Authors: Stephanie Fournet
And this was the real problem. Because none of that stopped Wren from loving him. At this dooming thought, tears welled in her eyes. The fact that Lee could choose better — and surely, eventually, would choose better — didn’t protect her. It didn’t inoculate her against loving him. She loved him; it was undeniable. And how could she not? He was sweet and funny and warm and real and sexy as hell. And this just meant that when the day came for Lee to realize that she was too damaged to love, she would feel it like nothing else. She would feel it, and it would be like being burned from the inside out.
Wren put down her pen and shut her eyes, sending tears down her cheeks, already sensing that immolation at the center of her being. And with her eyes closed, Wren jumped when her phone buzzed in her lap.
Lee:
Are you still awake?
She stared at her phone through the blur of her tears. If she didn’t text back, he might call. And if he called, he’d be able to hear the distress in her voice. Wren wiped her eyes and texted back with sass she didn’t feel.
Wren:
Of course. Who goes to bed this early besides you? Sketching an egret.
So, it wasn’t completely true. Technically, she was in bed in her pajamas, and she’d actually stopped sketching to make room for crying, but Lee didn’t need to know that.
Lee:
Good to know. Could you come to the door and let me in?
Wren froze. Let him in? She wiped her eyes again.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Lee:
Please?
She jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe. Wrapping it around herself and tying the sash, Wren ducked into the bathroom to assess the damage.
“Shit.” Her glasses did nothing to hide the fact that she’d been crying. How was she going to explain herself? And what the hell was he doing here anyway?
Reaching her front door, she slid open the chain lock but paused before opening the deadbolt.
“Lee?” she called through the door. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you… Can I come in?”
Wren pressed her forehead against the door. “But why?”
She thought she heard Lee chuckle. “Because. I want to be with you. Would you let me in?”
Chewing on the corner of her lip, Wren weighed her options. “What if I say no?”
He was silent a moment. “Please don’t say no.” His voice had gone softer, and Wren felt it against her heart.
She wanted to see him. She wanted to let him in, but that would mean explaining her red-rimmed eyes and her general state of unworthiness.
“Please, Wren…” he repeated.
And then she heard a bark.
“Victor? You brought Victor with you?” she called through the door.
“Maybe?” Lee answered, sounding guilty.
Wren turned the deadbolt and opened the door just a crack. Lee stood there holding Victor’s leash in one hand and a backpack in the other.
He raised a brow at her. “You’ll open the door for Victor, but not for— Wait, why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” she said evenly. It was true, technically. She’d stopped crying thirty seconds before.
Lee frowned and took a step forward, but Wren didn’t open the door wider. “Why
were
you crying?”
Wren quickly shook her head. “No, no, why are you here?”
For a moment, Lee watched her. And then for another, he
watched
her. Wren felt exposed under his gaze.
“I
thought
I needed to be here.” He leaned closer into her open door. “Now, I
know
I need to be here.”
She found herself blinking. “Wh-why did you think you needed to be here?”
The intensity of his gaze didn’t waver, didn’t even flicker. “Because I wanted to sleep with you in my arms.”
Wren’s breath caught, and Lee pushed lightly against the door.
“And now I
know
I need to be here because
you
want to sleep in my arms.”
Narrowing her eyes at him, Wren spoke clearly. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to. Let me in.”
Slamming the door in his face wasn’t an option. Wren knew she didn’t have it in herself to do that, especially since she didn’t want him to leave. Sleeping in his arms sounded like the best thing in the world.
“Fine,” she said on a sigh.
The mix of relief and happiness on Lee’s face only made him that much more beautiful. Even if she was just putting off the inevitable by letting him stay, Wren had to admit that just looking at him now might make her eventual heartbreak worth it.
“Thank you,” Lee said softly, stepping in with Victor at his heels.
The puppy’s ears twitched when he spotted Agnes in the kitchen doorway, but the two had negotiated a tentative peace during the course of the day. Agnes had tolerated — and even enjoyed — his playfulness until she’d had enough, and one hiss or swipe-move had sent Victor scurrying, giving her the distance she desired. A few minutes would pass, and the cycle of play/hiss/flee would repeat itself.
Now, Agnes seemed to set the tone, lying down like a sphinx with her paws stretched in front of her and giving a yawn. Victor padded over, sniffed her once, and collapsed onto his side.
“Glad they’re getting along,” Lee murmured. Then he turned to her, taking in the sight of her. “My God. You look so adorable.”
Wren glanced down at herself. She’d hidden the nightgown and robe behind the door, and now he got the full view. She looked back and raised a brow.
“What do you mean? I’m wearing glasses, a cotton gown, and a house robe. I look frumpy.”
Lee crossed to her and brought his hands to her cheeks. He eased in and pressed his lips to hers, kissing once.
“Not frumpy. You look comfortable…” Another kiss. “…and soft…” And another. “…and inviting…” And another.
She put her hands against his chest. Heat came through the fabric of his shirt, and Wren could feel the contour of his pecs. The temptation to slip her hands under the hem of his tee was almost too much. But if she let him all the way in again, if they made love and he moved inside her and watched her fall apart again with those dark-washed blue eyes that seemed to see everything, her love would only dig itself deeper.
Pressing her palms against him, she looked up into his eyes. “You’re staying. We’re
sleeping.
And that’s all.”
Lee nodded. “I’m staying. We’re sleeping. And that’s all I need.” He pulled away from her and tossed his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ll just go change.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, and at the sound of the door clicking closed, Victor popped up from his spot on the floor and went in search of his master. When the pup encountered the closed bathroom door, he turned his nose up and whined.
“It’s okay, Victor,” Wren said, moving toward him. Agnes followed at her heels. “He’ll come back.”
She scooped up the puppy and carried him into her room. If she tucked Victor in the middle of the bed, he could serve as a kind of chaperone and keep her body from curling into Lee’s. Wren tossed her robe onto the foot of the bed before settling Victor on the quilt against her right hip and picking up her sketchbook.
When Lee stepped into her room, she managed to look completely composed, and she busied herself by adding shading to the underside of the egret’s long neck. Her pen only faltered for a second when she glanced up to see him crowding her doorway in just a pair of sleep shorts.
Looking at his beauty put everything at risk, so she kept her eyes on the page before her, instead of watching him cross the room to her bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lee draw back the covers before the bed gave with his weight. And then, before she could protest, Lee pulled Victor from his nest between them and tucked him on his right side.
“Is that from our trip to the lake?” he asked, nodding at her sketchpad. Lee scooted in beside her, his hip against hers.
“Y-yes. I’m almost finished.”
“Mmm. Take your time. I need to crash, but I can sleep through almost anything.” And with that, he stretched out under the covers, deftly tucking one arm behind the small of her back and settling the other across her middle. Lee then rested his head against her side, his warmth, and his weight tender and impossible to ignore.
Stunned, Wren looked down at the soft curls at the top of his head. “What are you doing?” She tried to sound put-out, but, in fact, the closeness she felt as he hugged her to him threatened to make her tears return.
“I’m falling asleep with you in my arms. Keep drawing. Don’t mind me” he murmured into her nightgown, the words tickling the side of her waist.
She peered forward and saw that he’d closed his eyes. “I can’t draw like this. I’ll knock you in the head with my elbow.”
Lee shook his head, nudging her in the ribs. “No, you won’t. Use my head as an armrest.”
Wren huffed a laugh. “What? No. I’m not using your head as an armrest.”
She felt him smile against her.
“C’mon. Do it.” And he pulled her closer. “I’m using you as a pillow. Why not?”
Indeed, he now was using her tummy as a pillow, and nothing in her life had ever felt so intimate, so familiar, and… sweet. With her pen still in hand, she ran her fingers gently through his hair, and at her touch, he seemed to melt into her.
Enjoy this
, she told herself.
It won’t last.
With that painful thought, she forced herself to resume sketching. But the sketching didn’t soothe her like it normally would. Lee was here now, holding her like she’d never been held, and she wanted him to stay. She wanted to count on this feeling for the rest of her life. Wren Blanchard had never wanted something so ridiculous and impossible, and the very act of wanting it hurt like hell.
The egret’s plumage blurred before her, and she bit the inside of her lip to try to regain control. She needed to slip away to the bathroom before she made a fool of herself — again.
“What’s wrong?” Lee asked before she could move.
He wasn’t looking at her. In fact, his head was still resting on her middle. He couldn’t know tears filled her eyes.
Wren swallowed hard and mastered her voice. “Nothing. I’m just trying to finish this.”
“Liar.” Lee palmed her stomach and let his fingers span her belly from navel to ribs. “You tightened up here, and your breath got shallow.”
He tilted his head up to look at her, but Wren glanced away, tossing her sketchbook and pen on the floor. “And you’re crying again. Something’s been upsetting you all night, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”
WREN TURNED OUT
the light, plunging the room into darkness.
“I envy you your confidence…” She jerked away from him and settled onto her pillow. “…but this topic is closed.”
Lee could hear the strain in her voice. He heard the distress and — although she tried to hide it — he also sensed fear. What made her afraid? And what could he do to reassure her?
“I think we should reopen it.”
Wren sighed. “Goodnight, Lee.”
Letting her shut him out wasn’t an option. He wasn’t about to lie next to her all night and wonder what was eating her. He pulled her against him, sealing his front to her back, and Lee dropped his lips to her ear. “Do you have any idea how crazy I am about you?”
Wren seemed to shrink in his arms.
“Don’t try to run from me now. I’m not letting go.” He’d
never
be able to let her go. He’d sure as hell never want to. As he held her, he wondered how long he’d have to wait before she agreed to move in with him. How long he’d have to wait for her to say yes when he offered her a ring. How long until he could tell her he loved her.
Lee dragged a hand up to Wren’s face, brushing the waves of her hair away from her cheek. In the darkness, he could only make out the pale shape of her face. “Being with you is right. We fit together. I know it because it’s never felt this good. You know it too.”
She rolled back, facing him now, though he couldn’t see the look in her eyes.
“You know it,” he repeated.
“No, I don’t.” The bed shook with her sob, and when Lee stroked her cheek again, he felt fresh tears.
Helplessness gutted him. “Wren, you have to tell me what’s bothering you. You have to.”
She sniffled beside him before going still. She didn’t even breathe. “If I tell you, you’ll leave.” She sounded lost, hopeless. Certain.
“No, I won’t.” And then he let her in on the truth. “I never want to leave.”
“Oh God,” she hissed, sobbing again and bringing her hands to her face. “You’re not making this any easier.”
“Baby, just tell me.”
“You’ll freak.”
“I won’t. Tell me.”
He waited. Next to him, her body gave. Like she was in a tug-of-war, and she just let go.
“Okay… I’ll tell you.”
“Good.” Lee waited. And he waited. “Wren?”
“When I was six…” Wren started to speak, but she stopped and pulled in a long breath.
At the tone of her voice, Lee knew fear. By the time her lungs filled, his heart raced.
“One of Laurie’s boyfriends… did things to me. Sexual things…”
No.
Bile rose in his throat. His vision tunneled, and the darkness in the room deepened.
“He would put his fingers inside me. It hurt…”
God, no.
At the thought of her suffering, her helplessness, his gut twisted.
“He made me touch him… and once he put it in my mouth, but I gagged and threw up on—”
Lee shot off the bed and bolted for the bathroom. He managed to lift the toilet seat just in time to empty his stomach. Hamburger steak, mashed potatoes, peas, and brownies roared out of him.
“He would put his fingers inside me. It hurt
.
”
Lee felt his insides corkscrew at her words, his dinner mocking him. He’d glutted himself in the home where Wren had grown up unprotected. At the thought, he heaved again. How could he have been so careless? So stupid? He knew she’d been hurt. He knew she’d grown up with an addict. How could he have imagined she had been safe?
Lee pictured the frightened wren tattooed above her heart, and his gut turned over one last time.