Page 92 of Push My Buttons
The ride home is tense. Theo drives while Jace sits beside me in the back seat, his body angled protectively toward mine without actually touching me. The space between us feels charged with unspoken words, heavy with the weight of everything that's happened.
When we reach the apartment, they hover around me like anxious satellites—Theo carrying my bag, Jace's hand ghosting near my elbow without quite making contact, both of them watching my every move as if I might shatter at any moment.
"Do you want some tea?" Theo asks as I sink onto the couch. "Or maybe something to eat? The doctor said you should try to eat something substantial."
"I could make soup," Jace offers. "Or order takeout if you'd prefer?"
I nod absently, not really caring what I eat. My mind is still spinning with Agent Voss's visit, with the memories of Levi, with the realization that my life will never truly be my own until he's caught.
Theo disappears into the kitchen while Jace arranges pillows behind me, careful not to jostle my head. "Are you comfortable? Do you need another blanket? The doctor said you might get cold more easily while recovering."
"I'm fine,"I sign, but he's already retrieving a throw blanket from the chair.
As he drapes it over my legs, I notice the security system has been upgraded again—new cameras in corners I hadn't seen before, a tablet displaying multiple views of the apartment building's exterior.
"We installed it this morning," Jace explains, following my gaze. "Top of the line. Motion sensors, facial recognition, direct alert to both our phones and the police."
Theo returns with a glass of water and my pain medication. "The security company is sending someone tomorrow to add reinforced locks to the windows."
Something in me snaps.
"Stop it!" The words tear from my throat, raspy but unmistakable. "Just stop!"
They freeze, identical expressions of shock on their faces.
"I can't breathe with you both hovering over me!"I sign furiously, my hands slapping together with enough force to make my head throb."I'm not made of glass. I'm not going to break if you look away for five seconds!"
Theo flinches as if I've struck him. "Wren, we're just trying to—"
"To protect me. I know."My signs become sharper, more aggressive."But you're suffocating me. I need space. I need to feel like a person, not a project."
The hurt in their eyes is palpable, but I can't stop. All the fear, all the frustration of the past two days—of the past two years—comes pouring out of me in a torrent of rapid signs.
"I survived two years without you. I built a life for myself. I'm not helpless, and I won't be treated like I am!"
Theo's face crumples, genuine pain flashing across his features. Without a word, he turns and disappears toward the bedroom. The sound of the door closing echoes in the sudden silence.
Guilt immediately washes over me. I didn't mean to hurt him. I just needed them to back off, to give me room to breathe.
Jace remains standing by the couch, his expression thoughtful rather than wounded. He studies me for a long moment, his head tilted slightly as if solving a complex equation.
"I would suggest gaming together to take your mind off things," he says finally, his voice calm and measured, "but the doctor said to avoid screens for the next day or so."
I sigh, some of my anger deflating."I'm sorry I snapped."
"Don't be," he says simply. He approaches slowly, giving me time to object, then sits beside me on the couch. His hands rise to frame my face, his touch feather-light against my cheeks. "You have every right to be angry with us."
His eyes hold mine, steady and unflinching. "You know we only did what we did to protect you from that fear, to help you heal," he says softly. "But we were wrong to keep you in the dark. We took away your choice, your agency. And we'll both grovel for the rest of our lives to make that right."
Something in his expression—the raw honesty, the complete absence of defensiveness—makes my throat tighten.
"I know Theo already told you how madly in love with you he is," Jace continues, his thumbs gently stroking my cheekbones. "But I'm not going to just blurt out the same thing, no matter how true it is. When I tell you I love you, I want the moment to mean something."
My heart skips a beat. "You just did say it," I rasp out.
A small smile touches his lips. "No, I didn't. But I will." His eyes hold mine, serious and intent. "When you're ready to hear it. When you've forgiven us. When the timing is right."
Before I can respond, he leans forward and kisses me—slowly, thoroughly, with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. It's not a passionate kiss, but something deeper. More meaningful. I feel everything he isn't saying in the gentle pressure of his lips, in the way his fingers tremble slightly against my skin.
