chapter fifteen
Wren
A quiet Friday morning finds me baking my very first loaf of bread. Sunshine drenches the kitchen as I wait for the alarm to signal the end of the baking time. I hum and water the hanging pots of herbs above the sink. The smell of baking bread and the sounds of instrumental music playing quietly in a sunny kitchen are the exact vision I had for my home. Happiness bubbles in my chest but quickly pops like freshly poured soda when I realize I feel a tinge of loneliness within the happiness.
Putting away the little copper watering can, I look out the window into the yard. Still no birds. I frown, but pause when my eyes catch on Jay. He’s in the backyard, pulling weeds from one of my garden beds. Shirtless. I almost choke on my tongue as I jump to heave my hips onto the counter to get a better view out the window.
Jay’s wardrobe has changed since moving in with me. When we aren’t going anywhere, he dresses comfortably in sweats or basketball shorts and t-shirts. It was a shock the first time I saw him in pajama pants and a white undershirt, but I’ve grown more used to the visual. He, of course, still wears his mask. But the casual wear in the house is a new element. I wonder if he needed written permission from my dad or Hawk to wear pajamas in the house. Now, in blue athletic shorts that hit him mid thigh, no shirt, Nike shoes, and his usual black balaclava, he is a startling sight.
The sun is bright on his sweaty back as he reaches and pulls weeds from the dirt and places them into a wheelbarrow. He seems relaxed as he works. I didn’t ask him to pull weeds, so this is his own choice of activity. I can’t say I’m upset, as pulling weeds is objectively the worst part of gardening. And I’m certainly not upset to see his glistening muscles shift and move under his tattooed skin. My mouth waters and I suddenly want to lick the sweat that slides down his spine. He sits back and lifts his mask with one hand while the other dirt covered hand braces him on the grass behind him. He tilts his head back with his eyes closed like he’s savoring the airflow under the heat of his mask. At this angle, I can’t see the uncovered portion of his face, but I can see sweat dripping down his neck as he breathes.
Should I bring him lemonade? A glass of water?
I pour him a glass of ice water and realize I can smell something burning. Oh shit, the bread! I run to the oven and open it to billowing smoke. With a scream, I close the door, panic rising. I’m going to burn down my house before I even celebrate a month of living here! The smoke alarm blares at the exact moment I look over at my phone on the counter and see I never hit start on the thirty-minute timer.
A voice is shouting through the intercoms, but I can’t understand it over the sound of the smoke detector and my heartbeat. Jay comes flying into the room, his blue eyes wild and searching under his mask as he takes in the smoke and the sounds. I point to the oven, wide eyed and terrified. He runs at me, scoops me up around the waist and practically throws me toward the foyer. The voice is still blaring through the intercom and Jay jams the button and shouts. “It’s the oven. Give me a minute before you call!”
Jay then sprints over to the cabinet under the sink and retrieves the fire extinguisher. He turns off the oven, preps the extinguisher, and opens the door to spray the charred loaf of bread. The fire is out in seconds. He shuts the door and, sweaty chest heaving, returns to the intercom. “No fire, I’ve handled it.”
I’m standing stock still where Jay dropped me, watching in terror. I haven’t moved an inch. The smoke detectors stop their shrill beeping at Jay’s dismissal to the Crows at headquarters.
“Are you alright?” he asks in an authoritative tone. He looks me over head to toe before grabbing my hands to see if they were burned.
I pull my hands back with a jerk. “I- I almost burned down my house.”
“With a reaction time like yours? Yeah, I guess so,” Jay sighs. “What were you even doing, just standing there?”
“I panicked.”
He looks at me for a long moment before turning with his hands on his bare hips to look at the oven. The smoke is still thick in the air, but it’s no longer billowing from the oven. Jay waves a hand in front of his face and coughs.
“Stinky bitches!” Angelica squawks as she lands on my shoulder. She gives a dramatic, fake cough.
“Open the windows, Wren,” Jay says, a softness to his tone.
“Naked Jay,” Angelica croons.
“I’m not- I’m not naked!”
“No, but you’re dressed like a slut,” I say and look him over.
“Shlut!” Angelica repeats as I open the kitchen window.
A pink blush stains his skin just above his mask. “It’s hot out there.”
“In here, too.” I point to the oven.
Jay chuckles. He uses an oven mitt to pull out the loaf pan of ruined bread and sets it on the counter. “Looks great,” he says as the foam from the fire extinguisher drips off and onto the counter with a slap .
I groan and cover my face. Angelica uses a taloned foot to soothe my hair. “There, there. Dumb bitch.”
“Angelica, you’re a shit emotional support bird,” Jay scoffs.
****
After airing out the house and cleaning the oven, I have limited time to get ready for my date with Grey Potter. I don’t want to go on this date. But I also know I’d just been moping about having exhausted the approved dating pool. I could feel two things at once.
Jay and I leave the house, wave to the neighbors, and make it to my dad’s place with only a few minutes before Grey is scheduled to pick me up. Dad and Hawk are still at work, so the house is empty other than the quiet Sparrows and the Crows in the security room.
We wait silently and awkwardly in the sitting room. Jay pulls a granola bar out of his pocket and tears into it.
“You know, you’re allowed to eat actual food.”
“Oh, is your little date going to buy me dinner?” Jay is sarcastic, but his question makes me feel bad.
“I would buy you dinner if you were hungry.”
“I’m too old for you, but thanks.” He gives me a wink and bites the rest of the bar.
“How old are you?” I ask. My head tilts as I take him in fully. He has some fine lines around his eyes, but I don’t think he could be more than mid thirties.
“Older than you.”
“Jay.”
“Thirty-four.”
I nod, trying to play it cool. But that little sip of information made me realize how parched I was. It was like getting up in the middle of the night after an evening of drinking and salty foods to take a sip of water, only to then chug until I’m breathless and dripping water from my chin.
“When is your birthday?”
“Wren, that’s personal information.”
“What’s your zodiac sign?”
“Taurus.”
“No wonder you haven’t quit yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Tauruses are stubborn. You’re too stubborn to quit.”
Jay nods in agreement, but a shine of amusement in his eyes lets me know he’s about to turn the conversation around. “You’ve also stopped trying to get me to quit.”
My heart leaps a little in recognition. He’s right. I haven’t bullied him since we moved. “That can be rectified.”
“Why did you stop?” His eyes narrow in amused intensity.
“You look good with your shirt off in the garden,” I deadpan.
He laughs and breaks the eye contact we’d been maintaining as the doorbell rings.
I’m not ready. For the date or for analyzing my relationship with Jay. I press a hand to my stomach to quell the weird twirling feeling there.
“Butterflies?” Jay asks, aghast.
“Dread.”
I hear a Crow and a Sparrow answering the door but Jay’s eyes are on me and I can’t move. He looks concerned and unsure.
“Call it off then,” Jay suggests in a whisper just before Grey is shown into the room.
I ignore Jay and stand with a smile when Grey comes in. His hair is even taller than at my party and I fight to stifle a nervous laugh.
“Grey, it’s nice to see you,” I greet him.
“Wren, you look lovely.” He kisses my cheek. His lips are dry and cold. Gross. “I’ve got reservations for us at a nice little place. I, um, does he—”
“Oh, Jay? Yeah, he comes with us,” I say and wave a dismissive hand to my bodyguard.
Grey pastes on an awkward smile, but takes my hand and leads me to the door. He prattles on about the restaurant and the wine menu, and I chirp back at all the right places. In his hired car, I notice he is handsome if I can ignore his hair. He has sharp features and kind, soft eyes. His nervousness around me is endearing and I find myself smiling at his little jokes.
At the restaurant, he lets me order the wine and appetizer. Few of my previous dates allowed such a gesture. It even gives me the opportunity to offer a glass to Jay, who is sitting next to me at our partially set four top table. He looks shocked at my gesture and shakes his head wordlessly with a point to his water.
“So, how is life in the suburbs?” Grey asks with a smirk.
“It’s been great,” I reply. “I really love my neighborhood and my house is exactly what I dreamed of.”
“I don’t know how you survive out there. It seems absolutely… dismal to not have the luxury our lives in the city provide,” Grey says with a self-satisfied flick of his unmoving hair.
“Hm, I’ve found it’s not the city that provides the luxury we experience, but our dad’s careers.” While my tone was sarcastic, my point is entirely correct.
Grey looks at me like he doesn’t understand what I said.
We enjoy some more small talk about our families over our appetizer and wine. Grey is nice, but boring. Between our meal courses, it’s his niceness that convinces me to simply enjoy the date for what it is. Grey and I have traveled to many of the same places and have enjoyed similar experiences abroad. If anything, he would be a fun travel friend if not a boyfriend.
“You know, I’ve been a friend of Maxwell’s since our time in school,” Grey says casually over our main courses.
My heart doesn’t dip at the mention of my ex. Truly, our circles had to have overlapped at some point, and I am expecting him to know Maxwell in some capacity. “Oh?” Is all I can think to say.
“Yeah,” Grey says and puts down his silverware. He wipes his mouth on his cloth napkin and looks around us, ignoring Jay.
“He told me a little about you when I told him we had this date planned.”
Now my stomach dips a little. I sip my wine to clear the sour taste in my mouth. “Hopefully all good. Maxwell and I have known each other since we were kids.”
“I’m willing to make a deal with you,” Grey says. That awkwardness and nervousness from earlier have receded just enough I can see a sharpness in his eyes now. A focus on the topic at hand like this was a business deal and not a date.
Next to me, Jay breaks out of his still as a statue stoicism to give a long sigh. He is quiet enough that Grey likely doesn’t hear him, but I certainly do. I kick his booted foot under the table with my stiletto. With ninja like speed, he traps my foot against the leg of his chair and holds it there so I can’t kick him again.
Grey smiles at me from across the table, and I smile back. “A deal?” I question with a soft laugh.
“Yes. If you promise to get me a place in your dad’s business, preferably the board, I am prepared to promise that I’ll smack you around a bit. Get rough with you.”
I had been discreetly trying to pull my foot from Jay’s hold under the table, but now my heel falls to the floor and I stop yanking. “What?”
“He told me you wanted it rough in the bedroom. And I can bruise you up plenty,” Grey explains, as if he’s describing his plan to further economic growth in business. “If you want, we can get it in writing. I’ll knock you around and you can tell your dad—”
“Grey,” I whisper, completely still.
I can’t believe what he is saying. It is so far from what I want it doesn’t even seem real. Apart from the initial disappointment, I feel nothing.
“You see, my dad’s business depends on your dad’s contracts. I believe in order to inherit my family’s business and take it to the next step, I need to be a part of a bigger venture,” Grey continues, completely unaware of the fact that I shut down.
Jay’s hold on my foot tightens before he releases me, but I don’t move. I hear him mutter into his earpiece, asking for a Crow to come pick us up. For not the first time, I feel a sense of solidarity with Jay. I feel like he is on my side.
Dad explained when I was a teen many people were going to want to be around me simply because of my money and business connections. He said it didn’t make them bad people, but it made them bad friends. He taught me if a person showed me their hand early, then I needed to listen. And I am listening to Grey. He fooled me with that awkward and sweet act earlier. And maybe it is genuine, but his self-importance and greed overshadow those more positive attributes. How unfortunate.
“No,” I say simply and stand up. I place the napkin from my lap on the table and smooth my dress.
And for the second time in as many dates, I leave the restaurant before dessert.