She looked away. “I know. I’m just used to being a stranger.”
There was a heavy sadness in her voice, a weight I wanted to pick up from her and bear. I tilted my head to the side, watching her as she tipped back her beer and took a long gulp.
“You must not hate the people here too much if you’re at one of Ty’s parties.”
Her eyes met mine. “I don’t hate them.” Her brow creased as she shook her head. “I just wasn’t prepared for people to be interested in me.”
“I find it hard to believe you weren’t noticed wherever you were before this.”
Pink blossomed on the tops of her cheekbones, and she glanced away again. “You don’t know me.”
She was right. I didn’t. And for some reason I desperately wanted to. Which made absolutely no sense. I clenched my jaw, trying to chase away thoughts that were beyond inappropriate.
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “I know some. I know you might be a little crazy for jumping off the top deck of a houseboat.” I gave her a sidelong look. “You could’ve gotten really hurt, you know. If you would’ve hit the dock from that high up…” A shiver skittered down my spine thinking of her sprawled on the dock, injured.
Wren’s eyes cut back to mine. “Good thing you were there to catch me then.”
She sounded so nonchalant, like she didn’t care at all if she’d crashed onto the dock. I leaned back. Maybe she really was crazy, then. Reckless, like Ty. Wren was probably the last person I needed in my life. It’d be better if I stayed far away from those pretty, green eyes.
“You should be more careful,” I said, my voice harsher than I intended. But maybe that was for the best. “I bet your mama would be real upset if something happened to you.”
Wren’s hands clenched around the glass beer bottle.
It had been the wrong thing to say and the twinge of regret in my chest was sharp. I almost winced.
“You don’t have a mama anymore.” I said it as a statement and not a question because I saw the truth through the shadows in her eyes.
Wren shook her head. A beat passed before her face broke out into the biggest smile her lips were capable of. It was a smile that screamed happiness, but her eyes shone with a deep sadness I felt in my bones.
“Nope, not for a very long time.” She laughed without a trace of humor. “Trust me, no one would be upset if something happened to me.”
Her words were like a punch to the gut. How could someone not be worrying about her? Was there no one who would cry for her if she broke her neck jumping off a stupid boat? That couldn’t be true.
We were silent for so long, Wren finished her beer and set it on the small side table next to the couch. She stared at the empty bottle, frowning.
“Do you have anything stronger than beer in here?”
I nodded toward the kitchen cabinets behind her. She hauled herself off the couch and walked to the first upper cabinet. It was packed with liquor bottles, and she rifled through it until pulling one from the back. It was an almost full bottle of whisky. The good, expensive kind. My favorite kind. She yanked the top off the bottle as she turned toward the couch. Her steps were graceful, even on the slightly undulating boat and what I assumed was more than a couple of beers running through her system.
She plopped back down and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. She took a long swig of the amber liquid, her eyes meeting mine over the neck of the bottle.
I raised an eyebrow, and she pulled the whisky from her mouth, leaving her top lip wet. I swallowed.
“I’m not an alcoholic,” she said, without an ounce of defensiveness in her tone.
I didn’t doubt her. “That’s not my business.” Because it really wasn’t. Nothing about her was my business—yet here I was, letting her drink my best booze and lay on my couch as if she owned the place.
Wren sighed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a party. I think I forgot how overwhelming they are.” She rubbed the top of her thigh as she cradled the bottle of whisky to her chest with the other hand. She wasn’t looking at me, but absently toward the covered window, eyes unfocused and far away.
I glanced down at the thigh she was rubbing, kneading the skin with her palm, and I noticed there was a bruise there. It looked old, and almost healed, but large. A muscle in my jaw ticced as I scanned her body again, this time noticing them. They were everywhere: the underside of her jaw, her upper arms, her legs. Healing bruises. My stomach sank as I noticed other things, too...small white scars in jagged, curved lines.
Shit.
I looked away, feeling like I’d somehow invaded her privacy. As if I’d seen something I shouldn’t have, even though she wasn’t hiding them that well.
What happened to you?
I cleared my throat. “I find most things overwhelming,” I said in response. I wasn’t sure why I said it, but it was true.