“Try marriage,” I mutter.
He tilts his head to the side. “I don’t know. Seems to cause nothing but trouble.”
“Marry a girl who wants you.”
Chuckling, he replies, “That’s your top tip, huh?”
I shrug. “It helps. Unless you want to immediately get a divorce, that is.”
“Nah, there’s only room for one fuckup in this family.” His voice is teasing.
I know he doesn’t mean it, but he’s not far from the truth. I’ve always been the one to screw up more than Mase and Felicity.
“Fuck off, prick.”
Mason laughs and gets off his stool. “Come on, train wreck.”
I slide off the stool and hold on to the bar as the world slopes to the side.
Mase takes my arm and mutters something. I don’t hear it, but I can imagine.
I stumble towards the door, my vision blurry and my heart lodged in my throat.
Fuck, I miss her.
Fifty-Three
Wren
I have the whole day to myself, and for once, I don’t want it.
It means more time to stress over Brody.
I ping a message to my group with Mila and Indie to see if they are still available today.
Wren: Tell me you guys are free today!
Indie responds first, letting me know she doesn’t have work. Then Mila adds that she can hang out too.
Wren: Excellent. Meet me at the river. ASAP.
Indie: I am not dying for your entertainment. I don’t care how bored you are.
Wren: We’ve rowed plenty of times, and no one is dead.
There’s a river running along the edge of town where you can hire rowboats and canoes. It’s pretty idyllic, and we’ve not been in ages. Soaking up some sunshine on the river with my girls is exactly what I need today.
Mila: We’ve got you—though I’m not dying either.
One time, I almost capsized the boat, and they’ve never let it go.
I grab my keys and phone—though that’s pointless since Brody isn’t calling me back—and head out. I’m the farthest away but only by a mile, so we all arrive around the same time.
Reversing into a parking spot at the pub that hires the boats, I notice Mila and Indie by the river, talking with Mr Porter who rents them out.
The sun is strong, but there’s a thin layer of cloud preventing it from being too hot. I push my sunglasses on top of my head and make my way over to them.
They’re both in denim jeans and T-shirts, same as me. We didn’t plan it. God, I remember when we used to coordinate our outfits when we were about eleven. How sad were we?
“You’re going to explain why we’re having an emergency row, right?” Indie asks.
Mr Porter walks off, shaking his head with an amused smile.
“We’ve all been so busy recently. I’ve barely seen either of you. I need some girl time.”
Mila nods. “Uh-huh. What’s Brody done?”
“Nope. His name is banned today.”
“He’s been a real dick then,” Indie comments.
I hold my finger to my lips, and she raises her palms.
“I’m rowing,” Mila says.
Holding on to the rail, I step into the rowboat and sit down. The girls follow, and Mila takes the oars.
I push us from the side of the river, and Mila does her thing, sending us gliding along the water.
“How’s the uni course?” I ask Indie.
She shrugs. “Long and involved.”
Indie is a private person; she doesn’t discuss much about her home life, but she does talk about uni and wanting a career counselling children. She’s smart as hell.
I’m desperate to know why she won’t talk about her family. Whatever secret she’s keeping, she’s still too scared to share it. Mila and I hope she will one day. Maybe when she moves out. The only explanation we’ve gotten is that things are complicated, that her parents aren’t like ours, and her family aren’t close.
I have no clue what that means.
Mila raises her eyebrows. “I’m kind of wishing I don’t have to go to uni in October. Do you think my parents will freak out if I take another gap year?”
“Yes!” Indie and I shout at the same time.
Mila, our perfectionist, needed a year before she moved on to higher education. She’s pretty much burned herself out at school, and she definitely couldn’t carry on for another three years at the same full-on pace. If she’s going to do something, she will give three zillion percent, but it often means that she’s exhausted. And she doesn’t like being away from her family or friends.
“Ugh, I knew it.”
“How’s the movie star, Indie?”
She shrugs, her eyes sad. “He sent me a pretty vague text yesterday saying he’s super busy and he will call soon. I don’t have a time frame for ‘soon’, so who knows when that call will be?”
I think they were together for a short time a year ago, but she won’t talk about it.
“I volunteer to come with you to LA and see him.”
“He can’t even reply on the same day. There is no way I’m taking an Atlantic flight to see him.”
She really is mad. They used to be inseparable. Anytime she couldn’t meet us, she was always with Spencer. It must hurt that they rarely talk now.
“Have you told him he’s being a shit friend?” Mila asks.
“No, because that would make me a shit friend. I knew before he left that I wouldn’t see as much of him. I would never hold him back. Acting is his dream.”
“Well, I hope you two know that if your dreams held you back from me, I would be calling you the fuck out,” I say.
The boat glides under the little bridge. Mila rows slower as we chat.
Indie rolls her eyes. “Of course, you would. I miss him a lot, but there’s nothing I can do right now. I’m hoping when he’s done filming, he’ll come home for a while.”
“You don’t think he’ll stay?” Mila asks.
She shrugs. “Who knows? Lots of British celebs end up moving to America for work. He said he would always want home to be here, but that was before he left. I’m not confident that he’ll be here for long.” Her voice is low and rough, like it hurts her to talk about it.
I’m not sure if she’s admitted to herself that she’s in love with him yet, but she definitely is.
“He’ll come back for you and his family, Indie. He has too many ties here,” Mila says.
“Yeah, maybe. I think his parents have been looking at houses out there. They invited me to dinner last week, and I saw some brochures and what looked like houses for sale.”
“Did you ask them?” I question.
“And admit that I snooped on the paperwork in their kitchen? No way.”
“Indie, I think if they left it lying in the kitchen, it wasn’t supposed to be a secret. It’s not like you were rooting through their drawers. Right?”
She scowls. “Obviously not!”
“Then, ask them, girl.”
Indie shakes her head. “It’ll be fine.”
It won’t be fine if he doesn’t come back for her. She might not admit it because she doesn’t like to show weakness, but she needs him. Indie has always been strong as steel but her eyes often give her away. There’s a lot more to her than she shows anyone, even me and Mila.
“You should just shag him,” Mila says, rowing steadily.
I turn my head to her.
She shrugs. “What? She should.”
I mean, I’m in total agreement, but he’s thousands of miles away, being a movie star and having models throw themselves at him. Indie is stuck here, waiting. Could she even afford to go over there?
She would never ask anyone, especially not him, but if Mila and I bought her a ticket and booked her a hotel…
“Can we talk about He Who Shall Not Be Named, please?” Indie asks.
“No way.”
“Mila’s boyfriend then?”
Mila turns her
nose up. Never a good sign. “Liam is still adamant that we’re meant to be together.”
“What a bastard,” I say sarcastically.
She deadpans. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. He’s good-looking and smart, and he treats me like a princess, but I can’t help feeling like there is something missing.”
“You want to be treated like a slut,” I say.
Indie laughs.
Mila glares. “That’s not it.”
“Why are you still with him if you’re not happy?”
“I don’t think I’m unhappy. Maybe I’m not trying hard enough.”
“What the fuck, Mila? You shouldn’t have to try so hard to be attracted to him. Jesus, look at me. I’m trying desperately to not be attracted to Brody, and it’s driving me insane.” I throw my hands up and shout, “Ahh! I’m not supposed to be thinking about him.”
“Not hard to see why you want under him,” Indie says.
“Yeah, well, that can’t happen anymore because he’s a complete prick.”
Damn it, I came out today to avoid this.
“How?” Mila asks. Her voice is lower, like she’s testing if I’ll tell all or remember that I’m supposed to be having a Brody-free day.
Do I really want to go down this rabbit hole? They’ll want all the details, and I’ll end up even more frustrated with him. The next time we talk, I need to be calm so I can get through to him.
“You cannot end it there, Wren,” Indie squeaks. “What’s he done?” Her eyes narrow. “Someone else?”
“No, nothing like that. Though, he can. We’re married but not really. He doesn’t want the divorce.”
“What?” they shout in perfect unison. Two pairs of bulging eyes stare at me.
“How have you waited this long to tell us?” Mila demands.
“Are you two together now?”
“No!”
They look at each other.
“Nope. I can’t deal. I will capsize us if you push the Brody talk.”
Mila’s mouth snaps shut, and Indie’s shoulders sag.
“Fine, but just for today,” Mila says.
I’m going to wake up to lots of messages, aren’t I?
“One last thing,” Indie says. “Go and talk to him when we’re done here.”
“Yeah, and then call us,” Mila adds.
Biting my lip, I groan. I’m going to have to.
We get back to the pub and get out of the boat. Outside on the benches is Reid Walker. He’s Mila’s neighbour and my old English Literature tutor. I think he’s Brody’s age, but he went to a different school to us. Anyway, he’s beautiful, and I totally got more tutoring sessions than I actually needed.
“Hi, Reid,” I say.
He looks up from the massive pile of papers he’s reading. A manuscript?
“Wren, how’s it going?” His dark eyes flit from me to Mila and back. “Hey.”
Mila and Indie mutter a hi.
“Good, besides getting accidentally married, you know.”
His brown eyebrows lift. “I don’t know, actually.”
Mila laughs. “No one does. She’s a bit of a wreck.”
“Thank you,” I say sarcastically.
He sits taller, now interested. “Who did you accidentally marry?”
“Brody Harris.”
Reid laughs. “Wow. How is Brody?”
“Not talking to me,” I reply.
Nodding, Reid clears his throat. “Well, good luck with that.”
“I will need it, thanks. We should go. It was good to see you.”
“You, too, Wren,” he replies, but his intense gaze is firmly on Mila.
Fifty-Four
Wren
I get home after two hours of gossiping on the river.
Mila and Indie are exactly what I needed today, and I feel ready to take on Brody again. Well, more ready than I was this morning.
When I get home, only Luke’s car is on the drive. Perhaps he’s come to shout at me this time.
I let myself in and hold my back straight, ready for a fight. Luke is usually crap at being mad at me, but then it’s not every day I marry his best friend.
He’s in the living room, lounging on a sofa and looking ahead at nothing.
That’s not good.
The TV is off, and the room is dead silent.
He must have heard me come in, but he doesn’t look up.
“Hey, Luke,” I say, taking a seat on the sofa.
His eyes slide to me, and he offers a small smile. “Hi, Wren.”
“What are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
Of course.
“I didn’t know you were coming over.”
“It’s my childhood home, Wren. I can come whenever I like.”
Rolling my eyes, I fold my arms to show him he’s being a twat. “You know what I mean. Did you want something, or are you satisfied with sitting in silence?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“What do you want to know? Ask me anything.”
“I thought you were smarter than this.”
Throwing my hands up, I remind him of who I am. “Last year, I got stuck in a baby swing at the park, and it took three people to get me out.”
His eyes turn dark. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I’m not perfect, Luke. Brody and I made a really dumb mistake but we’re fixing it. You were too hard on him.”
Sort of.
He’s all about ignoring it at the minute.
“Do you like him?”
“Everything is a bit fuzzy right now. We’ve been thrown together because of what happened, and I’m not sure if that’s affecting how I feel about him.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
“Honestly, Luke, I’m unsure. I’m attracted to him.” I wring my hands. “It’s too soon to know if it’s more than that.”
“Maybe it’s something you should find out. Both of you.”
“And you would be okay with that?”
He winces, looking away. “You’re not supposed to go there. It’s weird.”
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“Don’t take it personally. It would be strange seeing you together; that’s all.”
It would definitely be strange being with Brody. I can’t quite picture what it would look like to have more than no-strings sex with him.
“Brody and I are friends, Luke.”
He raises his eyes to me and tilts his head.
“No, seriously. When we left for Vegas, he was still barely tolerating me.”
“Well, a lot has changed since Vegas.”
Yeah, you do not have to tell me that.
“But not everything. Don’t worry, you won’t have to watch your sister and best friend be together.”
He nods, and his shoulders relax slightly, the stress of that image obviously disappearing. “Okay. Good.”
“Are you still mad at me?” I ask softly.
He rolls his eyes again. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Come on, Luke, you know it wasn’t all his fault. If anything, I’m to blame. He only started hanging out with me because I was talking to some guy. Brody thought I was dumb for chatting with a stranger I’d met at a bar. He didn’t want to tell you and piss you off, so he hung out with me that night. Then … well, you know the rest. Don’t be too hard on him, okay? He had good intentions.”
Luke purses his lips the way he does when he knows he needs to cool it, but he’s still too aggravated to calm the hell down.
My phone rings, cutting through the silence.
Brody.
Finally.
“Hello?” I say after jabbing my finger on the Answer Call button.
“Wren,” he breathes.
“Where are you?” The sound of the road is almost as loud as his voice.
“I’m on my way home from work.”
I press the phone harder against my ear. “On your way home? It’s early afternoon.”
“I can�
�t focus on anything but you,” he admits.
“Brody, are you going too fast? There’s a lot of noise.”
Luke looks over, eyebrows furrowing.
“I’m not over the limit, but I’m not hanging around. Can I come over? We need to sort this out.”
“Brody? Slow down or pull over. I can barely hear you.”
“You have no clue,” he says, ignoring me.
“No clue about what? Seriously, pull over!”
The road gets louder still, like there’s a second car and they’re racing.
“Wren,” he says.
But I don’t get to hear how his sentence finishes because the next sound from the phone is a deafening bang and the crunch of metal.
“Brody!” I scream. Shattering glass on the end of the phone cuts through my heart. “Brody! Brody?”
“What? Wren?” Luke shouts. He rips the phone out of my frozen hand. “Brody, talk to me.” Grabbing my arm, he tugs me to face him. His eyes are wide and alert. “Brody, can you hear me?”
“His car,” I whisper.
My body is cold, like I’ve been left out in the snow. Brody has crashed.
“Oh my God, Luke. Is he dead?” Dead. I gasp and grip the ache in my stomach. “Do something! Brody! He can’t die!” I scream.
I take a ragged breath as my lungs collapse.
Shaking Luke’s top, I beg him. “Help him! Do something!”
Luke is already doing something. He reaches down for his keys while talking to someone else. The emergency services.
My eyes burn with tears that roll freely down my face, and I double over. He crashed. How badly? He can’t die.
“Come on, Wren,” Luke shouts, tugging me along.
My legs take a nanosecond to catch up. I sprint out of the house and grab my bag as it has my phone in.
Luke opens the passenger door, and I leap inside. Gripping the handle, I try to breathe evenly. What if I just heard Brody die?
Getting in the car, Luke starts it in a heartbeat, and then we’re peeling off the drive. I gasp for breath.
“Don’t,” he growls. “He’s going to be fine.”
My body hunches with fear of what we’re about to find. We know he was on his way home from work. We know the route.
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