All the Feels (Spoiler Alert #2)(78)

Her explanation didn’t stop bile from rising up his throat, bitter and corrosive. He bent over at the waist, trying not to retch, and the phone dropped from his nerveless fingers onto the wooden deck.

His chest was a bellows, heaving as he sucked air into his straining lungs.

Then something touched his neck. A cool palm. Wren’s hand cupping his nape, gently squeezing.

His mother sighed, and her voice floated through the darkness. “I should have used audio first. Dammit.”

She sounded sad. Sadder than she’d been since—

He shuddered.

“Sweetheart,” she called. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”

With a shaking hand, he managed to pick up his phone, then straightened. When Wren began to move away, he reached out for her, and she halted, allowing herself to be drawn against his side. She was warm and soft and safe in his embrace, her head against his heart.

He needed her there.

“No one—” Swallowing back more bile, he tried again. “No one hurt you?”

“I wiped out on gravel.” His mother’s tone was strained but patient. “My neighbor saw everything, so if you don’t believe me, you can ask her.”

He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t, not without humiliating his mom.

“But, sweetheart …” Linda tried to smile, blinking back tears. “You need to start believing me.”

Wren’s hand on his back stroked up and down, up and down, and he could breathe again. He could think again.

“Okay.” It was a hoarse thread of sound, and all he could manage.

“Okay.” His mom’s gaze flicked over to the side. “I’m fine, so why don’t you call me later? Your friend is obviously worried about you, and I don’t blame her.”

Lauren’s other hand rose from its perch on his chest, and she gave his mom a little wave. “I’m Lauren Clegg. Lovely to meet you, Ms. Woodroe.”

“Ahhhhhh. Lauren. At last.” Linda’s smile widened, crinkling her unblackened eye. “I’m delighted to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, all of it good.”

Wren’s Santa Ana voice made its triumphant return. “He must save that for when I’m not around.”

Linda laughed outright, and his pulse stopped echoing in his ears. “I’ll let you two get on with your evening. My hammock is calling my name. Alex, are you all right?”

He cleared his throat. “If you’re all right, I’m all right.”

“Then we’re good. Love you, sweetheart.” Despite the bruising, she seemed calm and content once more. “Talk to you later tonight or tomorrow. Either is fine.”

“Love you too,” he told her, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

She switched her attention to his companion. “Good night, Lauren. I hope to see more of you soon.”

Wren’s smile and murmur of thanks were as soft as she was.

A few more pleasantries, and the conversation was over.

At least, that conversation. There was no avoiding further discussion with Wren, given how he’d lost his entire fucking mind at the sight of his mother’s black eye.

Her arm around his waist guided him inside and to the couch, and he collapsed onto the cushions beside her. She gently removed the phone from his hand, setting it on the coffee table.

Without his conscious volition, his head fell to her shoulder, and when she began carding her fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He was so fucking tired suddenly, all that fight-or-flight adrenaline abruptly gone. “I just …”

Her voice was quiet. “You don’t have to tell me. You have a right to your privacy.”

“I want to.” He sighed. “It’s just hard, because I—I fucked up, Wren. Big-time.”

A quiet little hum, and she nestled closer.

He allowed himself a minute to get his shit together, to bask in her silent support, and then forced himself to start talking.

“My dad left when I was a baby, so Mom and I were a team from almost the beginning. She looked after me, and when I got older, I looked after her too. She …” God, why were the words so difficult to find? “She’s an amazing woman. Smart, funny, kind. She worked so fucking hard to give me everything I needed, even though her pay at all those customer service jobs was absolute shit. She had no time for dating. Hell, she barely had time for friends.”

He huffed out a tired laugh. “She says I took all her energy, which I’m certain is a complete exaggeration. Slander, really.”

“Oh, don’t pretend. We both know the truth.” Wren lightly tugged at his hair. “You’re an orchid, Woodroe. Gorgeous but high-maintenance.”

An orchid?

Yeah. He liked that. Almost as much as he liked her fingers in his hair. “Gorgeous, huh?”

She snorted. “Holy crackers, Alex. Shut up and keep talking.”

“Just FYI, that’s a contradiction in—”

“You know what I mean.”

He did, so he continued the story, even though remembering hurt. “In high school, I mowed lawns for cash during the summer. One of my regulars, Jimmy, seemed like a good guy. Owned an antique store. Paid well. Always friendly. Sometimes my mom would track me down to say hi and bring me lunch before her shift, and I—”