Chapter 13 Norah #2
It hits me belatedly—they were all in the shower. All of them. Together. I’ve interrupted… something.
“I can come back later,” I start, mortified.
“No,” Wren says instantly. “You’re not going anywhere.” She looks over her shoulder. “Babe? Tea?”
Beau moves like she just announced she’s in labor. Levi appears from nowhere with the kettle already in his hand.
Simon sets the mug on the table before Beau even reaches it. Then all three of them hover until Wren gives them a soft nod.
Simon leans down and kisses the top of her head. “I’m heading to work. Text me.”
She smiles up at him, and then Beau and Levi kiss her too, one after the other.
I look away for a second because this is their home, their intimacy, their world of warmth and devotion, and it’s beautiful enough to hurt.
“Gym time,” Beau says, squeezing Wren’s hand. “We’ll be back.”
As soon as the door closes behind them, Wren pulls me back into her arms. The swell of her stomach presses into my side, that gentle reminder of how full her life is, how wanted she is.
My throat burns at the thought.
“I should’ve called before I barged in here.”
“They know you take priority,” she murmurs. “Always. Now talk to me, babe. What happened?”
My chest shakes as I exhale. “I don’t… I don’t want to ruin your morning.”
“You couldn’t ruin anything if you tried. Tell me.”
So I do. All of it.
I tell her about waking up alone. The watch. The note. The way my chest feels like someone reached in and scraped everything raw.
She listens without a single interruption, hand running up and down my arm in slow, soothing strokes. She makes little sounds here and there—soft hums of empathy, the kind that tell me she’s fully present, fully with me.
By the time I finish, tears are running freely down my cheeks. Pancake burrows deeper into my lap like he’s trying to plug the leak in my heart with his tiny furry body.
Wren wipes under my eyes with her thumbs. “Can I ask something?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on with Dorian? Like… what happened between you guys? I’ve never gotten the full picture.”
My breath catches. “I—fuck, I don’t know where to start.”
“How about the truth?” she says gently. “You never tell me the whole truth about him. You always stop halfway like you’re scared of saying it out loud.”
I look down at my hands. “Because I’m dumb.”
She swats my knee. “No. Don’t do that. Talk.”
The word settles over me like a command my heart’s been waiting years to obey.
I swallow hard. “He was my best friend.”
“I know. And he helped you through your first heat.”
I nod. “He did. And we were together. A long time.”
Wren adjusts the blanket around us, her face softening. “So what happened?”
“He took the job in Portland without talking to me about it.”
She stills.
“And he asked me to go with him after he had signed the contract,” I whisper. “And I… couldn’t. My aunt needed me here. I wanted to stay and work on my own dream. My whole life was here, and he… he needed bigger. Brighter. He needed a world beyond Fox Hollow, and I didn’t want to hold him back.”
“So you broke up?”
“Not at first. We had the nastiest fight we had ever had. Dorian and I argued a lot, but we always found a way to make up. He’s not very communicative when something is bothering him, but Wren, that day, he knelt down before me and begged me not to break up with him.
I know he loved me. And I was so obsessed with him.
I wanted to try anything just to keep us going, so we tried long distance. ”
She nods like she expected that.
“It didn’t work,” I say. “Neither of us said it, but every call ended with one of us crying or arguing or pretending we weren’t. He would work long hours and miss our virtual dates. He would try to come down here as often as he could, but he was saving up, and it was hard for him to get free time.
“Plus, I don’t know what was going on between him and his father, but he was constantly in a foul mood. He would always pretend things were okay. He would apologize, but nothing was changing. So, we decided to stop hurting each other.”
“And then?”
“I tried to move on,” I whisper. “Then one day, he showed up. He was having some issues with his father and said he didn’t know where else to go. So, I had stayed with him… and somehow, we fucked. The next day, he was gone.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah. This became his thing. He would leave. He would come back. And every time he did, we’d fall into the same pattern. We’d swear it was the last time. And then—”
“You’d end up in bed together.”
I nod, humiliated. “It’s like a drug, Wren. I can’t resist it. He touches me and everything in me just… loses sense.”
Her fingers lace through mine. “That doesn’t make you weak. It means you loved him.”
I shake my head. “That’s not enough. That will never be enough. The last time we did that was after my aunt died. He came to the funeral. He was so sorry for everything that was going on. His mom was so supportive during that time, you know. I just… felt so alone. I was so alone.”
Her hand squeezes mine. “I wish I had been there with you.”
“Me too. But you were out of town chasing down your own dreams. Plus, you’re here now.”
“Always.”
“Anyway,” I shift a little just so I don’t press into her belly, “we did what we always did. We fucked. It had been so long since he had touched me. He ended up activating my heat. I’m not even sure what happened. I think the grief of it all overwhelmed my senses.
“This time, he stayed. He stayed the entire time. I thought to myself that this was it. He was almost done with his contract then, so I was sure he would come back, but at the tail end of everything, he started talking to me about selling the flower shop and moving to Portland with him.
“He was talking to me about starting a family, having children. Starting over. It hit me then that he didn’t know who the fuck I was, never took the time to understand how important this town was to me. So, we got into a fight… and he left.”
“That was the last time?”
“I wish. It happened one last time, but somehow I knew it was over. I spent the night in his bed, and I thought maybe he had come to his senses. Then, as Dorian always does, he left once again.”
“Fuck! That’s so fucked up.”
“It is. That’s why I’m telling you I know Dorian. He’s not staying. He said he’s not here permanently. He never wanted this town. And I… I’m not enough to make him want to stay.”
Wren frowns. “Who said you’re not enough?”
“He didn’t have to,” I whisper. “I know him. I know his ambition. I know he’ll leave again, and I’d rather not stitch myself back together another time.
What happened last night can’t happen again.
It just can’t. He’s here for Margaret. Let him handle that, and then when he leaves, I’ll be all good and dandy.
I don’t need to catch feelings for someone who will wind up leaving me. ”
She studies me for a long moment. Her tone softens, wraps around me like another blanket. “It seems like it hurts even more pretending nothing is happening.”
My throat tightens.
“And don’t you think you should talk to him?” she asks. “Especially since you’re gonna be working together at the community hall?”
I groan and drop my face into my hands. “Don’t remind me.”
Wren nudges my shoulder. “Norah.”
“What?”
“You can’t keep bleeding privately and pretending you’re fine publicly.”
“I am fine.”
She gives me a flat look. “You cried on my doorstep wearing a coat that’s not even zipped.”
I glance down. It’s true.
She cups my cheek. “You deserve someone who shows up. Who stays. Who doesn’t leave you to wake up alone and blame yourself for loving him.”
Emotion rushes up my throat so fast it steals my breath. “I don’t love him.”
She arches her brow.
I can’t argue with her on this. “I don’t blame myself,” I whisper instead.
“Yes, you do.”
I look down at Pancake, stroking him gently. “I don’t know how to be around him without falling apart.”
“You don’t have to fall apart,” Wren says softly. “You just have to be honest. Maybe, for once, let him be the one who has to think about the weight of things. He’s the one making all these decisions. Let him figure all of it out.”
The thought terrifies me. Makes my pulse jump.
But her words land somewhere deep, settling in that part of me that still remembers how Dorian used to hold me like the world made sense. Like I was something he couldn’t live without.
“Just talk to him,” she whispers. “You don’t have to decide anything. Just talk.”
I lean into her, tears sliding free again. She holds me, her hand stroking my hair, Pancake purring against my thigh, the house humming around us.
Wren holds me until the shaking in my chest fades into something softer, something manageable. She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, her thumb still tracing small, grounding circles on my arm.
“You’re not alone,” she murmurs. “Not today. Not ever.”
I nod into her shoulder.
The world outside is frozen and gray, but here, wrapped in this couch with her robe brushing my cheek and Pancake’s tail thumping lazily against my leg, the weight on my ribs finally loosens.
Just a little.
Enough.
Wren shifts enough to look at me, eyes warm and worried. “You wanna stay for breakfast? Beau made way too many cinnamon rolls this morning.”
A broken laugh slips out of me. “I could eat a whole tray right now.”
She grins. “Good. Then you’re staying. We’ll figure out the rest.”
I curl closer, letting her tuck the blanket around both of us. Letting myself be held. Letting the ache have somewhere to go that isn’t inside my chest.
For a long time, neither of us speaks. We just breathe, the snow tapping faintly against the windows, Pancake kneading the blanket like he’s trying to stitch me back together.
Eventually, Wren whispers, “You deserve better than being someone’s almost.”
My eyes sting again, but I don’t cry this time. I just breathe.
“I know,” I whisper. “I just… don’t know how to stop wanting him.”
“You don’t have to stop,” she says softly. “You just have to stop letting him decide everything.”
I let her words sink into the cracks in me.
She’s right.
She’s always right.
But wanting something and surviving it are two different battles.
Wren presses her forehead to mine. “Whatever happens with him, whatever you choose… I’ve got you.”
I let my eyes fall shut, letting myself sink fully into the comfort she’s giving without asking anything in return.
“I know,” I whisper.