Page 35

Wren

S omething feels different about today. I can’t quite explain it. Sometimes you just wake up, and you can feel that the air has shifted.

Today is one of those days.

I hate these feelings, because usually when I have them, they never lead to anything good. Still, I can’t ignore the nagging feeling inside me that says something is off.

I do my best to get ready for work, listening to my country mix playlist in the background.

But everything’s off—my coffee has grounds in it, my brush snags in my hair like it’s out for revenge, and then my electric toothbrush won’t shut off when I pull it from my mouth, splattering the mirror with speckles of white foam.

But I power through and try to maintain a positive attitude.

It’s just another day. I can do this.

When days are tough, we get tougher. Or, if worse comes to worst—fake it till you make it.

Finally getting my butt out the door and to my car, I buckle up, ready for whatever else life throws at me today.

A ding sounds from the dashboard. I close my eyes and sigh.

Slowly, I peek one eye open to glance at the control panel.

“Okay, we’ll get some gas and then we’re good to go. We won’t let these little things ruin the entire day,” I encourage myself.

It could always be worse.

If all my bad feelings this morning were just warning me about minor inconveniences, I’ll take it.

“Wren, sweetie, could you follow me into my office?”

Freida’s soft gaze leaves an uncomfortable feeling in my gut. The only time this woman wants to talk in her office is if she needs something. I’m supposed to help at the diner again tonight, so there’s no way I can work a double shift here at Sunset Haven.

“Sure.” I nod, following her. The eyes of several coworkers and residents follow me. There’s something in their eyes I don’t like.

It’s sympathy.

Am I about to be fired?

It would make sense considering the morning I’ve had and the feeling I woke up with today.

Freida stands in the doorway, waiting for me to enter. The soft click of the door closing feels final.

Her office smells like a bakery, as always—some caramel sugar cookie wax melting in a black warmer in the corner. Leaving this room without feeling hungry would be a miracle. But right now, I only feel sick.

“How are you?” Freida asks as she takes a seat and scoots her chair closer to the desk.

My hands start to fidget on their own volition. “I’m good,” I respond with a forced smile.

The urge to blurt, What’s going on? What do you need? pulses through me, but I hold back.

Something’s not right.

This isn’t a day I want to test my luck on.

I don’t know what I’d do if I lost this job.

It means everything to me. Sure, there are other places I could go, but this place has always felt like a second home.

I love most of the people I work with and all the patients I care for.

They’ve become like another family to me.

Freida nods, lips tight, her expression unreadable.

My mind races, trying and failing to think of anything I could have done to lose my job. I’m meticulous about my charts and paperwork. I’m never late and always cover for others when needed. I don’t believe I’ve done anything that would have led to complaints.

“Look, sweetie, I have some news.” Her eyes shift away from mine as she gazes down at the stack of papers on her desk.

My stomach sinks to my feet. News is never good here.

She shuffles the papers on her desk, her mouth opening and closing repeatedly like she’s trying to find the right words.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to faint from holding my breath for so long, anxiously waiting for her next words.

“Please, just spit it out. This is killin’ me.” I force a laugh, hoping to lighten the moment. Hoping that if I make it lighter, it truly will be.

She nods and releases a sigh.

“Mr. Heartly passed away last night.”

The world stops.

All the air rushes out of my lungs. A chill races up my arms, causing the hairs to stand on end. The burn of impending tears shredding my throat.

“What?” My voice cracks. “That can’t—how…?”

I shake my head, trying to make sense of what she just said.

“His wife called for us in the middle of the night. She said something was wrong. We reassured her everything was fine, but she insisted we try to wake him… Said she could feel something wasn’t right.

” Freida’s hazel eyes gloss over as she clears her throat.

“I’m so sorry, Wren. I know how much he meant to you.

If you need to take the day off, go ahead.

I tried calling you this morning, but you didn’t answer. ”

It can’t be.

He can’t be gone.

He was fine .

Donnie wasn’t the healthiest—none of our residents are—but…he was okay. He was still himself .

This is all my fault. I must’ve overlooked something. When I was spending so much time with his wife, I should’ve?—

“Oh no… Geri .” Her name slips out on a whisper over the tears. “Is she okay? I need to go see her.”

I hastily stand from the chair, quickly wiping my eyes. This woman just lost the love of her life. She doesn’t need to see me breaking down. This is her time to fall apart, not mine. I need to be there for her.

“She’s not here,” Freida says gently before I walk out the door. “She was distraught and complaining of chest pains. She’s okay, but she’s still at the hospital. Both of her daughters are there with her, last I heard.”

She takes a few steps closer, eyes full of compassion. “You can go home, Wren. Take all the time you need. We will be okay here for a few days while you rest.”

I nod numbly.

With glossy eyes, she pulls me in for a quick hug, rubbing her hand on my back. I want to break down, but I know this isn’t the time or the place.

“Yeah… Okay,” I whisper, dabbing at my eyes again and sniffling.

Donnie is gone.

Of all the things I anticipated hearing or experiencing today, that was nowhere on the list.

As I drop into my driver’s seat, tears flood my eyes once again.

That sweet, ornery man…is gone.

My heart breaks all over again for his wife. They shared such a strong love that I can’t even begin to imagine her pain.

The thought of those two deeply affects my heart. I’m both sad and happy. Sad because they have been torn apart, but happy because they were fortunate enough to find a love like theirs. A love so true that everyone aspired to have something even remotely like it.

Me included.

And why can’t I?

I’m young… ish . I may not have much to offer, but I know I’m a good person and I care deeply about others.

And life…flies by. What am I waiting for?

With trembling fingers and a fresh set of lenses on, I take the folded Wren-ovation Project list from my purse and fish for the pen in my scrub pocket.

This is my life, and I’m tired of sitting idly by, waiting for things to happen. It’s time to go after the things I want and finally speak my mind.

Flattening the sheet of paper over the center console, I begin to write what I want most—what I want to pursue no matter how terrifying it might be.

-Carson Everett Matthews

A heavy knock echoes at my front door, startling me from my thoughts. I’ve been crying for hours and probably look like a nightmare.

When I open the door, Carson pushes past me into the house. “Sorry, I came over as soon as I heard.”

“What? Heard?—”

His downcast expression tells me he knows. Hesitantly, he takes a step closer to me.

“Who told you?” I wrap my arms around myself, trying to hold everything in.

“Indie called. Said I had to come check on you since she’s out of town and I’m right down the street.”

“Oh,” I reply, wishing he had come over because he wanted to, not because he was practically forced to.

“Are you okay?” he asks, carefully. He watches me like I’m a house of cards that could collapse at any moment.

I nod. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”

But the second the words leave my mouth, my voice wavers, and tears start to cascade down my cheeks.

“Come here, baby.”

His arms wrap around me, strong and warm, pulling me into his chest. I collapse into the comfort of him.

He runs one hand over my back and cups my head with the other, holding me steady as sobs shake through me.

I feel safe here.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, soaking his shirt with more tears than I knew I had left in me.

“It’s okay.”

He holds me tighter when I try to pull away. “I’m here, Wren.”

We stand like that for a while, swaying slowly side to side as he soothes me, soft kisses pressing into my hair that I feel all the way into my aching heart.

“I’m so sorry, Tink… He was a good man.”

I nod, listening to the steady beat of his heart against my ear.

Right now, in this moment, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

My safe place.