“You guys are terrifying,” I say.
“Thank you,” Sophie replies sweetly.
Eden lifts the makeup bag. “Now take your glam kit and your sage top and go have a good time. He’s probably pacing already.”
I hug them all, overwhelmed by warmth and fierce, ridiculous love.
“Go easy on him,” Jessica calls as I reach the door.
“Or don’t,” Erin adds. “Your call.”
20
READY (WREN)
The trail begins behind the cabin, threading up through pine and birch. Snow compresses under our boots with a dry crunch. Liam and Dmitri set the pace; Eden and Nate argue cheerfully about whether this counts as cardio; Finn and Jessica keep stealing each other’s gloves; Erin and Sophie calling out plant names.
Kieran and I fall to the back without planning it.
“You look different,” he says after a few minutes.
“The girls taught me some stuff.” I glance up. “Too much?”
“No.” His voice drops, rough. “You look beautiful. I just can’t figure out what changed.” His laugh is low, intimate. “They did good work.”
We walk in comfortable silence for a while. The group pulls ahead, voices fading. Just us and the snow and the quiet.
Then his hand catches mine. The touch jolts through me—electric, anchoring. Our fingers lace together, his palm warm.
“This okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.” The word comes out breathless.
We hike like that, hands linked, until the trail narrows and the group vanishes around a bend. The forest hushes. It’s just us.
Kieran stops, tugging me off the path behind a stand of pines.
“What are you?—”
He cups my face, eyes dropping to my mouth before finding my gaze again. Then his lips slant over mine.
It’s different from last night—hungrier. His mouth explores with purpose, coaxing me open, deepening until I’m dizzy. My palms find his chest, his heartbeat thudding under my hand.
He hooks an arm around my waist and threads the other into my hair. My back meets rough bark; his heat presses along my front. The contrast steals a gasp from me.
He takes it, kissing me deeper, and my body lights. A shiver runs the length of me; goosebumps pebble my forearms. My knees go loose. There’s a low, insistent pulse deep in my belly. I lean in without thinking, and he makes a sound that vibrates through my ribs.
His hand slides under my jacket to my waist, just resting there, thumb tracing slow circles that scramble my breath.
“Wren.” My name sounds wrecked in his mouth. “Okay?” he murmurs, not moving until I nod.
“Okay,” I breathe, tugging him closer.
I stop thinking. I feel—his mouth, his hands, the solid weight of him holding me in place while the rest of the world goes quiet.
A branch snaps somewhere uptrail. He breaks the kiss, forehead to mine, both of us breathing hard.
“Later,” he whispers.
