“Hello?” I ask, taking a bite of potatoes.
“Jett.” His voice is low, edged with concern. “You need to come down here.”
My gut tightens. “What’d my dumbass friend do now?”
“It’s not Heath,” Russ says. I huff a laugh that he knew which friend I was referring to. “It’s…” He sighs. “It’s Wren.”
I curse as my stomach twists. “I’ll be right there.”
Every worst-case scenario flashes in my mind, but all I can think about is the idiot who laid his hands on her. The one I stepped in and hit. I’m no longer the guy who thinks with his fists, but seeing him touching her set me off like an IED.
Abandoning my plate on the coffee table, I reach for my keys, quickly slip on my boots, and fly out my front door. The short drive to the bar is a blur. It’s only a few blocks, but it feels like I’m driving across the state. I roll stop signs as my chest tightens like a vise.
As soon as I push through the bar, I’m scanning the crowd. When my search comes up empty, I storm through the throngs of people straight toward the bar. Russ is drying a pint glass when he sees me coming.
Fire rages through me, and I’m going to explode in seconds. I can’t explain this feeling. Fear. Worry. All I know is that I need to find her.
Russ jerks his chin toward the corner booth before I can say anything. She’s sitting with her arms crossed, her head resting on top. Passed the fuck out. Her hair is spread across the wooden table. Even from here, I can see the flush of her cheeks and mascara tracks.
“Why the fuck did you let it get this bad?” I nearly rage at Russ.
He raises his hands. “She gave me two hundred bucks and her keys. I was keeping an eye on her.”
“More like over-serving her.”
His jaw tightens as anger flares in his eyes. “You didn’t see her come in. She needed this, Jett. I had my eyes on her.”
I’m sure he did.
I cross the bar and slide into the booth next to her. Reaching my hand over her back, I hesitate. Fuck it. I rub soft strokes over her back. She groans, pressing herself deeper into my touch.
“Wren.” My voice is soft as I try to wake her. “C’mon, Wren. Wake up for me.”
Her eyelids flicker before slowly blinking open. A slow smile spreads across her lips. I stare too long at how plush they are. How soft they’d feel against my own. Her bottom lip is bigger than her top, giving her a natural pout.
“There she is,” I coo, still rubbing her back.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Russ says, sliding a glass of water in front of me.
Wren sits up slowly, but I keep my arm wrapped around her back. I tell myself it’s to support her, but I love the feel of her beneath my palm.
She takes a sip, head lulling to the side as her whiskey eyes land on me. The golden flakes shine brighter tonight. “Today was her birthday.”
The words slam into me, sharp and disorienting. My eyes flick to Russ, who’s frozen. He retreats without a word.
“Who’s birthday, baby?” I regret the question as soon as I ask.
“My daughter’s.”
All the air leaves my lungs as her head crashes into my shoulder.
“I needed to forget,” she admits. “Take me home, J.”
I’m shocked by her admission and the nickname she had for me. I feel her body relax as mine turns to stone.Daughter. Wren was amom?
Sliding across the leather seat, my arm never leaving Wren’s back, I bring her to the edge of the booth before lifting her bridal-style into my arms. Having her in my arms again, it feels right. Especially when she nuzzles her head against my chest, hair brushing my jaw like all the times I’d hold her in the bed of my truck while we hid from the world.
I’m hit with a wave of her favorite perfume, but it’s drowned out by the whiskey she consumed. I carry her through the bar, nodding at Russ, before pushing through the alley door.
