“Not anymore,” she says. “She taught me the basics, but I was focused on karate. After… I gave up a lot that year.”
Sophie reaches for her hand. “That must have been hard. Losing them. And feeling like you had to hide part of yourself.”
“It was,” Wren says simply. “But I still see the colors. I just don’t always tell people.”
Something lodges in my chest and doesn’t move.
I see her—young, alone in a house that no longer glowed violet, trying to explain a world no one else could see.Learning to quiet the parts of herself that made people uncomfortable.
And I’m the asshole who took a bet to ruin her.
My grip tightens on my fork.
“Does it ever get overwhelming?” Eden asks.
“Sometimes,” Wren says. “Crowds are hard. But mostly it helps. It’s how my brain sorts things.”
No apology. No self-consciousness.
That’s when it hits me.
I’m in love with her.
Not the loud kind. Not the reckless kind. Clean. Certain.
Wren Marin—who sees the world in color, who survived loss and learned restraint instead of bitterness. Who said no to me until I manipulated her into saying yes.
Eden leans into Nate, whispering. He grins at me.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing,” Eden says. “Just…you’re staring.”
“I’m listening.”
“Sure,” Nate says. “That’s what we said.”
Before I can answer, Dmitri stands. “Hot tub. Five minutes.”
The spell breaks.
Groans and cheers erupt. Jessica complains about freezing; Finn hoists her over his shoulder and heads for the hall. Laughter rolls through the cabin, loud and easy.
Wren disappears upstairs with Sophie and Erin. The second her footsteps fade, Liam elbows me.
“You’re done for,” he says.
“Shut up.”
He snorts. “You don’t bring girls to these weekends. You definitely don’t sleep on the couch.”
“Watch me.”
“That’s not your move,” he says, quieter now. “So talk to me.”
He pulls me aside, the humor draining from his face.
“You show up with a girl you can’t take your eyes off,” he says. “And then you put yourself on the couch. That’s not just restraint, I can tell.”
