“No. No drugs.” Her whimper holds so much fear, but she needs this. Needs to feel…normal again.
“It’s just your anxiety pill, Wren. The one you take every night. Trust me. You need this.”
She’s too out of it to protest more, and after a sip of water, I lay her down, and she’s asleep almost immediately.
I won’t leave her side, despite the curses and sounds of scuffling coming from the main room. Semyon’s understandably worried about his sister, but Wren was always my priority. And as far as we know, Elena wasn’t in mortal danger tonight. Wren was.
I watch Wren until I can’t stay awake any longer. Then I wrap my arms around her and bury my nose in her damp curls. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll never fail you again.”
* * *
“Ry?”Her weak voice permeates my dreams, and I’m instantly awake.
“What is it? What do you need?”
“I don’t feel well. I think…I’m going to be sick.”
I scoop her up in my arms and carry her into the bathroom. She retches, but nothing comes up. “I don’t…know what’s…wrong.”
“When was the last time you ate?” I brush her hair back from her face, and I see the answer before she says a word. “Fuck, baby. I’ll get you something. What do you want?”
“Don’t leave me.” Wren clutches my arms, and the fear in her voice shatters something inside me.
“I won’t. West and Inara are here. You want McDonald’s? I’ll send one of them.”
She collapses against me, winding her arms around my waist. “I want to forget.”
“I know. But let’s start with some food, okay?” Everything she’s feeling…I understand. I had the same thoughts when I escaped Hell. She’ll never forget. Not really. And a rational Wren wouldn’t want to. This Wren…she’s terrified. In pain. And too raw to understand what she’s feeling.
I carry her back to our makeshift bed and text Inara.
McDonald’s. Big Macs and Fries. Cokes. She hasn’t eaten in more than 36 hours.Please.
A few seconds later, I hear the front door open and shut. “Talk to me, Wren.”
“It won’t change anything.” She tries to turn over, but something hurts, and she hisses out a breath. “Shit.”
“Shit? No Cracker Jacks? Fudgsicles? Shoot the Moon?” I ghost my knuckle along her cheek, just below one of the darker bruises. “I was working on my own variations for you. Like…’go to Hollywood’ or ‘shut the fudge shop.’”
One corner of her mouth twitches in what might be a hint of a smile. “I…don’t mind if you swear…like a normal person.”
“Oh, I’ll always swear, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about that. You spend as long as I did in the army, you can’t help it.” I ease her against me, mindful of her various bruises. “But before I enlisted, I was a kindergarten teacher.”
“What?” For the first time since she escaped, her voice holds an emotion other than fear. “You’re just trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?” I duck my head and press a kiss to her temple. “I’ll never lie to you, Wren. I taught little rug rats for three years before 9/11. Loved every single minute of it.”
“Why didn’t you go back?” Her words slur a bit, but she relaxes into my embrace and trails her fingers over one of the scars carved into my chest.
Now that I have her back in my arms, I refuse to hide behind the walls I’ve built and reinforced for years. She’s too important. She’s mine, and I want to be hers. But there’s a fuck ton of shit she needs to know about me first. Still, I don’t know how to admit my truth.
“When I went home…for the first time after Hell…no one recognized me.” All of a sudden, I’m back in Quincy, knocking on my aunt’s door. “Mom and Pop were gone already. So was my brother. But my Aunt Lindsay was still alive. Her son—my cousin—has two little girls. Well, they’re teenagers now. Nicole was seven. She answered the door. Then…screamed and ran for her grandma.”
Wren’s fingers twine with mine, and I try not to grip her hand too hard. Her knuckles are bruised and raw.
“Brittany—she was two years older—told me I was a monster. And my aunt…she asked me to leave because I was scaring the kids.”
“Oh God. Ryker. She’s your family.”
