Chapter 31 Wren
WREN
The night air curled around us like a secret.
I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, and leaned my head back to stare at the sky.
The stars looked softer from here, like they weren’t so far away.
Like if I reached just a little higher, maybe I could touch one.
They shimmered against the dark velvet of the sky, scattered like pieces of something ancient and gentle, and I wondered how something so massive could make me feel so small in the best possible way.
Reed hadn’t said anything in a few minutes, but I felt him beside me.
I think he was waiting for me to speak first. His presence warmed the space between us better than any blanket could.
I glanced over at him from the corner of my eye.
He leaned back on his hands, emerald green eyes turned upward, jaw tight like he was holding in too many thoughts.
Being here, beside him, made it hard to keep mine in check.
I shifted slightly, letting my arm brush against his.
The touch was feather-light but intentional.
I didn’t look at him right away, but I felt that spark crackle low in my belly.
The kind of feeling that made everything else fall away.
I let the moment stretch, and let the quiet pull tighter between us.
Reed didn’t move, but I could feel the way he stilled.
Like he noticed the shift in the air, too.
I turned fully, letting go of my legs and then, my heart thudding a little faster, and scooted closer until our shoulders pressed together. “You okay?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes flicked toward me, and that small, crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“You.”
That word, that one word, settled deep under my ribs. I blinked once and then let out a quiet breath, reaching for him without overthinking it. My fingers curled into the center of his hoodie and tugged gently. “C’mere.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I want you to lie down with me,” I said, suddenly shy but trying not to sound it. “If that’s okay.”
Reed didn’t hesitate. He shifted, adjusting the pillows in the bed of the truck, and lay back. I followed, curling onto my side beside him. Then, without another word, I reached for his arm and pulled it over my shoulder, dragging his hand down to rest against my hip as I tucked myself close.
He let out a soft chuckle like I’d surprised him.
Maybe he hadn’t expected me to want this much closeness.
But he didn’t pull away. His body was solid and warm behind me, his hoodie soft against my skin.
I pressed back into him, letting the rhythm of his breathing steady my own.
The stars glowed above us, indifferent and quiet, but something in me buzzed loud and alive.
His chest rose beneath my cheek, and I felt the slow, careful way he held me.
“I could stay here forever,” I whispered.
He squeezed my hip gently. “Then let’s pretend we’ve got forever. Just for tonight.”
And with his heart beating steadily beneath me, I let myself believe we did.
The stars stretched endlessly overhead, a soft, silver blanket tucked across the sky.
Reed’s arm was still draped over me, hand resting against my stomach, steady and warm.
His thumb had found a slow rhythm—tracing light, lazy circles just above the waistband of my leggings, near my hipbone.
It wasn’t rushed or intentional. It just…
was. Gentle. Grounding. I stared up at the stars, but I wasn’t seeing them anymore.
My voice came out quieter than I expected. “I used to look up at the sky like this and wish I could disappear into it.”
Reed didn’t say anything. Just pressed his palm a little closer. A soft reminder: I’m here.
“I want you to know some things about me, Reed.”
He replied with a simple, “Okay. Just take your time.”
I nodded and continued, “My mom left when I was fifteen.” The words tumbled out slowly. “She didn’t leave a note or say goodbye. Just up and gone. One day she was there, and the next it was just me and Cam, and my dad.”
Reed’s thumb slowed, circling smaller now. More careful.
“Dad wasn’t the same after that. I think part of him broke when she left. He tried for a while, but it didn’t take long before he started drinking. I think he was just looking to numb everything. He stopped showing up for us. For me. Truthfully, he was a shell of his former self.”
I felt Reed’s lips brush the top of my head, just barely. Like he needed to stay close.
“I learned how to take care of myself, since Cam was still away at college. I taught myself how to stay small. How not to ask for too much.” My throat tightened.
I blinked at the sky until my vision blurred.
“I was a lonely high schooler until I met your sister. In my sophomore year, my first school year after my mom had left, I met Tyler. We met at a football game, shockingly enough. I was head over heels. Most girls at fifteen didn’t know to stay away from the twenty-one-year-old who hung out at high school football games. Clearly, I met that description.”
Reed’s hand stilled.
I swallowed hard. “I didn’t tell anyone about him for a long time.
Not even Harper. He was charming at first. Funny.
He knew exactly what to say to make me feel seen.
Then again, he was an adult and I was a kid.
He started isolating me and making me question things.
Controlling what I wore, where I went, and who I talked to.
And when I tried to break things off…” My voice faltered.
I curled my fingers into the hem of his hoodie.
“He didn’t make it easy.”
The silence between us felt sacred now—like it was holding space, not suffocating me.
“I was ashamed. I thought it was my fault. I thought people wouldn’t believe me if I said it out loud. So I didn’t. Not for a long time.”
Reed’s hand moved again, slow and reverent, tracing those soft circles on my hip like he was soothing each buried bruise.
“I moved in with Cam not long after my dad had taken a turn for the worse. When Tyler and I finally broke things off, I got a secret tiny butterfly tattoo right here.” I took his hand and guided his fingertips lower, letting them graze the ink just above my hipbone.
“It was the first thing I did for myself. A symbol that I was finally free. What he did fucked me up for a long time, but I got through it thanks to my little found family.”
Reed didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. He just pressed a kiss to my temple and tucked me in closer.
“Are you okay now?” he asked quietly, voice like gravel and velvet.
“I think I’m learning to be,” I said, my voice cracking just slightly. “Some days are easier. Some aren’t. Seeing him at the party messed with my head a bit at first, but now? Honestly, you breaking his nose gave me the closure I didn’t know I needed.”
He kissed my temple again. Longer this time.
“You’re the strongest person I know, Wren,” he whispered. “And I’m so damn proud of you.”
I closed my eyes and breathed him in, letting his warmth and his words heal some broken parts of me. And for the first time in years, the dark didn’t feel so scary.
I didn’t expect Reed to open up after I did. His voice was quieter, rougher somehow, like the weight of his story was pressing on his chest with every word.
“I grew up… messy,” he said. “My mom battled a drinking addiction. She did try her hardest to get better and to fight, but those demons were a little too loud. I guess she felt they needed to be drowned out. My stepdad, Harper’s dad, was there but not really.
Emotionally absent. Like a ghost in the house.
He thought all he had to do as a dad was keep the lights on and food in the fridge. ”
I swallowed hard. My throat tightened.
“I was sixteen when it got so much worse. I guess since I was old enough to be pretty much independent, my Mom decided it would be okay to disappear more and more into that haze. Dad had enough. He knew no matter what he did, he couldn’t replace my dad, even though he had died when I was young.
He felt he couldn’t help my mom anymore because she did not want the help.
He couldn’t do it anymore. He packed up and left for good.
” He looked away for a second, jaw tight.
“By seventeen, I was raising myself and my eleven-year-old sister.”
I blinked back tears I didn’t even know were coming.
“My friends didn’t know any of it. Neither did Harper’s,” Reed went on.
“In school, I was the ‘bad boy.’ The guy who didn’t care about anyone.
It was easier that way. Kept people at arm’s length.
But the truth is… I cared. Too much sometimes.
I think I was just tired of being let down.
When I made people important in my life, they seemed to always let me down. ”
He paused, eyes tracing the stars.
“When I was eighteen, I hit a breaking point. Started drinking… the same way Mom did. I would give money to an older coworker, and they would buy it for me. Shit. Being a child while raising a child was so fucking hard and so fucking lonely. For a while, it felt like the only way to breathe.” His voice cracked a little.
“I pushed away the few people who cared because I didn’t want them to see the mess I was. ”
My chest ached. This wasn’t the Reed I knew or thought I knew. This was a man who carried scars deeper than any tattoo could cover.
“But I snapped out of it,” he said, voice steadying. “My sister needed me. I had to stop or I’d end up like Mom. Lost. Empty. And I came pretty close to being just like her. ”
He exhaled sharply. “I chose sobriety, and when I chose sobriety, I stopped talking to my mom. As hard as it was, she was nearly just a shell of the woman who raised us. The past still haunts me. I’m scared it’ll catch up.
When shit gets tough, I’m always afraid I’ll lose control again.
I have been sober for well over a decade, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. ”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for telling me. You’re stronger than you think, Reed. I am so sorry you had to grow up like that. You deserved to be a kid and not have a single responsibility. I wish I could’ve been there for you. ”
He met my gaze, vulnerable and raw.
“That’s why I keep my walls up,” he confessed. “I’m terrified of being weak. Of letting someone in—and then losing myself or losing them.”
Tears slid down my cheeks. Not from pity, but from understanding. From the quiet bond forming between two broken people, learning to trust again. I wanted to tell him he wasn’t alone anymore.
But instead, I just whispered, “I’m here to stay.”