Chapter 34
Jett
My mind has been racing since Wren showed up on my doorstep and admitted her slimy fuck of an ex put his hands on her.
What kind of man does that? Well, he’s not actually a man, because no man would ever do such a thing.
He’s a coward. A real piece of shit. If I ever run into him, I won’t think twice about pummeling him into the ground.
It might be controversial since he’s clearly violent, but the fucker deserves to know what it feels like.
I shift the truck into park outside of Wren’s cottage.
I’ve been staying over more often than not.
At first, because I couldn’t get enough of her, and now, I refuse to leave her alone if I can help it.
She doesn’t want to move into my house, and I don’t blame her.
She finally has a place that she’s made her own and won’t let him take it away from her.
Storm lives with Wren now. I was sad to see her leave my house, but Wren needs her more.
Wren pops open the passenger door. “Thanks for the ride. And for…everything.”
I lean over the center console, cupping her face before bringing her in for a kiss. “Anytime. Sorry I had to leave this morning.”
She waves me off as she skips through the playlist I have queued up on the dash screen. “J, all of these are my favorite songs.”
I cup the back of my neck. “Yeah.”
Her head whips in my direction. “You’ve been listening to my favorite songs.”
I don’t answer her question; she already knows the answer. We sit in comfortable silence for the drive into town as her songs play through the speakers. She’s nervous, I can sense the energy rolling off of her. My hand rests on her thigh, thumb tapping along to the beat of the songs.
The drive to the American Legion is quick. Not many people are out at this time on a Tuesday, but come Thursday, it’ll be a different story.
The dash flashes nine twenty-eight as I pull into the parking lot. Almost late, which is never me. If I’m not ten minutes early, I consider myself late.
“I thought you were always early.” A coy smile tugs at her lips.
Lips I want to lie in bed with and kiss all day, but today is important.
I give her ass a playful smack as she moves in front of me to pull open the door.
She squeals in surprise, and I lean down to press a quick kiss to her cheek as I reach for the handle.
Inside, the hall smells of its usual burnt coffee and citrus cleaner.
Voices drift from the upstairs room. We climb the stairs before taking two empty seats next to each other.
Wren shifts in her seat, shoulders straight, but tense, like she’s forcing herself to be confident.
My heart stutters as my hand finds hers and I squeeze gently.
For weeks, hell, months, we’ve been finding our way back to each other, piece by fragile piece, like two people trying to rebuild a house from ashes.
She’s been open, raw, letting me in slowly—about the years she’s spent trying to forget.
I thought I’d seen all the broken pieces, all the shards of glass piercing her soul, but nothing could have prepared me for the bomb she dropped about her abuse from the hands of the person who claimed to love her enough to marry her.
Today is her chance to talk through the pain and finally start healing.
Margo clears her throat.
“Welcome, everyone. Before we start, I want to welcome someone new.”
All heads turn toward Wren.
She offers a tight smile and a small wave. “Hi. I’m…uhh…” she stutters, her nerves at the surface. I rub soft circles on her skin with my thumb. “I found a flyer on the community board inside Shoreline Sips, and with Jett’s assurance, I thought I’d check it out.”
“Well, whatever the reason, we’re glad to have you here.”
Margo shifts her gaze to the man beside her. “Walter, do you want to start today?”
Walter sits straighter in his chair. He’s been coming here long before I started.
Eight years ago, he lost the love of his life, but he spent all of his life watching from the sidelines.
It turns out, he always had a soft spot for his neighbor, but never took a chance.
She ended up married later in life, and he spent every day watching her share a life with another man.
His voice fills the room, steady and practiced.
Grief and brokenness leave his voice shaking as he tells the story of what could have been.
Everyone listens. It’s the same story time and time again, but no one ever presses him.
That’s not what we’re here for. And as much as I feel for the man, I can’t keep my eyes from drifting toward Wren.
She’s holding my hand as if it were a life preserver and she was stranded in the middle of Lake Drummond. Her breathing’s too measured, too calculated, as if she’s telling herself how to breathe. To stay calm.
It didn’t take too much for her to walk through the door once she learned about this program. It took me months to gather the courage to attend a meeting, and even longer before I could tell a room full of strangers my darkest thoughts.
My mind drifts to this past weekend. To asking Wren to be my date, watching her come alive in the hall as she saw all her hard work of organizing and decorating come to life.
To the feel of her body against mine as we danced and taking her home so we could familiarize ourselves with each other again. I can't get enough of her.
Margo thanking Walter brings me back to the here and now as she opens the floor for whoever wants to speak next.
“C’mon, someone has to have something they’d like to get off their chest today,” Margo urges.
If no one volunteers, she’ll begin calling on people to talk.
I’m assuming she’s giving Wren the opportunity to talk on her own terms instead of throwing her off balance and inviting her to share her story.
Wren squeezes my hand before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, exposing the long column of her neck. “I’d like to share.”
Margo nods encouragingly. “Of course.”
Wren exhales, long and heavy. Her teeth nibble on her bottom lip as she shifts in her seat. “I left this town ten years ago, and I never thought I’d return.” She pauses, glancing around the circle. “I thought leaving meant healing. If I stayed away, started over, I’d outrun everything I’d lost.”
Her voice cracks, and she clears her throat. “But the thing is, pain doesn’t stay in one place. Nope, it packs its suitcase and flies along with you. No matter how many layovers and new flights, the pain follows you wherever you go.”
The group is silent, everyone hanging on to every word that leaves Wren’s lips.
She shares the journey of losing our baby–the pain and heartbreak that caused.
How landing an internship changed the trajectory of her life even more.
Her voice breaks, but she stays strong. I sit beside her, extremely proud of how she’s opening up and taking the first step in healing.
Shaking her head, she bounces her gaze around the circle before continuing. “But what a cruel joke the world played on me. Because that’s when everything started to fall apart. I left Ohio and woke up in a nightmare.”