Page 25

Carson

A fter a long, hot day at the diner, I pull into the parking lot of the new grocery store.

In a small town, a new business is a big deal.

It’s just a little grocery store with ten aisles, but you’d think it was a new Disney location based on the excitement our town had over it.

I’m just glad I don’t have to drive twenty minutes for a bag of flour anymore.

My days are long enough without tacking a commute onto the end.

When I followed Wren out to the pond this afternoon, I about had a heart attack watching her swim in the water.

Sure, I saw plenty of her last night, and I’ve seen her in a few swimsuits, but she was right: this felt different.

Something about seeing her in nothing but a bra and panties in broad daylight was not even close to the same thing.

I was mesmerized by the sight of water gliding over her skin as she paddled across it. For the first time in my life, I found myself feeling jealous of water.

Fucking. Water .

I respected her privacy when she wanted to get out, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to turn around and sneak a glance at her. To get a look at the tight ass that’s always drove me crazy.

The glass doors slide open, and the cold air rushes over me as I step into Sunny Mart. It’s a bit embarrassing that the fact that I no longer have to drive twenty minutes to another town to get groceries makes me this excited.

I’ve only been in here a few times, so I’m still unsure where everything is. As I search the aisles, I quickly find what I need.

I’m reaching for a bag of flour when a hand brushes mine.

“Oh, sorry,” a sweet, familiar voice says.

I look over and there she is.

Wren smiles, and mine answers automatically. She looks a little sun-kissed from her swim earlier, her cheeks a shade rosier than usual.

“Hey, Tink. Nice to see you put some clothes on,” I tease.

Her cheeks grow a slight shade brighter. “Very funny.”

“What are you makin’?” I ask, handing her the bag of flour before grabbing another for myself.

“I’m not sure,” she says, examining the label. “I just wanted to have all the basics on hand in case I get the itch to try something… This is the kind you use, right?”

Her bottom lip worries between her teeth. She isn’t acting like her usual self.

“You don’t have to be weird around me, Wren.” I bump her arm gently with mine, hoping to help her relax and not think about last night…or this afternoon.

“What? I’m not bein’ weird. You’re weird.”

The fact that she still hasn’t made eye contact and that she’s tucked her hair behind her ear five times already tells me otherwise.

“Okay. Well, I’ll let you get back to?—”

“Wren! Oh my God!”

A woman with short-cropped hair and heavy eyeliner approaches Wren and gives her a hug. From Wren’s stiff posture, I don’t think she really wants to be hugging this person.

Now, that is weird.

Mental alarms trigger as I watch the two women interact.

“Hey,” Wren says with a tight smile. “What on Earth are you doin’ in Twin Pines?”

“Well,” the woman takes a breath. “I’m goin’ with my friend Kaylie to this festival in Opal. She needed to grab a few things from the store, and I said, ‘Wouldn’t it be crazy if I ran into Wren?’ And look—here you are!”

“Yeah,” Wren gives a forced laugh. “Here I am.”

“Anyway, this is so perfect. Did you change your number? I’ve been texting and calling you all week!”

“Uh… I?—”

“That’s okay. I figured it was bad service out this way. Wait—who’s this?” she asks, finally taking a break to notice she’s not the only person in the damn store.

“Oh, this is my friend, Carson. Carson, this is Maggie.”

Of course it is. Not sure how I didn’t guess it myself. There aren’t many people that Wren doesn’t care for, and her old coworker is one of them.

Maggie gives me a once-over, her voice softening. “Hey.”

I give a slight nod in response as I continue to stand next to Wren, wishing this woman would just leave. Sure, I could walk away myself, but I’m not leaving Wren with her. She’s early in her recovery—figuring out how to stop people-pleasing doesn’t mean she’s ready to go toe-to-toe with a leech.

“Well, it was nice seein’ you, Maggie.” Wren pats her shoulder and starts to turn toward me to leave, but Maggie grabs her forearm.

“Wait. Like I was sayin’, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. I’ve got this party to go to next weekend with this new guy I met, and I desperately need a babysitter.” She gives Wren puppy-dog eyes and pouts her lower lip.

Wren hesitates. “Oh. Uh… I’m not sure I can…”

Wide-eyed silence.

Wren fidgets with the bag of flour in her hands. Her eyes slowly come back up to Maggie. “What about your mom? Could she watch her? I live pretty far away now.”

“Eww, no.” Her brows scrunch together. “That woman is so judgmental. I hate asking her for help. She doesn’t understand that I’m still young and have a life. Besides, you and Mads get along so well!”

“Right…” Wren takes a deep breath. It’s possible she’s about to cave. I see it in the way her fingers tighten around the bag of flour.

“She can’t,” I interject, tossing an arm over Wren’s shoulder. “We have plans.”

“We do? I-I mean , yes, I have plans…with Carson.”

“What kind of plans? Maybe Mads could tag along!” Maggie presses, waiting for Wren to answer.

A few too many long seconds pass, and I start to wonder if Wren’s forgotten how to speak.

“We’re havin’ dinner,” Wren finally says, voice barely above a whisper. Not a total lie—we’ll probably end up eating together at some point next weekend.

Maggie’s eyes flash. “Oh, that’s perfect. She can join you—no problem there. You know that girl loves to eat,” she adds with a laugh.

Wren fidgets with the bag of flour again, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh?—”

“The dinner I’m havin’ isn’t exactly PG,” I say flatly. “You’ll need to make other arrangements.”

Wren’s eyes snap to mine, wide and stunned. I tighten my grip on her shoulder, pulling her closer.

She might be dying of embarrassment now that I’ve basically implied I’ll be eating her for dinner—but someone had to get the message across. This woman wasn’t taking a damn hint.

Maggie’s face falls. “Oh…okay.”

Another woman hollers down the aisle at Maggie. She glances back and waves to her friend. “Okay, well—I’ll see you around, I guess. And stop ignoring me!” she hollers over her shoulder as she turns and leaves the aisle.

The second she’s out of sight, Wren spins out from under my arm. “I know, I know. You don’t even have to say anything.” Her mouth pulls to one side, face folding into quiet defeat. “I’m never gonna get any better at this.”

“I beg to differ. You’re already better.”

Honestly, I’m just glad we’re skipping right over what I said.

She lifts her eyes, hopeful. “You think?”

“She said you’ve been ignorin’ her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not return someone’s call within an hour in the entire time I’ve known you.”

A small smile breaks through.

“And you tried to offer another solution before you just jumped in with a yes. That’s progress, Tink.”

She nods slowly, fighting back a full grin. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

And damn if seeing her smile like that doesn’t make that whole awkward run-in worth it.

Wren needed to see for herself that she could do this—that she could step back and not jump every time someone asked.

“I just feel bad for lyin’ like that. Makes me feel all weird inside,” she says, giving a little shake.

“If it helps, I’ll cook you somethin’. Then it won’t be a lie.”

She grins. “Always savin’ me.”

She says it so quietly, like it matters. Like she means it. And damn if that doesn’t undo me a little. I don’t know what to say to that—not without digging myself into a hole—so I just offer a shrug. But the truth is, I’d keep showing up for her every time, no matter how small the reason.

She has no idea how easy she makes it. How natural it feels to be the one she turns to.

“I gotta run, but we’ll talk later, yeah?”

“Okay.” Her smile grows, easier now. “Later, alligator.”

While standing at the checkout, I reach behind me to grab the large red bag of rainbow-colored candy. I quickly check out and borrow a pen and some receipt paper from the cashier.

Proud of you, Tink.

P.S. Just because it says ‘share size’ doesn’t mean you have to.

-C

When I get to the small parking lot, I quickly spot her car. I slide the paper under her windshield wiper and set the bag of Skittles on top.

Wren may not always see herself the way I do—or notice the progress she’s making—but she’s trying. And hell if that isn’t the most beautiful thing about her.