Page 12

Wren

“ Y ou did?!” My eyes practically bug out of my skull as I stare at Carson after the news he just dropped.

“I did,” he confirms with a nod. “I bought it. I’m done workin’ for other people.”

Carson has always been a fantastic cook, and I’ve long believed he should have his own place. The fact that he bought the diner here in Twin Pines couldn’t be more perfect.

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, Carse! I’m so happy for you. When are you opening? Give me all the details!”

“Not a lot of details to give yet,” he shrugs. “But I’ll keep you in the loop as I figure things out.”

Unable to contain my excitement, I rush around the counter and wrap my arms around him. Sometimes Carson is in a terrible mood, and I know better than to attempt a hug, but today is clearly not one of those days. And even if it were, I don’t think I could hold it back.

The smell that envelops me is like nothing else. It’s a blend of the foods he’s been preparing and the warm, woodsy scent of his body wash. As always, he slightly tenses up in my embrace before I let him go.

“I’m so proud of you, Carse. You’ve got your home,” I gesture to the walls surrounding us, “and now a diner! What’s next? The world?”

He thinks for a moment, his eyes scanning me before darting back up. The intense gaze sends a flutter through my stomach, making me shift to my other foot.

“Somethin’ like that.” He steps back and grabs the plate of pasta from the counter. This man knows that my love for pasta runs deep and spoils me with it more often than he should. I know he can cook many different types of food, but I always want pasta, and he knows it.

“Well, tell me more. Does it need a lot of work? I haven’t been there in...gosh... I don’t even know how long.”

His eyes lift to mine. “I assume the last time I was there was the last time you were there,” he says after a pause.

The words instantly transport me back to that day—the one that sent me to the emergency room, fighting for my life. By some miracle, we were right in front of a nurse’s house. She had an EpiPen and saved my life. The EMTs arrived quickly after that, and everything else from that day is a blur.

Now I carry an EpiPen with me everywhere I go. The hassle of toting around that little device is worth the peace of mind. Knowing that if I ever accidentally come into contact with a peanut again, I have something that can save my life right at my fingertips.

Before that day, I’d eaten peanuts my whole life with no issue.

Learning that severe allergies can develop suddenly—and violently—is terrifying.

Some people joke about food allergies and act as if they are more of an intolerance than a life-threatening response from the body.

Unlike some, I don’t wish harm on those people.

I’ve seen others wish allergies on the people who scoff or roll their eyes, but I would never wish this on even my worst enemy.

Putting food into your body should never feel like injecting poison into your system, and that is precisely what it feels like.

I’ve only had one reaction—but it’s one I’ll never forget. Carson’s deep, cobalt-blue eyes stayed locked on mine the whole time, doing his best to keep me calm.

“You know, you’re probably right,” I answer, pushing the memory of that day away. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that he bought Mel’s Place after the trauma we both lived through.

“I know it might seem like an odd choice,” he says, clearly reading my mind. “But I figured I could clear out the old bad memories of that place and make something new for us.”

My eyes lift from the food in front of me to catch him staring.

“For all of us. That day wasn’t good for anyone,” he clarifies.

“Right,” I say softly, smiling. “That’s a great idea, Carse. Besides, it was just the one bad memory there,” I shrug, uncapping the lemon-lime Gatorade that Carson bought for me. “The rest of the times we had were good. We always had a lot of fun walkin’ over there.”

A small smile tugs at his lip—a rare sight, but one I never take for granted.

“So, how is it?” I prod. “Need a lot of work? Or is it still in decent shape?”

“Not too bad. Probably just a couple of weeks’ worth of work at the most. I’ve had some things in motion for a while now.

I’ve been keepin’ it to myself until I was really sure it was gonna go through.

” He lets out a sigh. “Paul’s leavin’ me all of the equipment and a lot of the supplies I need to get started, so I should be able to have the place up and runnin’ sooner than I think I’m really ready for. ” He lets a nervous chuckle escape him.

“It’ll be great. I know it,” I reassure him, placing my hand across the table onto his exposed forearm.

He offers me a quick smile in return before pulling his arm away. Physical touch has never been his thing, which is unfortunate for him because it’s definitely mine.

“So, when do we start the work?” I ask, taking a big bite of the spaghetti twirled around my fork.

“You’re not helpin’ me, Wren.”

“What?” I laugh in shock. “Of course I am.”

“Wren…” He says my name like I’m in trouble as he gently sets his fork down on the plate. “You have plenty goin’ on in your own life. I have all of this under control.”

“Carson, it’s not a big deal. I can?—”

“No, Wren.”

Sure, I’m a little overwhelmed getting my groove back at Sunset Haven—that transition hasn’t gone as smoothly as I expected. I’m also helping Lucy at her garden center, Vines and Vases, during the busy season while she wrangles twin babies. Plus, I’m working on settling into my new place.

Yeah, I guess my plate’s a little full. But I can always find time to help just one more person.

I always do.

“I really don’t mind. It’d just have to be after I get off work. And when I’m not helpin’ out at the garden center. Or when I’m babysitting. Unless you’re okay with me bringin’ them with me? In that case, I’ll just need?—”

“Wren,” he cuts in. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Now it’s his hand resting on my arm.

I appreciate that he doesn’t want to overwhelm me with more tasks and is trying to prevent me from burning out. But still, I hate the guilt creeping up from not helping him with something so important.

“How about I?—”

“If I absolutely need help, I’ll call you,” he says, giving me that half-smile that tells me he knows exactly who he’s dealing with.

I study him for a few seconds, trying to determine if he’s telling the truth.

Feeling content with his answer, I finally nod. “Okay.”