“You do great things,” Lenny says quietly.
I snort. “Yeah, changing diapers and wiping old people’s asses. Real fucking heroic.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Lenny insists. “You take care of us. You got us out of… you know. And now you’re helping people at the nursing home. That’s pretty great.”
I feel my throat tighten, and I have to look away. Fuck, when did this kid get so perceptive?
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, reaching for my wine again. “Someone’s gotta make sure you losers don’t starve to death.”
Lenny grins, the tension broken. “Speaking of not starving, you think Em still likes those gross peanut butter and pickle sandwiches?”
I laugh, the sound surprising me with its genuineness. “God, I hope not. That shit was nasty.”
“Remember when she made Alex try it?” Lenny says, chuckling. “His face was priceless.”
“Poor kid,” I say, shaking my head. “Probably traumatized him for life.”
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in memories. Then Lenny speaks up again.
“Hey, Wren? Thanks. For… you know. Everything.”
I feel that tightness in my chest again. Fuck, I’m getting soft in my old age. “Don’t get all sappy on me now, kid. Save it for Em tomorrow.”
Lenny rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Whatever. I’m gonna hit the sack. Night, Wren.”
“Night, Len,” I say, watching as he disappears into his room.
I sit there for a while longer, nursing my wine and listening to the quiet sounds of the cabin. Alex’s soft snores from the bedroom, the hum of the ancient refrigerator, the creaking of the walls as they settle.
It’s not much, this life we’ve cobbled together. But it’s ours. And tomorrow, our little family will be complete again, even if just for a little while.
I drain the last of my wine and head to bed, a small smile tugging at my lips. Em’s coming home. Maybe I’ll even let her make me one of those godawful sandwiches.
Turning off the lights, I chuckle under my breath. That’s family for you—the only people you’d willingly eat a peanut butter and pickle sandwich for.
61
Dimitri
Wren’s lips crash against mine, fierce and demanding. I growl, tangling my fingers in her hair, pulling her closer. She bites my lower lip, drawing blood. The pain only fuels the fire between us.
My brain flirts with the idea of dropping the “I missed you” bomb like a chump, but then Wren comes at me like a goddamn tornado.
Wren’s eyes narrow to slits, daring me to push her further. There’s a wildness in her gaze, a fire that burns bright, even in the face of my threat.
“Ne budi duraka,” I warn. Don’t be a fool.
“Maybe I like being a brat,” she breathes against my mouth.
I spin her around and pin her against the wall, my hand finding her throat and not squeezing, just holding. A reminder of who’s in control. She gasps, and her pupils dilate with desire.
“You think you can handle me?” I growl, pressing my body against hers.
“I know I can,” she replies confidently.
I smirk before claiming her lips again, our kiss deepening into a passionate frenzy. My hands roam over her body possessively as we explore each other’s mouths hungrily.
But eventually, I pull back to catch my breath and look into Wren’s eyes. “On your knees,” I command.
