Page 106 of The Holiday Clause

People began to look at them and whisper behind gloved hands. “Can we discuss this later?”

“No. You said we would discuss it next time we saw each other. You had all day yesterday to come up with excuses.”

“Yesterday was a bad day.”

“You think you’re the only one with bad days?”

“I didn’t say that. Of course not.”

When people actually turned to gawk at them like they were part of the entertainment, he shook his head. “Fuck this. Enjoy your miserable life chasing him down in the woods, because you and I both know he’s never going to change. I thought you were smarter than that, Wren. I honestly did.”

The high school marching band clanged their cymbals, and she flinched, the jarring sound loosening the tears in her eyes. “Wow, Soren.” She blinked, his words hitting like physical blows. “Thanks a lot.”

“No, you don’t get to cry. Not when this was your choice.”

Never before had he spoken to her in such a way. She stood speechless.

“I’m not a consolation prize, Wren. I’m not your backup or your insurance plan or whatever you thought.”

“Soren, I never thought that!”

“Yeah, you did. At least be honest with yourself. I was always the second choice.” He scoffed, the sound bitter and cutting. “Iused to think you deserved so much better than Greyson, but you know what? I’m the one who deserves better than you.”

His words sliced through her like shards of glass. She didn’t know what to say. She just knew she needed to get out of there—now.

She shook her head, blinking furiously against the sting of tears. “You’re right,” she said, voice steady despite the earthquake in her chest. “You deserve better. But so do I, which is why I’m done with all of you.”

He froze, his anger faltering. “Wait—what?”

“I’m done, Soren.” Her voice cracked. “Done pretending any of this is romantic or hopeful or even remotely close to a healthy relationship. I’m not someone you get to use to shore up your future. I’m not even sure why I let the three of you decide so many things about my past.” She shook her head, disgusted with all of them. “I’m just…done.”

“Wren, wait, what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. For all your charm, you’re equally complicated, and frankly? Exhausting. I’m finished with all of you. Enjoy the parade.”

Before he could stop her, she slipped into the oncoming shuffle of Girl Scouts and crossed the street.

“Wren, wait!” he called, but she kept her head down and kept moving.

She needed to reach somewhere private before tears streamed down her wind-chapped cheeks. Weaving through the crowd, praying others didn’t notice her, she sprinted against the current of dancers and pedestrians until disappearing through a narrow alley beside the Wilde Kettle.

The muffled thrum of the parade echoed in the distance as she caught her breath and wiped her eyes. Wren pressed her back against the cool brick wall and sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees as she tried to hold ittogether. The cold seeped through her coat, the rough brick catching strands of her hair, but she barely noticed through the flood of emotion.

Silent. Shaky. Crying in an alley like some tragic heroine, she tried to ground herself. But Soren’s cruel words overwhelmed her, each accusation a dagger to her already wounded heart.

She waited in the alley until the sounds of the parade faded then went to her aunt’s store to find her dad. Bodhi announced he wanted chowder for supper. Knowing the chowder house served as one of Greyson’s regular spots, Wren opted to sit that one out.

“You and Aunt Astrid go. I’m not hungry.”

She minded the store for Astrid until six, then locked up. People were already gathering around Town Square for the fireworks display. Wren didn’t have the strength to sit in a sea of cuddling couples hunkered together under blankets while sharing hot cocoa, so she decided to go home.

She reached her car when the first boom crackled into sparkles above. Theoohsandahhsof onlookers echoed from all corners of Hideaway Harbor. Wren seemed the only one not enchanted by the show, perhaps because she had no one to share it with.

Another burst exploded above like war drums dressed in red and gold glitter. She caught the reflection in her windshield but didn’t look back. The rich aroma of cinnamon and smoke hung heavily in the frigid night air as she rummaged in her tote for her car key.

“Wren.”

Her whole body seized at the sound of Greyson’s voice, her blood freezing. The thought of another Hawthorne confrontation threatened to shatter her completely.