Page 40 of The Ex Project (The Heartwood #3)

HUDSON

I shouldn’t have let Wren go home alone.

I have full faith she can handle herself, but clearly her job causes her a lot of stress.

And if Wren is stressed … I worry about her.

So, I’ve been fidgeting, trying to find anything in my apartment to keep my mind off whatever is going on for Wren.

That, and busying myself so I’m not tempted to go over there uninvited.

I want Wren to know I believe in her, I know she can handle herself. But I’m also here if she needs backup.

I’ve nearly cleaned every surface of my apartment. I would have gone to the gym, which is my typical coping strategy when I’m feeling nervous or antsy, but I’m bone tired from swimming and being out in the sun all day.

Ruby’s tired too, and she stares at me puttering around her, like watching me is exhausting to her.

Finally, once the whole apartment is spick-and-span, I flop down on the couch.

I debate sending Wren a text or an e-mail.

She hasn’t said so outright, but she’s enjoyed the playful trash talk, and now that we’ve decided not to be adversaries, I consider how I might keep our banter going.

Everything I come up with is cheesy. I scrub my hand over my face and put my phone down on the coffee table. Ruby lifts her head and cocks it at me.

“Don’t look at me like that. I shouldn’t have dropped Wren off, but here we are,” I mutter.

Ruby stands up, stretches her legs and wanders over to lie down next to me on the brown leather sofa, as if she knows I need comforting right now.

What I need is some divine reassurance that this time with Wren is going to work out, it’s not too late, it’s not bad timing.

She doesn’t have too much going on in her own life now.

She’ll understand when I get the chance to explain everything.

I need a beer, I decide, getting up to walk over to the fridge. I pull one out and crack the top, but right as I’m about to take the first refreshing, emotionally numbing sip, there’s a knock on the door.

Setting the bottle down on the counter, I hurry over to the door and open it to find Wren.

Her face is blotchy and red from crying, and I consider booking a flight to Vancouver to go and teach Rick a lesson.

“I need the pictures,” Wren says, pushing past me into the apartment.

“The what?” I trail her into the living room where she flops on the couch, sitting right in the divot I left earlier. Ruby is by her side immediately.

“The pictures. The ones you drew on my back the night of the vote. I need them.”

I release a relieved breath, not because Wren is obviously in distress, but because she is and she came to me for help.

She could have gone to see Poppy, but she’s here.

I sit down on the couch next to her and gesture for her to turn with her back facing me.

She does, and Ruby shifts with her, wanting only to be glued to her.

Wren tucks her legs up so she’s sitting criss-cross, and Ruby lays her head in the triangle her legs form.

And I begin drawing.

I draw a waterfall with a swimming hole at the bottom.

I draw a field of wildflowers.

I draw an easel with a canvas that has a picture of a dog.

I draw all the things that have brought Wren joy in the last few weeks, and with each one, every time she guesses what the picture is, her shoulders drop a little bit more. Her breathing evens out, and she comes back to me.

“I quit my job,” she says finally, her tone calm, even, and heavy with acceptance.

“Okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral, non-judgemental, open. “What made you decide to do that?”

Wren turns back and leans against the back of the couch, tilting her head so she’s staring up at the ceiling. Her hand never leaves Ruby’s head; it’s clearly grounding for her.

“I don’t know. I was on the phone with Rick while he read me the riot act about how I never should have left the arts centre design up to a vote.

How those things never turn out well, and now we have this random hippy arts centre under our portfolio marring our prestigious reputation.

And I was arguing with him, pushing back and telling him what this could mean for the company, trying to get him to see that I’m worthy of a promotion.

Then it was like, I heard myself, like I was having an out-of-body experience and I could hear how desperate I was for his approval.

” Wren takes a pregnant pause, as if still grappling with how she ended up there in the first place.

“Something came over me, and I thought, why do I even care? Then it hit me. I don’t. I don’t know if I ever have.”

I nod to show I’m still listening and trying to follow.

“I only went into engineering because my parents wanted me to. Every decision I have ever made in my career has been to prove something to them, or to one-up Claire. And here I am, I hate my job, I’m burnt out and stressed all the fucking time.

I’m having panic attacks. My hair has been falling out. ”

“God … I knew things were bad but…” I say, and she closes her eyes as if only now realizing how bad it is, too.

I place my hand on the back of her head, stroking her silky-smooth hair, and lean in to kiss her forehead.

When I pull back, I notice tears have collected on her lashes anew.

“I never realized that’s why you chose to go away for school.

I thought … Claire said …” I’m still grappling with this shift in my reality, this new revelation about how everything came to be.

Wren’s eyes snap open and meet mine. She squints at me, irises burning.

“What did Claire say?” Her words are punctuated, and she stiffens in my arms again. I guess now I have no choice; it’s time to tell Wren my side of the story. I breathe out heavily through my nose, mouth forming a tight line while I formulate how I want to explain.

“When you left for school, I pined over you. God, I missed you so much. All I wanted to do was talk to you, plan your next visit home. I thought about you all the time. The first weekend you were supposed to come home, the Friday morning?—”

“The day you ended things with me.” A sharp twinge needles at my ribs. I don’t like thinking about that day, even now. Even when Wren is right in front of me.

“Yes, the day I ended it,” I say grimly.

It was also the day Wren decided she wouldn’t be coming back to Heartwood for the weekend, she needed space away from me.

She never came back after that. “Claire showed up at my apartment. She gave me this speech about telling you to follow your dreams, to help you see what you wanted out of life, to not make the weekend about going back, but moving forward.”

A red-hot flush is spreading to Wren’s cheeks as she takes in what I’m saying, understanding Claire was a big reason why I broke up with her.

“It wasn’t Claire’s fault,” I cut in before Wren has the chance to go off on her sister.

“She was cryptic in how she talked about you, about our relationship, but the message to me was clear. At the time, I felt like it was the reality I was avoiding all along. I wasn’t good enough for you.

I was always going to stay in Heartwood.

You needed to go and chase your dreams, without me standing in the way.

And you had this stubbornness, this determination to change me, to make me into a person I couldn’t be for you.

You never would have ended it if I hadn’t. ”

“Because I love you.” Her voice breaks, and so does my heart. The only thing keeping it from shattering is that her use of the present tense of the word.

“I love you, too. You ruined me, Miller. For anyone else, I was ruined. You were all I could think about. All I can think about.” I can’t hide the wobble in my voice, and I don’t bother trying. “That’s why I needed to do what I did.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t good enough for me when I left.

You always were. I wanted to do everything with you.

We were partners in crime. We promised each other forever.

” Wren’s voice shakes as she explains her side of things.

Whatever role she played in our breakup is a moot point now.

“I thought you needed a little motivating. I’m so sorry I pushed you so hard. ”

“Look, what Claire said was all true. I knew it, you knew it. We were on two separate paths, star-crossed lovers. I was never going to be what you needed, not back then,” I say. “She opened my eyes to it and helped me accept it.”

“I know you want to spare Claire in all this.” Wren puts up her hand, gesturing for me to stop. “You don’t need to defend her. She’s a big girl now, she was a big girl then, too.”

“I don’t want to cause a rift between you and Claire.”

“There has always been a rift between me and Claire. It didn’t start with you, and it won’t end with you. She is going to face the consequences of her own actions.”

“And what about us?” I dare to ask. My cards are out on the table now. Wren knows my side—she said she loves me, and with everything that’s changed in the last hour, I want to know where exactly we stand.

Wren looses another breath, her eyebrows raised as she thinks for a moment.

“Well, I said I love you, didn’t I?” When she looks back up at me, her mouth is turned upward into the cutest smirk I’ve ever seen. “So why don’t we start over, and we can start there? ”

I can’t hold back the smile from taking over my face, no doubt putting my dimples on full display. Wren takes her index finger and pushes it into one gently before cupping my cheek with her hand and pulling my face towards hers.

Her lips find mine, soft and slow, as if she’s communicating to me a different message.

Whatever’s still between us is real. It’s not based on physical chemistry alone, or lustful memories, it transcends past transgressions—it’s forgiveness, it’s acceptance.

It’s real love. A love I once thought I had lost forever.

My hands find her waist and trail up the smooth skin of her ribs, finding the edge of her bra underneath her shirt.

I push past the elastic band and brush my thumb over her peaked nipple.

I’m gentle with her, like I’m handling something delicate.

Because I feel like I am. Whatever happens, I never want to hurt Wren again, regardless of the reason.

She is precious to me.

“I love you, Wren Miller,” I murmur against her mouth, and she takes it in, breathing it back to me.

“I love you, too, Hudson Landry.” Her hand cradles the back of my head, and she digs her fingertips in, as if to try and grab my hair. “Now can you please fuck me already?”