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Wren

Present

T here’s a lot to learn in life, and I’m pretty sure I’m its most devoted student.

Over the years, I’ve managed to master a few of its toughest lessons—like how to show up for people when they need me. How to care deeply, listen well, and be the reliable friend or helping hand everyone counts on. Those? I’ve got down.

But there’s one lesson I still haven’t figured out: how to say no.

When someone needs me, I show up. Every time. No questions asked.

As I turn into the side parking lot of Sunset Haven, my front tires bump the curb—hard—thanks to the glowing unknown number lighting up my phone screen.

I don’t need to answer it to know it’s work. Or someone from work.

And I don’t need to answer it to know that if I do, whatever hope I had for a peaceful day off will be flushed down the drain, even more than it already is.

I never thought I’d see the day when I dreaded hearing my phone ring. The day when I’d rather throw it out the window and into the paved street of oncoming cars to be brutally smashed to bits than put it to my ear. But here we are.

It’s always something.

There’s always just one more favor I can do, one more task I can take off someone else’s plate.

And I can’t help it. It’s in my nature to help others when I see they need me.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve made sure to be there for anyone and everyone who needs me. The thought of someone being upset with me makes my stomach twist.

Which is precisely how I ended up in my car right now on one of my rare days off from the hospital.

I don’t have many memories with my mom, but one thing she did teach me was to always show up for your friends and family. When you have a lot of people you consider friends…well, your calendar stays full.

Sliding the black shifter up into park, I stare down at the still-ringing phone.

My fingers itch to answer it—just in case.

What if it’s someone who really needs me?

What if they think I’m ignoring them?

What if it’s a family member using someone else’s phone because they’re stranded or hurt, and they’re waiting for me to come save the day?

Or it could be someone trying to sell me an extended warranty on this car for the two hundred and fifty thousandth time.

The guilt creeps in fast and heavy—right on cue.

A dozen possibilities rush through my head as I tuck a loose strand of blonde hair behind my ear and reach for the phone.

“Hello,” I answer, forcing a smile no one can see.

It’s an old trick—smiling while talking. Makes you sound less tired, less annoyed. And right now, I’m already both.

“ Heyyy , Wren! It’s Maggie.”

The sugary tone in her voice tells me everything I need to know.

My day off? Over before she even asks.

“Hey, Maggie. How are you?” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat, already bracing myself to do something I don’t want to do.

“Good, good! Hey, I’ve got an appointment tomorrow that I just can’t cancel. I know it’s your day off, buuuuut…” she drags out the word like it’ll soften the blow, “I was hoping maybe you could cover for me?”

There it is.

She doesn’t offer to swap shifts. Doesn’t say she’ll return the favor. Just drops it on me, expecting a yes.

And the thing that really stings? She’s the one who was supposed to cover for me last time—when I missed that road trip with my best friend.

“Sick kid,” she’d claimed. Then I saw the pictures—her out with friends, drink in hand, all smiles.

Sick kid, my rear end.

That trip ended up being a blessing for Wilder and Indie, though. If I had gone, Wild might have never broken down the stubborn woman’s walls. Now she’s my sister-in-law, so I suppose it wasn’t a total loss.

Still, I should say no. I want to say no.

“Sure, I can do that.”

The words taste like sandpaper. I bite down on my lip to keep from groaning out loud as guilt and resentment twist in my gut.

“You’re a lifesaver, Wren! Thank you soooo much. My two-inch roots thank you, too!”

Click .

“Son of a…” I mutter, yanking the phone away from my ear and staring at my purple home screen, already regretting everything.

I toss my phone into my purse a little harder than necessary, then lean back and close my eyes, lifting my bracelet to my nose and inhaling deeply.

Indie—my best friend and now sister-in-law—gave me this essential oil bracelet for Christmas last year. Everyone who knows me knows how much I love lavender. It’s beautiful, calming, and honestly? If I could bottle the scent and live in it, I would.

Anytime I feel overwhelmed, anxious, restless—or any other flavor of emotionally fried—I reach for it.

Whether it’s the oil on my bracelet, my lavender lotion, or even a candle, it helps.

I know the lotion and candle aren’t doing the same thing as the oil technically, but it’s mental for me.

The scent alone brings me peace. Even just seeing the plant calms me down.

I’m in the middle of breathing in that familiar, floral comfort when a knock on my window yanks me out of my lavender trance.

I jump, then roll it down with a small smile.

“Hey, Donnie.”

My cheeks lift as I take in the face of the old man I used to spend hours with every day back when I worked here at Sunset Haven.

The moment the window lowers, I’m hit by a wave of thick, humid Oklahoma air—it’s like opening an oven full of cookies, only less delicious and more suffocating.

“You comin’ back yet?” he asks, one white eyebrow raised as he tucks a weathered hand into the pocket of his tan slacks.

A soft laugh escapes through my nose. Donnie’s never been one for small talk. He says what he thinks and doesn’t sugarcoat a single word—something I’ve always appreciated about him.

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m just here to help Freida. She needed?—”

“Ahh,” he interrupts, waving a hand like he’s swatting at a fly. “She don’t need nothin’. Lazy, I tell ya.”

He glances over the top of my car toward the front doors of the tan brick building, then back at me.

“I think it’s about time you came back and got this place feelin’ right again. These girls they’ve got now? Don’t cut it.”

His words land heavier than he probably means them to.

I’ve been at the hospital in the city for almost two years now. It’s the job I used to dream about when I was little.

But lately?

It’s getting harder and harder to convince myself I still love it.

When my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and we started spending more and more time in hospitals and doctor’s offices, I knew—I knew —that I wanted to be a nurse.

There was never any question.

The nurses were always so kind, so patient. They made my mom feel seen, safe, even comforted.

And the helpless little girl inside me wanted— needed —to do that for someone else one day.

Then came the day everything changed.

Mom’s health took a turn, and it all went downhill fast. We knew our time with her was limited. Every moment suddenly mattered more than the one before it.

One afternoon, I lost it. I started crying in front of her, guilt swelling in my chest for making the moment about me . Her eyes were closed as she rested in the bed, but I knew she could hear me. I knew I was upsetting her.

So I slipped out of the room, hoping to pull myself together before I made it worse.

One of the nurses—someone we saw almost every visit—followed me out. Without a word, she wrapped me in a hug and let me cry into her side. She didn’t rush me or tell me to be strong. She just was there .

She was very patient and caring at a moment when I needed someone like her. Someone…like a mom.

That was the moment that cemented everything for me.

She pulled me in closer and said softly, “Sweetie, I know it’s hard. But I have no doubt those handsome fellas in there are gonna be standin’ strong and tall by your side through this. And they’re gonna need you just as much.

“The one thing any strong man needs is a woman just as strong at his side. Y’all are gonna have your moments of weakness—and that’s when you hold each other up. That’s when you lean in and carry the weight together.

“They’re gonna need you to be strong for them too, Miss Wren. So you take your time, collect yourself, and then let’s go in there and show your momma she doesn’t need to worry. That her family is sticking together.”

I was just a kid at the time. And in that moment, it felt like my entire world was crumbling.

Of course, I still had my dad. I had Cal and Wilder. But once Mom was gone, I knew two things with painful certainty:

One—everything would be different.

And two—I’d never see her again.

At least, not in this life.

“What are you doin’ out here anyway?” I ask the old man, still staring at me through my partially rolled-down window as I grab my things from the passenger seat.

“Lookin’ to bum a smoke,” he says, glancing down at the pavement, then peeking under my car. “Or find one someone dropped. There’s a couple new guys in housekeeping—leave their butts out here every mornin’.”

I chuckle at his honesty. “Donnie, you know you ain’t allowed to smoke.” I give him my best stern look.

He scoffs. “I’m seventy-two damn years old. I can do as I please. I’ve lived this long—I’ve earned the right.”

I shake my head. “And how exactly do you plan on lightin’ that cigarette when you find it?”

He gestures down his body with both hands.

“Girl, you see me?” His voice is full of mischief.

“I’m old as shit. Back in my day, the only way to get fire was bangin’ rocks or rubbin’ sticks together.

” He shakes his head. “Ain’t lost my touch yet.

These whippersnappers nowadays need a whole tech manual just to turn on a stove. ”

Leaving the window down, I turn off the engine and step out of the car. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

He places a hand on my shoulder, steadying himself as we start toward the front door. “Sugar, if I weren’t , this place would be…What do the kids say?” He lifts a finger as if he’s just remembered something. “Oh— hella boring. ”