Chapter 11
eleven
WREN
Wow. Annabeth may have been portrayed as a cute girl next door, but when Ryan eliminated her last night, she punched a hole in the kitchen wall. I stare at it as I eat my yogurt and berries.
It’s weird to me that anybody would be so upset over being kicked off, period, let alone being sent home so early into the contest. Who cares about winning? It’s so unlikely that Ryan will actually pick any particular bachelorette.
And yet, here is evidence that Heidi cared .
I rush through getting dressed and getting my makeup done. I’m yawning the whole time even though I had coffee with breakfast. The elimination ceremony last night took forever . We were all up past 1 a.m. and now we’re supposed to be perky and camera ready. Great.
We get in vans, bundled off on a day trip. I don’t even have the energy to be worried right now. At least I get my grande latte with whipped cream to soothe me as we drive. The girls are all silent, staring out the windows as they caffeinate themselves.
When the vans pull up in front of a small brick building with a faded sign that reads Hope Kitchen and Pantry, I think we’ve taken a wrong turn.
I was expecting the contestants to be carried to an obstacle course or a paintball arena, but no.
There’s no thrilling, heart-pounding ride to go on.
Just a line of people waiting quietly outside and a folding table with someone taking down names.
I glance down at the hem of my dress, smoothing the fabric between my fingers. It’s soft and expensive, the kind of thing I never imagined wearing.
These clothes feel like armor. Not fake or flashy. Just… strong. I don’t feel like Jay’s awkward little sister in a hoodie. I feel sharp. Feminine. Like maybe I belong here after all.
This isn’t a date. It’s not even a challenge. I was bracing for paintball bruises or a pop quiz in heels, not… sincerity. This might actually be worse.
We move forward, the other bachelorettes clamoring as we crowd inside. As we go, the director claps his hands together.
“Okay, everyone. Today we’re going to do something a little different. There’s gonna be no competition here. We’re all going to work together to support a cause that means a lot to Ryan. Hunger relief.”
“Everybody will prep and serve meals or help pack boxes for the pantry. There is no end goal and no reward for finishing quickly. It’s important that we do our best work here. Right, Ryan?”
Apparently, Ryan has entered the building right behind us because he speaks from just behind me, scaring me half to death.
“That’s right. Thank you all for volunteering. Even though you weren’t actually volunteers. Today we’re going to do something that I do on a regular basis. So spread out and make sure you listen to the people that work here.”
There are groans coming from several of the bachelorettes. Mei starts filming immediately. Raven looks around and elbows Heidi. JacqLyn finds a pantry employee and starts asking for a rundown of the positions that need to be filled. Me? I just stand here, trying to recalibrate.
This feels too sincere for a show that once held a “roses and rejections” dodgeball tournament.
A crew member comes up to me, offering an apron. I take it and put it over my head.
“Is this a real place?” I ask.
She just nods. “Yeah. It is. Ryan requested it specifically.”
I blink. “He requested a food pantry? Why?”
A woman in an apron hears me and looks up from a clipboard. “He volunteers here twice a month. No cameras, no press. He just shows up and works.”
Something thuds in my chest. He does this? For real? No spotlight, no Instagram reel? It doesn’t track. It doesn’t fit. Somehow, that makes it even harder to breathe.
I stare at her, wide-eyed. “Are we talking about the same Ryan?”
She points at him. Ryan, who’s standing across the room, talking to a person who came in for assistance. Definitely a description of a needy patron, even if I don’t want to say homeless.
This is the guy I’ve been crushing on from a safe distance? The one I wrote off as cocky and selfish? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I don’t know him at all.
“That Ryan. Six-five. Dark hair. Handsome as hell? Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a regular volunteer here.”
Ryan ties his apron around his waist and laughs with someone while he unpacks produce. He looks relaxed and comfortable. He gives every indication that this isn’t a joke. It throws me. Hard.
It’s not just the apron or the laugh. It’s the way he blends in here. Like this isn’t a gimmick for him. It’s a habit. I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve never seen anyone like this.
Tying the apron around my waist, I put my head down and start assembling boxes for the food pantry. After I stack about fifty boxes in a towering pile against the wall, I back up into a hard surface.
“Watch out.”
I jump out of my skin and look up. Of course, it’s him. Ryan is right there, looking down at me with those blue eyes.
I try to play it off. “I didn’t realize you did charity work,” I say, sort of making conversation as I move away.
He gives me a knowing look. “You say that as if you think I can’t be a decent human being.”
He’s right. I definitely did not imagine this was one of his off-ice activities, but there’s no reason to admit that.
“I never said that,” I lie.
He shrugs. “When I was a kid, my sister and I used to come to places like this. We didn’t always have enough food or know where our next meal was coming from. So kitchens and pantries like this got us through a lot of really hard times.”
His voice is calm, but his words land like a punch. He’s not telling me for drama or attention. There are no cameras watching.
Apparently, there’s a wealth of things I don’t know about my so-called best enemy.
I don’t know what to say, so I just shrug awkwardly. “It’s saintly that you give back,” I finish lamely.
He gives me a funny look, like I’ve just said something off the wall.
But before I can say anything else, a volunteer comes over and pulls us both into packing some of the boxes I just made with canned goods and produce.
I’m paired with Ryan because of proximity, but he doesn’t even prod me like I’m expecting him to.
He’s efficient and focused, stuffing cans into boxes without saying a word.
I expect his usual self. Flirty, joking, distracted. But he’s just working. Quick hands. Quiet intensity. Like this actually matters to him.
“Wren.”
I blink and cough into my elbow. “What? What now?”
He stares at me. “Are you going to finish putting apples in the boxes?”
“Yup. Yep. Doing that right now.”
He isn’t just economical with his own time. He expects everyone else to be, too. There’s no screwing around here. The look on his face is slightly impatient, like I’m a wayward boat that he has to steer in the right direction yet again.
For a hot second, I long to be the one he notices. Like I matter. Like I’m part of the world he keeps for himself. But I don’t get that look. I never have.
I pick up my pace and try to focus only on getting produce into boxes. He comes right behind me and fills in a few more pantry staples, then I tape the boxes closed.
I look at him expectantly. “What now?”
He glances at his watch and jerks his head toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s go jump onto the line and help distribute hot meals for a while. We can tell the girls working there to come over here and make some more boxes.”
I nod. “I’m following you.”
He cuts in, telling a couple of the contestants to take over where we just were. JacqLyn sweetly welcomes him, offering to give him mashed potatoes to dole out.
I roll my eyes and put on a fresh pair of clear plastic kitchen gloves, then get to work with a slotted spoon full of green beans. JacqLyn is suddenly very into giving out the rolls at the end of the line and squeezes next to Ryan affectionately.
“I just love doing this,” she says. “Thanks so much for setting this up. This is really important work.”
She’s not wrong, but she is flirting her ass off.
Ryan thanks her for being here and then diverts his attention back to the line of people getting Styrofoam containers full of hot food. JacqLyn is not deterred. She keeps brushing his arm, making silly jokes. Saying things like “I bet you’re good with your hands.”
I roll my eyes so hard it might qualify as a workout.
Ryan eyes me and leans over with a sneaky smile. “Careful. You’re spooning with rage. You don’t wanna break anyone’s to-go box.”
“Your ego is beyond.” I grit my teeth. “Just focus on your mashed potatoes.”
He leans closer, whispering in my ear. “You know, it occurs to me that you might think I’m doing this for the show. But I’m not.”
I touch the back of his arm and peer up into his eyes. “You don’t have to convince me. I get it. This place matters to you. It’s just… not what I expected. That’s all.”
His expression is carefully neutral. “Yeah, well. People don’t expect much from me. They just want me to put on the act.”
That makes me snort. “I’ve seen the act. The protein powder. The stupid smirk. The girl-of-the-week energy. It’s exhausting.”
He shoots me a look. “Hey, at least it’s working for me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“I’m not sitting alone every weekend night. I’m definitely not a virgin. Unlike some people I know.”
I drop my spoon with a clatter and practically swallow my tongue. “What did you just say?”
He elbows me in the ribs. “Jesus, Rustin. I was just joking.”
I’m too busy blushing and staring at the green beans to answer.
“Wait,” he says. “You’re not actually a virgin, are you?”
My entire body locks up. I can feel the flush rising up my neck. I want to disappear into the piles of mashed potatoes more than I can say.
“S-shut up,” I stammer.
“Oh my God. You are. Jesus.”
I sneak a look at him. His eyes are as wide as if I’ve just grown a third head.
“Shut up,” I whisper. “Seriously. Don’t talk to me. There are people all around.”
He raises his hands innocently but starts grinning like a hillbilly maniac.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I just didn’t see that coming, either. I guess there are surprises for both of us.”
A volunteer cuts in with a tray of green beans to freshen my tray. I set mine back and roll, heading to the food pantry area before I can do something embarrassing like, for instance, cry. Or punch him. Or maybe both.
As I stalk out of the kitchen, I try not to think about how much I hate him. Or how much it hurt that he was amused.
He’s not the villain I’ve made him out to be. Not entirely. If he’s not the villain… then what am I? Just a girl who’s been wrong this whole time?