“That’s not it,” I say, although that sounds incredible, and now that I’m out of the freezing water, my dick rises to attention at the thought. “I’m tired of the competitions. I mean, I love how we’re playful together, how we tease each other, and egg each other on. But yesterday made me realize it can go too far. I want to play the game on the same team, Wren. Us against the world, not us against each other.”
“Us against the world.” She considers my proposal, her brown eyes turning misty. Her throat bobs as she swallows. “I’ve never had a teammate before.”
A claw-like finger pokes at my chest, pain stabbing at my sternum. Because, throughout our whole friendship, our relationship, Wren never felt like I was her teammate. And that hurts.
“You’ve got one now, Miller,” I say, trying to hide the crack in my voice from the lump stuck in my throat. “I’m right here with you.” I let go of one of her hands and turn to the cliff’s edge. “We jump on three?”
Wren nods, her eyes still glassy, but a warm smile graces her face.
“One … two … three …” She counts us down, and we jump, hand in hand, free-falling together into the unknown. For the few seconds we’re suspended in the air, I know with Wren I will always jump in with both feet. No backing out.
We land in the water with a splash, our hands breaking apart at the last second. We’re both laughing when we surface for air. We find each other quickly in the water, Wren wrapping herself around me, planting kisses on my cheeks.
“I love being on the same team as you, Landry.”
“Oh yeah?” She nods and I admire her for a moment, herdark hair slicked back and shiny, thick black eyelashes sticking together now that they’re wet. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my heart ache. How I went so long without seeing her is a mystery to me now. Now that she’s back in my arms, looking at me like she might be in love with me, she feels necessary to me.
Like my life depends on her.
We spend the rest of the afternoon by the swimming hole, lazing around on the picnic blanket again—me reading my book, Wren painting, Ruby lying next to her. She had asked me to bring her a canvas, which she’s placed on the forest floor, splashing paint over dried leaves, and then layering details over top. The pattern from a piece of bark, evergreen trees, the shape of some birds flying.
The result is gorgeous, moving, a piece of art that could only come from a place of contentedness. And she looks it, too. She’s fully herself, fully at peace, out here creating. This is how Wren is meant to be, not clawing her way to the top of a corporate ladder. Not fighting for any scrap of recognition she can get. She’s meant to be free, living life by her own set of rules. Playing her own game.
When our skin is sufficiently wrinkled, and we’ve run out of water and snacks, Wren packs up her painting supplies and we head back down the hill. I’m careful to carry her canvas without smudging anything, and I lay it on a blanket in the back of my truck when we get to the bottom.
“Up for some ice cream?” I suggest as we climb into the truck. It’s almost dinner time, but ice cream in town was our ritual after a day at the swimming hole.
Wren shakes her head.
“No, I should get home.” Her attention is now on her phone. She had left it in the truck for the day, but now that we’re back, she’s staring at the screen, chewing on her bottom lip. Disappointment sags within me. “I’ve spent enough time avoiding my problems, evading calls and texts from Rick. I need to go home and sort some things out on my own tonight.”
My mouth forms a tight line as I nod and pull the truck out onto the gravel road.
“I understand.” And I do. Wren needs to solve her own problems. But I can’t help but worry all our progress might come undone the moment she talks to Rick. The moment she finds out what losing the vote will cost her. Will I go back to being her enemy? Even after forming an alliance with one another?
I hope not. But Wren’s competitive nature was practically formed at birth. I’m pretty sure she had a onesie that saidIf you’re not first, you’re laston it.
Wren’s body language next to me on the drive home is tense again, and I can’t help but notice her knee bouncing out of the corner of my eye. She doesn’t say anything until we pull up outside of her house.
“Thanks for today. I needed the distraction,” she says.
“Remember, Miller, whatever happens with your job, it’s us against the world. We’re in this together.” She leans over the console to place her mouth softly on mine. I take her kiss as a parting promise that she’s in this with me, too.
CHAPTER 30
HUDSON
I shouldn’t have letWren go home alone. I have full faith she can handle herself, but clearly her job causes her a lot of stress. And if Wren is stressed … I worry about her. So, I’ve been fidgeting, trying to find anything in my apartment to keep my mind off whatever is going on for Wren. That, and busying myself so I’m not tempted to go over there uninvited. I want Wren to know I believe in her, I know she can handle herself. But I’m also here if she needs backup.
I’ve nearly cleaned every surface of my apartment. I would have gone to the gym, which is my typical coping strategy when I’m feeling nervous or antsy, but I’m bone tired from swimming and being out in the sun all day.
Ruby’s tired too, and she stares at me puttering around her, like watching me is exhausting to her. Finally, once the whole apartment is spick-and-span, I flop down on the couch. I debate sending Wren a text or an e-mail. She hasn’t said so outright, but she’s enjoyed the playful trash talk, andnow that we’ve decided not to be adversaries, I consider how I might keep our banter going.
Everything I come up with is cheesy. I scrub my hand over my face and put my phone down on the coffee table. Ruby lifts her head and cocks it at me.
“Don’t look at me like that. I shouldn’t have dropped Wren off, but here we are,” I mutter. Ruby stands up, stretches her legs and wanders over to lie down next to me on the brown leather sofa, as if she knows I need comforting right now. What I need is some divine reassurance that this time with Wren is going to work out, it’s not too late, it’s not bad timing. She doesn’t have too much going on in her own life now. She’ll understand when I get the chance to explain everything.
I need a beer,I decide, getting up to walk over to the fridge. I pull one out and crack the top, but right as I’m about to take the first refreshing, emotionally numbing sip, there’s a knock on the door.
