know it’ll be a perfect day for me.”
He drops a kiss to the top of my head, then steps back, and I can finally breathe. Slapping his shoulder, I start walking again.
“Me? Clingy with you? You can keep dreaming.” Fuck, I want to be clingy.
“I sure will.” He chuckles.
Their butler is about to open the front door for us, when a voice stops us short.
“What the fuck?”
Wren throws his head back, huffing at the same time as I turn around. Elijah stands right behind us, wearing a black robe over black silk pajamas, and holding a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.
“Oh, hey,” I say, trying to act natural. Like me sleeping over at the Hunter mansion is a weekly occurrence. “How was the rest of your night?”
Elijah doesn’t reply. He can’t since he’s cut off by Monty Hunter coming out of a hallway I’ve never been through. He’s wearing a dark gray suit with a bolo tie around the collar of his white shirt. There’s a lightning bolt striking a mountain engraved on the silver clasp, and I could swear I’ve seen that emblem somewhere.
“Penelope, to what do we owe the…pleasure.” Replace pleasure with “unwanted presence,” and you get exactly what he meant.
The constant scowl on Monty’s face doesn’t waver, and his unwelcoming energy makes me straighten up to show I’m not bothered by his behavior.
I can’t help it. Men exist, and I feel the need to challenge them for their audacity of breathing the same air as me.
“Good morning, Mr. Hunter.” I plaster a fake smile on my face. “Oh, you know, just sleeping in your son’s bed after punching another student in the face. Same old, same old.”
Elijah’s death stare is so lethal I sense it before even turning my gaze toward him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even see me. He’s too focused on his older brother.
“What about you? How have you been?” I turn back to Monty. “Any environmental devastation from your company lately?”
He scoffs, his head rearing back slightly at my nerve. “You’ve always been a very interesting character, Penelope. I’ll give you that.” He juts his chin toward Wren. “Enjoy her while you can.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means by that, but Monty dismisses me by walking to Elijah, who’s still awkwardly silent. “Come, we’ve got a lot to work on today.”
Work on ? Since when does he work with his dad?
“Environmental disaster?” Wren huffs as soon as we’re outside the house. “Really, Peach?”
“What?” I shrug. “It’s a genuine question. His work impacts mine.”
My friend shakes his head, unimpressed as he guides me to his car. We don’t use their driver today, but rather one of Wren’s many toys.
“It’s red. I’m assuming this is a Ferrari?” I say as I sit down in the passenger seat. Those things are way too low. It’s annoying.
“This is a Ferrari 12Cilindri. It can hit sixty-two miles per hour in under three seconds.”
I snort. “And I’m sure the planet will thank you for it.”
I’m pushed against the seat when he speeds out of his driveway, and we’re on the highway before I bring up something that can’t leave my mind.
“Wren?”
He comes out of the comfortable silence with a knowing, “Yes?”
That’s all I need to understand he’s been thinking about the same thing as me.
“What did your dad mean?”
This time, his silence is palpable, and his fake ignorance makes me uncomfortable.
“What did your dad mean when he said enjoy her while you can ?”
“My dad is an idiot, Peach. You know that.” His eyes stay on the road, and I’m dying to force him to look at me.
“Do you know who’s not an idiot? Me. Now tell me what he meant.”
I observe him while he doesn’t observe me, and it’s unusual. I know that wherever we are, Wren’s eyes are always on me. But his focus on the road is a good excuse for him to avoid staring into my eyes.
“Wren,” I insist. “What the hell? You’re hiding shit from me. And until today, I didn’t think they were things about me .”
“I’m not?—”
“Don’t disrespect me,” I snap. “You and Achilles have been acting weird since last year, but it’s getting worse. Whatever you’re hiding, come clean, because I’m struggling to reconcile your recent behavior with my best friend.”
“Your best friend.” He snorts. “It’s a fucking curse to be your best friend, you know that?”
“For you? Or for me? Because I haven’t changed. But you… I’m finding blood on you, on your clothes. You keep things from me and the girls."
He grinds his teeth to dust, swallowing back whatever the truth is. But then as if he can’t keep it all to himself, he continues.
“What my dad meant is that I soon won’t have the option to choose you over everyone else like I always do.” He looks to the left, out of his window, hiding his expression from me. I know there’s something else he wants to say. "Unless?—"
Both our phones ring at the same time, cutting him off. It’s that specific sound we recognize so well, and it puts an end to our strange conversation. It doesn’t matter that I need answers. Hermes news always takes over everything.
“I’ll check.” I huff when his eyes keep going to his phone in the central console.
I unlock the SFU app, my heart pounding in my ears. There’s that nagging fear within me when Hermes is involved. Especially since the message I received about Ania.
It’s not about me…but it’s bad.
One of you has access to seriously secret information…and I thank you for it.
Someone won’t make it to the post Stoneview ball brunch… R.I.P.
#murdererontheloose #youhearditherefirst
The picture posted is a police report that clearly shouldn’t be out yet. It's written by hand and doesn’t say much but how they found him. The weirdest part is that the whole thing is crossed out with another type of pen, different from the one originally used, and instead a small circle was drawn at the bottom of the page with the letters S.C. next to it. I still manage to read a few lines. A body was found in the large forest that separates Silver Falls from Stoneview at four this morning.
Hematomas to the face. Skull crushed in.
Lacerations to the chest.
Square plastic pieces (possibly from a Scrabble board game) found in his trachea and mouth.
Male body currently identified as Caleb Mitchel (ID found on him).
I read whatever I can of the report three times before I can finally process the words. My chest is so tight I can barely inhale enough air to survive.
“What is it?” Wren asks as he passes the gates of the SFU campus. The red-brick castle comes into view as we drive up the winding road that leads to it and the rest of the campus.
I read the line about the plastic pieces again. Possibly from a Scrabble board game . They were found in his mouth and throat. Did he…choke on them?
Someone murdered Caleb last night. Someone smashed his head in and shoved letters from a Scrabble game down his throat.
Wren stops, letting some students cross the road, and looks at me. “What is it?”
“Caleb.” I gulp. “He’s dead.”
I search for anything I can find on his face. Because my instinct is telling me something, but my brain promises me it’s impossible. Wren, my Wren, my best friend I’ve known for sixteen years, is not a violent murderer. He’s stubborn and commanding, and he lives for the win. But he’s not someone who would murder another human being.
Something pierces through my stomach, my gut screaming at me when I focus on his features.
There’s nothing. No surprise, no attempts to justify anything, no innocence but no confirmation of guilt either.
He barely even blinks.
When he drives forward again, I feel something I never have around him. Fear.
I can still feel him inside me from earlier in his room, and now I fear him like I've never feared anything else in my life.
“What is it you want to say so badly, Trouble?” He pushes me to talk through my crazy thoughts. But are they that crazy when the proof is right there on my phone screen?
I try keeping my voice under control in any way I can. “They found Scrabble letters down his throat.”
Letting out a dry laugh, he finally parks in front of both our houses. My entire body tightens as he turns to face me.
“Isn’t it fucking crazy?” he says slowly, like he sounds as surprised as I am. “The things I do because some guy upset you?”
“This isn’t funny.” I attempt to sound strong, like I can fight the unhinged energy pouring out of him right now. But my voice is trembling, and my mouth is dry.
“No. It’s not. A man is dead.” He reaches out toward me, attempting to pinch a strand of my hair, but I slap his hand away out of pure instinct.
“Don’t touch me,” I gasp. “Wren.” I squeeze my eyes shut and open them again. “Please, just please tell me you didn’t…”
He just stares. He stares at me with death in his eyes as he says, “I’m sick of hiding who I really am from you.”
I don’t wait to make sense of it. My survival instinct kicks in. I pull at the car handle, jumping out before he can catch me.
I run to the house without looking back. Everything seems out of proportion if I think too hard, but thinking won't save my life. I slam my front door shut, lock it, and take a few steps back.
He didn't follow me. He's not on the other side of the door, trying to break it down. I'm panting, struggling to catch my breath, let alone think coherently. I stay here for a few seconds...and they turn into a minute.
Nothing happens.
And here it comes...the feeling of utter stupidity. How could I think for one second that my best friend could do this. What the hell is wrong with me?
My shoulders slump, and I rub my hands over my face.
"What the fuck, Wren,” I huff to myself.
That was the worst joke ever. And I'm too fucking mad at him to go back out. I walk upstairs, checking for my best friends in their bedrooms. They're both probably at their boyfriends' houses. And I'm here, going fucking crazy, thinking Wren would kill someone because they upset me.
That's the kind of shit Xi and Chris would do for Alex and Ella. The kind of act they consider romantic and never understood is, in fact, absolutely insane. I always tried to give them a reality check when it comes to these things. Men shouldn't be as possessive and obsessed as their boyfriends are. They shouldn't kill for you, even out of protection. God, just live a normal life and understand that shit is toxic.
Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself as I walk into my room. I need to get ready to go to the shelter. I need to think of how I'm literally going to crush Wren's balls into dust for that stupid jok?—
A hand slams on my mouth from behind me, making my heart drop as it pulls me into a hard body. I freeze for a split second before fighting back, attempting to scream behind it and bite the palm to release me.
"Peach, baby. Why would you run away from me? You know I'd never hurt you."