Page 44 of The Ex Project (The Heartwood #3)

HUDSON

“You’ve been slacking, Hudson,” Cole jeers at me as he winds a heavy firehose back onto the reel on the back of the truck.

I’m winding the one on the other side, trying to beat his time, like we always do, even if neither of us says it.

There’s a silent understanding between us that whoever does it faster gets the first round at the end of drill.

Just like with the food bank fundraiser.

In fact, first round is our go-to wager for most of our competitions.

“Been busy,” I reply, trying my hardest not to let him see how winded I am from cranking the handle.

“Yeah, I know what that means.” He raises his eyebrows knowingly, almost reaching the end of his hose.

I crank faster. We’ve been asking to upgrade our trucks for ages now, to get the automatic hose reels, but ours are still in relatively good shape, even though they’re old.

I’m not complaining about it. I like the games Cole and I play at fire drill.

No one else on the squad gets as competitive as he does and it keeps things interesting .

“I’m not skipping drill nights to get some if that’s what you’re thinking.” I would never. I do take this job seriously. The reality is, up until this week, Wren has still been fragile after everything with her job and her parents. I haven’t wanted to leave her on her own.

We haven’t talked about it, but her and I both worry the panic attacks could come back. Though, she hasn’t had one since the night she came over after quitting her job. They’ve stayed away, even though she’s still struggling.

A decision being hard doesn’t mean it’s the wrong decision. It just means it’s hard. I learned that myself many years ago. Ending things with Wren was the hardest decision of my life, and there were many times it felt like what I was doing was wrong.

And maybe I was, but I can’t entertain that—there’s no point looking backwards, questioning decisions that have already been made.

I made it with the knowledge and the resources I had at the time.

Still, I can’t help but wonder if Wren would have taken a different path had I not ended it with her.

If she would have found something that made her happy, instead of trying to please her family.

I seem to tie Wren back to herself, the one person who reminds her who she is.

“Whatever, man. Fire drill is boring as hell without you here. All old guys standing around shooting the shit. We don’t do any real drills when you’re not around.

” Cole finishes his hose while I have about a foot left of mine, as usual.

I can never seem to beat him. “Better workout those biceps, Landry, or else I’m gonna bankrupt you.

” He slaps me on the shoulder as he walks past me and into the hall, leaving me in the garage with all the trucks .

Half an hour later, I swing the door to Jack’s open and am greeted by a raucous noise coming from the crowd inside. There’s hardly an empty seat to be found.

Tables are pushed together and people are crowded around several different areas with board games. It’s the monthly board game tournament Grady holds, and it’s well underway by the time we’ve arrived.

Cole and I scan for an empty seat, and I find a couple open ones at the end of the bar top, but as I make my way over there, my eyes catch on something else.

A dark, swishy ponytail, curvy hips swaying to one side as Wren bends down at the pool table in the back.

She wields a pool cue like a goddess, and the way her hand wraps around the end of the wooden stick sends a rush of blood to my cock.

But when she shoots the ball into a pocket and stands up straight, my gaze stops on something else.

The T-shirt she’s wearing. It’s a familiar one—she must have taken it out of my drawer.

It’s my navy blue shirt with the Maltese cross of the firehall on the front left breast, and my name across the back.

LANDRY , in all caps, scrawled across Wren’s shoulder blades.

The sight of her in it makes my heart swell.

She looks like my teenage dream. She looks so out of my league. But wearing that shirt with my name on it, she also looks a lot like mine.

Cole shakes his head at me with a knowing smile as he follows my stare.

“You’re so fucked, dude,” he says before separating from me to grab the seats at the bar. And it’s like Wren has this magnetic pull. Without even hesitating, I walk over to where she’s leaning on her pool cue.

I wrap my arm around her waist and bring my face next to hers, whispering in her ear.

“I gotta say, Miller, seeing you wearing my name does something to me.”

She throws her head back and laughs, and I’m the luckiest man in the world to be seen with her in public like this.

We haven’t exactly announced our relationship—my brothers don’t even officially know we’re back together, but Grady is within eyesight from the bar, and a quick glance over my shoulder confirms he’s seen me.

He gives his head a similar shake to the one Cole gave me, and now they’re both looking over here.

Grady mouths the word fucked like they’ve talked about it already.

Whatever. They can have their opinions about our relationship. Some people are firmly in the camp of once an ex, always an ex. I used to think the same thing. Until now. As it turns out, sometimes when time changes people, it changes them for the better. It’s me and Wren against the world now.

She turns to face me and throws her free arm around my neck, the other still resting on the pool cue.

“I thought you might like it. It’s fitting, seeing as we’re officially teammates now.

” She plants a kiss on my mouth, a quick one, and it leaves me wanting.

It makes me want to scoop her up and carry her right out of here, go directly home, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

It makes me want to be alone with her. It makes me want to fuck the shit out of her .

But she pulls away quickly and flashes me a mischievous grin.

“What’s that look about?” I ask her, knowing she’s up to something. It’s her plotting face, like the one she makes when she’s thinking of rules to a game she’s just made up. And I’ll do anything she wants at this point, because this is the happiest I’ve seen her in weeks.

I glance around the pool table now that I can focus my thoughts on other things, now that I’m not so distracted by her ass in those high-waisted denim shorts, my name on her back. She’s out with the girls tonight—Spencer, Ally, Poppy, and even Emma are all standing around, watching Wren and I.

I nod towards Emma, surprised to see her out.

She smiles back at me, a genuine smile telling me she’s happy for Wren and I.

I silently hope it was Wren who invited her.

I could see them both as friends, if Wren could find it in herself to stop comparing, to stop competing when there’s nothing to compete for.

“Well … we’re waiting for our turn to join the board game tournament, and we need a sixth to make an even-numbered team for Wavelength.”

“Hmm … I don’t know if it’s fair to the other teams to have us on the same one,” I say. “We’ve never played together, Wren. We might be unstoppable.” I wink at her, and her smile widens.

“Good,” she says, fire igniting behind her eyes.

As suspected, Wren and I destroy at board game night. We’ve cleaned up in the last two games, and the next one is Dutch Blitz. I fear someone might get physically injured due to how competitive Wren and I are. And I was right, the two of us together are something else entirely.

We aren’t egging each other on in opposition anymore.

We’ve channelled our energy into encouragement and support, and it’s fucking addictive.

I can’t believe what we were missing all these years.

We spent so many years at each other’s throats, we didn’t even realize how much more powerful we are together.

The girls are all giggling about our last win and strategizing for Dutch Blitz when Wren excuses herself to use the restroom.

I’m left alone with the four of them, and I can sense they all have a million questions burning, eating them alive.

As soon as Wren is out of earshot they come at me, firing questions about Wren and I, what we are to each other.

“Okay, okay, slow down.” I glance sidelong at Emma, still unsure about whether she even wants to hear about this.

She smiles and nods, eagerly awaiting my explanation.

In another life, I hope Emma and I could have worked out.

Though I know deep down, in this and every lifetime, my heart will still belong to Wren. “Yes, Wren and I are back together.”

At that moment, Grady sidles up to our table, bringing refills all around. He places the glasses on the table and plants a kiss on the top of Spencer’s head, right on her auburn hair. The man worships Spencer.

“I’ll be damned,” he says, resting a tattooed hand on his hip. “Good for you, Hud. I don’t think any of us thought it would happen. But you held out hope.”

I nod, taking a sip of the fresh, cold beer in front of me.

“So romantic,” Poppy croons .

“Is she here to stay?” Ally inquires. The only question I’m not able to answer with certainty at this point. She quit her job, so she has nothing pulling her back to the city right now, but who’s to say she’ll be happy long term in Heartwood?

“Not likely,” Spencer supplies, earning herself a glare from Ally. “I’m just saying, with the amount of people hounding her to visit their galleries …” Spencer puts her hands up in a don’t shoot the messenger way.

“Right,” I say, not wanting to let on that bile is rising in the back of my throat, because Wren hasn’t told me anything about galleries, or people hounding her, or any of it. “The galleries.”

My cheeks heat, so I take a long, numbing gulp of my beer.

“I still can’t believe your post blew up like that,” Poppy says.

“Oh, I can. The painting was incredible. In front of the right audience, Wren would absolutely kill it,” Spencer explains, and I’m starting to put the pieces together.

The girls got together earlier at the apartment to get ready for their night out.

In fact, Wren has had them over to the apartment a few times since she unofficially moved into my place.

The painting she did at the swimming hole has been leaning up against the brick wall in the living room since she finished it, and Spencer must have posted it to her social media.

She has a decent following, having been a successful travel influencer before she stopped in Heartwood and decided to settle down with Grady .

“Can I see the post?” I ask, trying to school my expression and keep my tone neutral. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

“Oh sure.” Spencer slides her phone towards me across the table.

There’s a photo of Wren’s painting and the number of likes beneath it is staggering.

I scroll through the comments, skimming over them, mindful that Wren will be back from the bathroom any second now.

There are a few comments Spencer mentioned, asking if Wren would like to send some pieces for their galleries, and even more asking for commissions.

“She’s had a lot of interest from people who’ve worked with VanTek before.

Like interior designers, architects and stuff. It’s kind of wild.”

My mouth suddenly feels dry, even though I’ve almost downed half my beer already. This is amazing for Wren, I just can’t stop thinking about Spencer’s prediction that Wren will see this as her next ticket out of Heartwood. That my time with her is now limited again.

And there’s something nagging at the back of my mind.

Wren hasn’t told me about this yet. Memories of our youth come flooding back—the day she told me she had been accepted to a prestigious university in Vancouver and she was going.

I didn’t even know she had applied, and she was gone the following week.

I slide Spencer’s phone back towards her when Wren emerges from the hallway leading to the restrooms. I exhale a relieved breath when Spencer puts her phone back in her purse. Poppy has thankfully changed the topic to something else, and I have a moment to compose myself.

“Well, are we ready to wreak havoc at Dutch Blitz?” Wren says, sauntering over to our table .

“You bet,” I say, putting on a smile I hope looks genuine.

“Let’s fucking go!” she hollers, and we all stand to square up against the next team.

The girls and I win a plastic gold trophy to take home, even though for the last half of the tournament I was off my game. I’ve done my best to hide the sick feeling sitting low in my gut, and I don’t think Wren has noticed I was distracted all night.

She sure doesn’t seem to notice now as she and the girls all shriek when we win the final game of the night.

Wren pulls Emma in for a hug. I give Spencer and Ally two-handed high-fives, and then Wren is on me.

She jumps up and wraps her legs around my waist, throwing her arms around my neck.

She leans in and kisses me, finally kisses me the way I wanted to when I first saw her here tonight.

The stuffy, stuck-up version of Wren that cared so much about what other people thought about her?

That Wren is gone. In her place is the carefree, wildflower girl I fell in love with.

I would say I’ve fallen in love with Wren Miller again, but it wouldn’t be true. Because I never truly fell out of it.

Her tongue parts my lips and finds my own, and a hum vibrates from the back of her throat.

It’s all I need for the crashing waves within me to settle into calm ripples.

When Wren kisses me, everything else fades away.

I pull my lips from hers and kiss her cheek, trailing my lips from her mouth to her neck.

Wren slides down my front, setting her feet down on the floor once again, and turns her body slightly to look over her shoulder at the other girls.

“Hudson and I are going home for a private celebration.” She giggles, dropping her hands and grabbing one of mine to turn me and drag me out of the bar.

I don’t pick this moment to argue.