Page 15 of Vengeful Melodies

I pout, knowing damn well I won’t win this one.

Muttering under my breath, I walk to the bedroom where my clothes are. The room’s dark and cold, a stark contrast to the warm living room. I find the light switch by touch and sigh when the fluorescent light flickers to life.

“Put something cute on! We’re going to lunch after,” Wren calls through the door.

“Yes,Master,” I reply with exaggerated sarcasm.

“Good girl.” His voice turns serious. “And no more wasting time crying over men with small dicks who don’t know a labia from a pussy flap. Now move it. Daddy needs coffee.”

God, I love him.

He’s my diary. My therapist. My platonic soulmate. I wouldn’t be alive without him.

I rummage through the bags of my stuff and settle on a red tennis skirt, black crop top, and my white leather jacket—Wren’s birthday gift to me.

When I walk out, Wren’s already dressed in black jeans and a Heaven’s Guilt tee. I can’t help but grin.

“Trying to send a message with that shirt, darling?”

He bends down to talk to Jack. “Now son, Auntie Drey and I are heading out. No house parties. No chewing Daddy’s new Chucks. Be good, and I’ll bring you a pup cup.”

Jack stretches dramatically before heading back inside.

Wren straightens, eyes sparkling. “To answer your question—we’re meeting Grey later. He mentioned a job… something that might benefityoutoo. A marketing assistant gig. They’ll train you on the road. You’d ride with the band, do what you went to school for. I’d be a roadie alongside Grey. Jack can come too—he’s registered.”

My heart skips. “A job? On the road?”

“Two years. You’d get trained. We’d live on the bus, save money, and when it’s over—we move wherever you want. Together.”

He lifts my chin, eyes searching mine.

Two years. A career start. My best friend beside me. Comfort. Safety. And maybe even a new beginning.

“Can I have the afternoon to think about it?” I whisper.

“Of course. But I need an answer before I leave to meet Grey.”

He kisses my nose before leading me outside, past the truck and toward his prized possession—a black Mustang with red pinstripes that fade into wings. His first car. The one he kissed me in after a horror movie I can’t even remember now.

That kiss nearly ruined us—but we survived it.

We vowed: friends only. Forever.

“I know you won’t sell them, but what’ll you do with both cars if you take the job?” I ask, climbing in.

“I’ve found a storage place. Verano and Vara aren’t going anywhere. They’re part of me.”

“I get it. Some things are too important to lose.”

Like him. How do I let Wren go for two years?

But I already know the answer. I can’t.

As the radio plays, I’m lost in my thoughts—should I stay or leap into the unknown?

“You can let it all go,” Wren sings, matching Rainbow Kitten Surprise’s lyrics.

“You can let it all go… It’s called freefall,” I echo, our voices loud, messy, healing.