Page 42 of Journey

“Told ya,” he whispers in my ear. “So, whaddya say, Wren? Wanna give this a shot?”

I take a step back to lock eyes with him. “Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“If you ever decide you want out, you have to be honest with me,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to stick around out of some misguided sense of pity.”

“Pity? Is that really what you think makes people stick around?”

“Honestly, I don’t know because no one’s ever stuck around.”

CHAPTER 21

JOURNEY

That’s the point.

No one’sever stuck around.

As we hang out at the clubhouse, those words play on a loop in my thoughts. Wren hasn’t had an easy life, but the full impact didn’t really sink in until she said that. It makes sense, I suppose. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who would be running for the hills when they learn of her disorder.

But not me. If anything, it makes me want to be around her even more. Some might say I’ve got a hero complex, or I just want to fix her, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Wren is incredible. The fact that she’s still standing after what she survived is a testament to the kind of person she is.

She is exactly the kind of woman I want by my side. And bonus, life willneverbe dull.

“I can see why you like her.”

I shift my gaze from the corner where Wren is talking to Addison and grin at Ghost. “Liking her is the easy part,” I confess. “Getting her to like me back is what took so damn long.”

“Yeah, well, love ain’t easy.”

“And you know this how?” I ask, again sensing that there’s a story there.

Rather than answer, he lifts his glass in salute. “I’m happy for ya, bro.”

He makes his way out of the common area, and I consider following him, but dismiss the idea quickly because I promised Wren I wouldn’t leave her.

I watch her for a few minutes later, and when she shakes her head at Addison and Pres’s old lady walks away, I make my way toward her.

“Everything okay?” I ask Wren.

“Yep.”

I nod at her glass. “You’ve barely touched your drink.”

“I’m sorry. I hate to waste it, but I don’t like to drink too much alcohol with my meds. Especially if I’m in stressful situations.”

“And you’re in a stressful situation?”

Wren wrinkles her nose as she seems to contemplate that for a second. “Actually, no. Things are good.”

“Told ya.”

“Shut up.”

“Listen, it’s getting late. I can take you home if you want,” I say casually. “Or you could stay here.”

“Like a sleepover?” she teases, and the flirt from the first night we met comes out.

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