With that, he went back inside, leaving Wren alone with his thoughts. He stayed outside for what felt like hours, forcing himself not to spiral, forcing himself to stay. Shutting down the parts of himself that wanted to rage and the ones that wanted to cry in Teddy’s arms.
None of those parts were helpful. He had a case to work. Animals to save. They had nobody but him to rescue them. His personal feelings needed to be pushed to the side. The uncertainty that was left hanging in the air between Teddy and him and the hurt in his heart over his suspicions about the nature of Teddy and Saint’s relationship had to be footnotes.
“Wren?”
Wren whipped around to find Teddy staring at him, half behind the door like he didn’t know whether he would be welcome or not, even though this was his house.
Wren wanted to scream and shake him.
“I know you don’t really get cold out here, but I was worried when Trace came in and you didn’t.” Teddy rubbed the back of his neck.
“I was just clearing my head.”
Teddy smiled slightly, looking around them as he fully stepped out to join him. He radiated heat at his side even though the gap between them felt like a chasm.
“It’s not exactly the best place for that, sorry,” Teddy murmured eventually. “The city had strict rules about landscaping. No trees above fifteen feet, hedges ten feet. They even have rules about which types of flowers you can plant.”
“Don’t you hate that?” Wren blurted out, scared to know the answer.
Teddy glanced around at the perfectly manicured lawn and uniform trees in unnatural rows. “Every day.” He pasted on asmile and looked down at him. “But I doubt you like Slatehollow that much either. We don’t really get a choice in where they put us.”
The relief Wren felt was immeasurable. Some things might have changed, but the person he had grown up with was still in there.
“The house is fine,” Wren said.
Teddy nodded. “I’m happy you found a place to call home.”
“Did you?”
Teddy’s fingers tightened into fists before he visibly relaxed them. To the untrained eye it was as if he had simply flexed them. Teddy was a master at camouflaging. “I didn’t need to look for one.”
Wren frowned. “What kind of answer is that?”
“An answer.”
“I hate when you do that.”
“And I love when you do that.” Teddy laughed, seemingly forgetting himself as he reached out and smoothed a thumb over Wren’s scrunched nose.
He took one look at Wren’s wide eyes and ripped his hand away, looking back toward the door to see if anyone had seen. Was he worried about Saint?
Wren couldn’t contain the hurt in his chest, that fleeting touch like a ghost sent to taunt him.
“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate,” Teddy said, placing his hands behind his back. “I guess it’s hard to forget we’re not teenagers anymore. We should go inside.”
Wren didn’t want to. Inside was worse. Stifling. Full of people he didn’t know and a life of Teddy’s that was foreign and wrong.
“What did you decide to do about the case?” he asked to stretch the moment, wishing that time would stop slipping through their fingers.
“There’s a club Worthingham goes to often. He’ll be there tonight, so we’ll stage a sting operation.”
“Who’s we?”
“Saint as bait, Trace as protection, myself to keep an eye on everything if it goes sideways, and…you.” He looked unsure of himself. “If you want? I know you don’t like to sit on the sidelines.”
“I’m coming,” Wren said definitively. “If Sable can stay here while I’m gone. Nobody is allowed to hurt him.”
Teddy nodded, opening his mouth a couple times to say something before cutting himself off. “Do you want to get some more sleep? It might be a long night.”
