Page 11

Wren

“ W ell, if it ain’t my favorite sister,” Wilder announces as he opens the front door.

“You’re only sister, you mean,” I smirk, pulling him in for a quick hug. “I was starting to think you weren’t home. Where’s Ind?” Stepping inside, I take a quick glance around the room.

“Yeah, sorry about that. She’s a little... indisposed . She’ll be out in a minute.”

“Got it,” I chime in before he can elaborate more. “So where’s the stuff you mentioned?” I peek into the kitchen for the boxes he called me about yesterday.

The fact that our childhood home now belongs to Wild is still surreal to me. I’m glad it stayed in the family after our dad moved to Alaska, but I never imagined Wild to be the one to settle down and own it. Still, it would have been hard to see it go to someone else.

“I left it all up in the attic. Come on,” he says, gesturing over his shoulder for me to follow him.

I haven’t been back to this house many times since Wild bought it from our dad—and though a lot still feels familiar, I can see the touches he and Indie have added. It’s starting to feel more like their home now—not just the place we grew up in.

Wild leaves me alone in the attic to sort through old boxes, most of them filled with childhood memorabilia and a few containing our mom’s things.

Considering she’s been gone for over two decades, going through her things isn’t as hard as it used to be.

When I was little and sifted through these boxes, I often broke down in tears up in this attic all alone while the boys were downstairs with our dad.

Now, it’s different. Now, I feel closer to her somehow.

Instead of tears on my cheeks, there’s a soft smile as I pull the first item from the cardboard box.

Running my hand over the sand dollar, my fingers drag across the rough, gritty surface. Its white color has faded to a soft yellow now, showing its age.

When I peek inside the box again, I find a whole collection of sand dollars.

They were always her favorite things to collect.

Anytime Dad saw one, he’d buy it for her.

I even remember walking through a gas station as a kid and convincing him we had to buy a postcard for her because it had one on it.

Mom loved the card and always kept it on top of her dresser.

Pulling my phone from my pocket as I sit on the wooden floor, I type a text to Cal.

Hey! I’m at Wild’s going through the boxes in the attic since he’s clearing stuff out. Did you want to look through anything before I take it?

Cal

No. Take whatever. If you’re going to toss anything, let me know first.

Okay! I won’t be throwing anything away, but if you think of something you want, just let me know

For the next half hour, I sort through the boxes, keeping my things to one side and Mom’s things on the other. I’m sure Wild already went through and kept some of her stuff, but I’d still like to check if he’s okay with all of this coming with me.

As I sift through item after item, I can’t help but think that my mom knew who she was. She had hobbies, passions, interests…collections. I, on the other hand, have nothing that I do or collect. Sitting in the hot attic, I begin to feel more depressed than I did before starting all of this.

Mom loved her family deeply, yes, but she also had her own joys. Sand dollars. Jigsaw puzzles. She and our dad even enjoyed weekly date nights and always expressed how important they were for keeping a marriage strong.

In my eyes, her life seemed perfect, and there was no doubt that she was happy with the life she had created for herself.

Why can’t I think of a single hobby I enjoy doing?

The thought that I’m just passing through life, doing everything for everyone else all the time while having nothing for myself, leaves me feeling hollow. The mood settles over me as I push the last box aside and stand, brushing the dust from my pants.

In the end, it only ends up being four boxes that I lug down the attic stairs.

“Hey!” Indie’s face lights up seeing me come into the kitchen. “When did you get here?” She walks over and loosely wraps one arm over my shoulder in a quick side-hug.

“A while ago,” I say, motioning toward the boxes in the hallway.

“That ass,” she mutters, clearly referring to her husband.

“I had the music too loud and didn’t even hear you up there.

Wild’s out back in the shop fiddlin’ with somethin’.

He went out while I was in the shower...

” She trails off, glancing over her shoulder to the window overlooking the backyard where the workshop sits. “I could just kick his?—”

“It’s fine, Ind,” I say with a laugh. “I didn’t need help, and it’s hot as blazes up there anyway.”

She lets out a frustrated huff. “Alright.” She eyes me for a second before turning to peek out the window again. “But when he gets in here...” she mutters, shaking her head.

Those two will always be fire and ice. But I know they both feed off of the back and forth.

It’s sweet how much love you can see between them, no matter how ticked off Indie pretends to be sometimes.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a twinge of envy when I see them together.

I’m happy they finally have each other, but I’ll always wish I could find someone to look at me the way they look at each other.

Heck, even Cal found love—and nobody saw that coming.

That fact, along with seeing Wild and Indie overcome their hangups, always encourages me to hold onto hope that one day I’ll find my person, too.

Still, there are moments I worry I’ve already found him and I’m just a day late and a dollar short.

That there was a moment, and I missed it. That I missed him .

“Sorry I can’t stay. I’ve got a million things goin’ on today, and I need to get over to Cal’s to help Luce with the babies while he’s up in Tulsa deliverin’ tables to some conference place,” I ramble.

Lucy didn’t ask for my help, and I know her brother, Hunter, is visiting, but I can’t keep myself away from those cute babies.

I’m always finding excuses to go to their house whenever I can.

Briar and Lily are the perfect blend of their momma and daddy, all light golden-brown hair and caramel-brown eyes.

“Okay. Just leave me with that guy all day, why don’t ya,” Indie teases, nodding toward the backyard.

“I’m sorry. I can stay for a bit longer. I don’t have to run off just yet,” I say, looking at the time.

“Wren, it’s a joke . Stop apologizin’ all the time. Come on, I’ll help you load these boxes into your car.”

There it is—another thing I can’t stand about myself. The constant need to say sorry. I don’t know why I do it, only that I have to make it right if I think someone’s upset. Even if it’s just a joke.

“So, how’re you likin’ the new place? I still need to come by and check it out,” Indie says, loading her stack of boxes into the back seat.

“It’s great! Not a bad drive to work, I’m finally close to y’all again. What more could I need?” I flash the smile I’ve been practicing for far too long.

Indie studies me for a second too long. It’s clear that there’s something she wants to say, but isn’t—a rare thing for this woman.

She doesn’t hold back much when it comes to her thoughts, but I’ve always been one of the very few people she bites her tongue for and thinks about her words before speaking them.

Deep down, I know there’s more I could be asking for—something missing in my life. Watching both of my brothers settle down and start their own little families only reminds me of that more.

We step back into the house, and I grab the last box—the one with mom’s things that I wanted to keep.

“Hey, you already done up there?” Wild asks as he walks in, throwing an arm around Indie’s shoulder. Their dog, Remington, barrels past him, leaping onto the couch with his tongue lolling to the side as he pants.

“Yeah, wasn’t much to go through, honestly.” I shrug. “Did you want any of the?—”

“Anything up there is yours to take, sis,” he cuts in just as Indie shrugs his arm off of her shoulder.

Wild’s eyes narrow on her. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was here?” she asks, gesturing toward me. “I would have taken a quicker shower. I could’ve helped?—”

Her words are interrupted when Wild grabs her face and plants a loud, exaggerated kiss on her lips. When he pulls back, Indie is momentarily speechless, a hint of a smile forming on her wide-eyed face.

“Yeah.” He nods with a grin. “Thought that might be what you needed.”

She glares and lifts a hand, a single finger on display toward him.

His grin widens. “You sure about that, little firecracker?”

Indie begins to mock him, and I can’t help but laugh at the show these two are putting on. It can be funny sometimes, but there are moments when I need to step away. Watching their foreplay can be a bit nauseating.

Wild rolls his lips in, biting back a smile. “Indiana, please follow me into the other room to finish this conversation out of view of our guest.”

She scoffs. “Umm, no thanks. I’m busy.” She gives him a sassy smirk before he smacks her butt and leans into her ear to whisper things I definitely don’t want to hear.

“Could you two get a room?” I groan as I head for the front door, box in hand.

“I’m tryin’,” Wild calls behind me.

“ Yeah … I’m gonna go now. I’ll just see myself out.”

“Bye, babe!” Indie yells. “I’ll see you tomorrow?—”

“See ya, sis,” Wild hollers just as his foot kicks the door shut, and Indie begins to giggle on the other side.

I’m so glad they finally found one another. That they were both able to get past the walls and stop fighting what was always there between them.

Sliding into the oven I call my car, I quickly start it and turn on the air.

Carson being right down the street from me makes our weekly lunch tradition even easier now.

I wasn’t sure if we’d keep it up, but neither of us said anything about quitting the routine, and I sure don’t plan to.

Our weekly get-togethers are one of the highlights of my week.

What’s for lunch? I’m starved.

My next item of the day is one I don’t hate. I may have a busy day, but I don’t mind any of it since it all involves my friends and family. After I have lunch with Carse, I’ll be off to squeeze some chubby-cheeked babies.

Carson

It’s a surprise. You on your way?

Leaving now. Be there in a few.