The fact Wren was protecting me isn’t lost on me. It’s becoming clear that the roles I’d normally fall into, the roles I feel strong in, are also important to Wren. “Yeah, because him hitting you was a much better alternative.”
The corner of Wren’s lips twitch in a smile, and they open their eyes. “What happened, Catfish?”
“I managed to grab you before you hit the floor, hopefully saving that stubborn skull and impressive brain from future damage. Smoke is a firefighter, former smoke jumper, and a trained first responder, so he got over real fucking quick to check you were breathing and shit. Then, I carried you here.” I don’t tell Wren about the raging panic I felt when I saw them go down like a fallen tree.
“Did you undress me?”
“Wasn’t sure what the protocol was for undressing you. If it was one of my brothers, I’d have done it. If it was one of the old ladies, would have asked Greer. Not sure who you would have felt most comfortable with. So, I asked Greer to help me. She’s a wicked smart surgeon. I did your boots and jeans. “We were just debating your”—I reach for the word Greer had used—“chest binder when you came around.”
Wren places their hand over their hoodie-clad chest, their cheeks turning pink with embarrassment. “Guess it’s no surprise I have these.”
“I happen to like tits, regardless of size, especially if they have pretty nipples. But I swear I wouldn’t have peeked unless you wanted me to.”
“It doesn’t change who I am and how I identify now that you know I wear a binder.” They glance up at me beneath darklashes. “I’m very agnostic about them. I think, one day, I might feel brave enough to remove them if I settle in one place long enough.”
I feel a jolt of surprise, not at what they’re proposing, but how supportive I am of it. I can picture Wren, more at home in their body, happier with how they show up in the world.
Isn’t that what any of us want?
“That’s brave of you.” I place my hand on their thigh and squeeze it gently. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a hot mess. Greer says it’s a panic attack on top of an anxiety attack. She explained why she thinks I can’t seem to escape the pressure in my chest right now.”
“Is she right?”
“I hate feeling weak, Catfish. Intellectually, I know I’m not under attack here, for now, but I just can’t seem to climb down off this…I don’t know. Every small thing feels like the straw that will break my back.”
I shake Wren gently. “Hey, I wouldn’t use the wordweaknessto define the person who stepped in front of a six-and-a-half-foot, two-hundred-and-forty-pound monolith to defend me.”
Wren places their hand over their face again. “God, I can’t believe I did that.”
I chuckle as I reach for their wrist and drag their hand away. Was enjoying looking into those slate-gray eyes. Never seen a color quite like them before. “I don’t know. I kind of liked it. Especially the look on Grudge’s face immediately after. Never seen the guy so shocked. Might need to give you a nickname based on the fact you tried to beat his ass for me.”
“Maybe we save that decision for another day.”
“You hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Let me go get some food. And then we should talk.”
10
WREN
Catfish is as good as his word. The food wasn’t fancy, but it was filling and tasty. Chicken noodle soup from a can accompanied by some fresh sourdough, which, I’m curious how an MC clubhouse came to have fresh sourdough in it at all.
Maybe someone is a baker like Niro is in Jersey.
But it was enough to slow the rumbles in my anxious stomach and let my nervous system ease a little.
When I finish the last spoonful, from bed where Catfish insisted I stay, he gathers my bowl and plate and moves them to the long desk that sits beneath the window.
“You still hungry? Because there are some donuts in there if you want something else.”
I shake my head. “That was plenty, thanks. I’ve not felt like eating much recently.”
“That’s not healthy,” he says as he returns to the bed. But instead of sitting at the opposite end like he did for food, he nudges me over to the side of the bed, closest to the wall.
