Page 81 of Bend

“I know he is,” I admit, my hands settling on her hips and pulling her a little closer before I can stop myself. Holding her feels too easy. Too fucking right. “That’s what makes it worse.” I let out a rough breath and rest my forehead lightly against hers for a second. “It’s hard, yeah? Wanting to be there for someone you care about and having them not let you.”

“It is,” she says, her voice quieter now, gentler. “But he’s not gonna shut you out forever. He just has to sort some shit out in his own head first.”

I look at her then, really look at her, and the ache in my chest eases just enough to breathe around. Because she means it. I know she’s not just saying what I want to hear, and because with her in my lap like this, arms around me, all I can really think is that for someone who’s brought this much chaos into my life, she’s very good at making the world feel steady again.

“I guess.”

“Don’t give up on him, Wolfe.”

I look at her.

I want to believe what she’s saying. I do. But when all I can think about is how he looks at me after allowing himself to feel—cold, shut down, and pulling away like I’ve done something wrong just by wanting him, it gets really fucking hard to hold onto hope.

All that panic and anger and want hitting him at once, like feeling any of it too openly was enough to make him bolt.

“What makes you so sure?” I ask.

Her expression softens, eyes still fixed on mine. “Because I know what it looked like.”

My mouth tightens. “You saw one night.”

“And that one night was more than enough to know what you guys have is real.”

There’s no smugness in it. No teasing. Just certainty.

“Thorne just feels things really hard I think, and he hates that people can see it. So he shuts down and tries to pretend he doesn’t feel anything at all.”

That gets a helpless little laugh out of me. “Yeah.”

“And you,” she says, looking at me in that blunt way of hers, “make it hard for him to hide because the vibe between the two of you isn’t just real, it’s strong.”

“I make shit hard for him? Is that meant to be comforting?” I ask, cocking a brow.

“Maybe a little."

“It’s not.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t give up on him, Wolfe.”

I look at her.

I want to believe what she’s saying. I do. But when all I can think about is how he looks at me after allowing himself to feel—cold, shut down, and pulling away like I’ve done something wrong just by wanting him, it gets really fucking hard to hold onto hope.

All that panic and anger and want hitting him at once, like feeling any of it too openly was enough to make him bolt.

“What makes you so sure?” I ask.

Her expression softens, eyes still fixed on mine. “Because I know what it looked like.”

My mouth tightens. “You saw one night.”

“And that one night was more than enough to know what you guys have is real.”

There’s no smugness in it. No teasing. Just certainty.

“Thorne just feels things really hard I think, and he hates that people can see it. So he shuts down and tries to pretend he doesn’t feel anything at all.”