Chapter 15
WREN
“Wren, honey, are you going to put that poor man out of his misery or should I take him out back and shoot him?” my mom quipped as she sat gently on my bed.
It had been a week since I’d been home from the hospital, and Max had come over every day, staying for hours despite my not wanting to see him, despite what I was sure had to be a chilly reception from my dad.
I wasn’t trying to be cold to Max; I was just confused and in pain and hadn’t felt equipped to handle this apparent change of intention from him. If I was being honest, I was terrified of having him let me down.
“He’s still down there, huh?” I asked as I lay flat on my back staring at the ceiling. It wasn’t comfortable to do much else, and I was already dealing with a serious case of cabin fever. I couldn’t imagine another month or more like this.
“Has been for hours,” she confirmed. “Between you and your father both being so damn stubborn, I have to admit, I didn’t expect him to crack first.” She grinned playfully.
I looked at her in surprise.
She shrugged. “He’s not at the point of admitting it yet, but I think he likes having Max around. They’ve been working a bit on that old Chevy he bought.” She wrinkled her nose. She hated that car. “And I don’t think he minds having another eye on the house, especially when he wants to run out for a bit. But most importantly, Max is proving he’s serious about you. I think your dad remembers a bit about what that was like when we first got together.”
She got a dreamy look in her eye—the one she always got when she talked about my dad. “I don’t want to push you,” she continued gently. “I’ll support whatever you want to do, but I think whatever doubts your feeling, talking to him might be the first step.”
“You’re right,” I replied with a resigned sigh. “Plus, I don’t think he’s going anywhere until I actually talk to him.”
She squeezed my leg. “I don’t think so either.”
“All right,” I agreed. “I look like shit but not much I can do about it.” I grimaced. I didn’t have a stitch of makeup on, my hair was greasy, and I’d been wearing the same ratty T-shirt for days. “If this doesn’t scare him away, nothing will,” I joked, gesturing to my appearance.
“You’re beautiful,” she assured me as only a mother could. “I’ll go get him.”
My heart began to pound in anticipation as she left the room. I listened with intent to her quiet tread on the stairs and then, moments later, his much louder one as he made his way closer.
When a quiet tap on the door sounded, followed by him entering the room, I was momentarily speechless at the sight of him. Dressed in his trademark blue jeans and black tee, his hair mussed and luminous eyes trained on me, it was hard to remember how to breathe. My dowdy appearance suddenly felt that much worse, and I longed for a black hole to rise up and swallow me.
“So, you survived the wrath of Sal Armstrong, huh?” I quipped, trying to hide my sudden onslaught of nerves.
A ghost of a smile crested his lips, but his gaze was clouded with concern. “How are you?” I’d always loved that deep voice of his.
“Everything considered, I’m okay,” I replied. “I’m looking forward to being able to breathe without pain, but one step at a time.”
He stepped further into the room, and I gestured to the side of the bed where my mom had just been. He sat down so cautiously it would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn sweet. “You didn’t want to see me.” It wasn’t a question.
So, we were going to get right to it. Knowing Max’s personality, I couldn’t say I was surprised. He’d never been one for small talk. “I wasn’t ready,” I amended.
“And you are now?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I laughed lightly. “But it doesn’t look like you’re going away so….”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I’m not.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you remember everything I told you at the hospital?”
I nodded.
“That’s not changing, Wren, I think you know me well enough to know that I would never say anything like that if I wasn’t absolutely serious. I wouldn’t be here every day if I wasn’t. I admit, I had to work through what it might mean to take this step with you. I want to protect you from everything, even being with me. But you know what? I can’t stay away from you. I’ve been completely fucked up since I started trying. I think you have too.”
His eyes searched my face for some glimmer of confirmation, but I was too shocked to give him one. “I want this, more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Whatever shit it stirs up, we’ll be better together. I’m all in, baby. And truth be told, once I shared my intentions and started to deal with the fallout, all I wish is that I’d done it sooner. You wouldn’t have doubted me otherwise.” He leaned closer, his eyes fierce with intent. “But it was never that I wouldn’t fight for you, Wren,” he declared adamantly. “I just didn’t want you to have to fight for me.”
That protective gene in Max ran so deep, always had. It made sense to me that that’s what had held him back.
“But I would have,” I insisted. “And I can hold my own. Sometimes you have to let people fight their own battles,” I told him. “And if that battle happens to be over you, then just know that you’re worth it.”
His gaze warmed to molten as he searched my face. “You believe that, don’t you?”
“I always have,” I replied firmly. “Don’t you?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “One thing I think I’m realizing through all this,” he shared quietly, “is that, despite my parents giving Em and me everything we could have ever wanted, having my mom ditch us fucked me up.” He shrugged, looking off to the side as though it pained him to admit that. “I guess I didn’t realize that until I actually wanted to give my heart to someone.”
I looked at this man who was a heady concoction of ferocity and vulnerability, who didn’t share a whole lot but was opening himself to me, and I realized that I wanted to be the woman who made him feel safe to do that, to give his heart to me. Because in that moment, I realized with striking clarity that I loved the hell out of him. And that heart? I wasn’t ever giving it back.
I reached over and put my hand over his. “Well, she missed out on a hell of a man,” I murmured. “But I don’t want to.”
His eyes widened with cautious hope. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned over, brushing his mouth over mine before pulling back and gently cupping my face with his palm. “I’m gonna make you so fucking happy.”
“I know.” And I did. Somehow, in that moment with us both laid bare, I knew that.
“As soon as you’re up and around, I’m taking you on a real date,” he vowed. “But for now, I’ll hang here with you.”
I looked at him skeptically. “You want to hang out with this grungy-ass girl who can barely move, all with a hostile father downstairs?”
I expected him to laugh or maybe roll his eyes. Instead I was met with an expression so full of determination it rendered me speechless. “Every day. Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” I accused gently.
“And you’re mine,” he replied, as if that explained everything. And hell, in Max’s world, it pretty much did.