17. Wren
WREN
An orgasm a day keeps the nightmares away.
I can’t believe that’s what he said to me just as much as I can’t believe it actually rang true. I didn’t have another nightmare after shutting the door in Stone’s face two nights ago, and I have refused to make eye contact with him since.
What was I thinking?
My plan was to irritate him because I could see him sulking outside my door, and I was already pissed about him coming to my rescue at Shadow’s.
He was messing with my head—so hot and cold, just like his nickname from high school, Stone-Cold Killer.
I heard one of the guys talking with him in the kitchen, poking and prodding and asking why he was playing like shit, but he only grunted and stalked off.
It’s probably because he’s tired due to my stupid anxiety creeping up on me when I’m at my most vulnerable, whimpering and crying at all hours of the night. Not that I asked him to stay outside my room—that’s all on him. Which again, messes with my head.
I slam my notebook closed and rub at my sore neck. I stand at the sound of Professor Walsh’s dismissal. Personal Finance is the class I’d choose to skip out on for a nap if I had to pick, it is the least demanding of my course load, but I won’t slack off when it comes to my academics.
“You look tired.”
I freeze at the sound of a voice I’m not expecting. Stone is standing in the back of the lecture hall, resting along the doorframe casually. His book is trapped in his large hand as he ignores all the puck bunnies trying to gather his attention.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
Everyone is staring at us.
He shrugs and walks beside me. “I switched classes to be in yours.”
“What?” I slam on the brakes. “No.”
He doesn’t pay any attention to me. Instead, he pulls out his phone, and when I glance at the screen, he has an email open from an academic advisor with the heading: Here is your new schedule.
I rip the phone out of his hand, ignoring the quick brush of our fingers, and zoom in.
When I meet his eyes— those annoying blue eyes —I can tell he’s pleased with himself.
“Did you seriously switch your entire schedule to match mine?”
Stone is so nonchalant with his casual shrug. “Yeah, except those godawful chemistry classes you’re taking.”
I wait for a beat, preparing for his jab over how ironic it is that I’m a chem major and used to cook drugs for my father, but surprisingly, he doesn’t say anything, which leaves me confused.
“What? No remarks about my past chemistry skills?”
Stone walks beside me, eyeing everyone we pass with skepticism.
I’m on edge. Not because of the staring from our peers but the death glares he’s sending.
The moment we’re outside, I see that he has parked his car right beside mine.
I pick up the pace, which is completely pointless because he’s a hockey player, for fuck’s sake—his endurance is much better, and one of his strides is three of mine.
“Why are you rushin’ off, Sticks? You gotta work?”
I glare at him. He has on a backward baseball hat, and it’s annoyingly hot. His jaw flickers with impatience, but his eyes scan all over my face like he’s searching for something.
“What’s it to you?”
I throw my bag and books in the passenger seat of my car. “Are you planning to show up and punch every guy who looks at me?”
He chuckles, and I feel it everywhere. I drop my eyes to his mouth and sweat at the sight. Shit. The other night was supposed to be a punishment to him. It was supposed to fuck with his head, but instead, it fucked with mine.
“If they need to be punched, yes.”
“Well, don’t,” I snap. “They give me good tips.”
I shut my passenger door and stalk over to the driver’s side. The door creaks as I open it, and I half expect it to fall off its hinges. Stone watches me with amusement, and I’m growing more irritated.
“And why the hell did you switch your schedule to match mine? Are you trying to pay me back for the other night? Because this isn’t messing with my head.
It’s just pissing me off.” I’m lying right through my teeth.
“Or is that your plan? To piss me off so much that I just leave the house altogether?”
Stone’s hand falls to my bicep, and I pause at the touch. Why does it feel different all of a sudden? And why the hell am I not pulling away?
“I switched because I’m trying to prevent you from getting gang-banged.”
My jaw slacks with a gasp. Stone’s free hand pushes my chin up to close my mouth.
“I started a rumor, and it’s biting me in the ass. This is me trying to fix it. I’m…” He lowers his voice so much that I hardly hear him. “I’m trying to protect you.”
My heart thumps, and I know it’s because there is a severely broken part of me that craves to have someone protect me. But just as quickly as I fall for his words, I climb back up and shut him out.
“Well, I don’t want anyone’s protection.” I climb in my car with haste. “Especially not yours. ”
I slam my door and rev my shitty car to life and speed away, hoping I can beat him home. But knowing Stone, he’ll beat me because he refuses to lose.
And that’s exactly what happens.
His footsteps are behind me, and I curse the fact that my car can’t go over thirty miles per hour without vibrating the entire frame. I try to race up the steps to the house first, but Stone’s a step behind me, cackling like a fucking monster in my ear.
“Those sticks of legs you have are quick,” he whispers so close to me that his breath brushes against my neck. “But not quick enough.”
I scan the house to see if anyone is home, but there isn’t another beefy hockey player to be found anywhere. Not even in the kitchen.
“I’m fast when I need to be. If I truly wanted to lose your trail, I could.” I open the closet door.
I stare at Stone standing in the hallway with his irking smirk. He finds this amusing, and I do not.
“I’m sly, Stone. You should know that better than anyone.”
I watch as the thought flickers across his features, hardening the lines around his mouth and turning his smirk into a grimace.
Wren—1. Stone—0.
The smile tastes just as victorious as I feel, but when I turn and look at my room, I still. What the fuck?
I whip around quickly and level Stone with a glare. “Not only are you stalking me, but you’re fucking with my shit too?”
Stone rolls his eyes. “I’m not stalking you, Sticks. Way to be dramatic.”
My heart is beating with anger, and suddenly, I’m ten years old again, in a room with Winnie the Pooh wallpaper, looking at my stuff strewn all over the place because one of the foster kids thought I stole their lighter. They destroyed my things, and I still haven’t gotten over it.
“At least clean up after yourself next time! Why were you going through my stuff?” I walk farther into my room, noticing that each of my notebooks is open, and my books are shuffled throughout.
I peer back and snarl. “What were you looking for? Didn’t do your homework and wanted to copy me?
” I roll my eyes. “Just like high school. Constantly cheating…on homework and girlfriends.”
“I wasn’t in your fucking room.”
He’s standing behind me, and I know Stone isn’t an honest guy, but I can tell by his voice that he isn’t lying. I scan my small area again, and the panic sets in before the realization.
“Jesus, this is a mess,” he says.
“Get out,” I say, hating that my voice is less than confident.
Stone notices. I know he does.
“Wren. I didn’t go through your shit.”
He called me Wren . He knows something’s wrong.
“Get out. ”
I push on his chest, and it must surprise him, because he stumbles backward. Before he can realize what I’ve done, I slam the door and flip the lock. I jump when his fists bang against the wood.
“Wren! Open the fucking door.”
I ignore him and take a small step forward.
I bend down and scoop up one of my notebooks.
It’s an older one, from high school. I kept it because I knew I’d have to refer to the easier equations to further my current labs in Organic Chemistry and probably even more classes throughout my junior and senior year.
I run my finger over the soft pencil markings to ease my anxiety, but as soon as I flip to the last page, my eyes swell with moisture.
It’s torn, and I know exactly what was hidden in between what seemed like normal equations.
Not to mention, the scribble of messy handwriting left behind is the answer that I didn’t actually need:
Your father says thank you for all of your help, Pumpkin.
I muffle a sob and shove the notebook away.
Stone has given up on knocking, and I’m pretty certain he has left for practice.
I refuse to open my door, though. Instead, I clean up the mess my father’s friends have made and put everything back to where it was before.
I should be thankful that they took the measurements for the best batch of meth we’ve ever made instead of taking me, but now they know where I live, and that’s a problem in itself.
* * *
“On your knees.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I stare at the door to the trailer and hold back a sob.
There’s a gun pressed to the back of my skull, and I force myself to swallow the frog in my throat.
I’m shaking with fear, and my hands have residue on them that is honestly so dangerous.
My gloves are thrown off to the side of the table, and I watch as a cockroach scurries underneath the couch to hide from the loud voices.
“Where is he?”
The barrel digs into my head, and I whimper. “I don’t know.”
I don’t. I really don’t. My father is no knight in shining armor, but right now, his appearance would save me.
“Where’s the money, then?”
He doesn’t tell me where the money is. Why would he?
My shaky voice breaks through the pounding in my ears. “I don’t know. I can… I can give you a fresh batch if that’ll help until he gets back?”
Please work. Please work. Please work.
“A fresh batch? How old are you? You can’t honestly think I’ll believe a teenage girl is the one cooking.”
The man has a large scar running down his face that stops just above his upper lip. There are scars all over his face, but the long one is what sends a chill down my spine.
“A fresh batch? We want something else.”
“What do you want?” I shift my attention to the guy standing near the door. I’m eager. I’d do anything to get the gun off the back of my head. Fear makes you do wild things. I’ve learned that the hard way.
“You.”
The gun becomes a little less forceful, and my body is numb. My stomach twists, and instead of swallowing my tears, I’m now swallowing regret. Shit.
“How old are you?”
The very tip of the gun comes around my neck, and my hair is pulled backward.
“Sixteen,” I answer.
“Good enough for me.”
A pair of boots are in front of me, and I’m pushed to my back. I’m on the floor with the cockroaches as my audience. I tell myself to stay strong and to just put my mind somewhere else, but the fighter inside of me can’t fathom it, so I scream.
I scream so loud that my throat hurts worse than the force between my legs.
“Goddamn it, Wren!”
My throat burns when I gasp for air. I scramble backward and smack my back off the wall. My head is caught by someone’s hand before it hits, and I hear my sob loud and clear.
“Look at me.”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t do anything but shake.
I gasp and gasp until two hands cup my cheeks, stroking the skin underneath my eyes.
“Look at my eyes, baby.”
I blink past the tears and find myself clinging to the blue for dear life. I grip his wrists so hard I’m positive I’ve made him bleed. He takes it, though. Stone says nothing. He continues to stare into my eyes, breathing slowly out of his mouth, trying to get me to do the same.
“You’re safe,” he whispers.
I’m too weak to argue, and I’m too weak to pretend like I don’t need someone at this moment, because I do. Instead of pushing Stone away, I pull him in closer and bury my head into the crook of his neck, soaking his shirt with my tacky skin and wet face.
I feel the movement without opening my eyes. I’m in his arms, and he’s moving me out of my room. My door has a hole in it. The wood is splintered. I locked the door before going to sleep, and I’m pretty certain Stone used his fist to break it down to get to me.
“ Jesus Christ ,” someone says.
I shut my eyes immediately when I see the rest of my housemates standing in the hallway with concern etched onto their sleepy faces.
“Wrenny.”
Stone pauses at the sound of Evan’s voice, but I shake my head along his chest. I don’t want to talk, and there is no amount of milk and cookies that can get me to. Instead, I listen to the thundering beat of Stone’s heart against my ear and hold on tighter as he takes me upstairs.