Page 66 of There's Pumpkin About You
“Sam,” I say lowly. “Did I hear what?”
His face scrunches up as he exhales. “It’s not a big deal, I just know that you’re going to turn it into one. She called and said she’s sick, that’s all. There was some kind of incident today in town and she had to go home. She said it’s to do with her being unwell.”
Everything around me slows and Sam’s voice sounds further and further away as the worry sets in. Millions of questions flood my mind as I jump from my seat, grabbing my jacket and car keys before pushing past my brother.
I knew it. I knew something was wrong the moment it passed nine this morning and Wren’s mischievous smile wasn’t brightening up my office.
At first I had spent the majority of time wondering if maybe it was what we did three nights ago. If perhaps the idea of becoming a little bit more than business partners and enemies had shaken her… or worse, disgusted her.
I had been pretty vulnerable, almost pathetically so. The alcohol still had some effect on me even though I had no longer felt its curling smoke around my blood. A part of me wanted to think it was the puppet strings that were controlling my words, letting them easily dance out of my mouth. I had assumed when I didn’t hear from her after she went home that she just maybe needed time. What the actual fuck happened?
My foot is almost floored as I drive recklessly over to the Sweet Cinnamon Café. I sloppily park outside, storming through the doors and easily ignoring everyone who stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind—which I have.
When Jamie sees me storming over, he begins backing up, hands up in surrender.
“No, man, come on. Last time you dragged me out of here, you ruined my sweater and the one I’m wearing now is?—”
“What the fuck happened?”
“With what?”
“Jamie, don’t act stupid. You know everything in this town. Tell me what happened to her.”
“Dude, nothing happened to her!”
“Then why is Sam telling me there’s something wrong with her stomach?”
Jamie sighs in relief, but still keeps his guard up. “Gus, she’s on her period. She’s fine. She just suffers from really bad cramps.”
Oh.
I let Jamie go, pacing across the length of the café with no concern for those who are watching me right now. I don’t even know what I thought had happened. Ideas have been bouncing around my head like a ping pong ball since this morning, and each makes sense less than the one before.
Period pains are the least of my problems, and yet my body refuses to relax, the idea of Wren in any kind of distress not sitting right with me. I wish she had told me. I could have been there for her. I could have helped her by…
Hold on.
“How the hell do you help a woman when they’re going through that?”
“Do I look as if I’d have been with enough women to know?” Jamie asks.
“You look like you know enough women to know,” I retort.
“Touché.”
“I just need to know how to help her.”
Usually, when there’s a problem involving somebody else, I struggle. I can never think of a way to console someone when they’re hurt or angry or sad. How are you supposed to know what one person needs when it all depends on who they are as a person? Does a kind person need that same kindness in return? What does that kindness look like—space? A hug? A pep talk? I’ve always been especially shit at those.
I want to be the kind of person that Wren needs, however that might look to her. If she needs space, it’ll probably kill me but I’ll move to the next goddamn town if that’s what it takes. If she needs a hug, I’ll never let go unless I need to use the bathroom. If she needs a pep talk, I’ll ask someone to teach me how. Whatever she needs, I will be.
We can pretend to hate one another as much as we want, but for me, it’s more like some twisted sort of foreplay that gets both of us riled up enough to temporarily forget that hot-blooded attraction that’s been there since the moment I watched her chastise my goat.
It’s not just those gorgeous hazel eyes, the softness of her face, or the way her smile makes something in my chest jump every time she directs it at me. It’s not just how she is the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. It’s not just that she is the first person in a while to treat me like I deserve the same amount of special treatment as some regular old Joe on the block. No, it’s the fact that she is so effortlessly herself, even when she’s trying not to be. It’s the fact that she is a whirling tornado of both chaos and order. She’s Wren, and it’s the fact I care about her enough to want that to be all she’ll ever be.
The fact that I like her enough to want that to be all she’ll ever be.
I grab him by the back of the jumper, ignoring his protests, and dump him into one of the chairs. The entire café’s eyes are on us, and for once, I’m glad. Let them stare. Let them see what I become when someone I care about is hurt.
