Chapter 4 Wrenley #2
She’s also fiercely protective of the people she loves, I say fondly, thinking of how she supported me through such a challenging year after my breakup. And she’s my best friend. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Ruger nods. Same. Wouldn’t trade her. Might consider renting her out, though.
I snort.
We smile at each other for a beat too long again, and my heart flutters. He has a really nice smile. Beneath the beard are moist lips and straight white teeth that I can’t help but look at.
Then Ruger shifts in his seat, stretching his arms behind his head, and says, But hey. She brought you here. And considering how often I listened to her talk about your friendship like it’s the emotional centre of the universe, I earned my right to see what the hype is all about.
I raise an eyebrow. And?
He shrugs, a little spark of mischief in his eyes. So far, not bad.
Hey! I protest. I can’t say that’s high praise.
You eat meat, so I can handle you being around.
I shake my head and laugh, the sound softer than it should be, almost like it slips out of me without permission.
When I look up, Ruger’s watching me. His eyes on me cause a flutter in my chest. I think it would cause anyone’s heart to skip a beat. There’s just something about a brooding lumberjack of a man that will make your insides quiver.
You seem close with Beryl, I say, trying not to let his gaze make my brain turn to mush.
He nods. I am.
I wait for him to say more, but I quickly realize he’s going to need a little encouragement.
How did that happen?
He takes a breath as he stretches his back. Well, I’m sure Remi told you our parents died.
I nod.
I was living in Anchorage, and I moved home just before my dad was diagnosed with cancer, he says. “Beryl really took care of us during that time. She was always bringing food and prayers and just herself.
She’s been through cancer herself, with a better prognosis than my dad, he continues, but she understood what he was going through in a way no one else could.
She was with us every day until he died.
When my mom died a few months later from her stroke, Beryl became a parent to us in ways we didn’t know we needed because we were so clouded by grief.
I swallow a lump of emotion in my throat.
Losing my dad was one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through.
I didn’t have someone to step in and be there for me.
Technically, I had my ex, but he was mostly non-existent, citing work was busy.
He wasn’t wrong about work, but he was also so far from right when it came to us.
Looking back, it was another thing I excused because I was young and had never seen a truly healthy relationship.
On top of that, distraction felt safe, but distractions also prolong the grieving process.
At least, that was my experience. I’d work to distract, only to feel the pain ten times worse when things were quiet with no one by my side.
How nice it would have been to have someone step in and take care of me so I could just grieve.
It warms my heart to know that someone did that for Ruger and Remi.
She sounds wonderful, I say. I’m glad you two had her.
He smiles fondly as he looks past me. She is. She has more love in her heart than most people have in their pinky toe.
We sit in silence for a moment, letting our emotions even out. Grief is never as far away as you want it to be, and even a small talk of the person or people you lost can reopen deep wounds that never truly heal.
Anyway, he says, standing with a grunt, long day. Think I’m gonna crash.
Oh. Right. Yeah.
He moves toward the fridge, grabs two bottles of water, and hands me one.
You can do whatever you like, he says, motioning vaguely to the living room. I’ve got Netflix, Prime, Disney+, even BritBox if you like accents. Remote’s probably somewhere on the couch.
A smile tugs at my lips. Thanks.
He nods, awkward in a way that makes him more endearing than he probably wants to be.
Then, right before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway and glances back. Just don’t mess with any of my partially watched true crime shows. I have a flow.
My eyes widen. Wait… you’re a true crime guy?
His expression is almost sheepish. Documentaries only. Can’t do the dramatized stuff.
Nope, same. Can’t handle fake detectives holding flashlights under their chins. Feels disrespectful to the real cases.
A quiet huff of amusement leaves him.
What? I ask.
He shrugs lightly. Nothing. Just starting to see what Remi meant.
My stomach flutters.
About what?
About you being easy to be around.
My lips part.
It’s not that I thought Ruger didn’t like me, but to hear him say that he finds me easy to be around is so different from the last man I lived with. And this isn’t even a real relationship.
But don’t tell her I said that she’s right.
Then, before I can respond, he disappears down the hallway with a mumbled good night.
I sit there for a second, processing everything.
This whole day didn’t go like I expected at all. If anything, I’m surprised Bonnie didn’t call us out on our lie the moment we couldn’t even agree on how long we’d been together. Yet somehow, we managed to stumble through it. And I can’t lie. I didn’t hate the feel of his arm around me.
I pad into the living room, pick up the remote, and flop onto the couch.
Sure enough, Ruger’s Netflix profile is riddled with half-watched true crime shows. I scroll through, having watched most of them. I then settle on one I’ve watched before and loved but isn’t in Ruger’s list of half-watched shows.
I settle deeper into the couch, the sounds of the documentary filling the quiet house while Ruger moves around upstairs, floorboard creaking beneath his steps. I smile to myself because even with the added complications today and all the chaos, this arrangement is going to be okay.