Page 20 of Goose's Wren

It almost breaks me.

I nod instead and step inside, finally letting myself set the bag down near the dresser.My hand brushes the top of it.

The notebooks inside are warm from my body heat, from being clutched too tight all night.I unzip it halfway just to make sure they’re still there as if they might have blown out while riding down the road.

The pages are full of things I never said aloud.Words I wrote when I was still naïve enough to believe someone like Goose might one day look at me and see me.

He was never supposed to see this version of me though.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling the give of the mattress beneath me and take another deep breath.Softer this time.

The flannel blanket smells like soap and sun.There’s no broken springs to dig into my back.No cigarette burns on the sheet.

It feels like a bed, not a trap.I glance toward the doorway.Goose is still there, eyes steady and unreadable as he watches me.

“You don’t have to stand there like I’m gonna bolt,” I say quietly, half a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.“I’m too tired to run.”

His mouth twitches with just a hint of amusement, but I’ll take it.“Good.I wasn’t planning on chasing you.”

A beat passes.

“If you need anything,” he says after a moment, voice dipping even lower, “you knock.I’m just down the hall.”

I nod again.“Thanks, Goose.”

His gaze lingers a moment longer, then he pushes off the door frame and walks back down the hall, boots thudding softly against the wood.A second later, I hear a door shut.

And just like that, I’m alone.But not alone in the way I’ve been.Not alone like left behind.Not alone, like forgotten.

Just...alone in the quiet of a safe place, with nothing threatening to crash through the door or demand something from me I don’t want to give.

I lie back against the bed and stare up at the ceiling.

The stillness feels strange at first.My mind tries to chase it off with fear.Tries to remind me that Tim might come looking, that this might all be temporary.

But somewhere deep down, where instinct still speaks through the fog, I know better.Goose won’t let anything happen to me here.

And for tonight, maybe that’s enough.

Goose

I lie in the dark, arms folded beneath my head, staring at the ceiling like it might offer me answers.

The room is quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock on the nightstand and the distant hum of the trees outside.

But inside me, it's chaos.

I should be sleeping.Hell, I should be doing a dozen other things besides thinking about the girl sleeping just down the hall.

Only she’s not a girl anymore.And the version of her that used to tag along behind Sparrow like a shadow, that’s not who she is now.

The woman I brought into my cabin tonight...she's got bruises on her cheek and scars I can't see yet.

She's fierce, even while trembling.She's exhausted, but still walking forward.And she’s in my house, in my space, wrapped up in a bed that used to be empty, and it’s messing with my head in ways I didn’t see coming.

I shift restlessly, jaw tight, every part of me too aware of her presence down the hall.

My body’s reacting like it hasn’t in years.Like something primal in me woke up the second I saw her bruised and stubborn in the parking lot, trying to pretend she wasn’t breaking apart inside.

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