Page 18 of Wild Hearts

“I fucking love you, man,” he slurs, and the grin fades from my face. Those three words again. They’re gonna keep haunting me like fucking ghosts, echoing around the empty void inside of me.

“Yeah, Jords. You, too,” I grunt as I pull open the front door and stagger inside. I let him rest against the wall at the bottom of the staircase while I shut the front door. There’s a dull ache in my chest as I snib the lock and turn back to my best mate. His six-foot-four frame has slunk down to sit on the bottom step of the stairs and he’s already snoring. I’m tempted to just leave him there, but sigh as I bend down and pull him up again.

We stumble up to the second floor, and I know there’s no way I’m getting him up to his bedroom on the third, so I drop him on the bed in one of their many spare rooms. I grab a glass of water and some painkillers, leaving them on the bedside table for when he wakes up. I shoot Harley, Ivy, and Lachy a group text, letting them know we’re done, then I head up to the third floor to the room I sleep in when I crash here. The walls are the same colour as the living room of Wren’s new apartment. I stare at them blankly, wondering what she’s doing.

Before I can think twice about it, I pull out my phone and pull up her number. I tap out my message. Short and sweet.

Brady: Hey, did you get home okay?

It’s been an hour since she left – she should be home by now. I grin as the memory of her trying to learn how to drive a stick shift pops into my head.

We’d driven twenty minutes down the coast to Flat Rock in Skennars Head. Wren had turned sixteen in August, but she’d only gotten her licence a couple of weeks before coming to Blue Haven. While driving down the back roads, she had begged me and Jordan to teach her how to drive a stick shift. Climbing into the driver’s seat of Jordan’s Suzuki Sierra, the wind had blown her long blonde locks into her face, and her laughter washed over me like a cool shower on a hot summer’s day.

Gripping the seat, I tried to calm my libido as I thought about leaning over and capturing that laugh with my lips. The car hummed to life beneath us, and I cleared my throat, instructing her to gently release the clutch while applying pressure to the accelerator. The car jerked and sputtered to a stop. Lachy and Ivy cracked up in the back seat, and Wren’s face flushed. I placed my hand on hers, trying not to show how the touch sent my heart into overdrive.

“Take it easy,” I told her. “You got this.”

After a couple more false starts, she finally managed to drive twenty metres before stalling again. But that seemed to be enough for her and she squealed in excitement, clapping her hands. The way her face radiated happiness, I knew there was no going back after that. I wanted nothing more than to find every single way I could to recreate those sounds. Yet, it still took me another year to work up the courage to kiss her.

My phone beeps, pulling me back into the present.

Wren: Home safe. Thanks for lending me your car.

Brady: Any time.

I stare at the screen wanting to say so much more to her. I want to ask her where I went wrong, tell her I’m sorry for letting her down. I want to ask if there is any chance for us. Instead, I type one more word and press send.

Brady: Night.

Wren: Night.

Throwing my phone on the bed beside me, I grin up at the ceiling. Things may still be strained, but at least she’s responding to my texts. That’s progress.

THE NEXT MORNING WHENJordan flops onto the bed with a groan, I find myself grateful that I only had a couple of beers.

He clutches his head. “Ugh! Who’s playing the drums? Make them stop, I beg you!”

I snigger. “Feeling a little bit vulnerable this morning, huh?”

“Feeling a fucking ton load vulnerable this morning,” he grunts. “What the fuck even happened last night? How did I end up in the spare room? Please tell me there was some sexy bombshell that snuck out of there before I woke up.”

“Dude, it’s seven a.m. What time was this supposed sexy bombshell meant to wake up and sneak out of your room?” I elbow him in the gut. “Hate to break it to you, Casanova, but you went to bed all on your lonesome last night. You were wasted.”

“Ugh. Who let me drink so much?” He throws me an accusatory glare.

I narrow my eyes. “Like anyone can stop you when you’re on a roll. Besides–” I smirk. “I don’t know how you managed to drink so much when you had your tongue down Grace Morgan’s throat half the night.”

Jordan’s face lights up. “So, I did hook up?”

I swat him with my pillow. “God, you’re a piece of work.” I shake my head with a laugh. “You need to stop writing yourself off, man.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabs the pillow off me and sets it behind his head. “What about you? Did you get lucky last night?”

I shake my head again. “Nope. Guess I just don’t have your smooth moves.” Yawning, I roll over and look at the state my best mate is in. “I guess there’s no chance of you giving me and Ivy a lift home any time soon?”

“Where’s your car?”

“Wren took it.”

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