Chapter 36 Reed
REED
Isaw him the second my headlights cut across the front yard.
Cam was sitting on the porch, elbows resting on his knees, jaw tight, foot tapping like he was barely keeping himself together. His phone lit up in his hand, but he wasn’t looking at it. He was locked on us. On her.
Wren made a soft noise beside me, already reaching for the door before I’d even shifted into park. Her phone was dead in her lap, and I could feel the panic rolling off her again—different this time. Not fear, but guilt.
“Shit. Shit, I didn’t text him. I didn’t even tell him I was going anywhere.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, voice quiet but firm. “You are an adult and you’re allowed to be with someone who cares about you. Wren, you’re safe with me.”
Her eyes flicked to mine. I saw everything—every emotion from the last six hours swimming there. Then she was out of the truck, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands, hair a wild mess, barefoot because it had been easier to take off one shoe than lace them both up.
She looked like she’d just had her brains fucked out. Probably should’ve cleaned her up a bit. But damn, my girl looked beautiful.
Cam was already on his feet.
“What the fuck, Wren?” His voice cracked through the quiet like a shot.
She froze halfway up the walk.
“I was about to call the cops.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, already wincing. “My phone died. I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean to disappear without telling me where you were?
Harper said she hadn’t seen you, but you might be out.
You weren’t answering. The last ping I got had you parked near an abandoned trailhead.
” Cam’s voice got louder with each step.
Not because he was angry. He was scared.
And that kind of fear makes that man dangerous.
Then his eyes shifted—slid past her and locked on me. Everything changed.
“You were with him?” he said, voice edged with something worse than anger—confusion. Hurt.
I climbed out of the truck slowly, hands visible, calm. A silent gesture to say I’m not here to fight.
“Cam—”
“No.” He stepped forward, squaring his shoulders and pointing in my direction. “You knew. You didn’t think maybe you should tell me she was with you all fucking night? Did you not realize after the Tyler situation how bad this would freak me out?”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
“Reed, why the fuck were you in the middle of nowhere with my sister all night?”
“She’s not a kid,” I said, dropping my hands. “She didn’t need your permission to leave the house.”
“Answer the question, man.”
Cam’s jaw clenched, fists at his sides. He took another step toward me, close enough now that I could feel the heat rolling off him. His eyes darted between us.
“You were supposed to be my friend,” he said, voice low, sharp. “You were supposed to look out for her. And you—what? Took her out to the woods in the middle of the night?”
I kept my voice level. “She wasn’t in danger.”
“For all I knew, she was alone. In the dark. With no signal. With no one knowing where she was.” His voice cracked. “You don’t think I’ve been up all night thinking she could be dead in a ditch somewhere?”
I opened my mouth, but he didn’t give me the chance to answer.
“She’s my little sister,” he snapped. “And you—you’re supposed to be someone I can trust.”
He got in my face. I let him. I don’t think I have even seen Cam so hurt in our almost fifteen years of friendship.
“You could’ve told me. You could’ve said something instead of sneaking around.”
“We weren’t sneaking,” I said quietly. “It just… happened.”
His eyes flared, disbelief written all over his face.
“It just happened? You guys being almost an hour away all fucking night just happened? Do I look fucking stupid?” He stepped back and scrubbed a hand over his face like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“You don’t think I deserved to know something was going on?
You don’t think she deserved better than it just happened? ”
“I didn’t plan on it turning into this, Cam. I swear. I didn’t go after her to screw you over or make things weird. I didn’t even know it was going to be like this until it was already happening.”
“And now?” he asked, bitter.
“Now I care about her. A hell of a lot.” I knew Wren was listening; I could feel her eyes on me when I spoke.
His mouth twitched, like that admission landed somewhere unexpected.
“I’d never hurt her,” I said, meaning every word. “Whatever this turns into, I’m not walking away. I’m not gonna be some mistake she regrets.”
He stared at me, chest rising and falling fast, like he was trying to decide whether to hit me or hear me out.
“You should’ve talked to me first or at least before this shit,” he said finally, voice rough.
“I know,” I said. “You’re right.”
He shook his head slowly, then glanced over at Wren—who hadn’t moved from the walkway, watching it all go down with wide, unreadable eyes.
“Then fix this,” he said, turning his back and walking toward the house. “Start by not hiding her. She’s not someone you get to call when you need a quick hookup. You knew better, Reed.”
Behind him, Wren stepped up onto the porch, her voice quiet but steady. “Cam, stop. Please.”
He turned toward her. “You could’ve told me.”
“I know,” she said. “I didn’t plan for any of this either. But I’m okay. He took care of me.”
That landed. Not in the way that calmed him rather in the way that confirmed what he was starting to understand. That she trusted me. That maybe, just maybe, she felt something deeper than he was ready to hear. Maybe something I did, too.
Cam’s eyes cut back to me, sharp and unreadable. He didn’t say anything for a beat. Then he ran a hand down his face, stepping back like he was physically pulling himself away from doing something he’d regret.
“I’m going inside,” he muttered, voice tight. He stepped past Wren without touching her.
Then, right as he hit the door, he turned.
“But you?” He jabbed a finger in my direction again, “Go home.”
Not angry. Not yelling. Just final. Like a door closing.
He didn’t even wait to see if I’d listen.
Just walked inside, the screen door creaking behind him, then slamming shut.
Honestly, I think that hurt more than if he had beaten the shit out of me.
I had disappointed my best friend. I was going to fix this. Fix us.
Wren lingered on the steps, arms wrapped around herself. She didn’t speak until the house went quiet again.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes still on the door.
“Don’t be,” I said, trying to be reassuring. “I’ve known Cam for a long time, and I can honestly say I expected this to go worse. But for you, Little Birdie, I’d do it all over again.” I meant every word. As hard as this was for me, I would do it again for her.
She turned, then looked up at me. And even with all that had just happened, she smiled. Something about it felt worth the fallout.