Chapter 5
WREN
The whole time I’m at the game, I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop thinking about the way he asks questions. About how he’s got a little saltiness mixed with his sweet, which pulls me in even more.
I think I have a crush on the trouble-maker Everett brother.
Shit.
I wave down a cotton-candy guy and get two big bags of it for us to share, just as Jerome is scoring a game-winning sixty-seven-yard touchdown. The crowd is erupting, including Cole to my right, but all I can think about is him.
And then when they show Jerome on the jumbo screen, all I can think about is the picture he showed us of them together. Finally, we are filing out of the stadium just as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
It’s been posted, the text reads from an unknown number. But when I scroll up, I see where I sent my address earlier. It’s Brooks.
Fuck. Okay, I send back. I’m leaving the stadium now. Will apply as soon as I get home.
Take a breath, he writes back. They’ll be looking for your resume.
I want to ask who and how, but now’s not the time.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and try to focus on Cole.
He’s my whole heart. My reminder that there is still innocence in the world.
And my reminder that there are still little wonders everywhere.
He’s going on and on about Jerome’s touchdown and that the Empire is going to the Super Bowl, and all I can do is smile.
I wish so badly sometimes that I could exist only in the world that he does and that I haven’t been hardened by the world around me.
Finally, I’m walking back into my apartment and dropping my keys on the counter after dropping him back off with my parents. I kick off my shoes by the door and scurry into the living room, snagging my laptop off the counter as I go.
I open up my email and look for the link that Julian said he was sending from the burner email address he gave me earlier. I click on it, and my heart starts pounding in my ears. I drag and drop my resume, then I click into the box that says, “Tell us why you are the best fit for this position.”
My mouth is dry, and I clear my throat.
Because I am going to be the woman who gets justice for every other woman before me, I think.
I draw in a long breath, type my response and click “submit.”
Submitted, I text.
Great, Brooks writes back. Now open your door.
My heart is pounding in my chest. I jump up from the couch like the room is on fire, scrambling around like an idiot.
This is the second time he’s shown up to my door unannounced, and the second time I have very much not been ready for it.
My hair is windblown, my cheeks are burnt from the sun, I smell a little like sweat and popcorn, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I draw in a long breath as I pull my hair up into a very messy bun. This is as good as it’s gonna get.
I open the door, and he’s standing there, leaned up against it like he’s posing for a magazine.
“Thought you could use this,” he says, handing me a bottle of wine. I smile as I take it.
“Thank you,” I say. “Come on in.”
He follows me inside and closes the door behind us. I pull down two wine glasses from the cabinet and set them down. Within a minute, I have the bottle opened, two glasses full, and one of those glasses is rapidly emptying. He chuckles as he takes a sip.
“Easy,” he says with that killer smile. “Now we wait.”
There’s a brief silence for a moment. I want to keep my cool. I want to stay composed and controlled, like I have so desperately wanted him to see me.
But something in me breaks. I look up at him.
“What if it doesn’t work?” I whisper. He sets his glass down and leans over my counter, sliding his hand over mine.
“It’s going to,” he says. I cock my eyebrow at him.
“How do you know? How do you know my resume is going to get picked out?”
He clears his throat as he slowly retreats his hand.
“I casually mentioned that I met this hot young girl a few weeks back to Larry’s assistant. Told her we should find a way to get her around the office more. She asked what your background was, and I just said, ‘young, single, and new to the city.’”
I smile and nod.
He doesn’t know I’m single.
“Hot?” I ask. He smiles and nods.
“Damn right,” he says, and his bluntness makes my cheeks flush.
“Single?” I ask.
“Just a hope,” he says, shrugging his shoulders playfully.
I bite my lip to keep from smiling too big, and we finish our wine.
Fuck. This crush isn’t going away anytime soon.
“Listen, Julian talked to a few of the survivors.” His tone grows more serious, and he looks at me.
“It sounds like, for all of them, the interview was fast. Like, within a day or two of them applying. So there’s a chance that they might want you to go in as early as Tuesday. ”
I can feel my stomach flip, and that little flirty, happy-go-lucky feeling I just had is completely gone.
Instead, I’m filled with panic that makes me wish I hadn’t finished that glass so quickly.
I put a hand to my chest, drawing in a slow breath and rubbing it gently, trying to discourage that tightening feeling from creeping up on me like it has so many times this past week.
“Hey,” he says, scooting off his barstool and walking around the counter to me. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You good?”
I nod and force a playful smile, waving him off with my hand.
“Yeah, yeah,” I laugh nervously. “It’s just…shit’s getting real.”
“Wren,” he says, and there is something so sensual about the way he says my name that it’s almost enough to pull me out of my panic.
My eyes dart to his, and the way he’s staring into mine with such concern makes my heart beat even faster.
“You are allowed to stop this at any time. If you don’t want to move forward with this, you don’t have to. ”
I stare up at him. He means this. But I don’t know why. Is it because he’s concerned for me? He doesn’t want me to get in too deep? Or is it because he still feels like there is some way to save his family’s name?
My heart—and my vagina—want to believe the first. That it’s because he has some concerns for me. But my logic tells me not to fall into the trap of believing that. This is all business, after all.
“I’m doing this,” I say. “I have to.”
He just swallows and nods slowly.
“Okay. Well, tell me what’s got you all flustered the most? What can I do to help?”
My heart swells. I think for a moment.
“Oh, my god. What the fuck am I going to wear?” I ask, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Jesus. I don’t…” But as I feel the panic growing more and more about the idea of being face to face with Cato Everett, his youngest son reaches out and puts his hands on my hips.
And my breath hitches in my throat.
My eyes spring open, looking straight into his big hazel ones.
I feel the warmth of his hands on my body as he tugs me into him. We’re chest to chest, and I’m pretty sure he can probably feel my heart pounding against him right now.
What is happening?
He lifts one hand and tucks my hair behind my ear then slides it down to cup my cheek. I close my eyes, relishing his touch, and I can feel all my senses ease.
“You are not alone, Wren,” he says, echoing what he told me on the elevator.
“You’ve got this, and you are not alone.
Eyes on me,” he says, and I obey immediately, staring up at him.
His thumb reaches out to stroke my bottom lip gently, and I feel like I might collapse.
“I’m going to pick you up early tomorrow. Around eight. Okay?”
I nod slowly.
He could have just told me that he was flying me to the fucking moon, and I would have nodded. Then he leans in and leaves the softest kiss on my jaw, sending an electric shock through my body.
“Get some rest, Wren,” he whispers. And then he turns and walks out of my apartment.