Page 38 of Perfect Convergence

“It felt like someone was watching me,” she whispers. “Like we were going to get lost in the darkness and never find our way out again.”

“And now?” I wipe under her eyes, where her mascara has smudged. “How do you feel now, sweetheart?”

She pauses for a second, and I search her eyes as she blinks up at me. “I feel... safe. Right now. But what about the future? Is it always this scary? Am I going to constantly be worrying about you guys? What if one of you gets hurt? Or dies?”

“We’re always careful. This was a little more of a risk, but—”

“But what if something does happen, Rhett? What if I get mixed up in another job, but this time things don’t work out?”

“We’ll do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. That’s what we do for each other, and that’s what we’ll do for you.”

She shakes her head, and I watch as she struggles with the panic that’s fighting to take over. “What if—what if you can’t find me? Or what if you’re too late? What if I get lost again, but this time I can’t find my way back? What if I forget who I am again?”

I’m not sure what she means, but it doesn’t sound like she’s talking about what happened tonight anymore. She’s catastrophizing, and I don’t know how to stop her.

There’s only one thing I can think to say.

“Wren.” I lean my forehead against hers. “I don’t think you understand that if, somehow, we lost you, we’d burn the whole world to the fucking ground to find you again.”

“Because that’s what you’d do for each other?”

“Yes. And you’re a part of us now. We take care of what’s ours.”

She slumps against me, and I pull my arms tighter around her. It’s a lot for anyone to take in, and honestly, she’s doing well.

For a while, we stay like this. There are no sobs or cries, but I can feel her tears silently soaking my shirt. My hand moves up and down her back in what I hope is a soothing motion, praying desperately that this is what she needs.

Eventually, she murmurs, “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Your soup is probably cool enough to eat.”

As she slips off the counter, I find her a spoon.

“Are you tired, sweetheart?”

She nods. Then she leans over the bowl of soup, blowing on it. “Are you?”

“Yeah. But I won’t be able to sleep.”

With a frown, she stares at her soup. “Do you know why you have insomnia?”

The muscles in my back tense up. “It’s a long story.”

She glances at the butterfly tattoo on the back of my hand. For a second, it looks like she’s going to ask me a question, but then she turns back to her food.

I know Elliot told her about Sammy. She has questions, I’m sure. And we’ll tell her eventually—we have to, considering half of our time is spent getting revenge on the man who killed her. But it’s too intensive of a topic for tonight.

Once Wren is done with her soup, I take her hand. “There’s another bedroom at the end of the—”

“No.”

“What?”

Her hand tightens around mine. “Can I stay with you? I know you’re not sleeping. But I don’t want to be alone. Please?”

Right. Of course she doesn’t want to be alone. Why didn’t I think of that? “Sure. Let me get you a pillow and some blankets.”

As I head toward one of the bedrooms, I peek in on Elliot and Oliver. O is still sound asleep, with Elliot holding him from behind. Safe. Peaceful.

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