Page 92 of Tangled Up In You

She laughed again. “Even I get that reference.”

“Maybe I don’t even want to be a lawyer. I pursued that as a means to an end, but not because I’m all that passionate about it.” In the darkness, his smile faded. “It seems kind of pathetic to be mad forever. Exhausting. I have meeting you to thank for that.”

“Meeting me?”

“Yeah. You changed me. The way you approach the world with such optimism. Such an open heart. I want to be more like you.”

Quietly, she scoffed. “An open heart feels like a curse right now.”

He reached across the darkness to carefully pass a hand down her arm. “Look, I know everything is…I mean, there aren’t words. What you’re dealing with is beyond comprehension. But your fundamental goodness is why I’m so lost for you, Ren. You made me a better person, and that’s why I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

There was shifting of the blankets, and then she scooted closer until she was carefully pressed up against him.

Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around her, urging her closer. “Are we still doing this?”

“Doing what?” she asked, but there was a teasing lean to her voice.

“Things people do when they share a king-sized bed.”

She snorted quietly into his neck. “What else are we going to do? We can’t leave the hotel.”

“Look at you, making jokes already,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

She pulled back enough to look up at him, and in the dim light filtering in from the bathroom, he saw a tender gleam in her eyes. “I hope we’re still doing this,” she said. “I like you a lot.”

“Trust me, I’m absolutely crazy for you. But I’ll be crazy for you tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Even if we don’t do anything tonight.”

Ren sent a hand up his neck to his jaw, tracing his lower lip with her thumb. “I want this one normal thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Having a crush on a guy and using it to ignore all my other problems.”

With a laugh, he bent, pressing his lips to hers.

They kissed a lot that night—deep and claiming and fevered—and it meant they were exhausted the next morning when the alarm on Edward’s phone went off. But he laughed as Ren jumped out of bed anyway, and an hour later, they were walking hand in hand downstairs to meet Mary, who had arrived on an early flight.

Edward watched as the only real mother he’d ever known pulled Ren into her arms and held her in that big, warm hug that had been like oxygen to him once upon a time. He watched Ren’s small, tense shoulders slowly loosen, watched her arms finally come around Mary’s waist. When Ren started to cry, Mary pulled back, pushing Ren’s hair out of her face. Frowning in concern, Mary murmured gently, “Well, it looks like I got another bird in my nest. It’s going to be okay, sweet thing. We got you now.”

That night, at a new hotel in Atlanta with the same giant guards and the same looming questions about what life looked like from there on out, Ren pressed up against him again. “Kiss me” was all she needed to say.

Daytime was for therapy and self-reflection. Nighttime was for escape, and Edward was happy to follow her lead, giving her everything she needed. Because if the news feeds were to be believed, Chris’s house was surrounded by journalists hoping for a glimpse of a family member. They’d been mobbed by reporters on the short walk from the hotel door in Boise to a van waiting at the curb. It was becoming clear to Edward, if not to Ren, that there wouldn’t be a return to normalcy for a while. People who went missing and famously reappeared didn’t just blend back into society, especially when they were as recognizable as she was.

Their second night in Atlanta, she seemed to realize it, too.

There was a knock at their door, and the Fridge handed him a bag from CVS. “For Ren,” he said simply.

Edward found her in the bathroom, brushing out her hair, and set the bag down on the counter. “Fridge brought you some stuff.”

“Did you tell him thank you?”

“Uh…yes?” he lied.

With something between a sideways smirk and a glare in his direction, Ren put the brush down, gathered her hair in her hands, and slid the length of it over one shoulder. Then she pulled a pair of scissors out of the bag. With a deep breath, she looked at herself in the mirror before turning to him. “Will you do me a favor?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

REN