“Okay,” I tell him. The thought of Wren leaving and never coming back is unfathomable. It’s wrong.
“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Good luck, son,” he shouts after me as I turn to leave.
I get in my car and start it up, fully intending to drive home, to ignore everything he said to me… Only I don’t. I go in the opposite direction. I’m on my way to her…to Wren.
I’m not sure what I’m going to say to her when I get there. He was right about one thing: I’m terrified.
50
Wren
Peanut and Butter run to my door, barking like mad. They sound happy. Not like mini pissed-off guard dogs trying to protect me from some intruder. More like they’re greeting their favorite person in the world.
“Stop that, guys,” I tell them, expecting some mail to drop through my letter opening. Expecting a knock, maybe.
There’s nothing.
The dogs keep barking, getting more and more excited by the second.
What’s going on?
I go over there and peek through the peephole, almost falling on my ass. I have to bite back a gasp. I put a hand over my mouth, which has now fallen open.
Oh crap! Oh crap!
I look again, and it’s him, in the flesh, in all his glory.
It’s Grim. And he’s standing outside my door looking scared to death. He scrubs a hand over his face and then squeezes the back of his neck. Then he rolls his shoulders, looking up and almost at me.
He’s just as attractive as ever, and my breath catches. His eyes are dark and troubled. He has a scowl on his face. He’s wearing a simple gray T-shirt that hugs his frame in all the right ways.
He also looks like he might have lost weight. His eyes are a little bloodshot.
He squeezes them shut for a moment, taking a step toward the door, lifting his fist to knock, but stops.
He’s nervous.
He looks terrified. More afraid than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something, since we’ve faced death together.
I feel something in me soften.
No!
What the hell? No way. Forget it!
I’m going to open this door and tell him to go away, then I’m going to slam it in his face. I must say, I never thought he’d come, but I had a solid plan for if he ever did.Do. Not. Let. Him. In! The end.
He knocks. It’s louder than expected, and I almost jump out of my skin.
The dogs bark louder, looking up at me as if to say, “Why aren’t you opening the door?”
Crap! Crap!
Why? Whhhyyyyy?
I suck in a deep breath and open the door, holding onto the jamb so that I don’t topple over.
I don’t say anything. I just look at him, and he looks at me, and the air thickens because I can’t breathe. My lungs won’t work.
