Page 81 of Only Mine
I take another bite, buying time. “I actually came here to figure out what’s next. I needed a break and to clear my head. Instead, I spent the whole week playing house with them.”
I’m not sure what it is about Noa that’s made me vomit honesty like this, but her kindness and nonjudgmental ear are things I’ve really missed. When was the last time I had that? Before I became an influencer, definitely. I lost a lot of friends when my life became about content and I started documenting everything instead of living it. Turned every girls’ night into a photo shoot, every brunch into content. Some friends loved being part of it, others pulled back. By the timeI realized I needed better boundaries, my circle had gotten smaller without me noticing. They tried to tell me I was losing myself, and by the time I realized they were right, they’d already stopped calling.
My phone buzzes on the counter. Brenda’s name fills the screen.Wren, we need to discuss your contracts NOW.
“Everything okay?” Noa asks, noticing me tense.
“Work,” I say on a sigh, setting my phone on the counter face down. “I’ve been dodging calls, but…”
“But?”
“But I can’t hide forever.” I take another bite of delicious comfort. “My job follows me everywhere, and I came here to get away from it.”
Noa’s quiet for a moment. “You know, when things feel overwhelming, sometimes you just need your own space to think. No pressure, but there’s an apartment above the bookstore. The owner’s been trying to rent it out. Marcus is pretty flexible on terms.”
“An apartment?” The idea of my own space, somewhere that isn’t Saint’s guesthouse but isn’t leaving Falcon Haven either, unties the knot in my chest.
“Two rooms, lots of light. The radiator’s noisy, but the location’s perfect. You could walk everywhere, really explore the town you came here to see.”
“How do you know the owner?”
“Small town.” She smiles. “Want me to see if he can show it today?”
“Please.” I nod eagerly. “That would be amazing.”
Noa pulls out her phone, texts rapidly, then looks up with a smile. “Marcus says he can meet you there in an hour. It’s literally just across the street and two doors down.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it from the bottom of my heart. The idea of somewhere neutral, somewhere that isn’tcharged with memories of Saint’s hands and Ivy’s laughter, feels like the lifeline I desperately need.
My phone buzzes again. Brenda’s face appears on my screen, this time for an actual call. I can’t avoid her forever.
“I should take this,” I say, reaching for my wallet.
Noa waves me off. “Go ahead. Your food will be here when you’re done.”
I step outside onto the sidewalk, the morning sun warming my shoulders as I answer.
“Hey, Brenda.”
“Eight days, Wrenley. Eight days of minimal contact.” Her voice is tight with professional restraint. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been dealing with? Sponsors are threatening to pull contracts. Your legal team is having kittens.”
I lean against the brick wall of the café, closing my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t pay your bills or mine. Look, I’ve managed to hold them off, but we need to discuss your options. You said you marinated. Does that mean you like the idea of getting to know the gorgeous Mr. Toussaint?”
Oh, if only sheknew.
“I can’t go back to posting like nothing happened,” I hedge instead of answering. “I just can’t, Brenda.”
There’s a pause, then her tone softens slightly. “I’m not asking you to pretend the attack didn’t happen, Wren. Or your breakdown after. But it’s been a few weeks since your last post, the one that went, you know … viral. People are worried after seeing you like that, but they’re also starting to forget. If you’re going to come back, now’s the time.”
My fingers instinctively rise to my shoulder, where the worst of it burns. However, the terror of that night, the helplessness as hands grabbed me in the dark of my hotel room,and the sound of my own screaming when security finally arrived…
I’d always had a problem pulling, cutting, and scratching. But it was under control. Hidden. Until that night.
“I don’t know if I can,” I whisper.
“You have three major contracts you need to fulfill. Unless you want to be sued into oblivion, we need a plan.” Brenda’s voice is gentle but firm. “But we can modify. Small steps. No live streams for now. No events.”
