Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Wren
The field stretches out endlessly, a dead, barren wasteland of cracked earth beneath my bare feet. The air is heavy, pressing against my lungs, and the silence gnaws at the edges of my mind. I spot her—Mom—standing in the distance. Her figure is shrouded in shadow, but I know it’s her. I’d know that stance anywhere: tall, rigid, unyielding.
I open my mouth to call out, but no sound escapes. It’s like my voice has been ripped from me. I take a step forward, then another, but with every step I take, the distance between us grows. She doesn’t move, but somehow, she’s always just out of reach.
“Stop trying to fix everything, Wren,” she says, her voice sharp and echoing, cutting through the silence like a blade. “You can’t even save yourself.”
Her words slice through me, leaving a hollow ache in their wake. I try to run, but my legs are like lead. The cracks in the ground grow deeper, wider, until water bubbles up from them. At first, it’s a slow trickle, but then it’s rushing, flooding.
“Mom!” I scream, but it’s drowned out by the roar of the water.
Then I see him. Theo.
He’s in the water, thrashing, his face twisted in panic.
“Wren!” he calls out, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. His hands reach out for me, desperate.
I dive in without thinking, the icy water swallowing me whole. My arms and legs are sluggish, like I’m moving through tar. No matter how hard I fight, I can’t get to him. The harder I swim, the farther away he drifts.
“Let him go, Wren.” Mom’s voice cuts through the roar, detached and unyielding. Her eyes pierce into me, cold and distant. “You’ll lose him anyway.”
“No!” I scream as I lunge forward.
My fingers brush Theo’s, his skin slick and cold, but just as I grab hold, something unseen yanks him beneath the surface.
“Theo!” I shout, thrashing against the ink-black waves, but he’s gone, the water stilling as if he was never there.
The water surges, rising to my chin, my mouth, my nose. I can’t breathe—can’t move—and all I hear is her voice echoing in my head:
“You can’t save everyone—You can’t even save yourself.”
I wake with a start, gasping for air, my chest heaving. For a moment, I can still feel the water pressing down on me, the ache in my fingers from trying to hold him as he slipped away. Fucking hell, I haven’t had a nightmare that intense since. . . well, before I moved in with Theo. I didn’t plan on sleeping. I figured it wouldn’t find me between the run-in with my mother and the circumstances with Theo. Honestly, it would have been better if it didn’t because now my body is on high alert.
“She’s not here,” I remind myself. “She doesn’t know where I am, and no one will tell her. I’m safe.”
With a sigh, I sit up and rake my fingers through my hair. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep with it damp because now the curls are beyond salvageable. For a moment, the voice in my head is quiet. It’s not telling me I’m going to lose the one person I love the most or how I’ll end up alone and forgotten. It’s only until the subtle click of a certain someone’s door closing that it all resumes.
Robbie didn’t stay long last night, and I hope that means he got through to him. I won’t know until I confront him, and at this point, I want to peel off the Band-Aid and get it over with. Either I lose him now or I’ll lose him later. . .
Or you don’t lose him at all. But that part of my brain isn’t loud enough to grant me a speck of hope.
When you grow up in a house of fake promises, it becomes second nature to expect the worst out of any scenario. If I become too optimistic, my heart will most likely break. It’s easier to prepare for the worst. At least then, my heart is a little safer.
Without thinking too hard, I slip out of bed and head for the shower.
Just breathe. Just breathe. Just breathe.
The water pounds against my back, so hot it’s almost painful, but no amount of scalding heat can burn away the ache in my chest. It sits there, heavy and suffocating, like I’m carrying the weight of every word I didn’t say. My fingers tremble as I press them against the tile, the cool ceramic biting against my skin.
“Don’t cry,” I whisper to myself over and over, but the knot in my throat is relentless.
I want to scream, to rage, but instead, I let the water steal my words, as if it can drown the tears I refuse to shed.
But it’s not my mom I want to cry over. It’s Theo.
What the hell is he thinking? He can’t seriously believe he’s doing this for my sake. He’s always protected me, always put my safety above all else, but this... This is beyond reason. This is him playing hero, and for what? He’s so goddamn stubborn. Always has been. And now he’s backed me into a corner. I didn’t want to bring Robbie into this. I didn’t want to drag anyone else into our mess, but what choice did I have?
I remember one night in college when Theo called me at three a.m., his voice shaking. He never told me what happened—he didn’t need to. I found him sitting on the steps outside his dorm, his hands buried in his hair. He didn’t look at me when I sat beside him, just leaned into my shoulder like it was the only thing keeping him upright. That night, I promised myself I’d always be his anchor. But anchors don’t work when the chain’s been cut.
We’ve always been each other’s rock. His calm when he needed it, his storm when he couldn’t muster the courage to rage himself. And now, when we finally have each other the way we always dreamed—no barriers, no boundaries—he’s shutting me out.
Doesn’t he see? This isn’t just about him, about me. It’s about everything we’ve built, every fragile moment we’ve fought for. We’ve spent years walking the razor’s edge between hope and heartbreak, and now he’s ready to throw it all away. For what? To prove he can do it alone?
He told me about Amanda and the blackmail, so he must want me to stop him. He needs me to stop him. But the truth he can’t admit and the truth I can’t escape is this: if I push too hard, if I let the wrong words slip, I might lose him forever.
The water beats against my skin, but my mind races ahead of me, trying to piece together the right plan. The right words.
I just need to figure out how . . .
I summon the walls that once protected me and walk into the living room. The barrier I tried to raise is quickly demolished when his eyes lock with mine. I slept last night, but Theo most certainly did not. He’s exhausted in more ways than one, and all I want to do is hold him close so he can rest.
The sting of our stalemate hits me like a wave, threatening to knock me off balance. But I plant my feet firmly on the ground. No more running.
“Didn’t sleep?” I ask, my voice calm but probing.
Theo shakes his head, the shadows under his eyes giving him away. “No. You?”
“I wish I didn’t,” I admit.
“Nightmare?”
“Yeah.” I force a grim smile. “Yesterday was... a lot.”
“I’m sorry?—”
“It wasn’t just you.” I move toward the couch. My steps are heavy, but I don’t falter. “I ran into my mother yesterday.”
“What?” His dark eyes widen, and he’s suddenly in front of me, his concern palpable. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When was I supposed to?” I ask as I sink into the couch. “Before or after you told me that everything we’ve worked toward is ending?”
Theo flinches. His fists clench, and he slams his eyes shut.
I want to reach for him, to soothe the hurt I can see in every tense line of his body. But I can’t—not yet. He needs to hear this. He needs to understand the damage he’s about to cause.
“When we first met in WoSaF, you became my light,” I say, my tone steady despite the ache clawing at my chest. “You were the reason I woke up every day, the reason I made it through. And when we finally met in person, you were more than I ever thought I deserved. We grew up together, Theo. And while I couldn’t admit it then, I can now—I’ve always wanted more.”
I wrap my hand around his wrist, tugging him down to sit beside me. “Do you remember when you stopped those guys from teasing me in the library?” I soften my tone, willing him to look at me. “You said, ‘You don’t have to deal with them alone. I’ll always be here for you, just like you’re here for me.’ Remember?”
He nods, his jaw tight, and I press on.
“Amanda is nothing more than a bully,” I tell him. “You’ve always been my defender. It’s my turn now.”
He finally opens his eyes, and his tears spill over. I catch them without thinking, my thumb brushing against his cheek.
“This can’t be over,” I whisper. “We deserve a chance.”
Theo chokes out a breath, his words trembling. “We do. But I don’t see a way around this, Wren. We’re in this mess because of me—because of a choice I made back in college. Robbie’s right—Amanda won’t stop here. And even if you stay with me, the odds of this happening again are too high.”
Don’t do this.
He exhales sharply, his shoulders trembling. “I don’t expect you to be okay with me sleeping with other people for my job. Hell, I don’t want to. You’ve brought me happiness I didn’t think I’d ever find, and now I’m going to lose you forever.”
Please, stop. My chest tightens as panic claws at me.
“It was nice while it lasted . . .”
“You can’t save him . ” My mother’s voice echoes in my mind.
“My time with you is something I’ll cherish forever.”
Two out of three.
“I won’t move on after this,” he says, tears streaking his face. “But I expect you to.”
No more running.
“You deserve to be happy, Wren.”
Make a stand.
I dig my nails into the couch cushion, my breath coming in sharp bursts.
“You deserve more?—”
Fight back!
“No.” It comes out sharp, a blade honed by desperation. “I don’t.” I lean forward, meeting his gaze with unwavering intensity. “I don’t deserve more because there’s no one who will ever live up to you.”
“Wren—”
“Don’t ‘Wren’ me!” I snap, the heat rising in my cheeks. “I’m done submitting to circumstances I can’t control. For once, I’m fighting back. You think you can push me away, but you’ve never been more wrong.”
Theo’s face darkens, his voice rising to match mine. “I won’t let you stay with me—not after I sleep with another woman!”
“You won’t be sleeping with another woman.”
“What don’t you and Robbie understand?” he groans. “She can’t post that video!”
That video.
The words hang between us, and I see the helplessness in his eyes. He’s cornered, caged by a mistake he can’t outrun.
My mind races, sifting through the pieces of this mess, and then an idea forms, reckless and bold. My lips twitch into a grin I can’t quite suppress.
“No,” I say slowly, testing the weight of my words, “she can’t.”
Theo freezes, his brow furrowing. “What—what are you thinking?”
“She can’t post that video,” I repeat, holding his gaze. My pulse pounds in my ears, but I push forward, reveling in the momentum of the thought taking shape. “So... let’s make a new one.”