“What, have sex with someone? Where’s the shame in it? You’re almost eighteen, Wren. Yet you still act like a little girl.”
Her mouth sets in a firm line. “That’s not fair.”
“See? You’re still doing it.” I grab hold of her shoulders, pulling her into me. She rests her hands on my chest, her touch light. “Life isn’t fair, Birdy. You should know this by now. He shouldn’t be mad at you for doing something that’s natural. You’re a good girl. He should be proud of you for holding out for this long.”
“It’s not about holding out, Crew,” she says, her tone bitter. “It’s about making the right choices.”
What the hell? “Are you calling me the wrong choice then?”
“No. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that…” Her voice drifts, and she averts her head. As if it pains her to look at me.
“You shouldn’t have done what? Fucked me?”
Her gaze immediately returns to mine. “You don’t have to put it so crudely.”
“That’s all your father is doing. He’s taken all of the human emotions out of it. Like maybe I want to be with you because I care about you. And you care about me,” I say. Putting it all on the line. Something I don’t normally do.
More like I never do it.
“Do we really though? We barely know each other. It’s only been a couple of weeks,” she points out.
“When we’re lucky enough to find someone that makes our world brighter, shouldn’t we grab hold of that person and never let them go?”
She’s staring up at me, confusion in her gaze. “What do you mean?”
“I’m talking about you. And me.” I kiss her, and naturally she responds. I end the kiss before we get too carried away. “You don’t have to listen to every word your father says. His expectations on you are impossible to maintain.”
“But he’s my father,” she whispers. “I love him. Knowing I disappointed him just…it hurts. I don’t like it when he’s angry with me. He’s all I’ve got.”
He’s going to make her choose. Him or me. I can sense it.
I can also sense what her answer will be.
Fuck. That hurts.
“Well, what about me?” I ask her.
“And what are you to me? What am I to you?”
I remain quiet, my thoughts a confused jumble in my brain. I’ve been real with her so far. Admitting things I probably shouldn’t have, yet here I am. Opening up the veins and letting myself bleed.
“That’s what I thought,” she says when I still haven’t replied. The disappointment is written all over her face. “Maybe we moved too fast.”
“Is that what you really think? Or are you only saying that to make yourself feel better?” Shit, I don’t mean it. Yes, we moved fast. Too fast? I don’t know about that.
“I don’t know what to think!” she wails, more tears raining down. “I have to go. I can’t be late for class.”
She starts walking, leaving me where I stand. I watch her go, knowing I should chase after her. Yet I stay rooted in place.
Wren keeps going, never looking back, and I fight the anger that simmers just below the surface. How easily she walks away from me, as if I don’t matter. All she can think about is her father, and how she can’t disappoint him. His standards are impossible for her to meet. He wants her to be his little girl forever.
She’s my girl now. He needs to understand that.
So does she.
“Birdy!” The nickname bursts out of me, and she whirls around, her sad eyes meeting mine. “I want to see you when we’re in the city.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she says, loud enough for me to hear.
Loud enough to pierce my steel-walled heart.
I’m going to see her. Before her birthday. After. On New Year’s Eve. I’m going to make sure these next few weeks are good for her. Prove that I haven’t forgotten her like everyone else. When I said I was her friend, I meant it.
When I said I cared about her, I meant that too. No way can I lose her now.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I bring up my brother’s number and call him.
“What now?” Grant barks.
“I need your help,” I tell him, my voice dead serious. “Hopefully you can find it.”
“I can find anything you need, little brother,” Grant says with that Lancaster confidence we all have. “Tell me what you need.”
FORTY-FOUR
WREN
I’m a prisoner in my own home. Forgotten. Neglected. Daddy demanded I come home and I did as he asked, leaving Lancaster the moment I finished my history final. The second final scheduled was for psychology, and I already did my presentation with Crew, thank goodness. It was easy for Daddy to call into the administration office and have me excused early.
And now here I am, in the sterile apartment with my sterile parents. It’s only been a few days since I came home, and already, I’ve just become another piece of furniture. Or maybe I’m a painting hanging on the wall.
Pretty to look at. Enough to invest in. Otherwise, it doesn’t matter.
It’s Saturday, and I’m bored. Restless. I slept a lot the first couple of days. It was either that or cry, especially since my father took my phone away from me the moment I arrived. I can’t communicate with anyone.
Crew.
He probably hates me. Thinks I’m a little baby who can’t stand up for herself. I pretty much proved that by the dumb things I said to him when we got into that fight. Was it even a fight? I don’t know how to describe it. All I know is I’m devastated that it had to end like this. With my father witnessing the photos, seeing me lying there naked with Crew, even though nothing is shown in the photo.
It was so obvious though. The image is imprinted on my brain. I can see the way my head is lying on his bare shoulder, our lazy smiles and half-lidded eyes. My own naked shoulders, making it obvious I have no clothes on. The rumpled sheet beneath us.
I miss him. My heart aches to see him. Talk to him.
Yet, I’m trapped.
Giving up on my pity party for one, I leave my bedroom and wander around the apartment, glaring at every piece of art I pass by. My parents—specifically my mother—care more about the art hanging on their walls than about me. She hasn’t come to talk to me once since I’ve come home. No reassuring words like, “I’ll speak to your father,” or even a, “You’ll be okay,” mentioned.
She’s letting me suffer on my own.
I approach her sitting room, hearing the voices coming from the open doorway, and I pause, pressing myself against the wall when I realize it’s my parents.
And they’re talking about me.
“When are you going to give her phone back?” Mom asks.
“If I had my choice, never,” Daddy mutters, the disgust clear in his voice.
“She’s almost eighteen. Just give it back to her. What’s the worst that could happen if she has it?”
“That boy will text her. Call her. He’s been doing it nonstop since I took the phone from her.”
My heart swells with hope. He hasn’t given up on me.
“At least he’s persistent.”
“That means nothing. She had sex with him, Cecily. Of course he’s persistent. He’s hoping for more,” Daddy explains.
I wince, hating how he thinks Crew only cares about me because we had sex. When it felt like so much more than that…
“Well, she attracted a Lancaster, which I have to admit is a solid choice. At least she picked well,” Mom says.
“She should’ve never done that. She promised herself to me,” Daddy says vehemently.
“Your archaic ways can’t stick forever and you know it. She’s a beautiful girl. Smart. Interesting. It doesn’t surprise me at all that Crew wanted to land her in his bed.”
I’m shocked by my mother’s words. She thinks I’m beautiful? Smart? Interesting? Most of the time she acts as if she can barely stand me.
“Don’t say that,” Daddy says bitterly. “I can’t stand the idea of her being with him.”