Chapter 11 Wren #2
“Alright, alright. He grabbed me,” Her eyes grow wide but I don’t let her say anything yet. “But then these two random hot guys just showed up like they had some weird savior complex and beat the shit out of him. Broke his nose and everything.”
“Wait, what?! And I’m barely hearing about this now? What the fuck, Wren!”
I wince, knowing I probably should have called her and spilled all of this a lot sooner, but I was so wrapped up in my own head, I didn’t even think about it. I could barely think at all. Every time I tried, my mind was filled with shades of icy blue and soft sage.
“I’m sorry, Liv. I don’t know why I didn’t call you, there was just so much going on and I got overwhelmed.” I glance down at my cup and graze my finger along it, catching the condensation on my fingertips.
Olive takes a deep breath, collecting herself, and then shakes her head.
“Ugh, you’re right babe, I’m sorry. But you’re going to tell me about these two hot guys later.
” She points at me as if she’s scolding her nonexistent child and then gets back to business.
“Now, tell me about Rich. What garbage is he spewing these days?”
I hesitate, then use my best Rich voice impression. “‘We need to talk.’ ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ ‘You misunderstood.’ That kind of crap.”
Her face darkens. “Unbelievable. Classic Rich. Acting as if you imagined the whole thing.”
“I haven’t answered,” I say quickly. “I haven’t said a word. I just…haven’t blocked him either.”
She softens, sitting back in her chair. “Okay. That’s alright. I get it. It’s not easy to shut the door, even when you know damn well that you should.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“I just hate that he still has access to you,” she says, quieter now. “After everything.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing I could say. Everything that she’s saying is true and I’m just prolonging the inevitable.
She reaches for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to explain. But you deserve better.”
This is exactly why I love her. She always sees me, even when I’m doing everything I can to stay hidden.
She doesn’t let me shrink. She doesn’t let me forget who the hell I am.
When everything else in my life has fallen apart, Olive has always been there to hold the pieces with me, even if she didn’t fully understand them.
“You’re a damn good friend,” I whisper, glancing up at her.
She smirks. “I know. But keep telling me anyway. My ego lives for it.”
I laugh softly, but the moment is short lived. My phone buzzes on the table between us. We both look down at it at the same time.
Rich: Please just call me. I swear I didn’t mean to scare you. I was drunk and I fucked up. Just…talk to me, Wren.
Olive’s hand shoots out like she’s about to swipe my phone off the table. “Oh hell no. Block him. Right now. Before I do it for you.”
I yank my phone away before she even gets the chance. “Olive—”
She glares at me. “No, seriously. This is manipulative as hell. He’s trying to reel you back in with half assed guilt and zero accountability. C’mon babe. You know better than that.”
“I know,” I murmur, locking the screen and tucking my phone into my bag as if that’ll make my problems disappear. “I know. I just…wasn’t expecting it, you know? For him to start acting this way. All of the aggression. It came out of nowhere and I don’t know, I just didn’t think he had it in him.”
Olive watches me carefully, her voice lower now. “I think you need to file some kind of report against him. In case he ever pulls some shit like this again in the future. The police won’t be able to do anything if you don’t have some kind of history to back it up.”
I shake my head immediately, already feeling the anxiety curl in my chest. “No. That’s…that’s too much.”
“It’s not,” she says, calm but firm.
“I’m not doing that,” I insist, sitting up straighter as if it would convince her that this shit with Rich didn’t scare me. “He’s not dangerous, Liv. He was just mad, drunk, and stupid. I don't think he’s going to hunt me down or anything.”
She raises her eyebrows, looking unimpressed. “You sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure showing up and grabbing you at work and blowing up your phone counts as more than just ‘mad and stupid.’”
She could always see past my bullshit but I’m not going to budge this time. “It was one time, and those guys already took care of it. He got his nose broken. Don’t you think that’s enough for him to get the hint?”
“Uh, no. Clearly not,” Olive snaps. “Because you’re still scared. You’re still over there looking over your shoulder and jumping every time your phone lights up. That’s not normal, babe.”
I rub my hand across my forehead, suddenly exhausted. I know Olive is only trying to protect me, I just wish this wasn’t something I had to deal with. “I don’t want to make this bigger than it is and drag everything out, you know?”
“You’re not dragging anything. You’re protecting yourself.”
I laugh bitterly. “From what? A couple drunk texts and a bad choice at a bar? C’mon, Liv. Filing a police report makes it sound like I think he’s going to hurt me.”
She tilts her head. “And you don’t?”
I go quiet.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. The words feel fragile in my throat, like saying them too loud would make everything I’m scared of come true. But Olive just sits there, watching me as if she knows there’s more to the story. The important part I’ve been too afraid to say out loud.
She leans in slightly. “Is that why you texted me?”
I hesitate.
“Wren.”
I nod slowly, eyes trained on my drink. “Yeah.” I pause, then glance up at her. “And…I had a nightmare last night. A bad one. The kind I haven’t had since I was a kid.”
Olive’s brows draw together, her whole vibe softening even more. “Oh, babe.”
“It was him. My dad,” I whisper. “I haven’t dreamt about him in years. Not like that. But last night,” I shake my head, willing the sickening feeling to go away. “It felt so real, Liv. Like I was back there again.”
She doesn’t rush to speak. She just reaches her hand back across the table and grabs my hand again, anchoring me. “You don’t have to say more unless you want to,” she says gently. “But I’m really glad you told me.”
I nod again, my throat tight.
“Rich just brought up too much,” I manage. “More than I was ready for.”
And just like that, Olive drops the fire and replaces it with warmth again. No judgement. Just a quiet understanding that wraps around me, making me feel safe.
“You don’t have to deal with this alone,” she says. “Not ever.”
I let out a shaky breath and take another sip of my drink, needing something to ground me. Olive doesn’t say anything right away, just watches me to make sure I’m actually okay. Or, at least, okay enough to breathe without falling apart.
After a beat, she sits up straighter and gives me a look I know all too well.
“Alright,” she says, her voice still light but now laced with that signature Olive excitement. “We are absolutely going out tonight.”
I arch a brow. “I never agreed to that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She flips her hair over her shoulder like she’s in a shampoo commercial. “I’ve made an executive best friend decision. You, me, and the girls. Loud music. Questionable dance moves. And you, my love, in something dangerously short. I’ll even let you wear my slutty boots.”
I groan. “Not the boots.”
“Yes, the boots. They’re magic and you know it. Every time you wear them, a man with mommy issues tries to propose.”
I snort into my drink. “Pretty sure I burned the last dangerously short thing I owned.”
Olive gasps like I just confessed to a felony. “Okay, that’s tragic but also completely unacceptable. We’re going to the mall.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Emergency mall run. We’ll find you something short, tight, and maybe a little morally questionable.”
“Olive…”
“Nope. Don’t ‘Olive’ me. You just told me you were spiraling, got creeped on by your ex, met two hot guys—who you’re still going to tell me about later by the way—and had a nightmare that shook you to your core.
So tonight, you’re going to feel hot and alive and powerful.
And we’re starting with this delicious, overpriced cold brew and an inappropriate mini dress. ”
I bite back a smile, but it sneaks through anyway. “Fine. But if you make me try on anything with rhinestones, I’m leaving you in the dressing room.”
“Bold of you to assume I won’t follow you out in glittery heels and a see through crop top.”
As soon as we leave Novel Grounds, Olive is immediately texting the group chat with all the enthusiasm of a woman on a mission.
A mission that apparently involves dragging me to a million different stores in the mall and aggressively reminding me that I deserve to feel hot while throwing skimpy dresses at me.
By the time we make it back to my apartment, I’m carrying multiple bags stuffed with things I didn’t need—glittery press on nails, red lace lingerie, and a body spray called Love Spell. Olive thought it was fitting.
Oh, and the black dress. The tiny, strappy one Olive all but tackled me into buying.
She said it was ‘slutty in the best possible way,’ and honestly, after everything this week, I didn’t have the energy, or the will, to fight her.
Besides, it did make me feel super hot, but I’ll never tell her that.
It’ll go straight into her ‘I told you so’ bank.
We shopped, we laughed, we grabbed drive-thru tacos and ate them in her car with the windows down and our feet on the dash like we were teenagers again.
And for the first time in days, I’m able to breathe again.
Maybe I’m not completely unraveling. Maybe the real Wren is still in here somewhere beneath all the heartbreak and fear, and the version of me that forgot how to shine.
Well, I’m going to shine tonight, and it’s not going to be because of the slutty boots.