Chapter 46
forty-six
WREN
The door clicks shut behind us.
I think about the first day I walked into work. Oversized tee. Scuffed Chucks. Shy, uncertain voice. Invisible.
Now I’m center stage, and I’m not shrinking from the spotlight.
And the reason is this man standing in front of me.
Ryan turns the lock, not because we need security but because I think he wants to keep the outside world out for just a little while longer.
The silence hits me immediately, loud in its own way after all the chaos of the finale.
I can still hear the buzz of voices and cameras through the walls, producers probably scrambling to figure out what the hell just happened, but it feels far away now.
We just stand there for a moment, breathing. Both of us coming down from whatever that was. My heart is still racing from the kiss, from his declaration, from the way the entire audience erupted when I walked into his arms.
Ryan finally breaks the silence.
“Well, that was dramatic.” He rubs a hand down his face. I can see him trying to process everything that just happened. The adrenaline is still coursing through both of us.
I cross my arms and smirk at him, even though I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this. “What, you didn’t love making TV history?”
He grins back. “I think I just earned myself the ultimate villain-to-lover redemption arc.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to see what Reddit has to say about all of this.”
“Reddit’s going to lose its collective mind.”
We’re joking, but there’s an edge to it. A nervous energy that comes from doing something completely insane and not knowing what the consequences will be. Ryan just chose me over everything else. He walked away from his finale, from his proposal, from everything he was supposed to do.
For me.
The weight of that hits me all over again. My teasing smile fades into something more serious. I take a step closer to him, searching his face.
“So,” I say quietly. “What now?”
His expression shifts too, becoming more serious, more real. “You tell me, Rustin. You gonna wake up tomorrow and pretend none of this happened?”
I look at him, really look at him. This man who just turned his entire world upside down for me. I take a breath, feeling the magnitude of this moment settle between us.
I hesitate. Not because I doubt him, not because I’m not sure about my feelings, but because I’m scared to hope. Because hoping for things with Ryan has hurt me before. I’m not sure I can survive it happening again.
“Wren,” he says, and his voice is gentler now. “Talk to me.”
“I just…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “When you didn’t reach out after the elimination, I thought… I mean, I assumed you’d moved on. That maybe everything between us wasn’t as real as I thought it was.”
His face falls. “Shit. Wren, they took my phone.”
“What?”
“The producers. They confiscated it right after the elimination ceremony. Told me I wasn’t allowed to contact you until after the finale aired.”
I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. That’s why I had to send Calla and Jennifer. It was the only loophole they couldn’t block.” His jaw tightens. “I should have found a way sooner. Should have fought harder to get to you.”
“The mysterious text,” I say, the pieces clicking into place. “The one with just question marks. I wasn’t sure who it was. I thought maybe it was a producer messing with me.”
“That was me. I borrowed someone’s phone for about thirty seconds before they caught me and took that one, too.”
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by anger. “Those bastards.”
“Yeah. They are.” He steps closer, his hands finding mine. “I came so close to just walking away from the whole thing. From the show, from the money, from everything. But I stayed because I needed this. Tonight. The chance to say it on my terms, in front of everyone.”
I look up at him, this man who just sacrificed everything for me. I feel my chest get tight with emotion.
A few weeks ago, I was the woman who felt invisible. Who thought she wasn’t worth choosing. Now I’m standing here with the most visible man in the world telling me I’m the only one who matters.
“You’re insufferable,” I say, half laughing, half crying.
“Wren.”
“I love you, Ryan. Once you push past the cocky bad boy image, you’re gentle and honest and endlessly kind. You make me feel brave. You treat me like I matter. And most of all, when I’m with you, I feel…” I gulp. “Seen.”
His smile is instant and brilliant. “You deserve to be seen, Chirp. You’re so fucking beautiful, inside and out.”
We’re standing close now, our hands brushing. I can feel the energy in the room shifting again. Less frantic, more intimate.
“You never ask me to be different. And you’re loyal.”
“Not to your brother.”
“Yeah, and it all but killed you.” I spread my hand over his heart. “I’m so glad you chose me.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Ryan takes my hand and brushes a kiss against my knuckles. “You see me, too. Even the parts that aren’t pretty. And you stay anyway.”
I stroke his cheek. “Of course, I do.”
“Well, I love you for that.” His eyes shine suddenly with unshed tears. “You don’t fall for my bullshit. You’ve never even looked my way when I tried desperately to flirt with you. You made me work to impress you. And now that I have, it feels pretty damn special.”
“You’re a terrible flirt.”
“I’m great at it.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
Ryan’s eyes sparkle. “You’re smarter than me. And it wrecks me.”
“I know.” I give him a rueful smile. “It’s a counterbalance to how soft I am. It’s not the strongest quality.”
“Gentleness can be powerful.” He pulls me closer. “Most of all, I love you because you give me a future. All my life was just banter and fucking and hockey. But with you… I finally know what home feels like.”
My heart grows five sizes. I kiss him, because I don’t have the words to say how special and magical he is to me. He groans and kisses me back, a hand sifting through my hair.
“Did I mention that you also smell incredibly good?” he whispers against my lips. “Like lemons and honey and sunshine.”
Oh god. “You’re just lured in by my pheromones.”
He bleats a surprised laugh. “I’m happy to say that I don’t know what the hell that means.”
“I can’t wait to teach you all of the made-up bullshit that romance novels have taught me. Seriously, I have some shockingly bad takes on where the clitoris is located.”
“I think I’ve got that one covered,” he says, his tone amused.
I place my hand flat on his chest, right over his heart, and feel the steady thud of it under my palm. “We have no idea how to do this.”
“So?” he says, covering my hand with his. “We figure it out.”
“I mean the real stuff. The after. Where do we go from here? Do we leave tonight? Do we face the press together? Do you have any idea what kind of shitstorm you just created?”
Ryan laughs. “Honestly? I don’t care about the interviews or the headlines or any of that. I want pancakes and you in my jersey and Sunday mornings when we don’t have to perform for anyone.”
The image hits me right in the chest. Simple and domestic and perfect. “That sounds pretty damn good.”
“Doesn’t it?”
But even as I say it, the fears start creeping in. The doubts that have been living in the back of my mind since this whole thing started.
“What if we’re only this good in stolen moments?” I ask. “What if we suck at the real stuff? What if we get bored when there aren’t any cameras around to make everything dramatic?”
“Then we suck together,” he says simply. “Wren, I don’t need drama. I don’t need cameras or producers or any of that bullshit. I just need you.”
I study his face, looking for any sign that he’s not being completely honest with me. But all I see is sincerity and love and a kind of quiet confidence that makes me believe him.
“I felt so invisible,” I admit. “When you didn’t choose me, when you didn’t call, I felt like maybe I’d imagined everything between us. Like maybe I was just some temporary distraction while you figured out who you really wanted.”
“You’ve always been the one I couldn’t forget,” he says, and his voice is fierce. “There’s never been a version of my life where you didn’t matter. Even when I was trying to convince myself this was just a show, just a job, you were the thing that made it real.”
He reaches up and threads his fingers through my hair, gentle and careful, like I might break. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fight harder for you in that moment. I’m sorry they put you through that.”
“You’re fighting for me now.”
“I’ll always fight for you.”
He leans down and kisses me then, soft and slow and completely different from the desperate kiss we shared in front of the cameras. This one is just for us. Personal and quiet and full of promise.
I lean into him fully, letting myself sink into the feeling of being chosen, of being wanted, of being home.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. “Stay with me tonight.”
“Ryan.”
“Not because of the show or the cameras or because it makes a good story. Stay with me because you want to.”
“Where would we go?”
“My house. My real house, not some mansion set. I want to wake up with you in my bed and make you coffee and show you what normal looks like with us.”
The idea sounds perfect and terrifying all at once. “Will there be pancakes?”
“Only if you wear nothing but my hoodie.”
I groan. “God, you’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?”
“Probably.”
“I love you anyway.”
“I know,” he says, smug as hell.
I wrinkle my nose and hit his arm playfully, but I’m laughing. God help me, I love him for it. “You’re the worst.”
“The worst guy you’re in love with.”
“The worst guy I’m in love with,” I agree.
He kisses me again, deeper this time. I feel heat start to build between us. His hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer. I can feel how much he wants me.
“I’m not trying to seduce you,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Then you’re really bad at failing,” I reply, breathless.
He lifts me easily, setting me on the edge of the dressing room table. The cold surface makes me gasp. My heels hit the floor with soft thuds as my legs wrap around him automatically. My dress rides up. His hands find the bare skin of my thighs.
For a moment, we just look at each other. The weight of everything that just happened, everything that’s about to happen, settling between us.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks. “Here? Now?”
“I’m sure about you,” I say. “I’ve been sure about you for a long time.”
That’s all the permission he needs. He kisses me harder, his hands roaming over my body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me. I can feel how careful he’s being, how much he’s holding back. It makes my heart ache with love for him.
“You don’t have to be gentle with me,” I whisper.
“I want to be. I want to worship you.”
He starts with my neck, pressing soft kisses along the column of my throat. I tip my head back to give him better access. His fingers find the small buttons at the top of my dress and he undoes them slowly, one by one, like he has all the time in the world.
When he pulls the fabric aside and looks at me, really looks at me, I feel beautiful in a way I never have before.
“You’re perfect,” he says, and I believe him.
He takes his time with me, exploring every inch of newly exposed skin with his mouth and hands. When he pushes my dress up around my waist and drops to his knees in front of the table, I think I might actually die.
“Ryan.”
“Let me,” he says, hooking his fingers in my underwear. “Let me make you feel good.”
I nod, beyond words. He slides the lace down my legs and tosses it aside. Then his mouth is on me, warm and wet and perfect. I have to grip the edge of the table to keep from falling off.
He takes his time here too, licking and sucking and using his tongue in ways that make me gasp his name. When he slides two fingers inside me while his mouth works my clit, I come so hard I see stars.
“God,” I breathe when I can speak again. “That was?—”
“Amazing,” he finishes, looking smug. “I know.”
I pull him up to kiss me, tasting myself on his lips, and start working on the buttons of his shirt. “Your turn.”
“We don’t have to.”
“I want to. I want you.”
He helps me get his shirt off, then his pants. When he’s naked in front of me, I take a moment to just appreciate him. All lean muscle and smooth skin and the evidence of how much he wants me.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I tell him.
He laughs. “Thanks. That’s exactly what every guy wants to hear.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
He steps between my legs again. I can feel him, hard and ready against me. “Are you sure?”
“Ryan. Stop overthinking it.”
I cup his face in my hands. “I love you. I want this. I want you.”
“Okay,” he says, and he kisses me as he pushes inside me.
The feeling of him filling me completely makes me gasp against his mouth. He holds still for a moment, letting me adjust. When I rock my hips against him, he takes it as permission to start moving.
It’s slow and deep and perfect. Nothing like the frantic, desperate sex we had that night in his suite. This is about love and connection and taking our time because we finally have it.
“I love you,” he whispers against my ear.
“I love you, too.”
We move together like we’ve been doing this for years, like our bodies were made to fit together. When I feel my second orgasm building, I tighten my legs around him and pull him deeper.
“Come with me,” I breathe.
“Wren.”
“Come with me.”
He does, burying his face in my neck as he pulses inside me. I follow him over the edge with a soft cry.
We stay like that for a long moment afterward, breathing hard, holding each other close. I can feel him softening inside me, but neither of us moves to separate.
“Are you always going to look at me like that?” I ask when I catch my breath.
“Like you’re the only person in the world? Yeah.”
“A girl could get used to that.”
“Good. Because I plan on doing it for a very long time.”
He pulls back to fully look at me. His expression is so tender it makes my chest tight. “Come home with me tonight.”
“Is that an order?”
“It’s a request. A very heartfelt request.”
I pretend to consider it. “Deal.”
He grins and kisses me again, soft and sweet. “I love you, Wren Rustin.”
“I love you too, Ryan Haart.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I’m never letting you go again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
And for the first time in my life, I believe in promises. I believe in love. I believe in us.
As we get dressed and prepare to face whatever chaos is waiting for us outside this room, I realize that the show was never the real story. The cameras and the drama and the roses were just background noise.
The real story was always just this. Just us. Just two people who found each other and chose each other and decided to build something real together.
Relationships, dating, marriage… Everything else is just details.
As long as he’s with me, everything else can wait forever.