Page 8 of Close to You

“It’s okay. Your relationship with Dot isn’t any of my business.”

Not knowing what else to say, I quicken my pace and get back to the matter at hand. “Good thinking about the office. Coach might have a landline in there.”

Sure enough, an ancient phone sits on the desk, and I lift the receiver to my ear. Nothing. I press the button a few times, waiting for a dial tone. Still nothing.

“The phone lines must be down. It’s dead.”

Wren takes the phone from me, and I drop to my haunches to check that it’s plugged in and connected to the jack. Yes to both.

“It isn’t working.” She puts the receiver down and blows out a frustrated breath. “What about the windows?”

She points to four thin rectangular windows at the top of one wall, each no more than one foot high and maybe three feet wide. It’s black as tar outside with not much of a moon to light the night, and while she’s slim, Wren might have a hard time getting through that opening.

“I don’t know, and even if you could get through, then what? How will you get down safely?” I scan the office, looking for another option.

Not much has changed since my high school days. Coach still has the sofa, vending machine, bookcase, two hardback chairs, his desk, and an office chair.

“If these windows are the ones I think they are, the shop garage is there.” She points to the right of the office. “I can jump down onto the garage roof. It isn’t as high.”

“Then what?” A flash of blinding white light streaks across the coal sky. “Jesus. You can’t go out there. You’ll be struck by lightning.”

She rolls her eyes, though I don’t miss the flicker of apprehension. “I’ll be fine.”

“Say you do this and don’t get fried in the process, how do you get down from there?”

She chews on her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s a dumpster to break my fall or the bleachers. They aren’t too far.”

“They might be farther than you think. And what if you can’t?” I shake my head, rejecting this crazy idea.

“We have to try. We’re stuck in here.”

“Is that really so bad? They’ll find us in the morning. We’re indoors, and we’ve got restrooms.” I hook a thumb toward the locker rooms. “We’re here together.”

Brown eyes settle on me, and I wonder if maybe that’s what scares her the most.

“Can we give it a try?” She tips her head toward the windows. “And if it works, you come to my house for chicken pot pie. Made from scratch.”

I groan at the thought of food. Wren’s homemade cooking at that. Dinner was another thing I’d planned to do on my way out of town.

The twinkle in her eyes tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing. Bartering to get her way. “If I can’t get down, I promise I’ll come back in.” Her hand latches on to my arm for a quick squeeze.

I sigh heavily, and despite being against this idea, there’s no way I’ll say no to her, this smart, brave, resilient woman. And once she realizes she can’t get through that opening, she’ll give up and settle in until they find us.

“Fine. But promise me, if you can’t get through the window or the second you realize there’s nosafeway of getting down, you get back in here.”

My arms stretch outward, hands ready to grab her, and she stills. “Wait. Maybe this won’t work. I’m too heavy.”

Now I roll my eyes. “Wren, no. Come here.” And I pull her to me.

At my touch, she quakes, sucks in a soft breath, and her eyes darken, pupils slightly dilating. Then on a jerky laugh, words tumble from her mouth, “Please don’t drop me.”

A strange tenderness erupts in my chest, and a steady thrum of arousal—the very one that sprang to life the second Wren showed her face at the gym door—charges through my body, pulsating just under my skin.

“Tyler, I’d never let you fall.” I confidently grip her waist, trying to infuse in her the strength and conviction of my words. “Do you trust me?”

A quick, breathyyesskates past her lips followed by a timid and no less sweet smile.

“Okay. I’ll lift you onto the desk.” It’s perfect as a launching point. “Then I’ll make a foothold with my fingers and help you get higher.”

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