Page 66 of Wild Then Wed
Trustsher. More than I should. More than makes sense.
And maybe that’s why this doesn’t feel as crazy as it should.
Because if I’m going to bet on someone, someone stubborn enough, strong enough, loyal enough to burn herself out trying to save everyone else—I’d bet on her.
I scrub a hand over my face and let out a breath that rattles in my chest. The room’s still dark, the edges of the sky outside barely starting to turn that deep indigo that means morning’s coming whether I’m ready or not.
Hank lifts his head from where he’s sprawled across the bed, his tail thumping once against the mattress like he’s been waiting for me to get my shit together.
I swing my legs over the side and sit there for a second, letting the cold seep into my skin. Letting the weight of everything I just agreed to settle into the cracks I’ve been trying to patch for years.
Then I push up, grab a sweatshirt off the chair by the window, and pull it over my head.
Hank jumps down with a soft whine, already nosing around for his leash.
“Yeah, yeah,” I murmur, reaching for it. “I’m coming.”
We slip out the back door and into the cold, the cold that burns your lungs the first time you breathe it in.
The world’s still asleep. The ground’s slick from a hard frost, the stars still sharp overhead, and for a second, it feels like we’re the only ones left awake.
I like it this way. No noise. No expectations. Just the sound of my shoes hitting the pavement and Hank’s steady breathing at my side.
The world keeps moving forward, whether I’m ready or not.
And maybe, for once, I’m ready to move with it.
Chapter 13
WREN
Zeus walks slower than usual beside me, as if he’s trying to tell me I was the problem today.
He’s not wrong. I didn’t sleep for longer than twenty minutes last night. My brain just looped the same ten seconds over and over again—me sitting in Sawyer Hart’s kitchen, saying the words,“I think we should get married.”
God.
Just thinking about it makes me want to peel my skin off. There was no ring, no kneeling, no grand gesture. Just a quiet, desperate suggestion in a too-clean kitchen with a dog curled up on the floor and a man who looked just as wrecked as I felt.
My boots scuff against the compacted earth as we walk, his lead rope slack in my hand, my body trying to mimic calm even though my brain hasn’t shut up since last night.
It wasn’t a bad session. Could’ve been better, though—and that was mostly on me.
Zeus picked up on it right away. I was fidgety, over-correcting, second-guessing every shift in his posture. It didn’t help that my heartbeat was somewhere in my ears the entire time. Which is what happens when you agree to marry a man you’ve known for fifteen minutes, give or take a run-in at thefeed store and a shared moment over a half-decent cup of hot chocolate.
I’m getting married.
I let that thought hang there, sharp and stupid and enormous. Like it’s hovering three feet above my head waiting to land on me again.
Married. For water.
For some fuckingwater.
I slide open his stall door and unclip the lead, giving Zeus a quick once-over with my palm as he moves inside—just enough pressure to sayI’m still here, even if I wasn’t much of a leader today.His flank shifts under my hand, muscle tense but not coiled, and I let the door thud shut behind me with a little more force than necessary.
Anna’s perched on the middle bench near the round pen, legs crossed, notebook balanced on one knee like always. Her pen’s already poised midair, ready to dissect the entire session before I’ve even taken a breath.
She offers a soft smile. “He looked good today. A little off, maybe.”
