Chapter 46
REED
The girls finally padded back into the living room, and I swear the air shifted the second she walked in.
Wren looked… adorable. There was no other word for it.
Her hair was pulled half-up, little wisps curling around her face, and I caught the faintest blush dusted across her cheeks and nose.
She hadn’t tried to cover her freckles—thank God—and it made her look soft, sun-kissed, like summer itself.
She wore one of those oversized band tees she loved, hugging just right at her hips over the tiniest pair of jean shorts I’d ever seen her wear in front of other people.
I fucking loved the way her ass looked in those shorts.
Black Vans, bare legs, and a look on her face like she had no idea the effect she had on me.
If we were alone, I’d have her bent over the table so I could feel her around my dick again.
I shifted around in my seat, trying to adjust myself so my boner wasn’t so noticeable.
She didn’t meet my eyes, and when she walked by, I had to clench my jaw to keep from pulling her straight into my lap.
Cam was scrolling something on his phone, clearly trying not to look at Harper, who was chewing on a slice of apple obnoxiously. She always did the most annoying shit just to spite him.
“Alright, sluts and whores,” Harper announced, tossing a half-eaten piece of apple at Cam just to fuck with him.
“What if we did something today? The farmer’s market’s open for another hour or two.
We could walk through it, support some small businesses, or something.
Maybe walk around the little Marina Park after? ”
Cam made a muffled noise but didn’t say no.
I glanced at Wren, who gave a tiny shrug like she was fine with whatever—but I caught the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. That was all I needed.
“Sounds good,” I said, standing. “Let’s make a day of it.”
Wren finally looked at me then winked. I swear my heart did a flip. God, I was so fucking in love with her.
Shortly after deciding we were heading out, I slid into the driver’s seat of Wren’s car.
Technically, it was her car, even if she barely drove it.
The engine purred to life with a quiet growl, louder than most people in this small town were used to.
She had a Honda Civic Type R, light pink wrap gleaming under the morning sun.
It was fast, clean, and surprisingly aggressive for something that looked so damn cute parked in the driveway.
Cam had restored it for her himself—rebuilt the engine, upgraded the suspension, the whole deal.
He said he wanted her to have something reliable.
She just loved how it felt when she was in it—comfortable, fast, and a little bold.
Kind of like her. The shitty thing about her car was that it had only four seats and five of us.
Harper refused to sit on Cam’s lap, as did Lena. So the girls opted to sit together.
She rarely drove it unless she had to, though, so Cam ended up behind the wheel more often than not. Not that he ever minded.
One hand gripped the wheel, the other rested comfortably on Wren’s thigh.
She didn’t flinch. Just brushed her fingers over mine with that quiet ease that said we were past pretending.
Every few miles, I glanced at her—the way her oversized band tee fell off one shoulder, her legs crossed at the knee, hair up in that effortless half-up style that made me think about taking it back down.
I couldn’t stop imagining my hands tangled in her hair while she bobbed up and down on my cock.
I needed to cool the fuck out. My Little Birdie even put on a little makeup.
Not much—just enough blush across her cheeks and nose to keep her freckles company.
The car buzzed with conversation. Harper leaned awkwardly to the side with Lena on her lap, animated as hell about some vendor she wanted to stop at, while Cam—half-amused, half-exasperated—gave her shit just to hear her snap back. Some things never changed.
I adjusted my sunglasses and checked the rearview.
Cam was doing that thing again—subtle glances when he thought no one was watching. Only this time, it was aimed at Harper. He was trying to be cool, laid-back. But I saw the way he tracked her hands, her face, the curve of her neck when she twisted around to point out something.
Interesting.
My thumb rubbed lazy circles against Wren’s thigh. She gave me a look—soft, knowing—and leaned her head back against the seat with a smile. This car, this morning, this feeling—it was all starting to feel like ours. Not just hers. Not just mine.
We were finding our rhythm again, slipping into something that felt steady, even with the chaos in the rearview.