Page 5 of Vengeful Melodies (Heaven’s Guilt Revenge Tour Duet #1)

Chapter Five

Dreya

The low hum of traffic outside Wren’s apartment keeps me tossing and turning beside his snoring frame, his tattooed leg draped over my bare one.

You’d think after all our childhood sleepovers, I’d be used to his snoring—or outside noise in general.

That was all my childhood consisted of. We never lived in some quiet suburban neighborhood like I got used to with Bradley.

It was always busy roads or train tracks—something always moving, always loud. So why can't I sleep now?

Why does the man from the tattoo shop haunt my thoughts, drawing me toward him? But just as I try to follow, his face shifts into a nightmare—Bradley, screwing that nasty bitch on his desk, robbing me of something good.

Why her? Why couldn’t he be faithful to me? What’s so wrong with me that everyone I love eventually leaves, one way or another?

Wren mumbles in his sleep, throwing his arm over my stomach and pulling me close. His snoring now vibrates softly against the back of my neck. He sleeps like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I envy that.

I envy the tattooed bastard too. I wish I could fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow, without overthinking everything. Without the nightmares.

“Oh Grey… you sure you can…” Wren murmurs in his sleep, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he’s dreaming about one of the beautiful men we ran into today.

Hopeless. That’s what we are. We’ll probably never see them again… and yet part of me wishes we would.

Carefully, I slide out from under Wren’s limbs, trying not to wake him. He deserves to rest—especially after everything I dragged him through today, and that punch he threw on my behalf.

Jack’s nails click across the hardwood as he rounds the corner—Wren’s white and brown speckled bulldog, eyes full of mischief as he makes a beeline for the cracked bedroom door.

“No, Jack—” I whisper, but he’s already charging like there’s a mountain of treats waiting behind that door.

I just manage to catch him before he barrels in.

“Your dad will kill us both if you wake him,” I whisper, dragging him back. “Trust me, the man in his dream is beautiful .”

I shut the door fast before Jack gets any funny ideas, and rub behind his ears. “Come, hang out with me while I job hunt. I won’t be taking up you and your dad’s space for long.”

We move to the beaten-up couch—patched in random places, everyone a story. I grab my laptop from under the coffee table, open it, and instantly regret it.

Bradley’s smug face stares back at me from the screen. His smile makes my skin crawl. What did I ever see in him? There's nothing about him I’d want in my future kids—not his looks, and definitely not his character.

I was clinging to the idea of love, not the reality.

Maybe Wren was right. Maybe I’ve diluted myself so much that I lost who I was. Maybe I was never meant to stay with Bradley.

Jack nudges into my side as I scroll past dozens of photos, stopping only at one—me and Wren at graduation, holding a portrait of Jackson. I set it as my new background, ignoring the bile still rising in my throat. I’ll delete the rest tomorrow.

I dive into job applications. I don’t know how many I fill out—forty, maybe more—just focusing on places within walking distance. No car. No bus fare. Just me and my tired determination.

By the time morning light creeps through the curtains, I’m half-asleep at the keyboard, Jack curled against me, and application #41 blinking on my screen.

Sleep finally takes me.

Soft nudges stir me. I blink open to see Wren’s crooked grin just before the flash of his camera blinds me.

Jack’s belly-up beside me, snoring just like his dad, and my laptop is now sideways on the floor.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Wren teases. “Didn’t think you were the type to sneak out of a man’s bed just to snuggle his dog, Jupe.”

“He’s a cuddler. Like his dad.” I yawn. “What time is it?”

Jack huffs as he rolls off me, dropping beside Wren with dramatic puppy eyes.

“I didn’t tell you to move, drama queen,” I mutter, stretching. “I was thinking of picking up those concert tickets today—maybe sell them to help with bills?”

“Nope. Not happening.” Wren’s voice is firm. “I’ve got everything handled. We’re going to that concert. You’re gonna find some sexy tattooed man, and you’re gonna have one night of rough, filthy, no-strings-attached, soul-cleansing sex. Got it?”

He pops his hip out, inked hand on it, watching me like a hawk.

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 benefit you too.

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.

We pull into the drive-through of a little coffee shop. Wren orders with practiced ease.

At the window, a sweet old man lights up. “I knew I recognized that voice! Who’s this lovely lady?”

“Dreya, sir. His better half and best friend,” I reply, cheeky.

“She’s both,” Wren chuckles. “This is the one I always get the extra coffee for.”

“Well, this one’s on the house then. Come see us again, you two.”

I barely hold in the tears. He reminds me of the dad I wish I had.

Coffee in hand, we arrive at the radio station. My nerves spike. Wren smirks devilishly.

“What if we fake date? Rub it in Bradley’s face?”

“Fake dating? What is this, one of your steamy romance novels?” I tease.

He laughs but quiets. “I’d worship you if I could… but I won’t risk losing you again.”

I nod. “One night was enough.”

As I reach for the door, Wren tuts. “I open doors, woman.”

He struts around the car, opening it with flair.

Inside the station, we meet the host. Wren wraps me in his arms—our story seamless.

When asked to say something live on air, I don’t hesitate.

“Bradley, if you’re listening… I hope she was worth it.”

I hope it eats him alive.

Wren grins as we leave. “Ready to start living?”

“Pizza first.”

“Let’s feed you before I charm Grey.”

Back at his place, the pizza’s demolished, and the only thing left is my answer.

He looks at me. “So, Jupey…?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “If Grey gets us the job—I’m going.”

He lifts me in the air, spinning me with joy.

“Let’s hope my charm works.”

I clean up while he gets ready, catching a glimpse of his bare ass before boxers go on.

“Sexy or professional?” he asks.

“Sexy and professional,” I reply.

He grins. “God, you get me.”

As he tries on outfit after outfit, I drift off—exhausted, nervous, and quietly, maybe for the first time in a while… hopeful.