Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Wren
Used to This - Camila Cabello
" T alk to me," Peach says as she sits up in bed and the covers slip down to her waist, exposing her naked chest.
We went home, showered, had food, but there's a hunger for each other we can't seem to satiate.
She pulls the sheet back up, tilting her head to the side and cocking an unimpressed eyebrow at me. I interlock my fingers together behind my head as I get more comfortable on my pillow.
"I was enjoying that view."
"Wren Hunter, focus. We said we'd talk. Except you've refused to utter a word that isn't filthy talk since we saw that Hermes post."
I look at the ceiling, not knowing what to say. She's right, I haven't talked about it because I don't even know where to start. An email from campus security followed the Hermes post. Some of the sentences are still bouncing in my head.
If you heard or saw anything, please contact the police.
Someone is targeting students and possibly their family members. Please, do not leave accommodations unless it’s to go to classes.
We are working hard with the Silver Falls University Police Department to arrest the culprit.
They’re still not revealing anything about the Scrabble tiles. Probably to avoid saying they’re looking for a serial killer, and surely so they don’t take the risk having any copycat going around.
I huff. Not so worried about the police, but rather anxious that the Circle hasn’t said anything yet. I know they won’t let me get away with it.
"I can't force you to talk about something," Peach says softly. She runs a hand through my hair, and a shiver travels down my entire body.
Penelope Sanderson-Menacci is naked in my bed, running her fingers through my hair. She's so close, I can feel the heat of her body under the covers. Lying back down, she faces me on her left side, and one of her legs comes to rest on mine.
God, this is heaven.
"I wrote my first letters to my biological parents in middle school," she whispers.
My head snaps to the side, eyes wide.
"Peach, I know you're not the kind of person to open up about these things. I would never force you to."
"I know." She smiles. "I want to. I feel safe with you. I’ve always felt safe with you."
She waits until I'm fully turned to face her, and in my bed, naked under the sheets, she makes herself vulnerable to me.
"I was thirteen, and Stoneview Middle School had organized that stupid event where parents were coming to spend the day with us. It was the weirdest shit. Neither of my dads could come. Sanderson was in D.C. for work, and Menacci had gone to Italy to visit his dying mom."
She looks up, and to anyone, it could look like she's searching through her memories, but I can tell she's taking a break from the vulnerability.
"Anyway, one of the kids—and I won't say who, because I don't want them in a body bag—said that no one came for me because I had no real parents. And then he made the joke that I'd been abandoned again." Her voice breaks, and she smiles at me as she swallows. "As you can imagine, I threw a few books at him and told him to shut the hell up. The thing is, so many parents weren't even there. It's Stoneview, so most of them were working somewhere around the world and leaving their kids to the house staff."
She bites her inner cheek, and under the sheets, I take her hand in mine.
"Well, I think that kid really got to me." She chuckles. "I went home that night, and I grabbed a notepad because I wanted to write something to my dads to tell them that they had ruined my day by not being here. But the second I put pen to paper, I subconsciously wrote Dear Mom and Dad. "
She gulps again, and I can only imagine the way her throat tightens.
"It was a very short letter. Barely a few sentences. Dear Mom and Dad, I never wrote to you, and you'll never read this because you put me in an orphanage. But what if you do read it one day? Then I don't want you to say sorry, and I don't want you to take me back. I just want you to answer one question. Why? "
I blink a few times, feeling my eyes stinging.
That letter.
She knows it by heart.
My chest tightens, and so does my grip on her hand.
"God, Wren." She pretends to laugh, but I drown in the sadness that escapes her. "I went down one hell of a rabbit hole after that. I became obsessed. Why, why, why? Years went by, and every single insecurity that crossed my teenage mind was put on the list. Because I can't control my emotions? Because I talk too much? Because I'm too opinionated? It made no sense, because I knew, my brain logically knew , that they couldn't have known how I'd turn out. But your emotions? Your nervous system? Your body? It doesn’t know. You can't regulate how you feel, no matter how many times you tell yourself something."
She takes a shaky breath, her lower lip trembling.
"After that, the letters would just write themselves. I look like neither of my dads, and it made me wonder who I look like. I wanted to know which of my parents was a redhead, which had the green eyes. I wanted to know who thought about it first, to leave me all alone. Him or her? Are they alive?"
A tear runs down her face, and she sniffles in the cutest way possible.
"Those questions, they go on repeat in my head like some stupid broken record. Some days, I add new ones, and some days, I forget the ones from the night before. Sometimes, I lay down in my bed, and I imagine the life we could have had. And I'm ashamed because my dads have given me everything. They're not perfect, but fuck, they love me. But I'm in bed, paralyzed and playing scenes about my biological parents, and I imagine them and me when I was three, and they're parking in front of the shelter where they’ll leave me, the same shelter that will give me to an orphanage and…and…"
Her voice is so quiet from now on, I'm scared to breathe, or I'll miss a word. The tears are streaming down her face, and I don't dare wipe them away.
"They look at me and…and they change their mind. They can't go through with it because they love me too much."
A sob bursts from her throat, so profoundly painful that it rips through my heart, and I feel tears running down my own face.
"Except they didn't."
This hurts.
So.
Fucking.
Much.
"They didn't love me enough to change their minds," she whispers when she can talk again. "I don’t remember that day. I don’t remember anything from before the orphanage. I was too young. I don’t even remember how I felt. But fuck do I play all sorts of scenarios in my head. And you know what helps? Keeping myself busy. Drugs. All the things about me that you hate, they would help me feel just a little less lonely."
She shakes her head. "Don’t worry. I know they’re bad for me. Sometimes, I just can’t help it, because it’s…easy." Trying to bring an ounce of humor into her voice, she adds, "Anyway, that's my story. So feel free to share yours whenever you're ready."
We hug for so long after that I lose sense of time.
But I don't say anything I usually do. I don't tell her that I will never abandon her, or that anyone else who did is insane. Because that's not what she needs. I understand that now.
I always categorized Peach's belief that she doesn't deserve love as something that would fix itself if she one day accepted how much I love her. But the selfishness of my thoughts is stark tonight. Her being abandoned as a child is part of who she is. The consequences it had on her aren't something we can run away from or try to fix with a bandage. My love or her dads’ cannot replace the love she should have been given by those strangers.
She will live with it for the rest of her life, and I will be there every time she feels vulnerable about it. Without judgement and without quick fixes.
For now, I just keep on holding her tight.
"That's amazing, Dad," Peach cheers as she chops carrots. Her phone is propped on the coffee machine, and she's nodding along as Sanderson smiles on the screen. "And of course, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss election night with you for the world. You're going to be mayor of Stoneview, I know it."
She pushes her chopped carrots into the pot full of water and potatoes. After our talk upstairs, she said she wanted soup and categorically refused to let me cook or order in. When I understood she wanted to keep her mind busy with something, I let her go down to the kitchen and worked in my room for a bit.
She sees me appear behind her through the video call and stiffens when I put an arm around her waist.
"Hello, Mr. Sanderson," I say politely. "How are you?"
He blinks at the image in front of him, his only child being held by her best friend in a way that shows they're clearly dating.
"Well, you know what they say…" He chuckles. "Better late than never." Pausing, his eyes stay on Peach rather than me, because it's no secret that he loves her like the most precious thing in the world. "Your dad is going to be so happy."
She probably doesn't notice she's chewing on her hair, so I pull it out of her mouth. I can feel the guilt seeping out of her. She was sobbing in my bed, heartbroken about being abandoned by her biological parents, barely over an hour ago. Anyone would struggle to reconcile that with feeling the love from your adoptive parent.
"You'll be Penny's date to the release party at our home, Wren, won't you?" he adds.
"Of course, sir." I nod. "I'm looking forward to celebrating your win."
He laughs to himself, his eyes wrinkled with genuine amusement. "I always knew you were a good man. Alright, I'll leave you two to it now. I love you, Penny Pickle."
She pulls her hair out of her mouth, finally realizing what she was doing.
"I love you, Daddy," she says with a voice full of affection.
As she hangs up, I put my hands on her hips, turning her around until she's leaning against the counter. I press my lips against hers. And just like every time I think I'm going for a quick kiss, an overwhelming need takes hold of me. I kiss her once, twice, three times before I move to the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her temple. I leave a few on her forehead and finally separate when I've kissed the top of her head.
"Let's take Little Sausage for her evening walk," I murmur against her hair, breathing in her expensive perfume.
"I'm making food," she mumbles in the crook of my neck. She always finds her way there somehow. "You go without me."
My heart sinks, and I step back with a forced smile on my face. "Alright." I leave another quick kiss on her forehead.
"Wait, wait, wait," she calls out as soon as I start walking away. She's pressing buttons on the cooker. "I'm coming with you."
"That was a quick change of heart." I chuckle just before whistling for the dog to come.
Her little paws click on the floorboard as she runs from the living room, and we meet her near the door.
"You do that thing when you're annoyed with me," she explains, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth as she puts her heavy wool coat on.
"What?" I scoff. “I don't have a thing when I'm annoyed." I squat to hook the leash to Sausage.
"Yes, you do." While I'm still on my haunches, she leans down and presses a kiss on my forehead. "This."
I have to press my lips together not to smile. She's right. I don't do it on purpose. I guess it's just a way to remind myself, even when I'm annoyed, that I'm still the luckiest guy on the planet to have her.
"Whatever," I say as I stand up, but I can feel my cheeks heating from the fact that I got caught.
Keeping the end of the leash in my hand, I snap my fingers, pointing at my foot. Sausage runs to me, standing there with her tail wagging. "Stay," I warn her as I open the door.
I look back at Peach. "Ready?"
Her eyes are wide, her mouth agape, and she doesn't move.
"What?" I look behind me, but no, she's clearly staring right at me. "What?" I insist.
"You talk to her…the same way you talk to me in the bedroom."
I wipe a hand across my mouth, trying to hide my smile as I see that little vein starting to pulse on her forehead.
"Baby, don't be jealous. If it's any consolation, you're my favorite." It's just too tempting to provoke her. So, I snap my fingers again and point toward my foot. "Come on, let's go."
"I will break your fucking hand, Wren Hunter," she hisses as she walks past me to go out.
I follow her, laughing so loudly it makes Little Sausage bark with excitement.
We're about five minutes into our walk, holding hands as we make our way through the streets of our campus and passing through Greek row, when I take a deep breath and look around.
It's a quiet night. People are probably at the Acropolis or having a night in. Following the email from campus to stay in as much as possible, there are no house parties going on, no one on the streets. Peach and I can have a conversation without being heard.
I huff, playing with the leash I’m holding to release some tension. Sausage is free of it, running ahead. Peach catches my sudden awkwardness.
"What's wrong?"
We keep walking, and everything else is suddenly catching my attention. As long as I don’t have to look into her eyes.
Licking my lips, I swallow thickly and say, "The Silent Circle has a habit of collecting favors."
It's clear as day that she understands where I'm going. She stops, her eyes digging into mine.
"Don't force yourself."
"I'm not," I tell her. "I want to share this with you. The same way you did with me, but I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm going to tell you what happened, and we're going to move on. Because you're stuck with me, Peach. So if this makes you hate me, there's nothing you can do about it."
The reminder seems to shock her. We've been acting like such a normal couple that she forgot she can't actually leave me. She finally nods, encouraging me to go ahead.
"Sometimes Shadows will offer help to people who aren't part of the Circle, but warn them that they’ll owe a favor back, and it can be asked for at any time. I can't begin to express how dangerous it is to owe a debt to the Circle. They will always collect it."
I look away from her. "When they collected mine, they asked me to join. That's why I didn't have a choice. Because I owed them, and there was nothing else I could do but what they asked of me. They wanted a reaper, or Thanatos in their own term."
"Thanatos," she repeats. "The god of non-violent death."
"Yeah." I chuckle. "Well, don't expect the Circle to stick to the non-violent part. As long as I kill the targets, they don't ask how. They just make sure to get rid of the body." With a huff, I run a hand through my hair. "Since I was fifteen, I knew I was going to have to repay them at some point. I had just hoped it would be one favor and done. Except the favor was to join them, and now…well, now, here we are."
She wants the rest, I can tell. It's just a little harder to push out of me than I thought.
"What happened when you were fifteen that meant you needed a favor from the Circle?" she asks.
"Do you remember my dad's brother, Vincent?"
"Yes, of course, I remember him. He was a bit of a creep, wasn't he?"
My jaw clenches, ghosts from the past waging a war in my mind. I crack my neck, left then right. Fuck, this is harder than I thought.
"He was a creep, yes. To say the least." I massage my shoulder. My body feels like it isn’t mine anymore. "Peach, there's something you need to know about my childhood. Something I hid from you as your best friend, and I didn't do it because I didn't trust you, but because I love you."
I lick my lips, trying to keep my focus. Her beautiful eyes open a little wider, eagerly awaiting the truth.
"I was a child with serious violent outbursts. It started small, but slowly, they would get worse and worse. I'd hit Elijah for the smallest reasons. I even hit my mom once. There was nothing to justify them and nobody understood. So, despite my dad believing that beating me up to keep me weak was the only solution, my mom took me to see a psychiatrist. It took months. They ruled out a lot of diagnoses first. They did tests, physical, mental—it was so fucking invasive—and they concluded I suffered from Intermittent Explosive Disorder."
She swallows thickly, her eyes observing my entire body. "What is that?"
"A label they stuck on me to give us some sort of explanation. Except it doesn't help, and it only got worse."
"You… You never had that around me. Or at school, sleepovers–"
"No." I chuckle bitterly, looking everywhere but at her. "Because there were no triggers there. No dad who beats you up and forces your body into constant survival mode." And then I look into her eyes. "But mainly, there was you. And nothing puts me at peace the way you do by simply existing around me."
I lift a hand to her cheek, caressing her soft skin with my thumb. Her eyes flutter shut, and when she opens them, they're begging for more.
"Wren, tell me how this is linked to your uncle or the Circle."
"Okay," I rasp, having no choice but to get to it. "Uncle Vincent is the first time I dissociated. He and my dad came back from the Stoneview Country Club one day, and they were smoking cigars in my dad's office. I wanted to join because they had invited Elijah to. So, why not me?"
My heart starts racing, and my hand refuses to move from Peach's face. "They didn't invite me because they hated me. They’ve always hated me. So all I did was stand behind the door and listen to their conversation. Until that conversation turned to you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. And how Vincent thought you were so beautiful for a fifteen-year-old. Your tits, and your ass, and that sassy mouth was so hot ," I hiss disgustingly. "You were fifteen ."
I throw my head back, desperate to remember what happened, exactly. Except I never will.
"All I know is that one second, I was opening the door, and the next, I was coming to my senses. Vincent was on the floor, his throat slashed, and I was the one holding the letter opener. My brother had a bloody nose, and my dad a ripped shirt."
I blink at the dark sky before looking back at her. Her chest rises up and down so quickly, I wonder if she's about to bolt.
"My dad told me he knew people who could get rid of the body. No one would ask anything, and my aunt would never know the truth. It would all just disappear. I wouldn't get in trouble with the law, but that I would owe them a favor. Those people were the Silent Circle, and they saw an opportunity in a teen who was capable of murdering his own family."
My gaze drops, my shoulders deflating. "My family already didn't like me, but after that, they never looked at me the same. My dad… Fuck, I killed his brother, Peach. No wonder he loathes me. "
My hand is still on her cheek, and she places hers on mine too, forcing me to look into her eyes. "I love you, Wren. No matter what, no matter in what form, friendship or more, I will always love every single part of you."
This is it. The kind of love I never felt from someone else before. Unconditional. And it’s so intense I can hardly process it.
She huffs, shaking her head. "But I don't want to be the reason people die."
Her green eyes are only lit by the light of the moon, but they've never looked so demanding.
"What if you're the reason I'm alive? Because only you keep me sane, Trouble. That thing inside of me can only be tamed by you. And all the times I've wanted to give up and just let it take over, I thought of you. How I might lose you if I do. I live for one and only one reason, and that's you."
She wants to smile, I can tell. It's shining in her eyes.
"Why are you always sending so much love my way, Wren Hunter?"
"Because keeping all that love to myself would be inhuman."