Page 75 of Lose You Twice

Donnelly keeps going, unaware or uncaring that the ground just shifted under us. “Hotel rooms are already assigned. You’ll bunk with the staff.”

“Right,” Wren says. “Okay, I can do that.”

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She checks the screen, and her careful work face slips for half a second, stress leaking into her entire body.

“I have to go,” she says.

Donnelly nods. “Tomorrow. Twelve-fifteen.”

“Got it.” She turns, and her shoulder brushes mine as she passes.

She walks down the hall without looking back.

I watch her go.

Grayson steps up beside me. “You’re staring.”

I nod. “I know.”

He looks at me. I look at him.

“No defense?” he asks.

I rub the back of my neck. “Not a good one.”

He lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “That’s progress, I guess.”

It doesn’t feel like progress.

Instead, it feels like being pulled into her all over again. Wanting to be there, to help her even when she won’t admit she needs help, to be someone she can count on, no matter what that means for me.

It feels like standing on the edge of something and knowing I’m going to step off even if it breaks my heart all over again.

11

KAI

The next day, the storm rolls in earlier than anticipated.

By the time the bus pulls over the pass, the sky is already dark, and rain hits the windows in hard, uneven bursts. The guys settle into their seats with snacks, headphones, pillows, and enough bad energy to make Coach threaten assigned silence before we even leave campus.

Wren sits near the front with Donnelly and the equipment bags, earbuds in, knees angled toward the aisle. She has a backpack at her feet, and her phone in both hands. Every so often, she looks down, types fast, then locks it and stares out the window like she’s forcing herself not to check again.

I sit four rows behind her with Grayson beside me and Weston across the aisle.

I can see the side of her face when the bus turns.

I wish I couldn’t.

“You’re doing it again,” Grayson says without looking up from his phone.

I turn my gaze toward him. “Doing what?”

“Staring.”

“I’m looking out the front window.”

He finally looks up, cracking a grin. “Through her head?”