Page 80 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

Chapter fifteen

Wren

I frown at the snow falling outside. It’s coming down hard and fast—enough that the thought of Rhett driving in it makes my stomach turn with unease. Sure, I may be more anxious than the average person, but this isbad.

“Hey, it’s snowing pretty hard outside, I think—”

When I step into my bedroom, I find Rhett passed out on top of all my blankets. “You awake?” I whisper.

He doesn’t stir.

My heart warms as I watch him breathing softly. He looks so peaceful, like everything that’s weighing him down has finally disappeared.

I grab a spare blanket from the living room and drape it over him. Then I head back out of the room, grabbing my phone from the kitchen counter and calling Oliver.

“Hey, princess. Is everything okay?” I can hear him trying to hide the worry in his voice, but he’s doing a poor job at it.

“We’re fine,” I say softly. “But, um, Rhett fell asleep.”

“Oh, thank god,” Oliver says. “He’s not taking up your whole bed, is he? He has a bad habit of doing that.”

I giggle. “No, he’s not. But good to know.”

“Sleep well, Wren.” Oliver pauses as I hear Elliot say something I can’t quite make out. “Ell says to call us if you need anything.”

“I will, promise. Goodnight.”

I leave the hall light on, as I always do, and then I crawl into bed. I keep my arm from underneath the covers, wrapping it around Rhett. His warmth seeps into my body, and I smile.

A chance.

That’s what we all agreed to. A cautious start at adding me into their relationship. The thought of getting even more attached to them scares me, but it also causes butterflies to take off in my stomach.

Because what if it all works out? Elliot, Oliver, and Rhett all care for me so much. Hell, that’s even the reason Elliot was willing to let me go, even though it hurt.

So I drift off to sleep with a light heart and a smile on my lips. Because even though I’m afraid to get hurt again, I know—Iknow—that these men will do everything possible to keep me.

And I’ll do the same for them.

‎

. . .