Page 123 of Wild Then Wed
I shake my head. “Eventually, I didn’t even recognize who I was around him anymore. So I ended it. And I guess I just haven’t wanted to do that again.”
His hands grip mine tighter again, but he hasn’t let go. We’re still gliding—slow and clumsy—but forward all the same.
There’s a beat of quiet between us, just the sound of blades carving the ice and some Christmas song playing faintly from the speakers overhead.
Then Sawyer says, “You know that isn’t true, right?”
I blink, pulling my gaze from the rows of string lights lining the rink. “Know what isn’t true?”
My eyes scan the crowd. A little girl in a bright pink coat slips and belly-laughs on the ice while her dad pulls her back to her feet. A couple glides past us holding hands, cheeks red from the cold. Everything feels soft around the edges. Gold. Crisp. Quietly alive.
“That you’re too much,” he says.
I look back at him. He’s not smiling. Not teasing.
“The guy you dated sounds like an insecure piece of shit. He didn’t know what to do with someone who was better than him. You intimidated him, Wren.”
My breath catches, just a little.
“Your honesty? That’s rare. And it’s good. People don’t always know what to do with good things. Especially when they haven’t done the work to deserve them.”
My throat tightens.
“You’re exactly enough,” he says, his voice low. “The right person won’t wantlessof you. They’ll feel lucky they get it all.”
I glance away, eyes sweeping across the rink. A boy in a beanie is chasing his younger sister in wide, clumsy loops, both of them laughing so hard they can barely stay upright. Someone’s taking a photo near the entrance, the kind that’ll probably end up on a Christmas card.
I can feel Sawyer still looking at me. Waiting, maybe, or just…being there. I don’t look back.
I’ve never known what to do with moments like this. I want to believe him, but I’ve never had much proof that words like that don’t come with conditions. Most people offer kindness like it’s a coupon—good for one use, redeemable only if you behave the right way after.
You’re strong,butmaybe you should dial it back.
You’re honest,butsometimes it makes people uncomfortable.
You’re smart,butmen don’t like it when you’re smarter than them.
I’ve spent most of my life trying to be the version of myself that people could tolerate, folding myself into smaller shapes. Softened. Smoothed out. Less blunt, less sharp, less me. Easier to carry.
Easier to leave.
So when he says I’m exactly enough, no disclaimer, no fine print—I don’t know what to do with it. Where to store something that…tender, thatgood, when all I’ve ever known is how to brace for the moment it’s taken away.
I look down at our hands, still joined, his grip unchanged.
Sawyer’s hand is still holding mine when I bump into something solid. Or—someone. I turn quickly, already bracing for impact, my apology halfway out of my mouth.
“I’m so sorry—”
But then I stop.
Blonde hair, rosy cheeks, a light dusting of snow clinging to her scarf. And a small, rounded bump beneath her coat.
Anna Hawthorne.
She laughs, the sound soft and warm despite the cold. “Wren, it’s okay. No broken bones.”
I blink, still caught a little off guard. “Hey,” I say, stepping back just enough to give her space. “It’s good to see you, Anna.”
