Page 53 of The Ex Project (The Heartwood #3)

HUDSON

Wren is violently ill.

We no sooner arrived back in Heartwood and my symptoms resolved than she started vomiting with such ferocity I’ve decided to take some time off work to take care of her.

She did that for me, no questions asked, even though it meant facing Claire.

She’s a mess. She’s sweaty and pale, and doesn’t smell great, but God, I fucking love her.

Even as I’m kneeling beside her while she leans over the toilet bowl, scooping her hair up and away from her face, I love her.

Even as she constantly fights against being fussed over, I love her.

Every version of her. The feisty, tenacious, sassy as all hell version of her.

The tender parts of her she doesn’t show anyone else.

The version of her when she’s curled up in a ball, breathing through an anxiety attack while I draw pictures on her back.

The version of her that loves to put on fancy heels and wear her stunning red lipstick, and the version of her every other day of the week that lives in denim overalls .

The sick and puking version of her.

I love it all, and I want all of it, forever.

Despite whatever hurdles come our way, we overcome them easier when we’re playing on the same team.

We haven’t had the chance to talk about the other night at the hotel—it’s not exactly a conversation you can have when one of you constantly has their head either hanging out of the car or leaning over a toilet bowl—but Wren showed up for me yesterday, the way a real partner would. The way a teammate would.

Although I’d like to think I’ve shown up for her, too, I haven’t. I’ve let my own insecurities get in the way of being there for her.

Wren lifts her head, finally coming up for air, the retching having subsided for now. I wipe her brow with a cool, damp cloth and make soft shushing sounds as she catches her breath.

“When is it ever going to end?” she whines. “This is hell.”

“I would be sympathetic, but you kind of did this to yourself,” I remind her. “I could call Claire, see if she has the miracle anti-nausea medication.”

“No,” Wren snaps like I knew she would. Humbling herself to Claire once in two days is probably enough. My mouth slides into a lopsided smirk.

“Then I guess you need to admit defeat, Miller. Stomach virus: one, Wren: zero.”

Wren groans and rolls her eyes, exasperated.

“You’re killing me, Landry,” she mutters, and I chuckle to myself, because even when Wren feels like she’s on death’s door, she’s got some fight in her.

“Are you done for now?” I ask, and she nods.

“I think so.”

“Let’s get you over to the couch.” I help her to her feet and let her lean on me as I walk her back into the living room.

She flops down on the brown leather sofa where I’ve set up blankets, Gatorade, her favourite sitcoms, and a garbage can within puking distance in case she can’t make it to the bathroom.

Once she’s settled in, I sit at the end of her feet, both of them resting on my thighs. I want to be close in case she needs anything. We sit, watching reruns of Friends until her eyes close and she dozes off.

She sleeps for about an hour before my phone vibrates in my pocket. I flinch, hastily snatching it from my pocket before Wren feels it and wakes up. She needs her rest.

Shelley’s name pops up on my screen in a text message.

SHELLEY

Excited for tonight! You knocked this project out of the park, now you can sit back and celebrate your accomplishments. The whole town will celebrate with you!

I stare at the screen, re-reading Shelley’s text, trying to figure out how I’m going to respond.

Today is the breaking ground ceremony for the arts centre, and I have to break it to her that I won’t be there.

She was going to let me do the honours, digging up the first shovel of soil, but there’s no way I’m leaving Wren right now.

“Is everything okay?” Wren’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. There’s some pink tinging her cheeks again, her lips have regained a rosy hue.

“Oh. Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say. “You should go back to sleep.”

Wren scoots herself up on the couch so she’s sitting and reaches for the Gatorade bottle next to her.

“I’m feeling a little bit better. I don’t think I got it as bad as you did. I’m just really thirsty.” She takes a big gulp of the juice before I reach out for the bottle.

“Careful, Miller. Small sips right now.” She nods, sets it down, and then she looks at me, her dark eyes searching, silently interrogating.

“Who texted you? You looked concerned.”

“It was Shelley,” I say, keeping my explanation short and vague. But Wren’s eyes go wide, and she sits up straight.

“Oh my God, today was the breaking ground ceremony.” She smacks her forehead. “I completely forgot. When does it start?”

“Six o’clock … but we’re not going, Wren. You’re too sick still,” I remind her. She’s only had one hour vomit-free, and that’s because she was sleeping. “I don’t need to be there for the ceremony, anyways. Shelley can do the groundbreaking.”

She sits back against the couch, and a look of acceptance crosses her features. And then she’s up, heading towards the bathroom.

I type my response to Shelley while I wait for Wren to return. I’m about to hit send when Wren comes back. She’s dressed in cropped, straight-leg jeans and a dark green T-shirt, hair brushed and falling in waves over her shoulders. She’s accentuated the returning colour on her face with some blush.

“Wren, we’re not—” I protest again, but she cuts me off.

“Nuh-uh. We’re not doing that anymore, Landry.

No more unilateral decisions. If we’re a team, then you need to trust me.

That goes for me saying I want to prioritize our relationship over my career, and it goes for me saying I want to show up for you at the ceremony today.

” Wren squares her shoulders. “We’ve both been too sick to address this, but I’m feeling a bit better now, and I need to get this off my chest.”

I turn so I’m facing where Wren is standing, and gesture for her to sit next to me. This feels like a sitting conversation, but she subtly shakes her head. She’s in her fighting stance, but she’s not fighting with me, she’s fighting for me.

“You think I’m giving up opportunities to pursue my art for you, but I promise you I’m not.

If I’ve learned anything over the last couple of months, it’s that I want to figure out what makes me happy.

You helped me remember who I am, who I always was, who I want to be.

I don’t care about getting validation from other people that what I’ve decided to do with my life is good enough.

” She braces her hands on her hips. “You want us to be a team? Then you need to treat me like an equal player. I’m sick and tired of everyone around me thinking they know what I want, or what’s best for me.

If you do that, well, you’re just as bad as my parents. ”

I reach out to her and grasp her fingers, tugging her towards me and onto my lap. I twirl the ends of her hair where they rest on her back.

“I’m sorry, Wren,” I say, hoping my voice portrays how sincere I am.

“It wasn’t about you. You are so magnificent.

You’re so out of my league. I thought it was only a matter of time until you saw it, too.

” I broke up with her the first time because I thought I was doing her a service, I thought I knew what was best for her.

That’s what I thought I was doing for her now.

But it wasn’t. I never considered her feelings at all because it was never about her.

It was about me, and my insecurities, my unwillingness to step outside my comfort zone and meet her on her level.

And my fear that she would see I was never going to live up to the Miller standard, so it was easier to end it on my own terms, before she could.

“I don’t need you to be perfect, Hudson. I need you to be perfect for me . And you already are. All you need to do is show up.” Wren leans down and places her forehead against mine.

“I can show up,” I whisper. That’s my strength, I just never saw it that way.

I can do it for her—I can be there, cheering her on, being the steady force in her life, grounding her when she needs it.

I tilt my head up and plant my mouth on her forehead in a tender kiss.

She pulls back suddenly, as if remembering something else.

“But you also need to let me show up for you,” she adds. “So, get up. We’re going to the groundbreaking ceremony.”