by Knox, Abby
“Fine,” says the bailiff, readying his phone to tap in the order. People quietly grumble about how lunch is going to take even longer to arrive. “Split pea soup with cashew cream and avocado chocolate pudding.”
I turn to look at him, shocked. He remembered.
“And if anyone has a problem with that, we can step outside.”
I follow his gaze to Juror Number 7, who is shooting us both with lasers coming out of his eyes.
It’s so stupid that now is when I start to cry, but I can’t stop it. My eyes leak; it’s out of my control.
“Is that… is that not what you wanted?”
He can’t honestly be asking me this right now. My crying turns to laughter. I have no words.
When the food arrives, I devour everything in a few hot minutes. It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in months.
When I finish, I look up and see that Sam has barely touched his food because he’s been watching me eat the whole time.
“Good?” he asks. I nod. His mustache twitches; I think he might be smiling. Yes, it’s a smile.
It’s that moment when I think—no, I know—I’m in love.
He thinks I’m the most annoying person in the world, and I’m sitting here deadass sliding into love. What the hell am I going to do?
Chapter Five
Sam
Maybe I took it too far today. Maybe I showed that I’m a little bit attracted to Wren by putting my foot down at lunch.
However, I surely do not give two tiny shits what the other jurors think of me. My main concern is Wren getting too attached to someone who’s no good for her.
I’m just protective is all. She needed food—nutritious, filling food. It isn’t fair for her to eat lettuce and bread while the rest of us get what we want. If the system needs a jury, then the jury members’ needs have to be met while we’re doing our duty. Seems simple to me.
Problem is now, I’m afraid Wren will take this as a signal that I have feelings for her.
Maybe I do, in a very basic, primal kind of way. I’m a man, alone, who hasn’t been with a woman in a very long time. But mostly, I believe, it’s a protective thing happening here. She’s the smallest and thinnest of our little quarantined herd. I’ve always had a soft spot for the small, vulnerable creatures.
I know I shouldn’t go comparing her to the runt of the litter, but she brings out that same instinct in me: must protect her.
I glare at the romance novel I brought with me that now sits on the desk in my hotel room. It’s just putting more ideas into my head. Angrily, I chuck it into my suitcase. I don’t want to see that picture in my room anymore, a constant reminder of the girl I’m forced to sit next to every day. Definitely ain't gonna read that now.
Never mistake a soft spot for compatibility.
First of all, she’s way too flighty for me.
Second, she’s young enough to be my daughter and that’s putting it lightly. Not quite young enough to be my granddaughter unless you start counting at age fifteen.
Third, there must be some rule about jurors fraternizing.
Fourth, I’m a sour old curmudgeon and she deserves someone who can keep up with her. Someone who makes her laugh, makes her smile, someone who shares her complicated vegan lifestyle.
I can’t be any of those things for her.
Staring at the ceiling, I think about what I want for dinner. I’m not hungry; nothing sounds good to eat. But I have to occupy my mind somehow. I try to keep my mind on task, but it always wanders back to her. The way she looks at me, the way she beams and shows all her teeth, like she never met a camera she didn’t like. The way I can feel her eyes follow my ass around the room when I get up to stretch my legs in the jury room.
A soft rapping on the door to the adjoining room startles me. Betty? I think that’s her name. What the hell could she possibly want?
Pull yourself together, man. Maybe she’s in trouble.
I pull open the door and it’s not Betty staring back at me. It’s Wren. Dressed in nothing but that long, soft sweater from the other day.
She looks distressed. “Wren. What is it? Is Betty OK?”
As expected she doesn’t answer the question. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”
“Ma’am?”
“Cared enough to stand up to people on my behalf. Like, ever.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, self conscious about the fact that I probably have “hungry breath.”
“It was just lunch. You needed to eat.”
“I wanted to say thank you. Properly.”
I look over her shoulder. “Where’s Betty?”
With a completely deadpan expression, Wren says, “She tried to sell me her oils, and I smothered her with a pillow.”
That earned her a laugh.
I think I love this woman.
My shoulders shake as I try and fail to get my guffaws under control. She returns my laughter and we stand in the doorway, both half-dressed, laughing idiots.
“I actually bribed her to switch rooms.”
My laughter disappears, replaced by irrational hopefulness. “Bribed her with what?”
“I agreed to host a party.”
“Oh lord.”
Wren winks at me. “Joke’s on her though. I don’t have a sofa. Or chairs, really. Basically a mattress on the floor and two bean bag chairs.”
I shake my head and smile, my desire to laugh outweighed by my instinct to move her out of whatever hovel she’s living in and into my house. She deserves real grown-up furniture.
“Now can I come in?”
My resolve weakened, I let her in and close the doors.
Wren sits down on the bed.
“D’jeet dinner?”
She nods. “They took us to Chili’s again. How about you? Why do you keep disappearing at dinner? Don’t you like my company?”
The opposite of that, darlin’. I have to get away from you as fast as possible at the end of the day to clear my head. And I had to make a run to the drug store for supplies. It felt presumptuous, buying condoms, but it also seemed prudent. I’ve always been a little bit of a prepper for all scenarios. You just never know.
“I’m not used to being cooped up with people. If I can’t be outside, then I just gotta get away.” A peek at my shirtless body in the mirror tells me I should probably get away from steak and potatoes soon, too.
“I think you’re just a crabby-pants.”
“That’s me.”
“So what do you wanna do now?”
“Sleep.” My reply comes with a grunt as I saunter over to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I leave the door open and she follows, leaning against the doorframe, watching me.
“Come on, man. It’s 8:30. You’re in the prime of your life. You must want to do something.”
My mouth runs away with me, even as I’m brushing. “Little girl, the things I want to do would send you running for the hills.”
“I ain’t a little girl. I’m plenty old enough to hear about grown up things. Whether you like me or not, we’re friends now. You can be honest.”
Rinsing, spitting and cleaning up buy me an extra few seconds to think carefully about what I want to say next. Wren’s forwardness must be rubbing off on me. “You’re right. I’ll probably jerk off and then go to sleep.”
Now it’s her turn to laugh in shock. The pleasant sound of her husky laugh is a balm to my prickly soul, and it sinks down under my skin. I use the convenient excuse of needing to condition my facial hair to stay bent over the sink and not make eye contact with her.
“The way I see it, we need to keep an eye on each other. Each of us needs to make sure the other one is eating and sleeping and staying entertained,” she says.
When finished in the bathroom, I lean my backside against the counter and gaze down at her. She’s so wide open with me. Wren brings out every protective urge in me, but the thing I need to protect her from most is me. I have nothing to offer her but my simple, old, grumpy ass.
<
br /> The undeniable pull, though. That’s the problem. I feel it like a tangible piece of rope between us. I can’t stay away from her no matter how hard I try, and she sure as hell seems to want to be close to me. I want so badly to touch her, pull her into me, feel those soft lips on mine.
“I’ve been doing my best to scare you away. Why aren’t you scared?”
Wren fidgets with the hem of her sweater. She might not realize her pulling at the edge is tempting me to look at the gap between her lovely thighs, thinking about how they might feel wrapped around my hips, pulling me close. She shakes her head when she answers but does not look up at me. “Compared to the life I’ve lived, you’re the least scary person I’ve ever met.”
“Because I remind you of the dad you never had?”
She scoffs. “No, because you remind me of a human being.” Her eyes connect with mine, and they’re full of fire.
We stare at each other for a moment, each of us holding one end of this invisible rope. Which one of us is going to pull on it?
Turns out, the answer is neither.
We both simply let go, and everything comes together at once.
I lean down just as Wren steps close to me. Our lips meet in the middle. My hands cradle her face; hers clutch my arms. The softness of this first kiss pulls at every one of my heartstrings. Her full lips feather against mine, leave me wanting more. Pulling away from her, even for a moment, feels like a stab in my chest, but I have to regain control. Though her sweet taste remains on my lips, ending the kiss might be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
She deadpans, “That’s one way to pass the time until we go to sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” I say stupidly, not able to think of anything else.
Her eyes narrow. “What are you sorry for? That was a good kiss.”
“Good?”
She smiles. “Yeah. It was nice.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Sam. You know you’re a good kisser, stop it.”
I puff my chest out in mock confidence. “You’re right; I am a good kisser.”
Wren playfully pinches the arm she’s holding. “Then why don’t you kiss me properly?”
I walk past her, my conscience getting the better of me, and I sit down on the edge of the bed. “I just like to take things slow. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She sits down next to me and takes my hand. I look down and see her running her small hand up the back of it, slowly smoothing her fingers up my forearm, tracing my veins and sinews. The fire inside me builds with every touch. “Sam. You’re not going to hurt me. For proof, would you like to see the size of my vibrator?”
“Wren. God, no. That’s not what I meant.”
She giggles and it’s all I can do to keep from laying her flat on her back and covering her body with mine.
“Does me talking about my vibrator make you uncomfortable?”
I sigh. “What I meant was, if things go too far, I could end up hurting your feelings. Or vice versa. I’m not good at relationships.”
Wren pulls her legs up to rest her chin on her knees and wraps her arms around her ankles, making herself resemble a little bird even more. An especially rare one, with wide, violet eyes and shiny, silvery-lavender hair. “What happened to you, Sam? What did you do to yourself to make you think you can’t enjoy life? How long are you gonna beat yourself up for calling off a wedding?”
I look down at my hands. “I broke her heart. It’s what I deserve.”
Wren’s toe nudges my leg. “You would’ve broken her heart worse eventually if you’d gone through with the wedding, though, right?”
“I don’t know,” I grit out. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
My eyes study the backs of my hands, which hang limply between my knees, my elbows resting on my thighs. “What do I have to do to shut you up so I can go to sleep?”
“Kiss me again.” Her hand grips my arm and my breathing becomes shallow.
“No, ma’am.”
“Why not?”
“Because it ain’t proper.”
She stares at me like I’m crime scene evidence and she’s a forensic scientist, trying to find a clue.
“Why is it not proper?”
“Because I don’t want to take a woman I just met to bed in a hotel room just because it’s fun.”
This causes her to sit up, wide-eyed.
“Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re one of those purity types.”
“Nah, that ain’t it. I was just raised to believe that a man should protect a woman’s reputation.”
“A little late for that, Sam. I’m a mess.”
I turn and cover both her warm hands with mine, which has the added advantage of keeping her caresses at bay. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. That’s a part of the whole protecting a woman’s reputation thing. I have to stop you from running yourself down. It’s not allowed.”
Her cringe makes my heart squeeze and I don’t know what to say.
“I don’t need your protection. I just want… I don’t know… I just like to be close to you—is that wrong?”
I reply weakly, “I’m too old. You shouldn’t be wasting your life on an old man.”
The look in her eyes pains me. “Now who’s running themselves down?”
But she needs to be reminded of the truth. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Why would you want to get involved with me?”
She chuckles. “Well it ain’t your personality, that’s for sure.”
Damn if that doesn’t make me bust out laughing. Again.
“Wren, the more you make me laugh the more I want to kiss you again.”
Her hand slips out of mine and works its way up my thigh. “Then calm your tits, man. Maybe all we need here is some company during these unbearably boring evenings.” Her lips land on my cheek, just in front of my ear.
Damn. That feels good.
“What if we develop feelings for each other? Then what? I’m supposed to take you home to my ranch?”
She murmurs in my ear, “Maybe. Or maybe all I want is you to hold me and tell me everything is going to be OK.”
I turn to face her. “I can do that.”
“Prove it.”
So I do. I see no harm in simply holding her until she falls asleep.
Moments later she’s wrapped up in my arms, her head nested in the crook of my arm.
She cuddles up close to me and stretches one arm across my middle, pulling herself in closer. The noises she makes are kinda sweet. Like she’s settling in for a long winter’s nap after a tough day, and she’s found her favorite spot. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was a wispy fairy, or a flower I have to be careful not to crush.
Wren may look like and feel like a flittering little creature, bouncing from one thing to the next, but it seems to me that what she needs a soft place to land. She needs a strong, secure tree in which to build her nest. I can be that for her. I want to be that for her. A lesser man might win her heart and try to control all that boundless energy. Or lasso it to suit his own needs. Put out her flame, or redirect it to make him more and her less.
As I lie with her in my arms and listen to her breathing, feeling her warm breath against my chest, I know I can’t deny the truth. I can’t stomach the idea of anyone else being this close to her. Not physically, not emotionally.
I’m not an emotional man, but I know right now that’s about to change.
Wren is about to change everything for me.
Chapter Six
Wren
I wish I was still with Sam, lying in his bed, nestled in his arms. The feeling of him kissing the top of my head and petting my hair as I cozied up to him resulted in the most life-giving sleep I’ve ever had.
Sitting in this courtroom, enduring another day of testimony, I have to bite back a smirk when I remember this morning.
I woke up just like I fell asleep—warm and surrounded by Sam. It was perfection.
Which was rud
ely interrupted by Officer Max knocking on the door.
“Time to go. Shuttle is downstairs. Be ready in ten minutes.”
I shot up in bed and shook Sam by the shoulder. “Sam, time to wake up.”
Should be no surprise he sleeps like the dead.
He made a weird grunting noise and opened one eye. “Good morning, darlin’.”
“Did you not hear Max knocking on the door? We gotta go.”
“Not before I have my good morning kiss,” he said and pulled me down so I was face to face with him. Our lips met again. The kiss was warm and sweet, slightly longer than the one we shared last night. His soft mustache tickled me.
“Thank you for helping me get to sleep,” I said.
He petted my hair. “Thank you for the best night’s sleep ever. And for the nicest wake up.” Another peck on the forehead.
“We make a pretty good team,” I said.
“Not a very good team for getting ready on time, but a very good team for lounging.” My heart noticed his sexy morning voice.
“Lounging is better. Getting ready is overrated.” I hunkered back down in his arms and thrilled at the feel of his hands skimming over my back.
Maybe his half-awake state was to blame when he drawled out, “Once I’m retired, we can lie in bed all day.”
I swallowed. That there was future talk. Sam’s body seemed to freeze right then too, as if we’d both caught the meaning of what he just said.
“Right. Well. Better get up, I guess, before we’re in contempt of court.” His tone turned abruptly to all-business. But we both knew what he’d just said.
And now here I sit in this cold, imposing courtroom, and shit is really starting to get real.
All morning we listen to more witness testimony about this couple’s marriage, and it’s nothing but misery. The arguments that spilled into the street. Testimony from police who were called to investigate domestic disputes. The defense tries to build a case that the husband had been abusive, thereby allowing us to believe she had acted in self defense.
But despite everything we hear, I don't see any signs of physical or emotional abuse. All I see is an unhappy marriage.