Page 97 of Push My Buttons
Something hot and possessive uncurls in my chest. "What did she say?"
"No. Mine. You don’t get to come until I say." Jace's fingers tap against his thigh. "Her voice was... God, Theo, it’s the sexiest thing I've ever heard."
I'm about to respond when the bathroom door opens. Wren emerges in a cloud of steam, her pink hair damp at the ends but kept dry so her stitches don’t get wet. She’s wearing nothing but a towel. She catches us watching her and raises an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Morning," I say, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. "Sleep well?"
She nods, then signs with one hand while holding her towel with the other: "Very well."
Her eyes flick between us, taking in Jace's disheveled appearance and my obvious fascination. There's something different about her today—a quiet confidence, a subtle shift in the way she holds herself.
She disappears into the bedroom to dress, and I turn back to Jace.
"You're right," I say quietly. "This is going to kill us both."
"In the best possible way," he agrees, a rare smile cracking his serious expression.
Thirty minutes later, Wren emerges dressed in jeans and a simple blue top that makes her eyes look like the ocean. Her hair curled slightly at the ends. She looks beautiful, but more importantly, she looks strong. Present. Alive in a way I haven't seen since before the hospital.
"Ready for our date?" I ask, offering my hand.
She takes it, her fingers warm against mine, and nods.
"Have fun," Jace says, already settling in front of his laptop. "Don't worry about rushing back. I've got a full day of coding ahead."
I lead Wren down to my car, holding doors for her not because she needs me to, but because I want to. Because small gestures of care matter, especially now.
"So," I say as I pull out into traffic, "I was thinking breakfast first, then a little shopping. That sound okay?"
She signs "Yes" with one hand, her other hand resting lightly on my thigh. The casual touch sends electricity through me.
I'm grateful I took the day off. Matthews had been on my ass about those quarterly reports for weeks, but I finally got them to him while Wren was in the hospital. He still whined about them being late, of course, but at least that asshat is off my back for now. Today is just about Wren and me. No work, no stalkers, no drama—just us, reconnecting.
"How's your head feeling?" I ask, careful to keep my tone casual. I promised myself I wouldn't smother her today, wouldn't treat her like she's fragile.
"Better," she signs. "Just a dull ache now."
"Good. Let me know if it gets worse, okay? We can always cut the day short."
She nods, then turns to look out the window, watching the city pass by. I drive us to a small café I discovered months ago—not Wren's workplace, but a cozy spot with incredible pastries and coffee that would make even Jace's snobby taste buds happy.
The hostess seats us at a quiet table by the window. Wren's eyes widen appreciatively as she takes in the place—all exposed brick and reclaimed wood, with lush plants hanging from the ceiling and soft jazz playing in the background.
"Their croissants are life-changing," I tell her as we look over the menus. "And the coffee is almost as good as yours."
She smiles at the compliment, then points to a breakfast sandwich on the menu.
"Good choice," I say. When the server comes, I order for us both, making sure to specify exactly how Wren wants her food prepared.
While we wait, I reach across the table to take her hand. "I know I already said it at the hospital, but I want to say it again when you're not drugged and in pain. I love you, Wren. I have for a while now. And I'm so sorry we betrayed your trust."
She studies me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. Then she pulls her hand free to sign: "I understand why you did it. But understanding isn't the same as forgetting."
"I know," I say quietly. "I don't expect forgiveness right away. Or ever, if you can't give it. But I hope you'll let me try to earn it back."
Our food arrives, momentarily pausing the conversation. Wren takes a bite of her sandwich and closes her eyes in appreciation. I can't help but smile at her reaction.
"Good, right?"
