Wren

That word is enough to put our masks back on, shoving the last five minutes to the back of our brains.

“Birdie, you know I’m not myself, not with losing so much blood,” Ezra says, tugging on a fresh shirt. “I’m still not attracted to you.”

My smile is tight, his words cutting me regardless. “Likewise. Mine is definitely the adrenaline. I’ll go see my brother now.”

I walk past him. He doesn’t look at me, or say anything. Not when I walk past him, and definitely not ...