Page 105 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)
Chapter Seventeen
Elijah
Ezra and I have been working from home in the days that followed the incident in the warehouse.
With Wren needing to rest and tend to the PR nightmare, we’ve stayed out of the public eye.
It’s been a week, and most of Wren’s wounds have healed, but the bruising remains—a stark reminder of the horrors she faced.
Wren has been staying at our penthouse where we can take care of her, but the atmosphere is heavy with unspoken words and lingering fears.
Each day, I watch her move through the space, a fragile shadow of the vibrant woman she once was.
The laughter that used to fill the room has been replaced by a heavy silence, and I can see the weight of her trauma pressing down on her.
Ezra and I have taken turns checking in on her, but every time I try to engage, I’m met with a distant look in her eyes, as if she’s somewhere far away, trapped in her own mind.
It breaks my heart to see her like this, knowing that the light she once carried is dimmed by the darkness of what happened.
“Do you think we should talk to her about it?” I ask Ezra one evening as we sit on the couch, the glow of the television casting flickering shadows around us. “I can’t stand seeing her like this.
Ezra sighs, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that reveals his own frustration and helplessness. “I want to help her, but I don’t want to push her too hard. She needs to come to us when she’s ready.”
I nod, understanding his perspective, but the urgency to help Wren gnaws at me. “But what if she never feels ready? What if she thinks she has to face this alone?”
Ezra’s gaze softens as he looks at me, the concern etched on his face. “You’re right. We need to create a safe space for her to talk. But we also need to guide her. She needs to understand that we’re here to protect her, to love her, and that facing this fear is part of healing.”
As if on cue, we hear the soft sound of Wren moving around in the kitchen. I exchange a glance with Ezra, and we both rise to our feet, drawn to her presence.
“Hey, little bird,” I call softly, stepping into the kitchen where she stands by the counter, her back to us. The sight of her, hair slightly disheveled and wearing one of my oversized hoodies, tugs at my heartstrings.
“Just making some tea,” she replies quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. She turns to face us, and I can see the remnants of bruising peeking out from under the fabric, a stark reminder of her vulnerability.
Ezra steps closer, his tone gentle yet firm. “Do you need any help? We can make it for you.”
Wren hesitates for a moment before nodding, a small, tentative smile breaking through the heaviness. “Sure. That would be nice.”
As we gather around the counter, the atmosphere shifts slightly.
I take a moment to look at her, seeing the strength that still resides within, even if it’s buried beneath layers of fear.
“Wren,” I say softly, “we know this is hard. But we’re here for you, and we want to help you face this. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Ezra nods in agreement, stepping closer to her, his presence a comforting weight. “You’re our little girl, and we love you. We’ll protect you, but you need to trust us. Tackling this fear is part of reclaiming your strength.”
Wren’s eyes widen slightly, and I can see the flicker of understanding in her gaze. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing just a bit. “I—I want to try. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
“Good,” I say, my heart swelling with pride for her bravery. “We’ll take it one step at a time, together.”
As we finish making the tea, the doorbell rings, breaking the quiet tension that has settled over the penthouse. I exchange a glance with Ezra, curiosity dancing in his eyes.
“Wonder who that might be?” he asks, moving toward the door.
“I’ll get it,” I reply, setting down my cup and heading to the entrance.
When I open the door, I’m surprised to see Wren’s boss standing there, a warm smile on his face and a large bag from the coffee shop in his hands.
“Hey, Elijah,” he says cheerfully, his voice a bright contrast to the somber atmosphere inside.
“I brought Wren something special.” I knew Wren had spoken to him about us, but this is the first time I’ve spoken to him outside the coffee shop.
She must have told him where we live as well.
“Wyatt!” she exclaims, stepping out of the kitchen to see him. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
He walks in, the aroma of freshly baked pastries wafting through the air as he sets the bag down on the kitchen counter. “Yes, of course. I knew you’d been staying here after everything and I thought I’d drop by and bring you some of your favorite treats. It’s your birthday, after all!”
“Birthday?” Ezra questions, his brow furrowing. “Wren didn’t mention anything about her birthday.”
I watch as Wren stands frozen in the doorway, her expression a mix of surprise and trepidation. “I… I didn’t tell you guys,” she stammers, her eyes darting between Ezra and me.
“Why not?” I ask gently, stepping closer to her. “You deserve to be celebrated, Wren. You’re not a burden.”
“I’ve just never really celebrated my birthday,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Especially with everything that happened with Richard. It’s hard for me to think about.”
Wyatt chuckles, oblivious to the tension. “Well, I know how much she loves these pastries, so I figured it was time for a little celebration, even if it’s just the four of us.”
“Thank you, Wyatt,” I say as I sit at the table, pulling Wren down with me. She presses her back to my chest, and I can’t help but inhale deeply, her vanilla and cinnamon perfume filling my senses. It makes me dizzy with need for her, a reminder of the warmth and comfort she brings into my life.
As she settles against me, I wrap my arms around her waist, holding her close. I can feel the tension in her body slowly begin to ease, and I silently vow to do everything in my power to help her feel safe and loved every day.
“Let’s dig in,” I say, trying to keep the mood light. I reach into the bag Wyatt brought and pull out a flaky pastry, the scent of warm sugar and spices wafting through the air. “This one is definitely calling my name.”
Wren giggles softly, the sound is a sweet melody that brings a smile to my face. “You always go for the most extravagant one,” she teases, her voice gaining a hint of playfulness.
“Can you blame me?” I reply, leaning in closer so she can feel my breath against her ear. “Life is too short not to indulge a little, especially on your birthday.” Chill bumps run along her skin and I can’t wait for later to show her exactly how we are going to indulge.