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Wren

R ain pelts against the window as I sit with my morning cup of coffee. It’s a pastel yellow ceramic mug—one I’ve had since moving out on my own. The color usually brings me joy; its sunny hue always lifts my spirits.

But not today.

This mid-July rainstorm matches my current mood perfectly.

In the two days since I poured my heart out to Carson, I’ve done nothing but sulk.

I’ve gone to work and done what I needed to do, but that’s where I’ve drawn the line.

I haven’t checked anything else off my list; I haven’t even worked on the puzzle I bought last week.

It claims to be a magic shifting picture , and I was eager to see what it transformed into, but now I couldn’t care less if it turned into a ball of dirt.

My phone vibrates on the table with an incoming call.

Maggie.

Rolling my eyes, I press the decline button and push the phone away. It’s surprisingly easy to ignore her now. When the phone dings again, I’m sure she’s either texting or has left a voicemail. I debate ignoring it again, but curiosity gets the better of me.

Ind

I’m coming over.

I’m not here.

Ind

You better answer the door. You know witches melt in the rain.

I laugh and toss the phone back on the table. Indie is persistent. There’s no point in pretending I’m not home—she’d walk in and search high and low for me anyway.

Grabbing my pen and paper from the center of the table, I finally do what I’ve needed to do for two days: I scratch his name off my list.

The sight has tears lining my eyelids once again.

I poured my soul into that conversation, and all he did was shut the door.

I felt foolish and wanted to hide under a rock for the rest of my life, but I was really glad that I put it out there; that he finally, once and for all, knew exactly how I felt about him.

It hurts that he believes he’s not enough. But part of me knows that’s only part of the problem. If he truly had any interest in me, he would be able to push past that and give us a chance.

When I got home that night, I called Indie and Luce and bawled my eyes out to them.

I finally spilled all the details and made them swear on their lives that they wouldn’t say a word about any of it to my brothers.

I know that keeping secrets from their husbands isn’t something either of them is capable of doing, but I believe they both understood the trouble it would cause if my brothers found out what’s been going on with Carson this summer.

All I can do now is be thankful for what Carson did give me. He helped me see that I don’t have to run myself ragged trying to make everyone else happy. He reminded me that there’s more to life—and to me —than what I can offer others.

But Carson is a grown man. And I’m done letting him have this hold over me.

It’s time I find what I’m looking for. Even if it’s with someone else.

“You’re sure about this?” Ind raises an auburn brow as she types on the laptop in front of her.

No, I’m not sure. I’m over thirty, and I’ve never joined the online dating game. But here I go.

“Yup… Do it.”

Indie clicks the final button and grins. “Alright, babe. You are officially out there for some lucky S.O.B. to snag.” She closes the laptop and places it on the coffee table in front of us.

I release a nervous breath and lay my head back on the couch. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date that just the thought of it makes me break into a sweat.

Now that guys get to ogle my photo beforehand—zoom in, inspect every blemish—I kinda want to puke. But at least I know the person who reaches out won’t be surprised by what I look like. Better than a blind date, where you’re stuck wondering the whole time if the other person finds you attractive.

“He’s an idiot, and you’re doin’ the right thing,” Indie says, patting my leg. “If I were into women, I’d date you… He’s just fuckin’ stupid if you want my honest opinion.”

She’s blunt—one of the many reasons I love her. Not everyone can handle her no-filter personality, but I’ve always found her refreshing. In a world full of fake people, she’s as real as they come.

“Come on,” she says, rising to her feet. “Let’s go have lunch with Luce. You need outta this place.”

After some mild persuasion, Indie convinces me to swap my sweats for a cute outfit. If I’m reentering the dating world, I guess I should look like I give a damn.

With containers of Chinese food in hand, Indie and I show up at Lucy’s shop, Vines and Vases, and spend the next hour laughing, eating, and fawning over baby pictures.

Somewhere between a bite of lo mein and a photo of Lily smearing avocado across her face, the heaviness I’ve been carrying starts to lift.

Being with these girls—my people—it’s exactly the reminder I needed. I’m not alone. I’m loved. And I will move forward.

After making plans for an upcoming game night, Indie and I head back home, full and content.

As she drives, my phone buzzes in my lap. One look at the screen and a slow, surprised smile creeps across my face.

“What are you hidin’ over there, Wren Beckett?” Indie teases from the driver’s seat.

I lock the screen and tuck the phone into my bag.

“Looks like I’ve got a date this weekend.”

Indie grins. “Fuck yeah, you do. Better shave your legs, babe. It’s gettin’ real now.”

Am I ready for a date?

Again, I don’t really know. But one thing I do know is that I want to try. It may sting my heart right now, but this feels like the first step. And if life has taught me anything, it’s that the first step is always the hardest one.

“Yeah. Now I just gotta remember how to shave above the knee,” I mutter, and Indie howls with laughter.