Page 59 of Push My Buttons
"Both of us," Theo clarifies. "Taking shifts if needed. No one gets in without going through us first."
The suggestion makes my heart beat faster. My apartment—my space—with them in it. It's both terrifying and exhilarating, the thought of letting them fully into my life like that.
I think on it, turning the idea over in my mind. The thought of returning to my apartment makes my stomach knot with anxiety, but there's logic in what they're suggesting. It's my space. My territory. And maybe reclaiming it is the first step toward reclaiming my life.
"The flowers,"I sign finally, my hands moving hesitantly."They're probably still there."
Jace's expression darkens. "All the more reason for us to go. We need to document everything, look for any evidence this person might have left behind."
"You don't have to do this,"I sign, giving them one last chance to walk away from the mess that is my life."This isn't what either of you signed up for."
Theo takes my hands, stilling their nervous movement. "Wren, listen to me. We're all in this together now." His voice is uncharacteristically serious, his usual playfulness replaced by steady determination. "You, me, Jace. Whatever this is between us—and we can figure that out as we go—we're in it together."
"He's right," Jace adds, his hand finding the small of my back. "We're not going anywhere."
The sincerity in their voices makes my throat tight with emotion. For so long, I've been alone—running, hiding, surviving. The weight of that solitude suddenly hits me, and I lean into Jace's touch, drawing strength from his steady presence.
"Okay,"I sign finally."My apartment."
They both nod, a determined look passing between them that makes me feel simultaneously protected and nervous. This is happening. We're really doing this.
I suddenly become aware of how sticky I am from our morning activities."Actually, I need to shower first."
Chapter 22
Wren
Ishowerquickly,lettingthe hot water soothe my aching muscles while trying not to dwell on the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. When I emerge, Jace and Theo are already dressed and discussing logistics in low voices. They fall silent when they see me, and something in their expressions makes my heart skip a beat.
"We'll stop by our places on the way to yours," Jace says, his voice gentle but firm. "Pack enough for a few days at least."
I nod, grateful they've already worked out a plan. The thought of returning to my apartment sends a ripple of unease through me, but having them there makes it bearable.
We take a cab to Theo's place first—a surprisingly stylish apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows and modern furniture. He throws things haphazardly into a bag, pausing occasionally to hold up two shirts and ask my opinion with a wink.
"Trying to impress me?"I sign slowly, raising an eyebrow.
"Always," he replies with a grin that doesn't quite hide the concern in his eyes.
From there, we take Theo's car to Jace's minimalist apartment where he efficiently packs a duffel bag with clothes, toiletries, and his laptop. I notice he also slips what looks like a small toolkit into the side pocket.
The drive to my apartment is quiet, tension building with each mile. I feel myself withdrawing, retreating into the protective shell I've perfected over the past eighteen months. Jace notices, his hand finding mine in the backseat, his thumb tracing soothing circles on my palm.
"We'll be right there with you," he says softly. "Every step."
When we finally arrive, I freeze at my own front door, keys clutched so tightly in my hand that the edges dig painfully into my palm. Theo stands on one side of me, Jace on the other, twin pillars of strength flanking me.
"We'll go in first," Jace says, gently taking the keys from my trembling fingers.
I shake my head. This is my home. My battle. I need to face it.
I take the keys back and unlock the door myself, pushing it open with a deep breath. The familiar scent of my apartment washes over me. I brace myself for the sight of wilting roses and black lilies.
But there's nothing.
The counter where the flowers had been is empty. Clean. As if they were never there at all.
I freeze in the doorway, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. This is worse somehow—this erasure of evidence, this gaslighting of my own memory. It means they came back. They were here again, in my space, touching my things.
