Chapter 19 Wren
Chapter nineteen
Wren
LAST night was the best sleep I’ve ever gotten, probably in my entire twenties.
It’s all thanks to the beautiful writer who still occupies my bed, curled up like a tiny cat in my pillows.
Robin was dead to the world after I showered, so I pulled her onto my chest and she buried her face into my neck.
She didn’t move for the rest of the night.
Ghostface could have burst into the room and put an end to my life, and I wouldn’t have moved an inch; her soft body clinging to mine in her subconscious would be the perfect way to go.
I don’t know if she’s aware, but she talks in her sleep.
It isn't just little mumbles or inaudible noises, the woman has full-on conversations about the most random things I’ve ever heard.
She needed to know where I stood on aliens inhabiting the earth, pretending to be members of society with stolen human suits.
I didn’t get any sleep because I was too busy soaking in her presence like it could be our last; hours later she laughed and asked me if I thought fish became bored of being wet all the time.
Honestly, I think I’m in love with her. I’ve never met someone so carefree and completely content being themselves.
She doesn’t care to slot into boxes or even go along with the lifestyles of her friends.
She offers out her friendship with no expectations and as someone constantly overthinking the connections I have with others, it’s fucking refreshing. Her reactions and words are never fake.
Before leaving her in my bed—despite it being the last thing I ever want to do because I’d handcuff that woman to me if I could, she pushed her face into my pillow and told me that she loves the way I smell.
The entire time I quietly got dressed and headed downstairs, I contemplated how I could ensure she became equally obsessed with me by using my scent.
By the time I’d gotten down to the kitchen and started up the coffee machine, I’d made a solid plan to sneak into her room and spray all of her belongings with my aftershave.
That way she’ll think about me constantly and therefore fall madly, head over heels with me before we’re allowed out of this hotel.
Smirking like a villain, stroking my metaphorical cat whilst my mastermind plan comes together, I wiggle my hips and take my coffee from the machine.
Adding a little oat milk from the fridge, my limbs ache a little because I wrapped myself around Robin last night in a little cuddle cocoon, so I still haven’t stretched.
I’m a tall guy at six foot four; if I didn’t work out and gain muscle, I’d probably just be all gangly arms and legs.
Chugging my first coffee like someone has a gun to my head, I pop the mug under the machine again, checking the kettle for water and turn it on, hunting for another mug to make Roo a cup of tea. Taking care of her feels like second nature already and I like it a lot.
For the briefest of moments I just stand there in relaxed bliss, my mind quiet for once. The sky is already grey outside and the rain is relentlessly lashing on the roof of the orangery. What little light filters into this room leaves it tranquil and I bask in the calm.
Loud curses over the hiss of the kettle break me out of my spell, the profanity continuing from somewhere on the ground floor of the house.
Frowning, I leave our drinks unattended and move through the quiet house towards a raised male voice.
I don’t fully enter the main dining room, but I linger in the doorway and watch as Merle wrestles with the gauze-like material hanging loose between this room and the conservatory, stepping away rubbing his temples.
“I’m so fucking sick of these drapes getting in the way this entire weekend.
Where is the tie?! Surely something as simple as a curtain tie cannot vanish into thin air.
” He spits through his teeth, like he’s completely losing his temper.
I’ve never even seen his patience falter, let alone raise his voice.
My eyes fall to the other figure in the room and it’s Phoenix, but he looks broken.
Sitting at the end of the long dining room table, he’s curled in on himself, one elbow resting on the table as he pulls at his wild hair.
He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, still in the clothing he wore last night, and he’s clearly been crying.
His eyes are dull and red-rimmed, almost sore-looking.
His mouth is open, no words come out before Merle grabs a chair with both hands at the other end of the table, knuckles white on the wooden tall back.
“Letting your brother plan our opening weekend was the worst decision I ever let you agree to. This was meant to be our big first week and now look at things. On top of sorting all this mess out, you’re acting like a petulant child.
I understand you’re upset, but after everything you kept from me, how dare you take advantage of the help I offered you.
You’ve lied to me our entire relationship and I agreed to move past this with you.
” He looks down at my best friend with disgust. Yes, that’s actually disgust turning his lip up as Phin silently sits there tense, tears rolling down his cheeks.
He flinches as his voice rises higher, and I’m moments away from stepping into the room to get between both men.
“What you’ve done could get me into so much trouble and you don’t even care!
” His voice rings out into the vast room and I can’t stop myself, stalking forward like a reaper here to claim my latest soul.
The way his tone makes Phin submissive isn’t missed; it reminds me of the way Dad used to hurl insults at Mum as she’d beg on the floor for him to leave.
Both situations blur into a red mist that darkens my expression, and blinking doesn’t deter them from each other.
I couldn’t protect anyone as a small boy, but I sure as shit can now.
I couldn't give a fuck that I’d wrapped Phin in bubble wrap.
He is a brother to me; blood or no blood, that never mattered.
“What the fuck is going on?” I say, voice cold as I try to puncture the red haze. I don’t address Merle, but his demeanor changes into something less menacing, like he hadn’t just been popping a vein at his own boyfriend minutes ago.
Phin sits up straight in the chair, rubbing at his face and trying to remove his tears with the cuff of his shirt.
“Wren, god—it’s nothing. We’re just trying to sort things out.
” I don’t believe him for a second, because the man I only know as a giant teddy bear was looking across the table at his own love like he was a vile stranger.
Pointing a finger at my best friend's shaking body, I look at Merle, head slightly tilting as I feel myself close to losing my shit.
Is this how they talk to each other when we're not around?
“Why were you talking to him like that?”
Phin’s lip wobbles as he looks down, breaking my fucking heart because I’ve given so much of myself to make him better this year. I don’t think there's much left of me to give to fix whatever this is.
Merle clears his throat, nervously looking around. “This isn’t any of your business.”
“None of my business? I’m not going to stand here and let you speak to anyone like that.” I swear this hotel is sending us all insane.
I've not kept my cool with Willow all weekend, I tackled one of my closest friends yesterday in a rage thinking he’d hurt Robin and now, my instincts are screaming for me to protect Phin at all costs.
“What is going on?” I ask between clenched teeth.
He juts his chin towards the table. “Phoenix stole my anxiety medication and decided to take way more than he should, for the past two days. I thought you were giving him them.” He crosses his arms whilst scolding him, and I will my body not to copy the action, sighing to myself in defeat.
The red mist dissipates and I walk over to Phin, dropping to one knee next to him to see into his downturned face.
Tears and snot freely fall down his face and he doesn’t stop any of it, like he’s given up on trying to hide what's going on. I hate this submissive side of him; he finds no pleasure in this form of letting go. He’s spoken to me before about how his mind shuts down when he’s in a confrontation, sent back mentally to being a child and having his father shout at him.
His mother was the same, punishing him over little things with nasty words that clearly cut deep.
I rest my palm on his knee and he finally looks at me with those pale blue eyes, void of any warmth.
“We’re going to figure this out, ok, man?
We can get in touch with my therapist, you want that right?
She’s really good.” I don’t point any fingers, or tell him what he did wrong.
I want to help, not berate him with how he’s slipped up and add to his guilt.
Merle clearly doesn’t see it that way and now I think it makes sense why he’s never confided in him about his addiction issues.
“You baby him too much. Anything he wants—you give in to him. He even convinced you to collaborate in his lie against me.” He jabs his fingers into his own chest.
I feel two things, guilt again for keeping so many secrets and protective rage as I rise to my feet and glare down at him across the space.
He’s pacing in short strides, arms protecting himself.
Just as his mouth opens to no doubt throw more accusations of my protective nature for his boyfriend, a feminine but sharp voice pierces the tension.