Chapter 21 #3
“I don’t know,” he whispered, glad his throat no longer burned. “It’s still dark outside.”
“Do you need anything?” She was so damn nurturing, she even checked on him in her sleep.
“I’ve got everything I need right here.” He kissed her head again.
“Mmm,” she responded, the soft moan fading into a feminine snore.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” he whispered, keeping his voice low as he gently played with her hair, happy to hold her as she slept in his arms. “I remember how my mom used to take care of us.”
He stared into the dim glow of the fire, aware he was mostly talking to himself, but it felt good to share those personal memories, even if she was sleeping through his confessions.
“She used to mother us the most when we were sick. Popsicles and soup, warm baths, and our favorite snacks. Whenever one of us got sick, the others always got jealous.”
Nothing beat a mother’s love, he thought, but Wren’s care came pretty close today. He felt so much better than he had last night, and could only attribute his miraculous healing to her care.
“I don’t even remember her voice anymore,” he admitted shamefully. “Isn’t that awful?”
“It’s human,” she whispered, and he realized she was actually listening.
“I should remember everything about her. She was my mom.”
“When something hurts that much, Grey, our mind hides the details to protect our heart.”
Maybe that was it. Maybe his forgetfulness was a coping mechanism. He did what he had to do to get past the pain. But the guilt remained, and his throat tightened every time he felt that shame resurfacing.
“We weren’t allowed to wallow.”
“Talking about her isn’t wallowing.”
“It was to my dad.”
There was never space for their grief. Magnus forbade them from crying and sent them away anytime they moped about the house. All the forgiving softness of childhood disappeared with their mother. After her passing, their home became just a cold dwelling where their father loomed.
Greyson was the first to move out. He spent years working out at sea with the fishery, hoping the experience might clear his head, but when he returned home, all his abandoned emotions remained.
He returned to the North Sea again and again, waiting for his feelings to wash away, but they always came crashing back whenever he returned to Hideaway Harbor.
When he realized he couldn’t drown his grief at sea, he tried to bury it in the woods. That didn’t work either. Because the longer he tried not to feel, the more he felt.
“I miss her,” he confessed quietly.
“I miss my mom, too.”
The fact that they shared the pain made it easier to bear. Maybe that’s why he always returned to her—she understood.
Greyson hadn’t been raised with strong faith. The little he had came from the spiritual things Wren said to him on occasion. He liked her insights and found himself pondering her perspective on life more than he was willing to admit.
She soothed him. And now, more than ever, he realized how much he craved her nearness.
He could have settled anywhere. He’d visited every coastal town up and down the Atlantic and crossed international waters.
But she always pulled him back to Hideaway Harbor.
Every journey away from her had been an exercise in futility, a desperate attempt to outrun feelings that only grew stronger with distance.
Wren was his North Star, the magnetic pull that called him home. And, over the years, he slowly gave in to that pull, setting down roots and making excuses to see her. She never left his mind, even when he ordered himself to stay away.
There was no denying the truth anymore. Not when he finally admitted this was what he wanted. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, breathing her in, he closed his eyes. She felt right in his arms, like he’d been built to hold her. He never wanted to let her go.
He needed to finally set himself free and stop holding back the feelings his father claimed made a man weak. “I love you, Wren.”
She drew back and blinked up at him, a stunned expression on her face. “What?”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. In case you didn’t know…”
She tightened her arms around his ribs and pressed a kiss to his lips. “You know I love you too, right?”
Of course, she did. But this was different.
He wasn’t talking about a platonic love or the kind of love that develops over time.
This was a love that determined his life, the kind that dictated a man’s future.
Soon enough, she’d understand just how serious he was about her.
Now that he had her, he was never letting her go.
“Get some sleep.” He pulled the covers higher to tuck her in tight against his chest.
By morning, he felt fully recovered. Wren, however, had caught his cold.
“I feel terrible.”
“You should.” She coughed. “You did this to me.”
He should have insisted she leave and protect herself.
His eyes widened when she blew her nose, the sound more like a dying elephant. “Good God, woman, did you eat a French horn?”
“Shut up,” she said with a nasally speech impediment as she created an environmental crisis with the amount of tissues she blew through in one minute.
“How can someone so small make that much noise?”
She looked up at him, nose as red as Rudolph’s, then toppled to her side and whined. “You gave me your cooties.”
“I’m a boy. We’re well-known cooty carriers. I warned you to stay away.”
“Ugh,” she groaned, plucking more tissues from the box as she sneezed three times in a row.
“You sneeze like a kitten in a teacup but blow your nose like a foghorn kicking off a moose hunt.”
She sniffled and moaned, hiding her face in the blankets. “Look away. I’m hideous.”
“You’re adorable.”
“No. You shouldn’t see me like this. We’re supposed to be in the new, seductive stage, not the drippy, gross phase. I want you to think I wake up beautiful, not icky.”
“Believe it or not, you’re still adorable—even with a red nose and glassy eyes.”
“We’ll never sleep together if you keep looking at me like this.”
Was she nuts? “Nope. Still want to fuck you thirty ways to Sunday.” He tucked the blankets around her like a tightly wrapped burrito. “I’m running to The Chowder House to get you some soup. What else can I pick up while I’m out? Cough drops? Something for tea?”
“Maybe ask Aunt Astrid for something that cures death.”
“On it.”
She groaned. “I have my class—”
“Lilly can teach your class. I’ll swing by and tell her, then I’ll check on Bodhi.”
She coughed. “People will get suspicious if you start relaying messages for me.”
“Let them. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
She blew her nose and moaned in defeat. “Fine. Thank you.”
He kissed her head then kissed Rat. “I’ll be back soon. Call me over the radio if you need anything.”
“Take your phone!”
“I will, but it’s windy today. Use the radio if it’s important.”
She groaned and tossed a crumpled tissue beside the waste basket by the couch.
A loud bang woke Wren, the ache drilling behind her eyes still jackhammering away.
“Grey?” she croaked, startled by her voice. When she coughed, it hurt so much she fell back asleep out of sheer defeat. The pounding continued and then someone bellowed for Greyson and her skull shriveled.
Wren’s eyes popped open and she groaned as the door opened, letting a cold draft in.
“You’ve got some nerve, man!” Whoever was yelling was about to catch her wrath.
They yanked the covers off of her. “Hey!”
Logan blinked, confused. “Wren?”
She weakly pulled herself up, snatched back the covers, and collapsed. The air outside the blankets was freezing.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m sick,” she rasped. Anything over a whisper burned like a scream.
He took a step back and pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose. “What do you have? You look like death.”
“Thanks,” she croaked, tugging the blanket over her shoulders.
Logan looked around, confused. “Where’s Grey?”
“He had errands.” No need to explain more than she had to. Her throat couldn’t take it.
“Are you... sick-sick? Or like... dramatically hungover?”
She hacked into a tissue. “Sick.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “Soren told me…” He scratched the back of his head, rethinking his purpose. “I didn’t realize you were sick.”
Should she tell him? Weakness made it difficult, but he deserved the truth. “Grey got sick first. I caught his cold.”
“This is a cold?”
She blew her nose and hacked. “Yes. I should feel better tomorrow.”
“So it’s true? You two are…”
She nodded and closed her eyes, too tired to face his censure. “If you came here to yell, please do it in a whisper.”
He exhaled and dropped into the armchair across from her. “It’s hard to yell at someone who looks like roadkill in August. You want tea or something?”
She knew Greyson was full of crap when he said she looked adorable. Peeking at Logan through one eye, she asked, “You’re not mad at me?”
“Come on, Wren. You know I can’t stay mad at you.”
“But you’re mad at Greyson?”
“He’s different.”
“How?” She reached for another tissue and blew her nose.
“Dear God, I think you just called a few ships into harbor.”
“Shut up.” She sniffled, resting her head on the pillow. “He didn’t do this to hurt you.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
Her heart pinched. “Logan…”
“Don’t. I don’t need anyone’s pity, and it would kill me to be on the receiving end of yours, Wren.”
“Sympathy isn’t pity.”
“Well, it’s damn close.”
Her head pounded, but she cared more about him than herself in that moment. “We can talk about it if you want.”
He shrugged. “What’s there to say? Greyson always gets what Greyson wants. Now, he’ll have everything.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Come on, Wren. He’s got you, and now he’ll get the company. What else is there?”
She stilled. “That’s not what this is, Logan.”
“No?” He looked around. “You’re in his shirt, in his house, on his couch. Try and tell me that’s not winning.”
“He doesn’t want to marry me and this has nothing to do with the fishery.”
“He told you that?”
He hadn’t told her, but she knew Greyson. He wasn’t doing this for an inheritance, and they hadn’t even slept together yet, so marriage was light years ahead. “This thing between us has nothing to do with your father.”
“That’s what you think.”
“That’s what I know, Logan. It’s taken us thirty years to get here. We’re not rushing.”
“He had his entire life to go after you, and he didn’t. Now, he’s suddenly changing his mind? Seems a little fast and coincidental to me.”
She was too tired for this conversation. “You’re wrong.”
“We’ll see.” He stood. “I guess congratulations are in order. Let’s just hope he sticks around and doesn’t pull a Greyson.”
She wanted to tell him that wouldn’t happen, but she honestly shared the same fears. “He’s not like that anymore.”
He paused and spared her a pitying glance. “For your sake, I hope you’re right. Feel better, Wren. Tell him I stopped by.”
The door shut, and she slumped weakly into the cushions. Boys could be so much drama. She coughed, moaned, and rolled onto her side, drifting back to sleep.
A while later, she awoke to Greyson speaking softly to someone in the kitchen, his voice low and indulgent.
“You like that, huh?” he murmured, a soft chuckle following. “That’s it. Take a little more.”
Wren frowned, recognizing the voice as the same one he used for dirty talk?
“Easy,” he said, tone coaxing in a familiar way. “That’s it. Nice and slow.”
Wren blinked and struggled to sit up.
“Don’t choke.” Greyson’s teasing laughter curled around his words, affection coloring every syllable. “Look at that dirty mouth.”
Her jaw dropped. What. The. Hell?
“You’re a filthy little thing.”
Having heard enough, she bundled herself up in the blanket, and shuffled into the kitchen like a walking burrito.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Greyson set the kitten down and pressed a hand to her head. “Your fever’s down.”
She squinted at the cat. “You gave him solid food?”
“He loves it.” He lifted an old, battered thermos out of a bag. “I had them put the soup in here to keep it warm. Good thing, because you’ve been asleep for a while. Hungry?”
She looked out the window, surprised it was dark. “Do you mind if I shower before I eat?”
“Towels are on the shelf.”
“Thanks.” She smiled weakly and turned. “Oh, by the way, Logan stopped by.” She sensed him stiffen but didn’t stick around to see his reaction.
The shower helped clear her head. Unfortunately, that opened the door for more thoughts, and the only thing she could think about was what Logan had said about Greyson getting the company now.
She put on a fresh shirt from Greyson’s drawer and returned to the couch. Greyson had Eclipse cued up where they left off, and a bowl and spoon waited next to the thermos.
He smiled and lifted the blanket for her to return to her now tidied spot. “Did the shower help?”
She nodded and pulled the blanket over her, not having much of an appetite, or a filter. “Are you planning on taking over the fishery?”
Greyson stilled, startled by her question. Setting down the thermos, he looked straight ahead and frowned. “Where did that come from? Oh, wait, let me guess. My brother.”
“This isn’t about Logan.”
“Yes, it is. He’s putting stuff in your head.”
“It would have crossed my mind eventually.”
He sighed. “He just couldn’t resist throwing that out there.”
“Well, do you?”
He stood. “I forgot napkins.”
“Greyson.”
He stilled. “For all we know, my dad’s got another ten years in him.”
But he didn’t. “Grey, you know what the reality is. The doctors said—”
“They don’t know my dad.”
So much vulnerability flashed in his eyes, she didn’t push the subject. “Okay.” She glanced at the bowl. “What kind of soup did you—”
“That clause has nothing to do with my feelings for you, Wren.”
Was he trying to convince her or himself? “Are you sure?”
He met her stare and a cold silence drifted through the room. Finally, he turned away and said, “Fire needs wood. I’ll be back.”
The door slammed behind him. It wasn’t total abandonment, but it also wasn’t what she’d call an affirmation. For the next hour, she listened to him chop wood by the shed, despite the piles of already cut wood stacked neatly on the porch.
His frustration didn’t scare her. What terrified her was his impulse to run away the moment she brought up something emotionally challenging. Magnus was going to die. His demise would undoubtedly stir up a lot painful feelings for his three sons, whether they were willing to face them or not.
Greyson might be willing to discuss his love for her, but how would he handle the excruciating love he harbored for his difficult dad?