29. Wren
WREN
I reach my hand back and slap the nightstand. Except, instead of hitting the wood, I slap Stone instead.
“What the fuck, Sticks,” he mumbles.
I’m pulled backward and sigh at his warmth.
“Should I slap you back?” His voice is sleepy.
His teeth graze my ear, and I have no idea how it makes my body twist, but it does. My cheeks heat, but then the vibrating of my phone starts up again. I shove his arm off my hip and sit up, pulling the blankets up to hide my naked chest.
“Really? Hiding your tits from me? They were in my mouth no less than three hours ago.”
The sun is peeking through the window, and exhaustion has set in.
My body hurts, and there’s a soreness between my legs that wasn’t there before I fell asleep last night.
After Stone told me to sleep, I drifted off, only to be woken up again to his fingers trailing my thighs. He went back for seconds and thirds.
“Who’s calling you?” he asks, moving the blanket down.
I lean over him, and he flicks his tongue onto my nipple.
“Stone!” I chide.
My phone slips into his hand with his catlike reflexes, and he presses it up to his ear. “Hello?”
There’s a pause, and I sit back while dragging the blanket up to my neck again. I wait and stare at his strong profile.
His throat moves with a swallow, and then he snaps, “Who’s asking for Wren?” Stone’s angry brow unfurrows. He takes the phone and turns it on to speaker. “Here she is.”
I don’t recognize the number, but I’m grateful it doesn’t say unknown.
“Um, hello?”
“Wren?
“Yes?” I answer with a question because I don’t recognize the voice.
“It’s Mary-Lou.”
I sit back. I only know one Mary-Lou, but I question her anyway. “Mary-Lou Anderson?” My old social worker. She wasn’t a bad one. She did her best, always stealing me away from my father the moment he slipped up and placing me with Evan’s parents.
“Yes, it’s me.”
Stone sits up and rests against his headboard, letting the sheet fall to his hips. I’m too concerned to stare at the thick outline below it.
“Oh…um, hi?” Why is she calling me? I haven’t spoken to her since my eighteenth birthday, because once you’re out of the system, you’re out of the system.
Stone’s hands jut outward.
“My old social worker,” I mouth.
“Wren, someone broke into my office last night.”
“Okay…” My response lingers, and I’m conflicted. “Do you think it was me…?”
Her light laugh floats out of the speaker, but her humor doesn’t last long. “Of course not.”
My heart beats erratically, and I’m no longer concerned about the blanket covering me. Stone brushes my hair off my shoulder, and I know he can see how fast my chest is heaving. The longer I sit on the phone, the more anxious I become.
“Your file is missing.”
My file.
My thick, depressing fucking file.
“The whole place was trashed and…”
There’s more?
“Calm down,” Stone says, not caring that Mary-Lou can hear him.
It’s hard to focus on his hand rubbing up and down my spine. My file. Does it have an updated address? I chastise myself. Someone has already broken in here once. They know where I am. What do they want with my file?
“And what, Mary? Are you okay?”
“I’m in the hospital.”
I pop forward and try to move off the bed. Stone catches me by the waist, all while holding the phone steady. He keeps me pinned in his lap and buries his face into my neck.
“What happened?” I shut my eyes like it’s going to help. This is my fault. “Did they say who they were?”
There’s a faint beeping in the background, and all I can picture is a beaten and bleeding Mary-Lou on a hospital bed. It’s all my fault. Trouble follows me everywhere.
“I caught them in there. I have an alarm. Once I confronted them and asked why they were tearing apart my filing cabinets, they said your name. I tried to fend them off, but…”
But you can’t bring a knife to a gun fight.
“I didn’t get the chance to stop them, and after they left and the police showed up, it was confirmed that the only thing missing was—”
“My file.” A tear falls down my cheek, but Stone is quick to sweep it away. I suck in my emotions, a sob knocking inside my chest. “I…I am so sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault, sweetie.”
“No, it isn’t.” Stone spins us around and places me on the bed.
He moves to find my clothes and dresses me as I stay still, listening to Mary-Lou’s labored breathing.
“It’s part of my job. This isn’t the first time someone has broken in and stolen files or confronted me. It is the first time it’s been this physical, but…” Her voice shakes. “Wren, I’m worried about you. Are you okay? What’s going on? Is it your dad—”
“Wren is safe.” Stone takes the phone off speaker and places it up to his ear.
My legs are trembling, and my teeth sink into my bottom lip.
Blood fills my mouth, and I’m in a daze.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but at one point, I watch Stone stalk over to our bedroom door.
He shouts for Evan. They talk through the door.
I can’t make out what they’re saying through the ringing in my ears.
I remain unmoving, even after Stone bends down in front of me again.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His blue eyes are difficult to pull away from.
I try but fail. “I’m scared.”
A sob escapes my throat, and Stone stumbles backward. His face falls, and he looks like I’ve just cut him.
My face is pushed into his chest with force.
“I would kill anyone if they tried touching you, Wren. You have nothing to be afraid of.”
I try to get away, but his arm tightens against me, and he refuses to let me curl in the other direction.
“Don’t you dare shut me out.”
Another cry rips from me, and it pisses me off. I grip the sheets and squeeze my eyes shut. “I hate him. Why can’t he just fucking let me go?”
“He won’t touch you.”
“You don’t know him!” I shout. I meet Stone’s angry brow and steely jaw. “You have no fucking idea what he is capable of.”
“No, baby,” Stone growls. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. Especially when it comes to you.”
I listen to his words, but I don’t believe them. Hatred runs deeper than love, and it’s obvious that Stone no longer hates me. And if it wasn’t clear in my childhood, it is now. My father doesn’t have a loving bone in his fucking body.
I’m not safe, even with him in prison.