Page 54 of Wild Hearts

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Brady

IT’S TORTURE WALKINGaway from Wren. All I want to do is get down on my damaged knees and beg her to take me back. Falling in love scares the shit out of me, especially after watching my dad walk away from it so easily. But seeing her again has messed with every fibre of my being. It’s brought back all of the memories of kissing her, tasting her, holding her in my arms.

But she’s not the same carefree girl from last summer. If Ivy and I weren’t on the outs, maybe I could ask her about it, but right now, I’m the last person she’s likely to talk to, especially about Wren. But I’m realising now that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get Wren back.

“Brady!”

I turn to see Felicity waving at me as she makes her way across the quad. I lean on my crutches and wait for her to catch up.

“Hey Flick,” I say with a smile.

She raises an eyebrow as she gestures to my injured leg. “This is new.”

I grimace. “Yeah. Surfing accident a couple weeks ago.”

“Shit. That’s not good. I just got back from visiting my cousins in Newcastle. I had no idea.”

Her genuine concern is a welcome reprieve from all the suspicious looks I’ve been getting from my friends and family. They’re still convinced there’s something more behind the accident.

Felicity nudges me. “You going to class?”

“Yeah, Psych Science over in H Block. You?”

She nods. “Linguistics in F Block. I’ll walk with you.”

“Linguistics?” I question as I swing along beside her.

“I switched my degree from Communications to a Bachelor of International Relations,” she explains. “I travelled around Guatemala for the mid-year break and decided I want to try and get a job in foreign aid or international development.”

I whistle. “Impressive. How did I not know that?”

Felicity smirks. “You never asked.”

I cast a side-long glance in her direction. She’s right. The two times we’ve spoken, I never asked about her. Instead, I chewed her ear off about Wren. I never asked about her.What kind of shitty person does that?I realise I actually know very little about her. “Sorry about that,” I mutter.

She laughs, placing her hand on my arm. “Brady, it’s fine. We’ve really only hung out at parties. It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

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