Chapter 33
GALINA
“Okay, I know we’re supposed to be talking about me and all of my bullshit right now…” Wren sighs as she slides her sunglasses down and eyes me over the rim of them. “But you clearly have secrets. And I want to know them. To help you, obviously,” she grins.
I giggle. “And because you can’t help yourself when it comes to spilling tea.”
“Um, duh?”
I laugh as I flop back in the chaise lounge. “No secrets. I’m an open book. Besides, you’re right. I only came here to talk about you and your decidedly juicier issues.”
She groans as she pulls off her shades and rolls her eyes. “Please. College student has shitty breakup and drinks so much she winds up in the hospital? Boooring. Who hasn’t seen that Lifetime movie?”
I laugh despite myself, then shoot her a look. “How are you, though? Really.”
For a hot second, after Wren ended up in the hospital after The Reckless party at The Garrison, we were all terrified her parents would take her out of school.
A big part of me would totally understand if they did, especially since Wren’s mom, Lark, dealt with her own addiction issues when she was young.
And honestly, if they pulled Wren from Knightsblood to put her in a facility where she could truly get sober, I’d be all for it, even though I'd miss her terribly.
Luckily, though, they found a better solution.
Wren did move off campus. Her parents thought being right here in the thick of all the parties would make it hard for her to stay away from alcohol. But she’s not living at a rehab facility.
She’s living at Laz’s place.
On the surface, it seems insane to have Wren living with Laz Kislev. Yeah, he’s friends with her parents, and we’ve known him our whole lives as like a fun uncle. But Laz is also Wren’s ex Bryce’s stepdad, technically speaking.
Technically speaking, as in, Wren and Bryce were already together when out of nowhere, Laz married Bryce’s mother, the oil heiress Victoria Donahue.
Papa won’t tell me a thing about that, but it was clearly political.
Either way, it’s barely been six months since the wedding, and in a crazy plot twist, they’re wrapping up their divorce.
Meanwhile, Laz has moved into a stunning house he’s had for years as a rental property up here in Hawthorne Hollow. It’s something like seven thousand square feet, so there’s plenty of room for Wren. Not to mention, it sits right on the rocky shore just outside town.
Wren exhales heavily. “I’m fine,” she sighs. “I mean, it sucks being away from you guys, and Laz is a fucking rule-master,” she groans. “But—”
“Wren?”
We both twist around in our loungers on the back patio overlooking the water to see the man himself standing in the doorway the leads to the vast living room.
Laz is in charcoal-gray slacks and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and a few buttons undone at the neck, both of which show off his impressive array of Bratva ink.
“Yeah?” she answers.
“You need anything from town? I’m going to grab a few things at the grocery store later.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Yeah, a rosé from Provence, if you could? Maybe a nicely chilled Chateau d'Esclans Garruss?”
Laz’s handsome face stays utterly impassive. Wren grins impishly.
“That was a joke, roomie!”
Laz sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I thought we decided that roomie is weird?”
“Did we?” Wren shrugs with a grin.
Laz shoots her an “over it” look before he pulls his gaze to me and smiles. “How’s things, kid?”
“She has a boyfriend, which is why she came over for girl talk,” Wren says pointedly. “So…off you go.”
My jaw drops as I whirl on her.
“Come on,” Laz growls, scowling. “First Yelena and that Drakos motherfucker, now you? Who is the little shit?”
Laz might be like a fun uncle, but I remember "fun uncle" always switching to “lethally overprotective uncle” in a nanosecond if he ever got a whiff of some boy talking to one of us or anyone having a crush or anything.
So I just roll my eyes. “I do not have a boyfriend.”
“She does,” Wren insists. “I mean, it might just be a standing dick appointment, but either way, I’m here to listen and not judge,” she says primly, a wide grin on her face.
Laz makes a face. “Do me a favor. Never say those two words together again.”
“What?” She winks at him. “Dick appointment?”
Laz scowls as he exhales heavily. “Annnd that’s my cue to leave.”
“I don’t have a—”
“Save the Oscar-winning performance for your Papa, yeah?” He smirks. “Out of curiosity, though, who is this walking corpse?”
“Yeah, Galina,” Wren grins as she swivels to look at me. “Who is this—”
“You want me to leave?”
Wren ends up jumping up out of her chair and convincing me to stay as Laz chuckles and tells her he’ll be home later.
When we’re finally alone, I glare daggers at her.
“I do not—”
“Galina,” she giggles. “He’s gone. You can just tell me.”
My lips twist.
“Look,” she sighs. “I know you’ve been hooking up with someone. I can tell.”
“You can’t tell,” I mumble.
“Can so,” she grins.
“It’s just…” My face heats as I bite my lip and look up at her. “Fine. I’ve been hanging out with someone.”
Understatement of the freaking century.
Her face splits into a huge smile. “And?! Tell me everything!” She lifts the mug in her hands. “I mean, I am literally drinking tea right now.”
I groan, slumping down into the chaise lounge. “We’re…” My brows knit. “We’re sort of keeping it quiet for now, is all.”
She groans. “Seriously? No tea for me?”
Fuck it.
“Well, the sex is mind-blowing.”
Her jaw hits the ground.
“Yes, hi, excuse-me-WHAAAT!?” She plunks her mug down on the table next to her chair and swivels to face me, planting her feet on the ground. “You’re fucking him?!”
My face throbs as pink stains my neck. “You’re the only one I’ve told, okay?”
She beams. “Really??!”
I nod.
“Awww, Gal!”
I giggle when she grabs me into a bear hug and squeezes me close.
“So, how? When? How long? It’s good? Are you sure you can’t tell me—”
“Breathe, Wren,” I laugh. “I’ve been sort of seeing him for over a month.” My face sizzles hotter. “And…yeah,” I grin. “The sex is really good.”
“That’s my girl!” she crows. “This is awesome, Galina! Look how far you’ve come from Ian Scofield dry-humping your leg and busting in his pants!”
I cackle.
Wren’s brow furrows. “Wait, why aren’t you and Mr. Orgasmically Gifted telling people?”
I grimace. “It’s…complicated, I guess.”
As in, I really don’t know what I’d say when people asked how we first connected…
“In what way?”
I groan. “I mean, with Yelena being with Achilles, I just don’t want to complicate—”
Shit.
Wren zeroes right in on my fuck-up.
“Hang on hang on hang on,” she says, holding up a hand. “How would you dating someone complicate Yelena screwing Achilles—”
Her brows arch suddenly.
Fuck.
“Ohhhh… I get it.” She stares at me. “You’re totally hooking up with one of the other Untouchables, aren’t you?”
When the fuck did Wren become a super sleuth?!
“No, Wren—”
“I’m thinking not Drago…” She frowns, tapping her chin. “Not your type at all.”
“Wren—”
“And you’re obviously not fucking Achilles…so it’s either Ronan or—”
“Wren, you are so off-base—”
“Oh my God, you’re sleeping with Lochlan.”
“I—” My words fumble over my tongue as my throat tightens. “No, not at all. You’re way off—”
“Oh. My. God!!”
Dammit.
I start to muster up one more attempt at denying it. But why bother.
“When the fuck did you become a detective,” I mutter.
Wren chuckles. “I think you all forget that I’m real good at this stuff. I’ve just been too busy with my own shit recently to work my usual magic.”
I laugh before burying my face in my hands.
“It just—”
“Happened?” she interjects, snickering. “Like, oops, I tripped and fell on your dick! Whoopsiedaisie! I did it again!”
I groan and shrivel into my chair.
Wren’s brows knit. “Wait. Who’s the one who doesn’t want this to be public? Because if it’s him, I—”
“Not him,” I sigh. “Me.”
Wren’s brows pinch. “Oh?”
I nod, my gaze dropping to the bluestone under our feet. Wren’s hand instantly wraps around mine.
“Hey,” she says gently. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I just…” I groan, lifting my head. “It’s so stupid.”
She sighs. “Galina, nothing about you is stupid. Trust me.”
I force a twisting, wry smile as I squeeze her hand back.
“It’s part jealousy, part…I dunno…it’s hard to explain, but I just don’t—”
“I get it,” she says softly, giving me a sympathetic look. “I don’t do well with that sort of stuff either.” She makes a face. “I mean, who wants to be with someone and thinking about who they were with before?”
“I guess it’s partly that.” I frown. “Actually, I guess that’s a lot of it. But it’s not just that? Like, if it was just that he’d been with other girls before, I think I could get over it. I don’t own his past, you know?”
Wren shrugs. “Yeah…but fuck those other bitches.”
“It’s more that I don’t…ugh,” I groan. “This really does sound ridiculous.”
“You don’t want people to see you together and think you’re just another of his groupies.”
“Exactly!” I exclaim. “I don’t want people to think I’m some stupid fucking Lochlan Kildare fangirl.”
Wren sighs. “I totally get it. It’s a classic catch-22.
A guy who’s been with girls before is going to know what he’s doing, but it means there’ve been girls before you.
That said…” She lifts her shoulders. “I mean, everyone has a past of some kind, right? So you might as well pick the person with a past that taught them to rock your fucking world in bed? If I hadn’t sworn off men, I’d—”
“You’ve sworn off men?”
“Oh, I’m not switching teams or anything. But…yeah,” she grumbles. “Thank you very much, Bryce fuck-face Donahue and Carly Presioso the boyfriend stealing cunt.”
My face sours as I reach over to squeeze her hand. “He didn't deserve you.”
“Well obviously.”
We both giggle.
“But what were you going to say?” I prod. “If you hadn’t sworn off guys…?”
She grins. “Oh, yeah. I think if I was going to date anyone, I’d date an older guy. Experienced, you know?”
I grin. “How is it playing house with Laz?”