Chapter 52 Reed
REED
Cam and Dax had returned with a few bundles of firewood like they’d just conquered some kind of primal mission. Cam tossed the logs with zero finesse, while Dax stacked them with almost too much care. They got the flames going fast.
The fire crackled to life just as the sun dipped behind the trees, painting the beach in amber and gold. Dax kicked back into a folding chair he brought, cracking open a beer as he settled right next to Lena, who had claimed the log bench beside Wren, Harper, and me.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Lena warned, eyeing him sideways.
Dax just grinned. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now. I brought you fire and muscle. That’s at least a boyfriend-level effort.”
She snorted, shaking her drink before taking a long sip. “You think firewood and biceps are enough to win me over?”
“I think I haven’t even started trying,” he said, his voice low and easy.
Lena stared at him for a beat, then looked away with a grin so wide it was all teeth. “Well, damn.”
Harper, bless her, clapped her hands together and broke the silence with a cheerful, “Okay, I need chocolate and marshmallows in my life right now. Anyone else?”
She hopped up and went straight for the snack bag, pulling out the s’mores kit like it was sacred. One by one, everyone followed suit, grabbing sticks and crowding the fire in search of the perfect golden toast.
I felt Wren shift beside me, her knees bumping mine.
She was already a drink in, and from the looseness in her posture and the lightness in her laugh, I could tell she’d finally relaxed.
She felt safe. It was the first time in a long while I’d seen her drink.
I sipped on a Dr. Pepper, not wanting to fall into old habits.
Earlier, she had asked me if it was okay that she drink in front of me, and I swear I fell even more in love with her.
Wren caught me watching her and leaned in close, her voice soft and just for me. “I like this,” she said, motioning around the group. “All of us here.”
“Me too,” I said, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “You look so happy, pretty girl.”
“I am.”
That was all I needed to hear.
And when she passed me a marshmallow to roast and her fingers lingered just a second longer than they needed to—I knew we were building something real. One fire lit night at a time.