Page 142 of Broken Play

“Hide that you’re scared.”

She crosses her arms, curling inward.“I don’t want you to think—”

“Wren.”I step closer.“I don’t think less of you for surviving.”

Her breath shakes.

I want to touch her.

Not because she needs it.

Because I do.

I reach out slowly, letting her see the motion.My fingers land lightly on her forearm—barely a touch, barely pressure, but her entire body reacts.I feel the tremble through her sleeve.

“You’re not alone,” I say.

Her eyes close.“I know.I’m trying to believe it.”

I slide my thumb slightly, not enough to overwhelm her—just enough to say I’m here.

“You will,” I murmur.“And until then, we believe it for you.”

She inhales sharply, like the words cracked something open she didn’t expect.

“Kael,” she whispers.“How do you stay so calm?”

I almost laugh—unexpected, quiet.“I’m not.”

Her eyes open, searching my face.“You look like you are.”

I let the truth slip.“For you, I can be.”

The air tightens between us.

Not with fear.

With heat.

Wren’s eyes drop to my mouth for a second—just one—and that’s all it takes for something deep in my chest to pull taut.

She steps back like she felt it too.“We should...keep walking.”

“Yeah,” I say, my voice lower than before.“We should.”

We start down the sidewalk again.Her fingers brush mine once—accidental or not, I can’t tell—but the contact sparks through me like electricity.

When we reach the intersection, she tenses again.Cars pass.A bus slows.A man in a black jacket crosses the street.Wren’s hands shake.

I shift my body, stepping slightly in front of her, creating a barrier without announcing it.She exhales shakily behind me.

“You’re alright,” I say quietly.“I’ve got you.”

When the light changes, I move with her at a pace she sets.Halfway across, she moves closer to me—closer than she has all morning—her arm brushing mine, her shoulder warm against my sleeve.

She doesn’t move away.

Neither do I.