Chapter 29 Reed
REED
Something about the patience it took to fix an engine felt safer than thinking about everything else lately.
Especially her. My phone buzzed on the workbench. I wiped my hands on a rag and checked the screen.
Little Birdie
I want to go for a drive tonight. Just us.
It was Saturday, which meant it had already been over two weeks since Harper found out about what was going on between Wren and me.
I didn’t answer her right away, just stared at the text, letting the weight of it sink in.
The way she phrased it… she didn’t want company.
She wanted me. The night I saw her on the bleachers, I let her know that if she ever wanted to go for a drive, to let me know.
Now here she is asking me to take her on one.
God, she has me wrapped around her finger, and I fucking love it.
As I was about to reply, I heard tires crunching gravel outside.
Then came the knock—no, pound—on the opposite side of the garage door. I knew who it was before I even turned around.
“Come in,” I muttered, already bracing for the storm.
My little sister swung the door open, sunglasses pushed up into her straight, windblown pink hair, arms crossed tight over her chest like she’d already mentally drafted the opening argument of a courtroom drama.
“So,” she snapped, not wasting a single second, “you and Wren.”
There it was.
I sighed, wiping my hands again and leaning against the car like it could protect me. “You want to be more specific?”
“No, I don’t,” Harper said, stepping fully into the garage and letting the door slam behind her.
“Because I shouldn’t have to be. You think I wouldn’t notice?
The hoodie? The weird texting? The glances at each other?
Wren not telling me everything? That’s like her waving a red flag and saying ‘hey Harp, something’s up with me and your brother. ’”
“Harp—”
“And then,” she cut in, voice sharp, “she tells me it’s not official, and you’re out here telling her shit like you’d rearrange the solar system if she asked.”
I blinked. “She told you that?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Harper snapped. “What is going on with you two? It seems like it’s been going on for years. I am not as dumb as you want to believe. I managed to wait quite some time, but now I want to hear it from you, Reed.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for words that wouldn’t make this worse. “We didn’t plan it. I didn’t plan it.”
“Oh, good. Because that makes it so much better,” she scoffed.
And I made it worse.
“Harper, I care about her.” My voice dropped, more steady now. “I’ve always cared. But lately it’s different, and I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, but it did.”
Harper stared at me, jaw tense, like she was trying to decide whether to scream or throw something.
“She’s been through hell, Reed.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because I watched her barely hold it together for years,” Harper said, voice shaking with more anger than she probably meant to show.
“I was there when her mom left without so much as a goodbye. I watched her come home to a dad who couldn’t even look at her without a bottle in his hand.
I picked up the pieces when she stopped eating, when she flinched at every sound, when she was afraid of her own shadow.
When she didn’t talk about what happened with Tyler because she thought no one would believe her, I believed her.
I carried her through that. Every horrible day, she kept breathing when she felt it would’ve been easier not to… I was there.”
I dropped my gaze, hearing this. She had gone through so much, and I barely knew about any of this. I was there the night at the beach years ago, but she hardly said anything then. Everything I heard about these parts of her life had been in passing or from Cam.
She exhaled, sharp and tired, her eyes shining.
“So don’t stand there and act like this is just some cute little maybe.
If you’re going to be in her life, really in it, then you better show up with both feet in.
Because she doesn’t have room for anything less, and we both know damn well she doesn’t deserve to be fucking hurt again. ”
She took a shaky breath. “So if you’re just playing at this, if this is just a phase or a fling or whatever the hell—walk away now. Because Wren doesn’t get to be a maybe. Not anymore. She deserves more than that. She deserves someone who sees the whole story and stays anyway.”
Her words hit like a punch to the ribs, but I didn’t flinch.
Didn’t storm off. I just stood there and let it sink in.
Because Harper was right. I hadn’t been there.
Not when Wren needed someone the most. I hadn’t known.
I hadn’t even been the big brother Harps might’ve needed while taking care of her best friend. And I hated myself for that.
“Look,” I said firmly, voice low and rough, “I’m not here to erase the past. I’m not trying to fix what I wasn’t around for.” I rubbed the spot in between my eyebrows, heart pounding like it was trying to break out of my chest. “But I see her now. All of her.”
I met Harper’s glare head-on. “I know she’s been through hell. I know there are things she’s survived that I’ll never fully understand. But that doesn’t scare me off. It makes me want to be better—for her.”
I stepped closer, not backing down. “I’ve been with other women, sure.
But it’s never felt like this. Not even close.
Wren… she’s different. With her, I feel like I’m standing still for the first time in years.
Like I don’t have to fake a damn thing. Like I want to stay for as long as she’ll let me, even if that means forever.
I feel like I can finally let all of my walls down. ”
Harper’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I’m not playing at anything. And I’m not going anywhere unless she tells me to.” My voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “She’s been through too much to deal with someone who won’t fight for her. So if that’s the test, if that’s what you need to hear—consider this as me passing.”
Silence stretched between us like a live wire.
And still, I didn’t move or look away. Because this wasn’t just about convincing Harper.
This was about showing Wren that I wasn’t just someone who wanted her.
I was someone who would stay. I was someone who would choose her and only her every single day.
She didn’t say anything right away. Just crossed her arms and stared at me like she was debating whether to believe a damn word I’d just said.
Finally, Harper exhaled through her nose. This whole situation clearly took a mental toll on her.
“You should’ve told me,” she snapped. “Before it got to this. Before she came home wearing your hoodie, looking like someone had finally made her feel safe again.”
Her voice cracked on that last part.
“I’m not mad you care about her,” she added.
“I’m mad that this is the first I’m hearing of it.
Mad that I had to guess something was happening.
You don’t get to just sneak into her world like that, Reed—not without telling the people who’ve had to glue her back together more times than I can count. ”
I took a slow breath, jaw tight. “I wasn’t trying to sneak. I just… didn’t know what this was at first. Didn’t want to say anything until I knew it was real. I didn’t want her to feel obligated to tell anyone before she was ready.”
She scoffed. “It’s real enough for her to get a tattoo designed by you and wear your clothes and blush like a damn teenager every time she hears your name.”
I felt something in my chest—pride, guilt, something in between.
“She means something to me, Harper. I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I know you think that,” she said, quieter now. “But meaning well doesn’t mean shit if you’re not ready for everything that comes with her. She’s still healing, Reed. Some parts of her are still bleeding, even if she won’t admit it.”
I nodded once, not blinking. “Then I’ll be gentle. And if she needs space, I’ll give her that. If she needs time, I’ll wait. But I’m not leaving just because she’s complicated.”
Harper looked at me like she wanted to believe me. Like she almost did.
“I swear to God,” she said, her voice barely a whisper now, “if you break her, I’ll never forgive you. Brother or not.”
I didn’t argue. If I ever hurt Wren, I wouldn’t forgive myself either. I glanced at my phone, the screen still opened to her last message.
“She just texted me,” I said, breaking the short silence between me and Harper. My voice came out quieter than I expected. “Asked if I wanted to go for a drive.”
Harper’s arms were still crossed, but her expression softened just a little.
I hesitated, then added, “I was thinking about taking her out toward Center Road. You know the overlook on Old Mission? That stretch where you can pull off to the side and see the bay, most of the town, and the vineyards… It’s quiet.
Peaceful. Feels like the kind of place she might breathe for a second. ”
Harper’s brow lifted. “That’s almost an hour away.”
I nodded. “I know.”
She tilted her head, like she was trying to figure out what I was saying.
“She deserves a beautiful night,” I told her simply. “One where she doesn’t have to think. She can just exist with someone who cares about her.”
Harper studied me for a long beat. Then she let out a small sigh and dropped her arms.
“I swear to God, Reed… if you’re serious about this, you better mean all of it. She doesn’t need another half-decent guy making promises he can’t keep.”
I looked her square in the eyes. “I’m not making empty promises, Harp.”
She didn’t smile, not really. But her voice was softer this time. “Then go give her the kind of night she deserves.”
I already planned to.
Harper stood there for a second longer, like she was debating something. Then, to my surprise, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
It wasn’t long or overly sentimental, but it was my little sister and that meant something to me.
“You have to find a way to tell Cam,” she muttered into my shoulder. “This won’t be easy. Especially since he is the last one to know.”
I nodded, arms tightening briefly around her before she pulled away.
“I mean it, Whitmore,” she added, already halfway out the door. “You tell him or I do.”
“Fuckin’ hell,” I muttered. I did not want to have that conversation.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the garage settled into silence.
I pulled out my phone again, thumbs hovering over the screen for just a beat before I typed:
Me
Wear something cozy, Little Birdie. I’ve got the perfect idea. Be there a little after 8.
I hit send before I could overthink it. This wasn’t just a drive. This was me, giving her a piece of quiet she hadn’t had in years. I hoped like hell I was someone she could trust to hold it.