Page 93 of Only Mine
My hands span the narrow width of her back. She’s so much smaller than I remember, more fragile.
One of my hands ends up tangling in her hair, bringing her closer. I let myself sink into the hug for just a moment, plunging into the sweet scent of her hair, the way she fits against me like she was made for this exact space.
Like the past five days of pretending I didn’t need this exact feeling were a complete waste of time.
“This is nice,” Ivy announces from somewhere near our knees. “Now Papa doesn’t look like he wants to punch trees anymore.”
Wrenley’s laugh vibrates against my chest.
But she pulls back first, her cheeks flushed. “We should keep going.”
The walk continues with Ivy filling up most of the space between us. She also breaks the charged silence by chatting about everything from squirrel behavior to cloud shapes, though my attention keeps drifting to Wrenley. The way she moves beside me. How she automatically shortens her stride to match Ivy’s. The soft smile that appears whenever my daughter says something particularly ridiculous.
But whenever Wrenley’s phone vibrates in her back pocket, her entire body goes rigid. The first few times, she pulled it out, glanced at the screen, then silenced it before shoving it back into her jeans. This time, there’s something in the way her shoulders hunch forward before she lifts her head, scanning the perimeter while she clenches her phone.
Alarm bells go off in my head.
“Everything okay?” I ask as we approach the town square.
“Fine.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just work stuff.”
A car backfires somewhere down the street, and Wrenley flinches so hard she nearly crumples to the ground. My hand shoots out to steady her, but she’s already pulled away, composing herself with visible effort.
“Is that where you live now?” Ivy points at the upper windows of Cornerstone Books.
“That’s right,” Wrenley confirms, but her attention is divided. She glances over her shoulder, scanning the street behind us.
“Can we see it?” Ivy bounces on her toes. “Please?”
“Another time,” I tell her without taking my focus off Wrenley. “I’m not about to reward you for running off,mon trésor.”
“Fiiiiiiiine.”
While Ivy examines a particularly interesting rock on the sidewalk, I ask Wrenley quietly, “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Wrenley nods while rubbing her lips together.
She’s lying. I’ve seen this look before, on the sous chef who worked for me in Paris after he was mugged. Hypervigilance.
“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” I say, keeping my voice low enough that Ivy can’t hear, “but don’t lie to me either.”
Wrenley’s eyes snap to mine, wide and startled. The truth sends shock waves of raw fear across her face before she masks it with a half-smile.
“Sorry. Just jumpy lately.” She tucks her phone deeper into her pocket, fingers lingering there like she expects it to bite her if she moves away too fast. “Comes with the territory.”
I pretend ignorance. “What territory?”
She hesitates, and I can almost translate the internal debate playing across her features.
Her phone buzzes again. This time, she doesn’t even check it. She just presses her lips together so hard they turn white.
“Wrenley.” I step into her space. “What happened in Miami?”
Her entire body goes still.
“Papa, look!” Ivy interrupts, holding up a leaf shaped like a perfect heart. “It’s a love leaf! Miss Wrenley, you should keep it!”
Wrenley accepts the gift with a trembling hand and a mega-watt smile. “Thank you, sweetie.”
