37. Wren
WREN
The semester is somehow almost over.
I don’t know when that happened.
One minute, I’m drowning in coursework, hockey schedules, and trying not to have a nervous breakdown over my future. The next, Valehurst is preparing for finals, the Kings are headed to the Frozen Four, and my calendar looks like somebody attacked it with a highlighter.
For once, though, I don’t mind.
I’m exhausted, sure, but it’s the good kind. The kind that comes from building something. The youth charity weekend turned a corner for me when it came to my internship. It helped everyone realize what I was capable of. That I could do more than order coffee and make copies.
Now, people ask for my help with coordinating events, and I’ve been asked to review proposals. I take part in meetings where people actually listen when I speak.
The biggest shock of all?
I’m loving every second of it.
Well, maybe not this very second. It’s nearly midnight, I’ve been up since five this morning, and bed is calling my name as I finally shut down my laptop and look around the otherwise empty office.
Even the overhead lights have given up for the day and turned off several hours ago, leaving only the glare from my laptop and the dim yellow glow of my desk lamp.
Stiff from sitting for too long, I stretch my arms over my head before adjusting my glasses, grabbing my bag, and pulling out my phone.
Me
Leaving now.
Three dots appear immediately.
Lucian
My bed is feeling awfully cold. Wanna come warm it up with me?
Ronan
Need one of us to come get you?
Silas
My chest warms at their various versions of concern.
Me
I’m walking home. Stop worrying.
Lucian
Ronan
Not possible, Little Serpent.
Silas
Let us know when you’re home.
Smiling to myself, I grab my things and head out. Despite my thick coat and the layers I’m wearing, there is a cold bite in the air that instantly chills my skin as I step into the night.
Campus is quiet at this hour as I cut across the main quad toward my apartment.
I’m lost in my head, going through my mental to-do list for tomorrow, and a little bit regretting not telling the guys I’d stay at theirs tonight.
I stay there most nights, or they stay at mine, but I’d told them I wanted a night alone tonight.
I’d planned to call Dylan. We’ve both been so busy with senior year and our hockey schedules that we’ve barely talked lately. Except it’s now too late for that.
A voice stops me halfway across the lawn.
“Wren.”
I recognize it instantly as Isaac’s. He emerges from an adjoining pathway, hands shoved into his jacket pockets.
I force a polite smile. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”
“You working late?” he asks, lifting his chin toward the rink behind me and ignoring my question.
“Yeah, they have me helping with playoff events.” My statement is followed by an awkward silence. “Anyway,” I draw the word out as I move to step past him, sucking my lower lip between my teeth as I go. “The guys are waiting on me.”
I can’t quite put my finger on why I lie to him.
I think every woman out there can point to an instance in their life when, for no real reason at all, they have felt uncomfortable enough to stick their keys between their fingers or pretend to be talking to someone on the phone because they have this little inkling of suspicion that something doesn’t feel right. A sixth sense, be it right or wrong.
That’s what this is—a tingle of awareness.
Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me. Maybe it’s because he’s alone.
Maybe it’s because I’ve spent enough time around hockey players to recognize alcohol when I smell it.
Whatever it is, my shoulders are tense.
And they only grow stiffer as Isaac shifts closer.
“Right.” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “The four of you are a thing now, huh?”
“Umm—”
“You know,” Isaac continues, “I always thought you’d say yes eventually.”
I blink, struggling to wrap my head around where this is going. “What?”
He laughs. A short, humorless sound. “When I asked you out.”
Oh.
“I’m sorry,” I say automatically, although what the fuck am I apologizing for? I didn’t do anything wrong. Just like he has the right to ask me out, I have the right to refuse. Still, they are the first words that come to mind to diffuse the tension rapidly gathering in the air between us.
“I tried,” he goes on, as though I had never spoken. “Being patient.” He barks a cold laugh. “Which, you know, really isn’t my strong suit.”
I shift my weight, casting a surreptitious glance around us. I feel seriously fucking uncomfortable.
“Isaac—”
“No, seriously.” His voice sharpens. “I don’t get it.”
There’s a bitterness to his tone.
“Is it because there are three of them? You’re such a hoe that you need three dicks to keep you satisfied?
” That little niggle in the back of my mind becomes a blaring alarm when Isaac moves closer.
It’s a small movement, but my body reacts instantly as the scent of alcohol hits me.
Every muscle tightens. “Because if a gang bang is your thing, I can round up some buddies, some guys from the team, and we’ll fuck you so good you won’t be walking for the next week. ”
My pulse stutters unexpectedly.
In the blink of an eye, the night seems to shift. Lights flash. Loud music comes and goes. The ground beneath my feet tilts sideways.
“Hey. Are you listening to me?”
The sound of his voice makes my skin crawl. A sudden bout of nausea climbs the back of my throat, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to puke.
He grabs me by the shoulders, right as I bend over and throw up all over his shoes.
“You bitch!”
“What the fuck is going on here?!”
I can’t describe the relief that floods me at hearing Ronan’s voice, even if he sounds furious as all hell.
A hand closes around Isaac’s wrist, wrenching him away from me, before Ronan’s face appears before mine. His jaw ticks with rage, but his eyes are soft, concerned.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“What the hell, man? I didn’t touch her! We were just chatting before she destroyed my shoes.”
“I’m fine,” I get out. Now that he’s here, the wave has eased. The past has retreated to where it belongs—in the past.
“What did he do to you?”
“Dude! I didn’t—”
“Evans,” Ronan barks, cutting across him without once looking his way. “Get the fuck out of here before I do something that has us both benched for the Frozen Four.”
“What the fuck ever,” Isaac mumbles. “She’s not fucking worth it, anyway.”
Shaking his head, he walks off, leaving Ronan and me alone in the middle of campus.
“Hey.” Ronan cups my face, making me focus on him and only him. “Talk to me. What happened?”
“I—” Pausing, I lick my lips. “I was just on my way home, and he was here. I think…he’s jealous that I turned him down when he asked me out.”
“He had his hands on you.”
I shake my head. “The smell of alcohol on his breath triggered me.”
“Come here.” He pulls me into his chest. “You’re okay.” With his hand on the back of my head, I bury my nose in his coat. The smell of leather and oud wraps around me, grounding me firmly in the present and allowing my heart rate to finally slow. “You’re okay.”
We stand like that for who knows how long. Until the shakes leave my limbs and my breath comes evenly. Until the fear has retreated, along with the flashbacks.
“Come on,” Ronan eventually says, when I shiver from the cold seeping into my bones. Running his hand down my arm, he slides his fingers between mine and squeezes. “Let’s go home.”
And I know he doesn’t mean to my house, or his house. He means home to Silas and Lucian. Because wherever the three of them are is my home.
My eyes flutter open. Sunlight spills through the blinds, painting pale gold stripes across the room. For a moment, I lie there and stare at it, not allowing my mind to drift any further than the shaft of light.
Until the sound of a page turning draws my attention.
Rolling over, I face Silas. He’s a little blurry without my glasses on, but he’s sitting against the headboard beside me, knees bent beneath the blankets, and an open book balanced on his thigh.
For a moment, I just watch him.
His quiet steadiness. The way he always seems to exist in a different rhythm than everyone else. I think that’s why it’s his bed I crawled into last night.
Reaching over to his nightstand, Silas passes me my glasses, along with a note.
Ready to talk about it?
Rolling onto my back, I stare at the ceiling and blow out a breath.
All I wanted to do when Ronan brought me back to the guys’ house last night was sleep. Forget about it all. However, in the light of day, I know I can’t keep running from it.
“I ran into Isaac last night, and it triggered me.”
As if sensing I have more to say, Silas waits, patient as ever.
“I hate that he got to me. It’s not that he did anything overt.” My face scrunches as I recall the events of last night. “It was the alcohol on his breath,” I admit. “It…took me back to the street party that night.”
Understanding settles immediately across his face.
“It was years ago.” Frustration leaks into my voice. I hate that that’s all it took to send me spiraling back toward memories I’ve spent the past few years trying to bury. “I should be able to handle it better than that.”
That’s not how trauma works.
I blow out a breath. “Yeah, well, it would be super nice if it was.”
He chuckles softly before writing, Tell me about it.
Shifting to face him again, I tuck my hands under my pillow and stare up at him. He looks like an angel with the golden glow of sunshine behind him. A fallen angel, perhaps.
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
Silas has never opened up about his past, although clearly something happened. Something bad enough that he chooses not to speak to other people. Not even his best friends.
I don’t want to push him now, but I equally want him to know that if he wants to, I’m here to lend an ear.
He doesn’t look at me, his attention remaining fixed on the book in front of him. However, his eyes don’t move across the page, so I know he’s not reading.
My throat feels strangely tight the longer I watch him. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
He immediately shakes his head, his fingers playing with the corner of his book as he seemingly thinks.
I reach over and lightly touch his wrist.
His eyes lift briefly to mine.
For several moments, only the scratching of his pen fills the room.
Then he turns the notebook toward me.
I moved around a lot growing up.
At first, my parents fobbed me off on other relatives. When they got sick of looking after a kid who wasn’t theirs, I was put into the system.
I gasp aloud, snapping my head up to gape at him. “Your parents gave you up?”
With a sad twist of his lips, he nods.
“Let me guess,” I say wryly, knowing I’m going to hate the rest of this story. “You weren’t adopted by a loving family and given a good home.”
He gives a quick snort.
Pretty sure that only happens in the movies.
I grimace.
At least my family cared enough to feed me.
To ensure I had clothes that sort of fit and a mattress to sleep on.
The foster families didn’t. When they looked at me, all they saw was a paycheck, someone to do manual labor around the house, and when I was older, someone to look after their own rugrats.
My throat is desert dry, and my stomach churns with nausea. All I can picture is a little boy with white-blond hair standing in a stranger’s kitchen, trying to be useful. Trying to be good enough. Trying to earn a place that should have been given freely.
Something sharp twists beneath my ribs. Nobody should have to earn being loved.
“Is that when you stopped talking?” The question comes out quietly.
His lips twitch, this time with a small hint of humor at me piecing it together.
What was the point in talking when no one was listening?
My heart breaks for him as my eyes close, because suddenly I understand something I’ve never understood about Silas. It was never about the silence. It was all about the surrender. Somewhere along the way, enough people ignored him that he stopped believing his voice mattered.
I might not have been through what he has, but I know what it’s like to not feel listened to. I can’t imagine to what extent he endured that before he gave up and stopped trying.
When I meet his gaze again, he has written more for me.
By the time I met Ronan and Lucian, it was easier to just not try.
“You were used to the silence by then.”
He nods.
Everything about Silas makes so much more sense now. He hasn’t ever been anyone’s first choice. Never been someone’s forever. Without thinking, I reach for him. Silas immediately gathers me into his arms like he needs the comfort too.
I bury my face against his chest. His heartbeat thumps steadily beneath my cheek, strong and certain.
“You should’ve had better.” My words come out muffled.
His arms tighten around me. For several moments, neither of us speaks.
“I’ll always listen to you.” I lean back far enough that I can see his face. “I’ll always choose you.”
His eyes lock on mine, and I realize this isn’t a romantic promise to him. Nobody ever stayed for him. Nobody kept him. He was never anyone’s choice...
Now, I’m choosing him.
Reaching up, I cup his face. His eyes close briefly beneath the touch. It is no wonder he keeps people at arm’s length. Why every touch from him feels precious. Why he loves so quietly. No one ever taught him he was worth staying for.
God, they were so wrong.
Sitting here, looking at him, I can’t imagine anyone not choosing Silas. I can’t imagine a world where he wasn’t worth staying for.
“I love you.”
The words are past my lips before I can stop them, but I don’t regret them. Don’t rush to take them back. I mean every single one. I love him. I love all of them.
Silas stills. Completely. Then his forehead drops against mine, and I swear I’ve never seen a person look more wrecked by three simple words.
His eyes momentarily close as though absorbing the moment, committing it to memory. When they open again, they’re shining. Wet. Vulnerable. Terrified. Like this costs him something. Like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff.
His throat works. His Adam’s apple bobbing once. Twice.
His voice comes out rough, rusted from years of disuse, and barely above a whisper.
“I love you.”
My breath stops. I wasn’t certain if I actually heard him speaking in the limo, but there is no doubting it now.
My heart breaks and heals in the same moment, and as Silas pulls me closer, holding me against him like he’s afraid I might disappear, I realize this is all I need in life.
Being chosen.
And choosing someone back.