Chapter 20 Ready （Wren）
READY (WREN)
The trail begins behind the cabin, threading up through pine and birch.
Snow compresses under our boots with a dry crunch.
Liam and Dmitri set the pace; Eden and Nate argue cheerfully about whether this counts as cardio; Finn and Jessica keep stealing each other’s gloves; Erin and Sophie calling out plant names.
Kieran and I fall to the back without planning it.
“You look different,” he says after a few minutes.
“The girls taught me some stuff.” I glance up. “Too much?”
“No.” His voice drops, rough. “You look beautiful. I just can’t figure out what changed.” His laugh is low, intimate. “They did good work.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a while. The group pulls ahead, voices fading. Just us and the snow and the quiet.
Then his hand catches mine. The touch jolts through me—electric, anchoring. Our fingers lace together, his palm warm.
“This okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.” The word comes out breathless.
We hike like that, hands linked, until the trail narrows and the group vanishes around a bend. The forest hushes. It’s just us.
Kieran stops, tugging me off the path behind a stand of pines.
“What are you—”
He cups my face, eyes dropping to my mouth before finding my gaze again. Then his lips slant over mine.
It’s different from last night—hungrier. His mouth explores with purpose, coaxing me open, deepening until I’m dizzy. My palms find his chest, his heartbeat thudding under my hand.
He hooks an arm around my waist and threads the other into my hair. My back meets rough bark; his heat presses along my front. The contrast steals a gasp from me.
He takes it, kissing me deeper, and my body lights. A shiver runs the length of me; goosebumps pebble my forearms. My knees go loose. There’s a low, insistent pulse deep in my belly. I lean in without thinking, and he makes a sound that vibrates through my ribs.
His hand slides under my jacket to my waist, just resting there, thumb tracing slow circles that scramble my breath.
“Wren.” My name sounds wrecked in his mouth. “Okay?” he murmurs, not moving until I nod.
“Okay,” I breathe, tugging him closer.
I stop thinking. I feel—his mouth, his hands, the solid weight of him holding me in place while the rest of the world goes quiet.
A branch snaps somewhere uptrail. He breaks the kiss, forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard.
“Later,” he whispers.
“Ok,” I whisper back.
We make our way back to the trail, my pulse still racing. When we catch up to the group, Jessica takes one look at us and grins.
“Got lost?” she asks innocently.
“Took a wrong turn,” Kieran supplies smoothly.
“Sure you did,” Finn mutters.
We keep hiking. The viewpoint is supposedly another half mile. But fifteen minutes later, when the group stops for water, Kieran’s hand finds mine again.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “There’s a better view this way.”
“That’s not—”
But he’s already pulling me off the trail, down a smaller path that branches left. The voices fade behind us. Trees close in.
“Kieran, we’re going to actually get lost.”
“We won’t.” He glances back, eyes dark with intent. His jaw tightens, just for a beat. “Trust me?”
“That depends on what you’re—”
He stops abruptly. Turns. Backs me against another tree.
“What I’m planning,” he says, voice rough, low enough it feels dangerous, “is to kiss you until neither of us can think straight. Unless you want me to stop.”
My heart hammers. “I didn’t say stop.”
His mouth crashes into mine.
This kiss is even less controlled, more desperate. His hands slide under my jacket, under my sweater, fingers spreading across my bare back. The touch of skin on skin makes me gasp into his mouth.
“God, you’re so soft,” he mutters against my lips.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. They find his shoulders, his neck, tangling in his hair. Heat pools between my legs. An ache I don’t understand, don’t have words for. My body knows something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
I press closer. His thigh slides between mine and—
Oh.
The pressure sends a shock of sensation through me. I make a sound I’ve never made before—desperate, needy.
Kieran goes very still. Then his hands tighten on my waist.
“Wren.” My name is a warning. “You need to— We need to—”
But I shift against him again, chasing that feeling, and his control fractures. His mouth finds my neck, hot and open. His hands grip my hips, holding me against him.
I can feel him. All of him. Hard against my stomach.
Should I be embarrassed? I’m not. I don’t know what I am. Every nerve ending is screaming.
“Please,” I whisper, though I don’t know what I’m asking for.
His breath shudders out. “Sweetheart, we have to stop.”
“Why?”
“Because if we don’t—” He pulls back sharply, like the space burns. Jaw clenched. Eyes wild. “Because I’m about two seconds from doing things to you against this tree that you’re not ready for.”
The bluntness should shock me. It doesn’t. It makes the ache worse.
“How do you know what I’m ready for?”
“Because you’ve never—” He cuts himself off, breath coming hard. “Because this is new for you. And I’m not— I won’t—”
He presses his forehead to mine, hands still tight on my hips, like letting go might finish it.
“I want to do this right,” he says finally, rougher now. “Not rushed. Not hidden.”
“I don’t think I care about right.”
His laugh is strained, almost broken. “You should. And I do.”
He steps back abruptly. “So we’re walking back before I lose what’s left of my self-control.”
My legs feel unsteady. My skin burns. Between my thighs, the ache refuses to fade.
“Okay,” I manage.
He takes my hand anyway, fingers threading through mine. We walk back in silence, both breathing too hard.
When we catch up to the group at the viewpoint, everyone turns.
Eden’s eyes go wide. Jessica covers her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. Even Liam looks amused.
“Y’all really oughta carry a compass,” Finn deadpans.
“Got distracted by the scenery,” Kieran says, not missing a beat.
“Naturally,” Dmitri rumbles.
My face is on fire. I focus on the actual view—mountains and snow and sky stretching forever.
Sophie appears at my side. “Your hair’s a little windblown, girlie.”
“It’s windy up here,” I say weakly.
“Mm-hmm.” Her smile is knowing. “Good thing we taught you that bun technique. You’ll need it later.”
“Later?”
“You’ll see.”
We hike back in the early afternoon. The group is louder now—comfortable, easy. Kieran stays close but doesn’t pull me aside again. Just holds my hand, thumb tracing absent patterns that make it hard to focus on the hike.
Back at the cabin, everyone starts packing. Liam’s loading the car, Dmitri’s on his phone, the girls are gathering their things.
Sophie hugs me tight. “Use the makeup. Wear the top.”
“Why would I—”
“Just trust me.” She pulls back, eyes soft. “You’re going to be fine. Better than fine.”
Eden and Jessica pile on for a group hug. Erin kisses my cheek, grabs my phone, and taps in a number. “Call me with a debrief, will you? I’ve got a concert in New York in February. I’ll text you the details.”
“You’re one of us now,” Jessica says. “That means you’re stuck with us.”
The words settle warm in my chest.
They leave in a caravan of goodbyes, honking horns, and promises to visit. Then it’s just Kieran and me in the sudden quiet.
“So,” he says. “We have the place until Monday.”
“Yeah.”
“And I was thinking—” He steps closer, hands finding my waist. “Let’s work on our project tomorrow. Tonight, I’d really like to take you on a date.”
His voice brushes my skin—steel blue, darker at the edges, threaded with a little gold heat.
My heart kicks. “A date?”
“Yes.” His eyes search mine. “If you want.”
“I want.”
His smile is devastating. “Good. Can you be ready at five?”
“Okay.”
He kisses me—soft, careful, nothing like the desperate heat on the trail. After he releases me, I climb the stairs to my room. The makeup bag sits on the dresser. The sage-green top is folded beside it.
I take a shower, replaying Sophie’s instructions in my head. Tinted moisturizer. Concealer. Cream blush—just a touch. Mascara, one coat. Tinted lip balm.
When I’m done, the girl in the mirror looks like me. Just...more. Like someone who gets kissed against trees and doesn’t apologize for wanting.
The hair is harder. I work through it, sectioning and wrapping around my fingers the way Jessica showed me. The waves fall soft and loose, then I gather them into the low bun—messy but intentional, with pieces framing my face.
The top slips over my head, the sage-green fabric soft and flattering. It’s not tight, not revealing, just pretty. The kind of pretty that feels like confidence.
I look at myself and see someone who goes on dates. Someone who deserves to be kissed in the dark by boys who look at her like she’s magic.
I take a breath. Another.
Then I go downstairs.
Kieran’s in the living room, dressed in dark jeans and a button down, scribbling on a piece of paper with diagrams and formulas.
“Hey,” I say softly.
He looks up. And stops moving.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes.
“Too much?”
“No.” He sets down the pencil, stands up and moves toward me like gravity is pulling him. “Wren. You’re—”
He doesn’t finish. Just cups my face and kisses me, soft and thorough and reverent.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark pools.
“You’re stunning,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”
“The girls helped.”
“Remind me to send them flowers.” His thumb traces my cheekbone. “But they just enhanced what was already there.”
His expression makes my breath catch. It’s more than want.
No. I can’t let myself think that.
“Ready?” he asks, grabbing my jacket and holding it out for me.
“Ready.”