Chapter 14 Wren
By the time I get home, my body feels like it’s been wrung out and hung up to dry.
My apartment is quiet—too quiet after hours of yelling, skates grinding, bodies slamming into boards. I kick off my shoes, drop my bag on the couch, and flick on the dim lamp near the window.
Warm light fills the room.
It should be comforting.
It isn’t.
Not when my chest is still tight from earlier.
Not when Atlas’s eyes won’t leave my head.
Not when Finn’s hurt expression keeps replaying.
Not when Kael looked at me like I was slipping through his fingers.
I tell myself a hot shower will help.
It doesn’t.
I step out with wet hair and a towel wrapped around me, moving on autopilot as I pull on an oversized shirt and sink onto the couch.
Finally, my body stills.
Finally, my head quiets.
For maybe three seconds.
Then my phone buzzes.
My stomach drops—reflex, instinct, dread. I shouldn’t feel this way over a text notification, but my body hasn’t caught up with the lie that I’m safe.
I reach for my phone with shaking fingers and flip it over.
It’s not an unknown number this time.
It’s worse.
Adrian Frost
1 New Message
My pulse stutters.
He shouldn’t be texting me.
He shouldn’t be thinking about me.
He shouldn’t even remember my number.
I shouldn’t open it.
But I do.
Adrian:
Just heard you moved to Boston.
Congrats on the new job.
I always knew you’d land on your feet.
Proud of you, Wren.
My breath turns cold.
Innocent.
Polite.
Friendly even.
But I know better.
Every word is a blade wrapped in silk.
“Proud of you” means
You owe me.
“I always knew you’d land on your feet” means
You only stand because of me.
“Just heard you moved to Boston” means
I’m watching you.
My fingers go numb.
He’s still in Denver.
He’s still supposed to be in Denver.
There’s no reason for him to reach out.
No reason except—
He’s thinking about me again.
He’s remembering.
Rewriting.
Wanting.
My throat gets tight, and I press a hand over my chest, trying to steady my breathing. I shouldn’t let it get to me. I shouldn’t let him in—not even through a screen.
But the past presses in anyway:
Adrian whispering corrections in my ear.
Adrian gripping my waist too hard during lifts.
Adrian kissing me after practice like he owned me.
Adrian shouting when I didn’t smile enough.
Adrian twisting the story of my fall until even I doubted myself.
Adrian standing over me while I cried, telling me if I loved him, I wouldn’t walk away.
I blink hard, grounding myself in the room.
Boston.
New job.
New life.
New people I don’t deserve to drag into my mess.
I type back before I can overthink it:
Me:
Thanks.
Hope all is well in Denver.
My thumb hovers.
I hit send anyway.
Because ignoring Adrian never ended well for me.
Another buzz.
Already?
Adrian:
Denver’s the same.
Nothing interesting now that you’re gone.
A chill skates up my spine so fast it makes my vision blur.
I set my phone face-down and curl my knees up to my chest, burying my face there.
He’s still the same.
Still pretending to care.
Still pretending not to be the reason I left everything behind.
Still pretending he didn’t break me in ways I’m barely starting to understand.
I want to tell someone.
Kael.
Finn.
Atlas.
Any of them.
But the thought alone makes my chest lock up.
So I sit alone in my dim apartment, listening to my own ragged breathing, trying to convince myself Adrian Frost is still in Denver and not closer—
not watching—
not waiting.
I tell myself I’m fine.
I’m not.
And I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I am.