Page 6 of Goose's Wren

The bay doors creak open, and I don’t even bother looking up.

“Shop’s closed,” I mutter, tightening another bolt.

Blade snorts.“Yeah, we can see that.And yet, here you are.”

I stay focused on the bike, jaw tight.I don’t have to explain myself.But the Prez isn’t one to let things slide.

“Guys said Wren dropped this off today,” Timber says casually, leaning against the workbench like he’s settling in for a conversation I don’t want to have.

I keep my tone even.“And?”

“And,” he continues, “you’ve been in here working on it for hours.”

I shrug, forcing myself to sound indifferent.“Just another job.”

The words taste like bullshit even as I say them.

Timber and Blade exchange a glance, and I don’t miss the way Blade’s lips twitch like he’s fighting back a smirk.They know me too well.

Timber chuckles, shaking his head.“Funny,” he says.“Back in the day, I always figured you and Wren would end up together.”

I freeze, my wrench halfway to the next bolt.That throws me.I glance up, frowning.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

Timber’s smirk deepens, and he looks at me like I’m the dumbest bastard alive.“Did you honestly never notice the way she looked at you?”

I stare at him, the words hitting something I wasn’t prepared for.Never noticed the way she looked at me?

I shake my head, scowling.“You’re full of shit.”

Timber shrugs, pushing off the workbench.“Maybe.Or maybe you were too damn blind to see it.Like some other things we won’t mention.”He claps a hand on my now tight shoulders, his tone lighter now.“Get some sleep, Goose.You’re wound too damn tight.”

Blade follows him out, but I stay frozen in place, my grip tight around the wrench.

Never noticed the way she looked at me?

What the hell is he talking about?

My mind flashes back, grasping for memories, but all I can see is Wren watching.

Always watching.

And for the first time since she rode into the shop earlier today, I start wondering what I might have missed that the other guys seem to think they know.

Wren

The sunlight wakes me before anything else does.It’s warm and almost gentle.

For a second, I pretend it’s a good morning.That the air smells like coffee and freedom instead of mildew.But then I move, and the ache in my cheek drags me all the way back to reality.

I suck in a breath as the throb sharpens behind my eye.He got me good last night.

Usually, Tim’s more careful.He prefers to bruise where no one else will see.But sometimes he slips, especially when he’s been using, and the world turns blurry for him.He doesn’t care who sees when he’s that far gone.

I sit up slowly, my back sore from another night on the hard floor.I seriously need to see if I can find an old mattress in the dumpster behind the thrift store in town.

Tim never came back after he stormed out last night, and a small part of me is grateful.The rest of me is just waiting for the next storm.

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