Chapter 35
Grim
I eat the last bite of the roasted chicken, holding back a rumble of satisfaction. The meat is tender and perfectly seasoned. Falkor has gone all out for us tonight. Aside from the chicken, he’s made mashed potatoes with real butter, green beans that aren’t from a can, and homemade gravy.
The old male is watching us from across the table, his eyes crinkling at the corners as Wren and I clean our plates. I’d pick it up and lick it if I could.
Wren puts down her fork. “That was absolutely delicious. You’re spoiling us rotten.”
“She’s right,” I add, pushing my empty plate forward and leaning back in my chair. “That might’ve been the best meal I’ve had in months.”
Falkor’s face lights up. “Oh, you’re both too kind. It’s nothing really. Just some simple home cooking.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Wren insists, giving him a light tap on the arm.
“Well,” Falkor says, pushing back from the table with a pleased smile, “in that case, how about some dessert? I could whip up some—”
“I really can’t,” Wren groans. “I ate half my weight in potatoes.”
Falkor looks over at me.
I lift both hands. “Good thing you made two chickens because I’m pretty sure I had one to myself.” I shake my head. “Thank you, but no…I can’t fit anything else in this stomach.”
“Besides, you’ve already done way too much,” Wren adds.
Falkor waves a hand. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do for you both.” His expression turns serious, his eyes moving between us. “My house is looking better than it has in years, thanks to you two. I had almost forgotten how bright this place could be.”
Warmth blooms in my chest at his words, but it’s tinged with guilt. We’re putting him in danger just by being here.
“Annnd,” Falkor continues, his voice dropping lower, more emotional, “after your ordeal today, you both deserve some good food. You deserve to feel safe and cared for.” He reaches across the table and pats Wren’s hand, then mine.
“You’re such a wonderful couple. So in love.
At the very start of your lives together.
You really don’t deserve…” his voice cracks slightly, “this horrible thing that’s happening to you both. It’s just so wrong.”
I open my mouth to correct him, but Wren beats me to it.
“Actually, Falkor,” she says, her cheeks flushing pink, “we’re not a couple, remember? We’re just friends.”
Falkor’s eyebrows lift. He looks between us, his head tilting slightly like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“Are you sure about that? Because I could have sworn…” He gestures vaguely at us.
“You two look right together. Like you belong. The way you look at each other, the way you move around each other… I was certain you were together.”
I catch Wren’s eye and give her a look.
She gives me a small shrug and a half-smile, her eyes dancing with something I can’t quite read. Amusement? Embarrassment? Something else?
“Nahhh,” I assure Falkor, keeping my voice steady and firm. “We’re friends. That’s all.”
“Well,” Falkor says, still looking unconvinced, “if you say so.” He laughs, his eyes hazy as his mind wanders. “Luna and I were in denial as well at first.” He shakes his head. “Thankfully, we managed to pull our heads out of our asses.” He laughs again. “Or we would have missed out on so much.”
“It’s clear to see that you miss her,” Wren says.
“Oh yes. It’s like I lost a part of myself when she passed.” His eyes grow watery. I suddenly realize how exhausted he looks. I’m not going to let him go to quite so much trouble tomorrow. It’s taken it out of him.
I stand. “Let us clean up. It’s the least we can do after that amazing meal.”
Wren gets up too. “Absolutely. You cooked, so we will clean up.”
Falkor starts to protest, half-rising from his seat.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—” He’s cut off by a yawn that he tries unsuccessfully to hide behind his hand.
“You should go to bed, Falkor. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m fine,” he insists, but another yawn betrays him.
“You’re not fine,” Wren says. She moves around the table and places her hand on his shoulder. “You need rest. Today was stressful for all of us. You didn’t take your usual nap because you were too worried about us.”
“That’s true,” Falkor admits, looking almost sheepish.
“I was too worried. You were gone for so long. All I did was watch the clock. Kept listening for the sound of a car pulling up.” His eyes get a little hazy, and his voice trembles.
“I was so worried they’d caught you. I’m so glad you’re both okay. ”
My chest tightens.
Wren’s eyes are shining with unshed tears. She leans down and wraps her arms around Falkor’s shoulders, hugging him tight.
“Thank you for everything,” she tells him.
He pats her arm, his own eyes misty. He clears his throat. “I’m glad I can help. Even if it’s just in this small way.”
“It’s not small,” Wren whispers against his shoulder. “It’s everything.” After a moment, she pulls back and gives him a watery smile. “Now, go to bed. We’ve got this.”
Falkor nods, standing slowly. His movements are stiff, like his bones ache.
“You’re good kids. Both of you.” He shuffles toward the hallway, then pauses and looks back. “I really do love having you here. This old house feels alive again with voices in it. With people to care for.”
“We love being here too,” Wren says, smiling.
I nod.
Falkor gives us one last smile before disappearing down the hallway.
The kitchen falls silent, and instantly the tension builds.
Wren and I just stand there for a moment, looking at the table full of dirty dishes. Then she moves, clearing the plates.
I grab a few glasses and follow her to the sink, setting them down on the counter. She scrapes the leftover food into the trash while I turn on the faucet, testing the temperature with my fingers until it runs hot.
I squirt dish soap into the filling sink, watching it foam up.
Wren brings over the last of the dishes and sets them on the counter next to me. Then she grabs a dish towel and positions herself to my right, ready to dry.
For a while, we work in comfortable silence. I wash, she dries.
It’s…peaceful.
I hand her a clean plate, and our fingers brush. That familiar spark of electricity shoots up my arm. I know she feels it, too, because her breath catches for a second.
Neither of us acknowledges it.
I finish washing the last pot and drain the sink, then grab a clean cloth from the drawer and start wiping the counter.
Wren finishes drying the dishes and puts them away in the cabinet. Then she wipes down the table.
When she’s done, she turns to me.
“I guess Falkor could scent you on me earlier,” she says. Her voice is careful, like she’s testing the waters of a conversation neither of us wants to have.
I nod. “Yeah, that’s probably it. I mean, it would’ve been hard to miss. It’s not like we could run straight for the shower when we got home. We had to greet Falkor first.”
She nods, leaning on the edge of the kitchen table. She’s wearing black spandex pants and a simple gray T-shirt. More of the gym clothes we took.
Nothing fancy, yet she somehow manages to look amazing.
I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest, facing her.
“He was so worried when we left,” Wren says.
The silence stretches between us again.
“Poor old guy,” Wren finally goes on, giving me a small smile. “I guess we’re confusing him, since friends don’t…” She trails off.
Friends don’t have sex.
I shrug. “Maybe they can.” It’s out before I can stop it.
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“They can…as long as…there are rules in place.”
What am I saying?
I find myself leaning forward just a little, my eyes on her. I’m looking for a reaction. Any kind of reaction.
She pulls in a breath, her chest expanding. She holds it in for a beat, looking down at the floor. Then she licks her lips. She’s going to tell me I’m full of it. I almost hope she does.
I hold my breath.
“What kind of rules?” she eventually says.
I give an internal sigh. She didn’t shoot me down…not exactly. I shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s too late to take it back now.
“No kissing,” I say. “That’s a slippery slope to disaster.”
“We broke that one earlier today,” she points out.
“It doesn’t count,” I tell her. “It was in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t kissy-kissy bullshit. It was kiss-fucking.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “Is that even a thing?”
“Yes.” I snort.
“Okay. What else?”
“No sleeping in the same bed.” I hold up a hand before she can say anything. “And before you point it out, I wasn’t in your bed for long the other night. And I didn’t sleep at all. It doesn’t count.”
She laughs. “I wasn’t going to say anything about that.” She turns serious. “I guess the most important rule would be that there can be no feelings involved. It’s just sex.”
“Exactly.” I push off from the counter. “Would that be a problem for you?”
“Are we going to have sex again then?” She cocks her head, scrutinizing me.
“I think we should.”
It’s a fucking terrible idea.
“There are a couple of things we haven’t tried. Things I think you might like,” I tell her. I’m trying to talk her into it. I’m an asshole. It’s official.
“Oh, really?” She lifts a brow.
“Really.” I nod.
“Would it just be the one time…or multiple times?” she asks.
I lift my eyes in thought. I should tell her just one time…one last time, but I don’t. I’m a prick.
“Maybe while we’re here. When things get back to normal, and we sort this whole mess out, we stop.”
She makes a sound like she’s thinking it over, her gaze on the far wall. Then she chews on her lip, looking at her foot.
I hate how indecisive she is. I want her to agree so damned badly, but I also need her to tell me to go straight to hell.
“So, what do you say, Wren?” I ask.
She shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the way she’s looking at me. Her pupils are dilated, her breath is coming slightly faster. “I…um…I don’t know that it’s such a good idea.”
That’s because it isn’t.
I’m glad one of us is thinking straight.
“You’re right,” I tell her. “I guess this is good night, then.”
I start to walk past her toward the hallway, but I only make it two more steps before she speaks again.
“Wait.”
I turn. “Yes.”
“Stay.”
To chat?
To fuck?
I’m still in the dark here.
“Why do you want me to stay, Wren? What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“You said that sex was a bad idea,” I tell her.
“It is.”
I walk over to her, standing just in front of her. No touching. She has to crane her neck to keep her eyes locked on mine.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Wren?” I ask, my voice low and direct. No games. No bullshit.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just stands there, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. The seconds tick by agonizingly slowly.
She finally nods…just once.
“Use your words, Wren.”