Chapter 10 Wren
WREN
Inside, it was chaos. Hot, loud, bodies packed tight. Every room was buzzing with energy, people dancing, laughing, shouting over the music. Strobe lights flickered against the walls in what could’ve been a living room, turning everything into a blur of motion.
We hadn’t even made it fully inside before it started.
“Damn, green shirt—what’s your name?”
“You new around here? ’Cause I’d remember that face.”
“Wanna dance, baby girl?”
It was like a floodgate had opened. Guys were suddenly everywhere, their eyes hungry, some bolder than others, and one even tried to grab my hand as I passed. Clearly, they were shitfaced. Harper laughed beside me, already having the time of her life.
I smiled politely, declined with nods, and tight-lipped “no thank yous,” pushing my way through the crowd.
And while a small part of me was flattered by the attention, another part felt…
weird. Like they weren’t seeing me. They just saw my clothes, or lack thereof.
It was just this version of me I’d stepped into tonight.
Still, it felt good to be noticed and to be wanted.
But this didn’t prepare me for him.
I turned a corner toward the kitchen, trying to find something to drink that wasn’t just flat soda and cheap liquor, when my heart stopped cold.
There he was.
Tyler.
He was leaning back against the counter like he owned the room.
The same casual cool that used to drive me insane.
His skin was tanned like he’d spent the last six months on a boat somewhere, and his blonde, messy, sun-kissed hair now rested on his shoulders.
A faint five o’clock shadow framed his jaw, softening the sharp angles of his face but doing absolutely nothing to dull the effect he had on me.
I hadn’t seen him since right before my twentieth birthday.
I met Ty when I was fifteen. It was just after moving in with Cam. We shared almost five years of history, love, and heartbreak. All of it was wrapped up in the boy I gave my first everything to… and now, standing in front of me as the man I didn’t think I’d ever see again.
He hadn’t noticed me yet. He was mid-laugh, talking to some girl, holding a red cup, completely at ease.
And I was frozen.
The room blurred and the music dulled. I was fifteen again.
It felt like I’d walked into a fever dream I hadn’t signed up for, giving me the same butterflies in my stomach as the night we’d first met at that football game ten years ago.
Harper hadn’t noticed I’d stopped, and when I glanced in her direction, I saw her hugging Lena.
Time stilled as he looked up, his eyes locking with mine. His smile faltered for a beat. The air between us thickened, full of everything we’d left unsaid all those years ago.
He didn’t say anything. Neither did I, but I guess it was time for some trouble. The thought struck before I could second-guess it. I lifted my chin, adjusted my V-neck slightly, and put a smile on my face.
My boots clicked against the tile as I moved through the kitchen, weaving past couples pressed too close together and a guy trying to pour tequila shots like a bartender.
I never looked away from Ty, and he didn’t look away from me.
His friend was still talking beside him, oblivious, but Ty wasn’t hearing a word.
That look in his eyes—I remember it. I’d seen it years ago when he used to study me like he was trying to memorize everything as if I was going to disappear. It was softer now, like he was still unsure it was me.
Up close, he looked the same but different. Like life had hit him a few times since I last saw him. But then again, maybe it was just growing up. When we broke up, I was only nineteen. He should now be getting close to thirty-two.
I stopped in front of him.
“Hey, stranger,” I said, the words casual, but my pulse was anything but.
Ty blinked once, then his mouth curved into a slow, hesitant smile. “Wren.”
His voice was still low and warm, roughened just enough to make old feelings rise like ghosts in my throat.
“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he added. “You look…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Careful.”
He huffed a laugh and scratched the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. You just look really good.”
I let the compliment hang between us for a second, pretending it didn’t make my stomach flip.
“So do you,” I said. And I meant it. Even if I hated that, I meant it.
He gestured vaguely at the party. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Parties were never really your scene.”
I shrugged. “Didn’t expect to be here. But I needed to get out. Clear my head. I thought a little chaos might help.”
Ty took a long sip from his cup, still watching me over the rim like he didn’t trust that I was real. “You always did pick interesting ways to clear your head.”
“Guess some things never change,” I said, smiling just a little.
His gaze dropped, just for a second, to the dip of my V-neck, then quickly back to my face. The heat that rose to my cheeks had nothing to do with the room temperature. I hated how much I liked this attention. At this point, I would pretty much do anything to forget about how Reed made me feel.
“And some things do,” he said with a wink.
We stood there, just looking at each other like the past was right there in the space between us. I could still remember the way he used to reach for my hand without thinking, how he used to kiss the top of my head when he thought I was asleep. But that was then.
So I smiled, tilted my head slightly, and said, “Wanna catch up, or are you gonna stand here acting like I’m a ghost?”
His smile grew a little. “I’d like to catch up.”
“Cool,” I said, and turned toward the back patio. “Then follow me.”
Without checking to see if he would follow me, I headed outside. I wasn’t that girl anymore, but part of me still wanted to know if he’d follow.
The patio was way cooler than inside and quieter, even though the music still thudded from the house like a second heartbeat.
String lights crisscrossed the backyard, casting a soft gold glow over everything.
People were scattered around the large backyard.
Some were lounging on patio furniture, others hovering near the keg, and a few were already too far gone on shitty beer to stand straight.
I made a beeline for the half-empty cooler by the steps, cracked open a hard cider, and took a long sip.
I looked at the label to see the percentage of alcohol…
eleven percent. Yeah, this is going to hit me fast. I rarely drank.
I am a lightweight with poor judgment once the alcohol hits. This was probably a bad idea.
Tyler was right behind me.
He grabbed a beer out of the cooler, popped the cap, and nodded toward the fire pit in the middle of the yard. “Wanna sit?”
I hesitated, then followed. The flames danced low, crackling in the middle of a stone circle. We sat on a wooden bench, facing towards the house, just far enough from the others to feel like we were in our own little bubble. I took another swig of my drink.
His eyes were on me. The feeling was still so familiar.
“So,” he said, “how long has it been? Two or three years?”
“More like six,” I said, watching the fire instead of him.
“Whoa, already?” he asked, voice low, like it might crack if he spoke louder. “Guess time flies when you’re having fun.”
I should’ve felt the weight of that. Guess being with me was more of a burden than I thought.
But it was too late for rational thinking; the alcohol was already loosening everything inside me.
The nerves, caution, and common sense were quickly disappearing.
The fact that I just quickly drank over half a can of booze on an empty stomach probably didn’t help either.
“I had a hard time forgetting,” I admitted. My voice sounded too honest, even to me. “But remembering and missing are two different things.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Seriously?”
“You always gave me reasons to stay.”
He smiled, but there was something tight behind it. He scooted closer to me, and I pretended I didn’t notice. We sat there for a minute, sipping in silence. The warmth from the fire touched my skin, and so did the weight of him beside me.
I drank the last bit of my drink quickly.
“I forgot how easy it was to talk to you,” Ty said, voice almost too soft to hear over the fire’s crackle. “Even now.”
I looked at him then. Looking at the tan skin, the scruff, and the hair I used to run my fingers through in the middle of summer when the world was nothing but possibilities. And for a second, I forgot all the reasons we ended. All I remembered was what it felt like to be wanted by him.
Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Maybe it was the part of me that had been lonely too long. Or maybe it was something I was trying to use as a distraction from what I really needed.