24. Wren
WREN
“Do you always have to look like you lost a fight with your bag?”
I glance down at myself as Harlow shuts her dorm room door behind us.
One strap of my bag is sliding off my shoulder, my sweatshirt is bunched oddly under it, and I’m holding a granola bar in my teeth as I look for my water bottle. “I’m sorry my aesthetic offends you.”
“It doesn’t offend me.” Harlow reaches over and tugs the strap back onto my shoulder. “It concerns me.”
“Look, there was once a time when I wore matching socks, had time to do my hair, and coordinate cute outfits. That time has since passed, and everyone needs to simply be grateful that I show up wearing semi-clean clothes.”
She gives me a look, then bends to pick up the pen that falls out of the side pocket of my bag and rolls across the hallway floor.
I hold out my hand.
She drops it into my palm. “How do you survive?”
“On little sleep and a lot of dry shampoo.”
We head down the hall toward the stairs, and I fall into step beside her.
I’ve been in Harlow’s dorm enough times that it feels less like visiting and more like entering an alternate universe where I could’ve been.
Her room is always clean, bed always made unless I’m the one sitting on it, in which case she pretends not to notice the dent I leave in the pillows.
She’s steady like that.
I am whatever the opposite of steady is.
“You brought the blanket?” I ask as we push through the stairwell door.
Harlow holds up the folded picnic blanket tucked under one arm. “And snacks.”
“See? This is why I keep you.”
“You keep me because I’m irreplaceable.”
I point the remainder of my granola bar in her direction. “I keep you because you know where the good vending machine is.”
She grins. “That too.”
Harlow leads us across the walkway toward the quad, past students heading to late classes. She finds a spot under one of the bare trees, shakes out the blanket, and smooths the corners down with her hands.
I drop onto it before she’s finished.
For a few minutes, we just eat and watch campus move around us.
Mom is home today, and I have to admit, this feels nice in a way I don’t often have now.
No twins asking random questions or for snacks every few minutes, no arguing with Justin about doing his homework.
No rink. No laundry. No Kai within touching distance causing my brain to short-circuit.
Just my best friend, snacks, and a cool breeze.
“So,” she says.
I groan. “We made it all of four minutes.”
“I gave you strawberries first.”
“You did. Very manipulative.”
“I’m thoughtful.” She bumps her shoulder against mine. “How are things with Kai? I stayed at their place Sunday night, and he definitely wasn’t home at a decent hour.”
I sigh and toss the pretzel into my mouth. “We’re trying. And it’s good. Really good.”
Harlow’s face pulls into a grimace. “On second thought, I don’t wanna know.”
I laugh. “It’s not simple,” I add. “I know it’s not. But being around him again feels easy, natural. Like my body already knows where it belongs even if my mind hasn’t fully caught up. I only went on a few dates over the years, but none of them made me feel even an ounce of what Kai does.”
Harlow watches me for a second, then looks out across the quad. “He’s happy too.”
I glance over. “Kai?”
“No, the campus squirrel,” she says, throwing a pretzel at me. “Yes, Kai.”
“He told you that?”
“He doesn’t have to. You can see it in him. Plus, he’s terrible at hiding things from me.”
“He’s terrible at pretending in general.”
“He’s been…lighter,” she says. “Not all the time. He’s still Kai. He still looks like he’s personally responsible for the rotation of the earth. But he’s lighter with you.”
I lean back on my hands again, looking up at the bare branches overhead. “What about you and Grayson?”
“What about us?”
“Are you nervous?”
Her brow pulls in. “About?”
I look over at her. “About him leaving soon.”
For a second, she focuses her attention on her hands, spinning one of her rings around her finger. “Yeah,” she says. “I am.”
I sit up a little. “Really?”
She gives me a look. “Why do you sound shocked by that?”
“I’m not shocked. You two just seem so solid, even if it is newer.”
“We are solid,” she says with a shrug. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss him.”
She leans back on her hands beside me. “It’s confusing.
I’m proud of him. I want him to go do everything he’s worked for.
I don’t want to be the girlfriend who makes him feel bad for having a future, but then I think about him not being here after practice,” she continues.
“Me not being able to go to his games often, or him not coming over because he ‘forgot his charger,’ even though he has two and purposefully keeps one in my room now.”
“He is not subtle.”
“He’s awful at it.” She smiles softly, then lets it fade. “I’m going to miss the little stuff. That’s what makes me nervous. Not whether he loves me.”
“You know he does.”
“Yeah.” She looks at me. “I do.”
There’s no bragging in her tone, just certainty. I love that for her, but I envy it a little too.
I wish I could have that confidence, but watching my own parents’ marriage fall apart simply because my dad decided he wanted a few nights with another woman altered my ability to see love as nothing other than unrequited loyalty.
Right now, I see it as working toward a future with someone you love, who you think loves you just as much, only for them to pull the rug out from under you decades later, calling your entire relationship a mistake.
Harlow looks back across the quad. “But knowing someone loves you doesn’t make distance any easier.”
“No,” I say quietly. “I guess it doesn’t.”
Harlow turns her head slowly. “Are you nervous about Kai leaving?”
My stomach dips because I am. The last time we fell apart, distance wasn’t even an issue yet. The crack was already there, and him moving to college simply added even more separation.
I look down at my hands. My nail polish is chipped from the week, and I fight the urge to pick at it more. “I’m trying not to think about it,” I admit.
“That sounds very healthy.”
“I know.” I rub at a spot of dirt on my thumb. “I know he’s leaving. I know it’s part of the whole thing. It’s not like he surprised me with an NHL contract after I walked into the locker room and saw his ass.”
Harlow wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, definitely didn’t need to know about that.”
“Sorry.”
“Not sorry enough.”
I almost smile, but it fades quickly.
“I’m happy for him,” I say. “I am. He’s wanted this forever. He deserves it. He’s worked his ass off for it.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want to be sad about something good happening to him.”
“That’s not the same as being sad he’s leaving.”
I hate how easily she says it.
Like the distinction is simple.
“Right now, I’m needed here,” I say honestly.
“In a few months, he’ll be fourteen hours away.
Depending on how my mom’s schedule changes, I have no idea when I’d be able to make the drive, and we both know he won’t have much time until next offseason.
I don’t know where, or if, I fit into his plans. ”
Harlow’s face softens, and I have to look away when my eyes start to sting. My life was a lot less complicated when I was abroad, but I sure missed what I left behind here.
“I know that sounds dramatic.” I pick up a pretzel and break it in half, then in half again. “We just got back together. I don’t want to make it heavy already.”
“Talking about something doesn’t make it heavy.”
I give her a look.
“Okay,” she says. “Sometimes it does. But ignoring it doesn’t make it light.”
Across the quad, someone laughs loudly, and a couple walks past holding hands. The girl is wearing the guy’s jacket, and he keeps looking down at her like he forgot where he was going.
I think about Kai looking for me through the glass at practice.
I think about him in Seattle.
I think about not being there.
My chest hurts, so I change the subject before it can get worse.
“I have an appointment next week.”
Harlow blinks. “For what?”
“My gynecologist.”
Her teasing disappears immediately. “When?”
“Tuesday morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.”
She gives me a flat look.
I pull my sleeves down over my hands. “It’s just more follow-up. The cramps and bleeding and everything. They told me to track symptoms before I left for London, so I did, and now I’m going back.”
“Have they all been as bad as your most recent one?”
I sigh. “Pretty bad. I’ve had to take a lot of pain relievers over the last few months, and I think I should consider buying stock in tampons.”
She doesn’t laugh at my joke. “And they haven’t given you any idea of what it could be?”
“Not really, no. I googled my symptoms, and it all aligns with pretty much any women-related issue. Endometriosis. PCOS. Hormones. Stress. All the fun words.” I try to make it sound lighter than it feels.
“So maybe this appointment will actually narrow it down if someone will pay attention and listen.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, I know they’re at least going to order some blood work, so I’m trying to remain optimistic."
“Do you want me to come?” she offers.
I shake my head. “I think I’m okay going alone to this one.”
Her expression shifts. “Does Kai know?”
“Not yet, no. And I’d greatly appreciate you not telling him. He was kind enough to notice I didn’t feel well a couple weeks ago and made sure I stayed hydrated. I’m not hiding it forever. I just don’t want him worrying before there’s anything to worry about.”
“There is something to worry about.”
“Harlow.”
“I’m not telling him.” She lifts both hands slightly. “It’s your appointment. Your body. Your call.”
“Thank you.”
“But I think he’d want to know.”
“I know he would.”
“And?”
“And maybe I’m not ready to be looked at like something else he needs to take care of.”
Harlow’s face softens again because I know she understands exactly how I’m feeling. She was in that same place even just a few months ago.
I hate that too.
“He doesn’t see you that way.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I look down.
She lets out a quiet breath and doesn’t push.
That’s how I know she really means it.
My phone buzzes on the blanket between us.
I glance down.
Kai: you working today?
Wren: Unfortunately for you.
Kai: unfortunately?
Wren: I’m very distracting.
The dots appear almost immediately.
Kai: oh trust me, i’ve noticed.
I stare at the message longer than two words deserve. Harlow leans a little closer, trying to see my phone screen. “He said something cute.”
“No,” I say, yanking my phone out of her line of sight.
“He did!”
“You didn’t even see it.”
“No, but I saw your face.”
I laugh and shove my phone into my pocket before she can steal it. “I have to get to the rink.”
“You still have time.”
“I know.”
“You’re avoiding the rest of this conversation.”
“I know that, too.”
She smiles, then starts gathering the snacks. I help, mostly by holding the pretzels while she folds the blanket into a shape that’s actually manageable.
As we stand, she hooks her arm through mine for the walk back. We stop outside her dorm, and she hugs me quickly, one arm still holding the folded blanket. “Love you.”
I hug her back. “Love you too.”
I turn to head across campus to the rink when I hear her yell from behind me.
“Have fun distracting my brother at practice!”