Would he break it off? I couldn’t help but hope that he would, and at that moment, I learned three things about myself I hadn’t known before.
I was possessive, selfish, and completely irrational.
Then again, maybe these feelings had been born rather than freed. I’d only known Wren for less than a day, and already, I could feel myself changing, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was for the better.
I had only just managed to school my features when he glanced over his shoulder. “You going to help or not?”
As casually as I could, I asked, “Shouldn’t you call your girlfriend—or whoever you’re buying that for—to help you?”
He turned away from the rack with a scowl so fierce that I involuntarily took a step back and then cursed myself for cowering.
“Girlfriend?”
“Or whoever,” I repeated.
His expression evened out, and then he chuckled as he rubbed his lips with his forefinger. “I was just talking about fucking you not even an hour ago. What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”
“Men are dogs,” I pointed out with a shrug.
“Not. Me,” Wren growled as if I should have known.
I stared back at him in disbelief while wondering if I’d offended him or if ‘pissed off’ was just his default. “I just met you.”
He looked me up and down and not in the slow, appreciative way I pretended not to like. “So you did.” Turning back to the rack, he angrily ripped an olive green coat from it. A lady in the next aisle gasped when the hanger flew over her head from the force and landed two aisles over. I tucked my lips in to stifle my laugh at the way her already magnified eyes had grown even larger thanks to the bifocals perched on her nose. She was still blinking rapidly in disapproval even after Wren mumbled an apology and turned to me.
“Let’s go,” he said between clenched teeth.
I eyed the coat strangled in his fist as he stalked away. It was even uglier than the orange one, and I giddily hoped whoever Wren was shopping for was as hideous as that coat.
I struggled to keep up with his long, determined strides to the cash register. Once we reached the front, I stood silently as he grabbed a gray ribbed beanie with a black and gray fuzzy ball on top from a bin along with a thick, black scarf and matching gloves. I nodded my approval and decided to keep them for myself the moment he wasn’t looking.
The cashier cheerily greeted us both. Of course, Wren only rudely managed a nod while remaining tight-lipped. I offered a halted wave, and my smile was even more awkward as we waited for him to ring up the items.
“That will be $114.99,” the cashier stated. Wren reached into his pocket for his wallet and paused when he came up short.
Shit.
“What the fu—” His eyes cut to me.
I considered denying stealing his wallet to satisfy my jealous heart, but his hard expression told me there wasn’t a chance he’d believe me.
Shamelessly, I reached into my pocket, removed two hundred dollar bills from his wallet, and handed it to the suddenly nervous cashier.
“When did you—”
“While we were getting shot at.”
The cashier paused from counting my change, but neither of us paid him much mind.
“You save my life, and then you steal from me?” Wren questioned in a low tone. I should have been afraid, but he’d vowed not to hurt me, and I had the sense he didn’t break his promises easily—certainly not over a few bucks.
“No, Renny. I saved your life so I could steal from you.”
The cashier interrupted Wren’s reply by stuttering the amount of his change. I snatched it before Wren could even react and tossed him his wallet while pocketing the cash. I then bounced out of the store thinking how well I’d eat with eighty-five bucks plus the Benny I’d already pilfered.
I hadn’t even remembered taking his wallet until I’d dug through my rucksack after my shower, hoping to find a cleaner shirt. I couldn’t help wanting to know as much as I could about him, so before I came downstairs, I rummaged through it. Sadly, other than cash, there had been nothing inside but his license and a picture of a young dark-haired woman so beautiful it almost hurt. She wasn’t alone in the photo, either. A little boy, maybe eight or nine, with almost identical features was sitting next to her. It didn’t take a genius to know the boy was Wren and the woman he’d been smiling up at with such love and adoration was his mother.
His license was interesting, too, though not nearly.
Wren Joseph Harlan had brown hair, blue eyes (sometimes), and was born August 31st…1995.
My stomach twisted into knots almost as tight as it did the first time I did the math. He’d be eighteen soon.
I didn’t like that the age gap between us was more than I’d thought. I’d only turned fifteen a few days ago. I wondered if Wren would have made that pact with me if he knew just how much younger I was or that I wasn’t even old enough to drive much less have sex.
“Give me my money back,” Wren demanded when he finally joined me on the sidewalk.
“Why? You obviously don’t need it. You’re just upset that I bested you,” I boasted with a wink.
“Lou…”
“Renny.”
He blew out air, and without a word, stalked across the parking lot with the shopping bag in hand. Once we settled inside the still-warm truck, I studied him. He didn’t look as pissed as he was a second ago. In fact, he seemed completely relaxed.
“You know she’s going to hate it, right?”
“Hate what?” he said as he started the truck and backed out slowly.
“The coat. It’s ugly as all hell.”
“Good,” he said with a smirk. “Because the coat is for you.”
I tried to speak and choked on my tongue instead. “For me?” I squeaked.
“For you,” he confirmed.
“Well…” Say thank you! “Why’d you have to pick the ugliest one?” I grumbled instead. I knew I sounded ungrateful as hell, but it was better than swooning, for fuck’s sake.
He peered over at me in disbelief. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”
“Would you rather I lie?”
At his black look, I shrank back into my seat. He quickly closed his eyes and silently cursed. When he opened them again, his eyes were blue, but the scowl was gone. “Please don’t.”
I felt my eyebrows bunch and my heart crack just a little. “You have problems with trust, don’t you?”
“Everyone does. Some have trouble giving it, and some have trouble keeping it. We all learn that the hard way.”
I laid my hand on his arm and felt the muscles bunch underneath. “I have the feeling this will be the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I trust you.”
I didn’t miss his wince or the way his hands strangled the steering wheel, but I chose to chalk it up to grumpiness. Maybe he didn’t really want a friend, but he could sure use one.
Neither of us spoke the entire way back to Shane’s house. It had started to snow again, and I wondered—no, panicked at the thought of spending another night trapped in his house. When Wren turned down the street, my heart skipped a beat when I noticed the police cruiser and an all too familiar white Ford sedan with blue writing on the side.