“Good night,” I say.
Her eyes finally lift to meet mine. “Night,” she says quietly, almost shyly.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say, as I hitch my shoulder against the wall. She nods and goes into her room, and the door closes behind her. As soon as it shuts, I feel like she took all the breath in my body with her.
My phone chimes in my pocket.
BestBrotherEver: Is it true that you have all Patsy’s rugrats at Wren’s house?
Me: They’re not rugrats. But yes, if you’re referring to her children, I’m babysitting.
BestBrotherEver: Why?
Me: Patsy’s sick. It’s the right thing to do.
BestBrotherEver: Look at you getting all saintly on me.
Me: It’s not saintly to want to help someone. The kids can’t help their situation. They needed a safe place to go.
BestBrotherEver: Wren’s place.
Me: Yes
BestBrotherEver: Was there any planning in that decision?
Me: None whatsoever.
BestBrotherEver: Where are you sleeping?
Me: None of your business.
BestBrotherEver: Use a condom, that’s all the advice I have for you.
Me: Go away
BestBrotherEver: Oh, and Lark says Wren snores.
Me: Good night
I don’t remember Wren snoring last night. I do, however, remember how she felt curled up against me. I remember how her breath felt as it brushed the side of my neck. I remember how the curve of her bottom fit right in my lap.
Shit. This kind of thinking will get me nowhere. I go to my room, a very tidy guest room on the opposite end of the hall from Wren’s room, and pull back the covers. I change into some pajama pants and a t-shirt, since I’m pretty sure at least one of the kids will have me up during the night.
My mind flits quickly to the four little lives that are mine to protect for the next little while. I don’t even know how long I’ll have them. Then my mind lands squarely on Wren and how she is probably drying off now after her shower.
I squash the pillow over my face and groan into it.
Having her just down the hall from me is going to be sheer torment. Torture. Of the most wonderful kind.
Wren
A noise jerks me from my sleep and I sit up quickly. Ever since the miscarriage, I wake up sometimes with the sound of a baby crying in my head. But this time, it doesn’t shred my insides. It’s real. And it’s in my own house.
I toss the covers back and get out of bed.
I find Anna and Devon in the hallway, and they’re both staring into the nursery, watching inside.
“What’s up, guys?” I ask quietly.
Anna scrubs her eyes. “I heard crying.”
Devon yawns. “Me too.”
“You guys go back to bed. Mick and I can take care of this.” They don’t move. They just stand there staring at me. “Do you need me to tuck you in?”
Devon nods.
I smile and follow them back to the room with the huge bed they’re sharing. They crawl beneath the covers and I pull it up to their chins. “How does your mom tuck you in?” I ask, as I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“She rolls us up like burritos and says ‘snug as a bug in a rug’.” Anna giggles. “Then she pretends to tickle us a little and we go to sleep.”
“So, like this?” I pretend to plump them in the blankets, tucking it beneath each of them in turn. Then I tickle across their tummies until they giggle. Their laughter sounds like tiny bells. “Snug as a bug in a rug,” I say as I adjust the covers for the last time.
“Do you think our mom will come and get us?” Anna suddenly asks.
“Of course she will,” I say automatically. But I honestly know no such thing. “She’s just gone to see the doctor so she can feel better.”
Anna nods and rolls so that her face is pressed against the pillow. “Good night,” she says.
Devon rolls in the other direction. “Night,” he mutters.
I go to the nursery and see Roxy sleeping on the toddler bed, but the crib is empty when I look into it.
I find Mick in the kitchen bouncing a baby on his hip as he prepares a bottle. “Here,” I say, holding out my arms. “Let me take him.”
He passes him over and I carry his chubby little body over to the rocking chair.
“Thanks,” Mick says, and he reaches for the baby.
“I’ll feed him.” I hold out my hand for the bottle.
“Are you sure?”
I take the bottle and tip the baby into the crook of my arm. His eyes close immediately. “What time is it?” I ask.
Mick glances toward the clock on the wall. “Two.” He yawns as he sits down on the end of the sofa closest to me.
“Do you think he always gets up at night?” I ask.
“God, I hope not.” Mick chuckles.
I hold Chase in my arms and say, “It’s not so bad. I’ve never been a good sleeper. At least with a baby in the house, I’ll have company when I’m not able to sleep.” I look at Mick and find his eyes closed, his head leaning back against the couch. “You should go to sleep. I can take care of this.”
He tips his face toward mine and looks at me from beneath lowered lids. “This isn’t so bad. I kind of like hanging out with you.”
“And him.” I nod toward the bundle in my arms.
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Silence falls across the room. But this time, for the first time in quite a while, it’s not an oppressive blanket covering us both. It’s light and air and peace.
“Hey, Mick,” I begin after a few minutes of silence.
“Hmm…?” he hums without opening his eyes.
“Thank you for being with me that night,” I say. A lump forms in my throat and I have to swallow past it.
His eyes fly open and he stares at me in the dark room. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.”
“It was a terrible night. I’m sorry I put you through that.”
Silence is his only comment. And just when I think the moment has passed, he says, “The only thing that makes me feel sorry for anything is that I didn’t hold on to you tighter, Wren. If I had, maybe it would have turned out differently.”
“You held on as tight as I’d let you.”
“Which was none at all. And I let you push me away. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was what I wanted.”
“No, it wasn’t.” His tone is sharp and angry. “It wasn’t what you wanted at all. You wanted to be held. You wanted to be loved. You just didn’t know how to ask for all that. I should have pushed harder.”
“I didn’t want to be pushed.”
“You can keep lying to yourself, Wren, but you can’t lie to me. Not about this. I know you care for me. I know you might even love me. But you’re so mired in guilt that this thing between us can’t go anywhere. I stopped pushing. I stopped calling. I just…stopped.”
“No.” I heave out a sigh. “I stopped.”
“Why?”
“It was so much easier that way.”
“But is it really?”
I stop for a moment and think. “No. It’s not. It’s hard being…like this.”
His voice rings out in the quiet room. “So stop.”
“I’m trying.” I nod toward the sleeping bundle in my arms. “I’m really trying.”
“Loving a baby is easy. They’re innocent and they don’t hold pain in their hearts. At least not yet. But loving another adult… That’s a little harder.”
It’s really not. What’s hard is not loving a man, particularly when you know you already do.
“I asked Friday to make a tattoo for me.”
“What kind?”
“Just something to remember it all by,” I say quietly. “It was real. It happened. And I will forever be changed by it.”
“I will too.”
And that sentence hits me like a punch in the gut. In all of this, I could
only think of my own pain. I could only think of the way it affected me, the way it changed me. But he was there too, and he was changed by it too.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“I’m not,” he replies. “I wouldn’t take any of it back. Sure, I’d change the outcome, but I wouldn’t take any of what happened back. It’s part of you and, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I like all the parts.”
I laugh quietly. “All my parts? You haven’t even seen most of my parts.”
Silence falls for a moment, again. “I’ve seen the important parts. The rest will come if the time is ever right.”
“I think he’s asleep,” I say. Chase lies limp and unconcerned in my arms.
“You want me to lay him down?” he asks.
“I can do it.”
“Okay.” He yawns. “I’m going back to bed, unless you need something.”
“No, go ahead.”
I take Chase into the nursery, lay him down, and when he stirs ever so slightly, I lay my hand upon his chest, right over his heart, and he settles back down. I check on Roxy, covering her where the blanket has slipped off. Then I check on Devon and Anna, and they’re both sound asleep.
As I walk by Mick’s room, I see that his door is open just a crack. I stop outside it and listen for sounds of him moving around. I don’t hear anything. He’s probably already asleep.
I push his door open and step into the room, and my heart starts to thunder in my chest. He rolls over onto his back, and he stares up at me.
“Can I sleep with you?” I say quietly.
He tosses the covers back and slides over, and then he pats the space next to him. “Come on,” he says, his voice husky, like rocks sliding over glass.
I sit gingerly on the edge of his bed. “It’s difficult, you know.”
“I know,” he says, and his fingers touch the small of my back. “But this time, I needed for you to seek me out, instead of the other way around.”
“I need you,” I say, and my voice suddenly cracks.
He hooks an arm around my back and draws me down into the bed with him, his arms encircling me tightly.
“Come closer,” he says. “You smell good.”
I lay my head on his chest and suddenly, it’s like all the dams I’ve built within myself give way. I sniffle and try to hold it back, but I can’t. “I should go,” I say.
“If that’s what you want,” he says softly. But he doesn’t let me go. I burrow more tightly against him.
“It’s not.” My voice cracks and tears begin to burn my eyes. I squeeze them tightly together, but it has been too long. I have held too much back.
“It’s okay,” he soothes.
“I know it is.”
He holds me through the sobbing that has been a little too long in coming. He holds me through all of it, so close that our bodies are like one.
Finally, when I’m spent and tired, I ask, “Can I stay?”
“Yes,” he says quietly. “You can stay.”
I pat his chest. “Your shirt’s wet.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me to get you another one?”
“No.” He pulls back from me long enough to pull the wet shirt over his head, and then he brings me back to him. “I don’t need another.”
His skin is soft and rough, and we have never been so close. I burrow in tightly and close my eyes. “Can I still stay?”
“Yes, you can still stay,” he says. His lips touch my forehead.
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Go to sleep.”
Mick
When I wake up, Wren’s no longer draped over my chest. When we fell asleep, she was pressed so close to me that I couldn’t tell where she stopped and I started. My chest was still damp with her tears, and her wet lashes swooped across my naked skin. Being that close to her was its own special kind of torture—the absolute best kind.
I’ve wanted Wren to open up to me for so long. And to be quite honest, now that she laid an apology on the table and gave me some hope, I have no fucking idea what to do with it. All I know is that I want more Wren. I want everything. And if that makes me a greedy bastard, so be it.
I quickly find a clean shirt and pull it over my head. Then I brush my teeth and step into the hallway. I kind of think Wren and I need to have a conversation. We need to have a conversation that’s not mired in hurt and stuck in the past. We need to have a talk about this friendship we’re building. I feel like I need to tell her how very much I’m enjoying being her BFF. And if that’s all we ever are, I’ll be okay with that, because I’m finding that I like Wren as a friend. And my parents always said that’s the first step toward falling in love.
Slow and steady wins the race.
I start down the hallway, intending to knock on her door, when I hear a laugh from the living room. I turn the corner and find Wren standing on one foot on a throw pillow from the couch. She has Chase clutched in her arms, and she weaves and bobs dramatically, pretending like she could fall off the pillow at any moment.
I stop and hitch my shoulder against the doorjamb, and just stare at her. She’s wearing those damn pajama shorts and a long t-shirt, and even more beautiful than that is the smile that’s on her face. Her grin must be contagious, because Anna and Devon have the same bright smiles on their faces.
Anna, the eight-year-old, spies me standing in the doorway and yells, “Watch out, Mick! The floor is made of lava!”
I gasp and pretend to be nervous. “Oh, no!” I cry. “What are we going to do?”
“We have to save Wren!” Devon shouts. “She’s stranded out there!” Anna and Devon are both perched like birds on the back of the sofa, out of harm’s way.
“Someone help me!” Wren cries quietly, her voice much softer than the kids’. She winks at me, and fuck if my heart doesn’t flip over.
“I’ll save you!” I shout, putting on my best superhero face.
“Get her, Mick!” Devon shouts. “You can’t let her die!”
“Never fear, Mick is here!” I shout.
Wren snorts out a laugh, and then she covers her mouth and laughs a little louder because she’s embarrassed.
“What was that?” I ask. “The mating call of a distressed damsel?”
She snorts again, which just makes her laugh even louder.
“Throw me a pillow,” I call to Anna. She lifts one of the couch cushions and tosses it to me. I catch it and drop it down in front of my feet, and then hop onto it like I’m hopping onto a flying carpet. “One more,” I say. Devon tosses me a second one. I step on that one, pick up the first one they threw, and exchange them until I’m standing in front of Wren. “I’m here to save you,” I say to her.
She freezes and looks into my eyes. “What if I don’t need saving?” she asks softly, but a smile still plays around her mouth.
“Then you can save me instead.” I pretend to flounder on my square of couch cushion, and Wren reaches out to catch me.
Anna and Devon are screaming with laughter by this point, and Wren and I jump from cushion to cushion as we move toward the couch. When we’re close enough, I take Chase from Wren’s arms and hold him out to Anna. “Here, hold this,” I say. “I have a beautiful woman to save.”
Anna sits down with Chase in her lap, a smile on her face bigger than any I have ever seen. “You still have to save her, Mick!” Anna cries.
“You heard her, Wren,” I say with a shrug. “I have to save you.”
I scoop her up in my arms and turn toward the couch. She squeals as I swing her through the air. But right before I’m close enough to deposit her beside Anna, my toe catches on the edge of a couch cushion and I find myself falling toward the floor. I roll, so that she lands safely on a cushion and I land softly on top of her. “I’m so sorry. That wasn’t my intention at all.”
“What wasn’t?” Wren says, her thighs cradling my lower body as she stares up at me.
“My throwing you on the floor and landing on top of
you. I didn’t plan that at all.”
“Yeah, sure you didn’t,” she says, and she playfully shoves my shoulder.
“Is she safe?” Anna asks breathlessly from the couch.
Wren lifts her head and looks over my shoulder. “I’m safe. No thanks to clumsy superheroes.”
“You should totally kiss her,” Anna says with a giggle.
“Ew,” Devon says. “That’s gross. Why should he have to kiss her? He just saved her life.”
“That’s what heroes do!” Anna argues. “They kiss the girls.”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t just lie on top of them after they save them,” a deep male voice calls from the kitchen doorway. I look up to find Wren’s father, Emilio, staring down at me as I lie cradled between Wren’s thighs.
“When did he get here?” I whisper to Wren.
“About twenty minutes ago,” she whispers back.
Emilio loudly clears his throat. “You should probably get off the damsel now.”
Do I have to? “Yes, sir,” I say as I push myself to my feet. I hold out a hand to Wren and pull her up too. As she gets to her feet, she falls against me and says very quietly next to my ear, “I kind of agreed with Anna.”
“About what?” I ask, still a little sideways from having Emilio catch me on top of his daughter.
“About the kiss.” She glances shyly away, like she just realized she said too much.
“Can I get a raincheck?” I ask, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
“That would be nice,” she says, and her eyes finally meet mine.
A jolt of electricity slips up my spine. I grin at her, and take Chase from Anna. “Good morning to you,” I say, and he kicks his chubby little legs in the air.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Emilio says to me. “So glad you could join us. After you put your morning wood away, you should join us for breakfast.”
I jerk my thumb toward the hallway. “I’m just going to get some jeans.”
“Maybe a cold shower wouldn’t hurt.” Emilio glares at me until warmth creeps up my face.
“Be right back.”
I walk down the hallway and into my room, wondering how the fuck Wren’s father just turned me into a twelve-year-old with one glance.
I'm In It (The Reed Brothers Book 18) Page 7
