Chapter 58 Wren
WREN
Iwoke up to the feeling of Reed’s chest rising and falling beneath my cheek, the steady rhythm grounding me before my eyes even opened.
The early light was just beginning to filter through the living room window, pale and soft.
His arm was still draped over my back, our legs tangled together beneath the small fleece blanket.
I tilted my head and looked up at him. His lashes were long, and his mouth was slightly parted, breath even, like he was dreaming of something good. Hopefully me.
I smiled and let myself watch him for a moment, brushing my fingers gently down the tattoo on his bicep, tracing the curve of ink I’d fallen asleep beside.
He stirred, just barely, and then his voice came out low and rough. “You’re staring.”
“You were peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Best way to wake up,” he mumbled, his hand sliding down to the small of my back. “Still can’t believe we’re here.”
“Me neither,” I whispered, pushing up to press a kiss to his jaw. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
His eyes opened then, warm and heavy-lidded. “Good.”
We lay there for a while longer, the silence between us easy and full. No rush. No weight. Just the morning stretching out in front of us like a soft promise.
Eventually, footsteps creaked down the hall, and I heard the low murmur of voices. Cam appeared first, shirtless, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and looking half-asleep.
“Morning.” He poked his head into the living room quickly, then headed for the kitchen.
Lena followed a second later, her calico hair in a messy braid, an old sweatshirt of Cam’s hanging off one shoulder. “Hey dumb dumbs.”
Reed laughed under his breath. “Good morning to you too.”
Lena gave us a lazy smirk, then dropped into the armchair across from the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “You two look cozy.”
I sat up slowly, brushing my hair out of my face. “You’re just jealous.”
Cam opened the fridge. “Is Harper still asleep?”
I nodded, climbing over Reed to stand. “I’ll go wake her.”
“Make it gentle,” Lena warned with a grin. “Or she might try to murder you.”
“She can try,” I muttered playfully as I padded down the hall, leaving the soft sound of cabinets opening and a skillet clinking in Cam’s hands behind me.
There was something comforting about the ordinary domesticity of it all—Reed still sprawled out on the couch, Lena curled in a chair, Cam already cooking like this was just another lazy morning instead of a small miracle.
Like we’d all somehow survived the chaos and landed right here, in this sunlit house, with coffee brewing and people who felt like home.
And as I reached my bedroom door, fingers raised to knock, I realized… This was the beginning of something real. Something we could build on.
Something we might even call forever.