Chapter 8

SEEING WREN’S eyes red from crying sends a wave of fury through me that I’m barely able to get under control. I stand behind her while she checks out with Oliver, trying to calm my facial expressions. When the checkout lady gives me a frightened look, I figure I’m doing a shitty job.

Typical.

Turning away, I take a few deep breaths. Trace my fingers over the seams of my jeans and focus on the feeling of the rough fabric. Crack my knuckles.

Whoever dared to make her feel insecure about herself is going to pay—dearly. And I’m already pretty sure I know who it was.

I feel a soft hand wrap around mine. It sends a wave of calm through me that still feels foreign in my body. I kiss the top of Wren’s head before giving her what I hope is a convincing smile.

“Ready?”

“Definitely.”

I think lingerie is pretty, and Wren seems happy with what she picked out—after her breakdown in the dressing room, of course. But being in a lingerie store for an hour? Really not my thing.

Oliver adds the bags to the trunk, and we climb into the SUV again. This time, before Wren can reach for her seatbelt, I pull her into the middle seat and strap her in. I keep my arm around her, and she settles into my side with a sigh. She runs her hand up and down my thigh with soft strokes.

Two days. Technically, one and a half now. It’s not enough fucking time to get her out of my system. Hell, I’m beginning to think I never will.

When Elliot pulls into the parking lot of Wren’s apartment building, her hand freezes on my leg. Her gaze is locked onto a green sedan close to the entrance.

Wren’s deep, relaxed breaths quickly turn to shallow, panicked ones. Her nails dig into my pants, although I don’t think she realizes it.

Shit. Fuck. I can barely handle my emotions, let alone someone else’s. When I heard her crying in the dressing room earlier, it felt like I couldn’t move. And now I’m the one in the backseat with her while she’s about to break down again.

“Who?” I grunt out.

Wrong thing to fucking say, you idiot.

“Adam,” she whispers. “My ex.”

I hear Elliot undoing his seatbelt. “We’re coming up with you.”

She’s about to protest, but she clamps her mouth shut at the look Elliot gives her in the rearview mirror. It’s for the best. When Elliot’s protective side comes out, it’s smart to stay out of his fucking way.

We head up to her apartment, and I keep her tucked into my side.

In the elevator, she swears under her breath. “He has a key. I completely forgot.”

“Any idea what he wants?” Elliot says without looking at her. Also for the best. I can feel the anger radiating off of him, and it makes me wonder what exactly he knows about this Adam guy that he hasn’t told us.

“Probably just to talk.” She’s trying to keep her voice even, but she’s not doing a great job at it.

When we get to her apartment, she turns to us. “If you guys don’t mind, I’d like to try to talk to him alone. Just to see why he’s here. I have a feeling he’d be pretty intimidated if I walked in with three guys behind me.”

I grunt at the idea.

“I’ll leave the door open,” she says gently. “That way you can hear everything.”

I hate it, but I nod. When she disappears into her apartment, it feels like she’s carrying a part of my heart with her.

“Adam,” I hear her say. “What—oh, god. What did you do?”

I clench my fists. The tension coming from Oliver and Elliot tells me they’re struggling to stay put as well.

“You went home with someone last night,” a male voice yells. “Ben was there. He told me. How could you do that?”

“That’s rich coming from you,” she snaps. “Get out, Adam. You’ve made enough of a mess.”

“I’ve been calling you for days.” His speech is slurred. Is he seriously drunk?

When I hear movement, I can’t help it. I move closer, peeking through the crack in the open door. There’s shit all over the floor, and he’s standing a yard or two away from her.

If he takes one more goddamned step toward her . . .

“I don’t have a particularly good reason to talk to you,” she says flatly, looking around the apartment. It’s a mess.

“Yes, you do!” he shouts. Then he grabs a mug from the kitchen counter. The way he’s standing and glaring is all too familiar to me.

Fuck.

I barrel into the room just as he winds up for the throw. I grab Wren, pulling her back and behind me, but I’m not fast enough. The mug still catches her shoulder before crashing to the ground.

She lets out a shocked noise as I shove her behind me.

“Who the fuck is this?” Adam shouts. “Did you go home with him? Have you been sleeping with him behind my back the whole fucking time?”

Wren steps out from behind me, pushing my hand away when I try to force her back. “You cheated on me, Adam. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

She turns when Elliot comes to stand beside her, and I can feel Oliver right behind us.

Adam’s gaze settles on us, his eyes widening. “Babe, what’s going on? Who the hell are these guys?”

I step forward. “Right now? Your worst fucking nightmare, buddy.”

He takes a step back, tripping over a broken vase on the floor and falling on his ass. But I just grab the collar of his shirt and haul him back up.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, that you can speak to Wren like that?”

He sputters, but I barely notice. All I see is red. I need to get this guy out of here. If I lose it in front of Wren—

“Rhett.” Elliot places a hand on my arm, and his gaze meets mine. “Not here.”

I let out a string of curses, because he’s right. Even if I get Adam outside, it’s still too public of a place. Too many potential eyewitnesses. Too many security cameras.

With a grunt, I drag Adam out of the apartment. “Car keys.” This kid is in no shape to drive, and he might not care, but I’m not letting him kill someone in a crash just because he got dumped.

Adam looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“Do you want to have the shit beat out of you?” I slam him against the wall. “Because I’m about to lose my fucking patience.”

He lets out a terrified noise, fumbling in his jacket pocket before pulling them out. I snatch them from his hands. “You’d better watch your back, kid. Because you’ll pay for hurting Wren.” I shove him down the hallway so hard he stumbles and falls. “Get lost,” I snap. “And don’t ever call her babe again.” I don’t move, watching until he flees down the hallway and into an elevator.

When I step back into the apartment, Wren runs into my arms.

“Are you all right?” I pull away from her, tugging off her coat and pushing the sleeve of her shirt up. She winces when I touch her shoulder, and the simple movement solidifies my resolve.

Adam will pay. Tonight.

“I’ll be fine,” she says in a failed attempt at a cheerful tone. But her voice is shaking—along with her hands. “Thank you for pulling me out of the way. I think I was too stunned to move.”

I pull her into a hug, pressing my lips to her hairline. He was aiming for her head. An image of Wren crumpled on the floor, bleeding, flashes through my mind, and I hold her tighter.

“Rhett,” she wheezes, pushing against me.

Shit. I release her, and she gasps in a breath, clinging to my shirt. “Sorry,” I mutter.

But she just shakes her head, giggling, before pressing her lips to mine. I let it ground me, deepening the kiss and cradling her face in my hands.

When she pulls away, it’s with a contented smile. But it disappears the second her eyes leave mine.

It’s then that I finally get a good look at her apartment. I was wrong earlier—it’s not a mess. That implies a lack of cleaning. This place is trashed.

The cabinets in her kitchen are open and empty, most of the dishes smashed. The same thing is true of her bookshelf, and there are broken picture frames littering the floor.

“Oh no,” she says softly, picking up an old book. Half the pages have been ripped out and are scattered over the ground. “I’ve had this copy since high school.”

When I get a look at the spine, that uncontrollable anger comes back full-force. It’s A Tale of Two Cities.

I’m going to rip that motherfucker to shreds.

“Where’s your broom, Wren?” Oliver says.

She looks up, glancing between the three of us. Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No, don’t. It’s my mess to clean up, and it’ll take hours. I’m not destroying your weekend like this.”

I almost tell her that sending us away is the thing that actually would destroy our weekend, but I hold my tongue.

Thankfully, Elliot steps in. He pulls her close, taking the book from her hands and kissing her nose. “It won’t take that long with all four of us. Let us do this for you, love. And then let us take you home so we can help you forget that this ever happened.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and he wipes them away as they fall. When she nods, the three of us let out a collective sigh of relief.

We get to work, Oliver with the broom and Elliot helping Wren put everything back on her bookshelf. I work on getting all the broken dishes off the counters, careful not to cut myself.

After fifteen minutes, the apartment is already looking much better. Except, I notice, now there’s blood on the floor by the bookshelf. For a moment, I’m not sure where it’s from, but then Wren steps into my view.

She’s limping, and when she moves forward, she leaves a little pool of blood behind.

“Wren.” I’m moving toward her before I even realize it, sweeping her into my arms. “Why did you take your shoes off, sweetheart? There’s glass everywhere.”

“What?” She tries to squirm out of my arms, but I nod to the floor. When she sees the blood, she frowns. “I didn’t even realize I was bleeding.” She raises her foot in the air, watching in surprise as blood trickles down her heel.

Both Elliot and Oliver turn at her words, but they get back to work when they see that I have her.

“Your foot was hurting you, and you didn’t even—” I stop before I say something I’ll regret. Her ex just trashed her apartment. She’s flustered and exhausted. Don’t scold her. “Let’s just get you cleaned up.”

I head down a narrow hallway, assuming the bathroom is at the end. But I only take a half-step in before freezing.

Adam wrecked it in here, too. But even worse than that is the red lipstick he smeared onto her mirror, writing out dum bitch.

The irony of the spelling error isn’t lost on me.

“What?” Wren tries to get a peek, but I step outside.

“Elliot,” I say down the hallway, gesturing with my head to the bathroom.

He stalks inside, swearing under his breath when he sees the mirror.

“What?” Wren tries to wiggle free from my arms, but I clamp down on her. With a groan, she gives up, flopping dramatically and letting her head fall back.

“Do you have makeup wipes, love?” Elliot begins searching through all the shit that’s scattered on the floor, careful not to step on anything.

“Yeah, they’re on the shelf above the toilet. Well—they should be, anyway.”

Elliot turns, scratching his head, before leaning down and snatching a package from the floor. “Found them.”

He gets to work wiping at the mirrors. Wren glares impatiently at me, but I ignore her. I’m too focused on taking deep breaths and too scared that if I look at her, she’ll think the anger strangling my entire body is directed at her.

Elliot steps back from the mirror with a nod. He passes us, giving Wren a quick kiss on her forehead before crossing the hall and switching on the light to the bedroom. As I set Wren on the bathroom counter, I glance inside.

It’s as much of a wreck as the rest of the apartment, with pretty sundresses strewn everywhere, her lamp knocked over, and her laptop smashed to pieces on the floor.

God, that bastard.

“Is it bad?” She looks up at me, her impatience from earlier gone.

I take a look at her foot, gently wiping away the blood with some toilet paper. Breathing a sigh of relief, I say, “No. Just a cut. I don’t think you even have a piece of glass stuck in there.” I cut her a hard look. “Which means you’re lucky. It could’ve been worse.”

Her shoulders sag, and she looks down. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what I was thinking.”

It’s not your fault, I want to say. Because, really, it’s mine. I never should’ve let her walk in here alone. If I hadn’t, Adam wouldn’t’ve thrown a mug at her, and she wouldn’t be nearly as shaken.

Apparently, my thoughts are displayed right on my face, because Wren shakes her head. “Don’t blame yourself, Rhett. He’s never been violent like that before.”

My heart stutters at her words. “Like that? What do you mean?”

She just shrugs, staring at my chest.

“Wren.” My voice is harsh as I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me.

The color drains from her face, and she stops breathing. One look in the mirror tells me that I’ve finally snapped. The anger that should be safely tucked away is on full display, and it’s probably terrifying for her to see.

“Fuck,” I mutter, releasing her. I place my hands on either side of her, bowing my head until it hits her shoulder. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

She does, even if it’s a bit shaky. “He just throws things when he’s angry with me sometimes. But he’s never aimed at me before. That’s all.” Her voice is small, almost afraid, and I hate that I’m the reason why.

“Did he scare you?”

I feel her nod.

“Then he shouldn’t’ve fucking done it.” I raise my head until I’m looking into her soft eyes. “I’m sorry, Wren. I shouldn’t have been that harsh with you.”

“You’re not angry with me?” she whispers.

“God, no.” I kiss her lightly. “I don’t think I could ever be angry at you, sweetheart.”

She lets out a sigh, wrapping her arms around my neck, and I let her hold me for a minute. Then, when my back can’t take the awkward position any longer, I pull away.

It only takes a minute to clean and bandage her foot. We finish cleaning up, refusing to let Wren stay on her feet and almost tying her down to the couch when she won’t listen. Then, once she’s packed a bag, we head out.

On our way to the car, I snap a picture of the back of Adam’s car and send it to a friend. I’ve already got one hellish night planned out for that asshole, and I can’t wait to get started.

WHEN WE GET back home, it’s almost time to eat again. We order pizza at Wren’s request, and then we all shower.

I drag her into my bathroom and take my time washing her hair and soaping her up. She does the same to me, giving every part of my body a kiss after she cleans it. It’s weird being completely naked in front of someone other than Elliot or Oliver, but I shove the feeling aside and try to enjoy myself.

By the time we’re done, I’m surprised we’ve both managed to control ourselves and not go at it in the shower.

While we dry off, she keeps looking like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She changes into black, lacy panties and a matching bra that does wonders for her form.

“Are you trying to kill me?” I say, pushing her onto the bed. But I kneel down and take her foot in my hand, replacing her bandage.

She opens her mouth, but then she shuts it again.

“What?”

“Uhhh—nothing.”

“Spit it out, sweetheart, or I’ll force it out of you.”

She squirms on the mattress, rubbing her thighs together. “Well, it’s just that there’s three of you.” She says it like that should explain whatever it is she’s thinking.

“And?”

She bites her lip. Takes a deep breath. Looks anywhere with me. Finally, with her eyes squeezed shut, she blurts, “I’ve never had anal sex before.”

I give her an amused look. That’s what has her so worked up? God, this woman. “Do you want to?”

“Maybe. Yes? I think so.”

I nod, kissing her inner thighs. “That’s not exactly something you just jump straight into. It takes some adjusting.”

“I’ve done some training.” She squirms again. “And I liked the way it felt. But Adam never wanted to . . .” She looks down at her hands. “You know.”

I smirk. She’s so fucking cute when she’s flustered. “Stick it in there?”

She groans, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t laugh.”

“Oh, I’m not laughing.” I grab her legs and pull her to the edge of the bed. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

She does, and I slide her panties off, throwing them to the floor. Then I spread her legs and dive in.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, grabbing onto my hair.

“Getting you relaxed,” I murmur into her. “And getting a better taste of you than what I got this morning.”

She moans, falling back onto her elbows. It doesn’t take her long before all she’s saying is my name, over and over again, with increased intensity. Finally, when I suck her clit into my mouth, she cries out. She tries to buck her hips, but I keep them firmly pinned to the bed.

“How are you so good at this?” she whispers.

I don’t answer, sliding into her as far as I can go. Then I move down to her other hole and circle it with my tongue. She jumps at the new sensation, moaning when I give her a lick.

When I stand, she watches me as I head over to my nightstand and pull something out. When I turn, her eyes are on the butt plug in my hand.

“You’re going to wear this through dinner,” I tell her. “And then while we fuck you senseless afterward.”

She nods enthusiastically, sitting up.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

She does, putting her ass on display for me. I grab some lube, using plenty of it before I slide the plug into her a bit.

“Take deep breaths for me, sweetheart, and relax.”

She obeys, moaning as the plug fills her. I let her adjust for a second, squeezing her ass cheeks.

“How does it feel?”

“Good,” she whispers.

Perfect.