Wren awoke with a start, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The soft, unfamiliar sheets felt both comforting and disorienting. She sat up quickly, taking in the unfamiliar bedroom, her eyes darting around as the memories of the last few hours flooded back.

Her breath caught as she frantically pulled back the blankets, her hands trembling. She looked down at herself, realizing she was dressed in the clothes Connor had given her earlier. A rush of panic seized her as flashes of the shower incident played in her mind—the moment when she had collapsed, helpless and exposed.

Oh my God! she thought, her heart racing. Connor must have seen me naked and dressed me!

The realization made her cheeks burn with embarrassment. The thought of Connor seeing her in such a vulnerable state, of him witnessing the marks Trevor had left on her body, filled her with shame and dread. She could feel the heat rising in her face as she imagined his reaction.

He was probably repulsed and grossed out by what he saw, she thought, her heart sinking. I’m sure he’s changed his mind about loving and caring for me.

Before she could spiral further into her thoughts, a sound broke through her reverie. Wren’s head snapped up to see Connor standing in the doorway, his presence a steadying force in the midst of her turmoil. He cleared his throat, his eyes soft as they met hers.

“Umm… I see you’re awake,” he said, his voice gentle.

Wren’s mouth went dry, and she averted her gaze, the weight of her embarrassment pressing down on her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be sorry,” Connor replied, stepping closer, his expression full of concern.

Wren bit her lip, her hands twisting in the blankets. “I see you dressed me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m sure you saw my body. Are you… grossed out with me now?”

Connor’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head vehemently. “What? Never! I could never look at you that way.”

Wren’s eyes filled with uncertainty as she met his gaze. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” she said softly, her voice laced with pain.

“Quit talking like that,” Connor said firmly, his eyes searching hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Wren looked down at her hands, her fingers still trembling. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Connor’s expression softened even more, and he took a step closer to the bed. “Here,” he said, holding up a tray with a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of tea. “I made you some soup and tea.”

Wren managed a small smile, touched by his kindness. “Thanks,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

Connor carefully placed the tray across her lap and then sat on the edge of the bed, his proximity both comforting and disconcerting. “Why don’t you let me feed you?” he suggested gently. “You’re still weak.”

Wren shook her head stubbornly. “No, I can do it,” she insisted, reaching for the spoon.

But as she tried to lift the spoon to her lips, her fingers betrayed her, trembling so badly that the spoon slipped from her grasp and clattered back onto the tray.

Connor watched her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he picked up the spoon, his movements steady and reassuring. “See,” he said softly, “let me do it.”

Wren hesitated, her pride warring with her need for comfort. But in the end, she nodded, allowing Connor to feed her spoonfuls of the warm, soothing soup. With each bite, the warmth spread through her, easing the cold knot of fear and anxiety in her chest. When the soup was gone, Connor held the cup of tea to her lips, and she took a few sips, the hot liquid calming her frayed nerves.

Once she had finished, Connor removed the tray and set it on the nightstand. He turned back to her, his eyes filled with concern. “You should probably stay here tonight,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument.

Wren opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips. “Stormi will worry,” she said, her voice weak.

Connor shook his head. “She called while you were asleep. I told her you were here with me.”

Wren nodded slowly, still feeling the weight of everything that had happened. “I still should go,” she murmured, her voice laced with doubt. “I don’t want to cause you more trouble.”

Connor’s eyes softened as he reached out, taking her hand in his. “You’re not trouble,” he said firmly. “Please, just stay here tonight. It’s already so late.”

Wren hesitated, the fatigue weighing heavily on her. Part of her wanted to resist, to keep some semblance of independence, but another part of her craved the safety and comfort of staying with Connor. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she knew she was too exhausted to argue.

“Okay,” she finally agreed, her voice barely a whisper. “But where will you sleep? Let me sleep on the couch.”

Connor shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “No, you’re sick. You sleep here, and I’ll sleep out there.”

Wren wanted to protest, but her exhaustion won out. She nodded her head as her eyes became heavier, the events of the day catching up to her. She slowly slumped back down on her pillow, her body sinking into the warmth of the bed.

Connor watched as Wren’s eyes fluttered closed, her breathing evening out as she drifted back into sleep. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched her, a sense of peace settling over him.

“She is so cute,” he murmured to himself, his voice filled with affection.

As he quietly left the room, Connor couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them. The vulnerability they had both shown, the unspoken understanding that had passed between them—it was as if a new bond had formed, one that went beyond mere friendship.

And as he settled onto the couch, a small smile still playing on his lips, Connor knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would face them with Wren by his side.