Apparently, she’d dedicated her next video to him, and it involved eating testicles. Hopefully not human, but he didn’t know for sure.
“The Fans of the Gates blog called your videos ‘irresistibly charming.’ And I think”—Wren paused and tapped something on her phone—“yes, Celebrity magazine picked up the story too. They posted something an hour ago. Apparently, you’re ‘predictably but delightfully unfiltered, and exactly the blast of effortless cool needed in these hot summer months.’”
She made a gagging sound.
Totally rude. Utterly delightful.
He grinned at her and tickled her ribs until she giggled, the sound ringing through the cool night air. “Incomparable Harpy Energy there, Wren. But I thought you didn’t vanity search?”
“Not for myself.” With a wave of her short, broad hand, she flicked the notion aside, as if it were that easy to resist finding out what everyone thought of you. “I figured you’d want to know how various media sites were reacting, though.”
The addendum remained unspoken: And I wanted to see it before you did, in case it was bad, and I needed to talk you down from doing something dumb.
Which … okay, fair.
“In the YouTube comments, there’s a lot of speculation about my talented camerawoman and travel companion.” A sidelong glance didn’t reveal any signs of tension at that news. No hunched shoulders. No furrowed brow. “Apparently our chemistry is magical.”
The corners of her mouth tipped upward before she took another bite of her own pizza.
A fourth slice beckoned him, and he answered the summons. “Anyway, they want to know if you’re my girlf—”
His phone chimed. A FaceTime call from his mother, which he couldn’t ignore.
He put down his pizza. “I’m sorry, Wren, but I need to take this. It’ll be five minutes. Ten, tops.”
When he got to his feet, she smiled at him, entirely unoffended. To give her a few minutes of peace and quiet while she ate, he headed for the living room, then tapped his screen to answer the call.
“Hey, Mom,” he said as he slid open the balcony door. “How are—”
Then he saw her face. Specifically, the dark bruises surrounding her swollen left eye.
Absolute horror staggered him, landing like a punch to the diaphragm. “Mom. What—”
“I had a bike accident, Alex. Just a bike accident.” She was speaking loudly and clearly and calmly, and he could barely understand a word. “I hit a patch of gravel and went down, but I’m fine. I went to the doctor, and I’m fine. But I wanted you to know as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t …”
Her explanation didn’t stop bile from rising up his throat, bitter and corrosive. He bent over at the waist, trying not to retch, and the phone dropped from his nerveless fingers onto the wooden deck.
His chest was a bellows, heaving as he sucked air into his straining lungs.
Then something touched his neck. A cool palm. Wren’s hand cupping his nape, gently squeezing.
His mother sighed, and her voice floated through the darkness. “I should have used audio first. Dammit.”
She sounded sad. Sadder than she’d been since—
He shuddered.
“Sweetheart,” she called. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”
With a shaking hand, he managed to pick up his phone, then straightened. When Wren began to move away, he reached out for her, and she halted, allowing herself to be drawn against his side. She was warm and soft and safe in his embrace, her head against his heart.
He needed her there.
“No one—” Swallowing back more bile, he tried again. “No one hurt you?”
“I wiped out on gravel.” His mother’s tone was strained but patient. “My neighbor saw everything, so if you don’t believe me, you can ask her.”
He wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t, not without humiliating his mom.
“But, sweetheart …” Linda tried to smile, blinking back tears. “You need to start believing me.”
Wren’s hand on his back stroked up and down, up and down, and he could breathe again. He could think again.
“Okay.” It was a hoarse thread of sound, and all he could manage.
“Okay.” His mom’s gaze flicked over to the side. “I’m fine, so why don’t you call me later? Your friend is obviously worried about you, and I don’t blame her.”
Lauren’s other hand rose from its perch on his chest, and she gave his mom a little wave. “I’m Lauren Clegg. Lovely to meet you, Ms. Woodroe.”