Chapter 9

Nine

Harrison

A fter I dropped off Wren at school on Monday morning, Everly and I were alone. We’d slipped into a routine, but I wouldn’t say it was easy.

I’d said I wanted to show her that fairy tales existed, but I was worried about doing anything to ruin our friendship. I needed her in a way I’d never relied on anyone else. My parents and my sister, Sage, were quick to help if I needed it, but my friendship with Everly had always been different.

She’d been my partner since Wren was a baby. I wasn’t sure I could survive without her if something went wrong. I didn’t want to mess up anything with her, but I’d accepted the challenge, and I’d never backed down from one before.

I just needed to come up with a plan. On Wednesday, I picked up Wren from school and took her to dinner. I only had a few hours with her on Wednesday nights, and Everly insisted that we take this time to ourselves.

I didn’t necessarily agree, but I needed to talk to Wren. We ate at Wren’s favorite restaurant that served good burgers.

“How was school?” I asked after our waiter took our order.

“I have to do a presentation next week.” Wren wrinkled her nose.

“You’re worried about speaking in front of the class?” I remembered excelling at engaging my classmates and the teachers. It saved me because I wasn’t good at academics. The teachers always described me as charming at the parent-teacher conferences, and my mother would say I could convince anyone of anything. I guess that’s how I got Everly to pose as my pretend girlfriend and move in with me.

“Uh-huh.”

I figured it wouldn’t help to mention that speaking with others didn’t make me nervous. Wren was different from me. She was social and outgoing but more sensitive about what people thought of her. “It can be a scary thing. What’s your presentation on?”

Wren straightened, eager to talk about the assignment. “Patricia Bath. She’s a scientist who invented this laser to fix cataracts.”

“Neat.”

“The cool thing is that she invented it before the technology to create it was even available.” She stumbled slightly over the word technology. “She worked on it for five years before they had what they needed to do it.”

“That’s amazing.” I was always impressed when Wren got into a project at school. She loved researching, learning new things, and going to museums.

Wren pointed with her finger as if she’d just remembered something. “She said her biggest accomplishment was helping a woman who’d been blind for thirty years.”

“With her laser?”

“I think it was a different surgery. Something to do with your—” She pointed at her eye.

“Eye?” I guessed.

She shook her head and frowned. “It started with a C.”

“Cornea?”

She snapped her fingers. “That’s it. She grew up poor and did things to help people who didn’t have medical care.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

“You want to know the best part?” Wren asked, her voice filled with excitement.

“Absolutely. Give it to me.”

Wren grinned. “She’s a girl.”

“That is awesome.” It was good for her to see that women were successful in science, and I loved that she was so enthusiastic about the project. Her interest would come through during her presentation.

“I love learning about people,” Wren said as the waitress brought us our drinks—lemonade for Wren, and water with lemon for me.

Wren was turning into someone who was articulate and interested in learning new things. I loved getting to know this mature side of her. I was proud of her. “It sounds like you’re going to be just fine delivering your presentation.”

“How do you know?” Wren asked, uncertainty filtering through her tone.

“Did you just listen to yourself? You know everything about this woman, and you’re passionate about her life. That will come across in your presentation, and you’ll forget to be nervous.”

Wren bit her lower lip as she looked around at the other patrons in the restaurant and then back at me. “I hope so.”

I set my elbows on the table to consider her. “Are you allowed to look at your notes?”

Wren nodded. “Yeah, I made a poster with her picture and everything.”

“You can always read off that. You’re going to do great.”

Her shoulders lowered. “Thanks. Mom doesn’t talk to me like this.”

I didn’t want to get into how things were different, but I was curious. “How so?”

“She’s not scared about anything. She’d tell me to get over it.”

I barely refrained from wincing. Lola was overconfident, and it wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She thought she was invincible when she didn’t have the grades or career to back it up. I knew she’d gone through several jobs where she didn’t understand why she’d been fired. I almost wished Wren had some of her confidence, but then I remembered Wren was her own person. “I can’t wait to hear how it goes. We’ll have to go out next time I see you to celebrate.”

“Can we get ice cream?” Wren asked eagerly, her nerves forgotten.

“That’s the only way to celebrate.”

Wren smiled. “I wish I could see you tomorrow night.”

My stomach dipped at the reminder our time was limited. “You can call me, and we can talk about it then.”

“Okay,” Wren said as the waitress set our plates in front of us.

I wished I could see her more often. That Lola would allow me to show up and take her to get ice cream. Maybe that was something I could ask for in the custody case. Or at least offer it when the baby came. Maybe Lola would be more amenable to it then. I could help her with Wren so she could spend more time with the baby. Sometimes, I wondered if Lola held on to Wren so tightly as a way to control me. It wasn’t about spending as much time with her daughter as she could.

After we finished our meal, I ordered a sundae for Wren. These dinners reminded me of our family dinners growing up. We always went out on Friday nights as a family, to a local pizza joint or burger place, and then we’d top the night off with dessert.

Wren picked up the cherry by the stem and popped it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before asking, “Can I play basketball?”

“I don’t see why not. I loved playing as a kid.” I wasn’t sure what Lola’s answer had been to this question, so I needed to tread carefully.

Wren’s face pinched as if she was disappointed about something. “Mom said with the baby coming, she won’t have time to take me.”

“She said you couldn’t sign up?” Irritation swirled in my gut.

Wren shook her head. “She said, ‘We’ll see.’”

Every kid knew what that meant. The answer was no. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Do you think you could coach?” Wren asked.

“I’ve never coached before.” Could I do it to justify Wren playing?

Wren shrugged. “It’s a bunch of eight-year-old girls. What could be so hard about it?”

I chuckled because I doubted it would be that simple. “Let me talk to your mother first.”

Basketball was my sport growing up. I could tell Lola it was important to me to coach Wren. It might be just what I needed to appeal to Lola. If I offered to pick her up and take her to every practice and game, it would give me more time with Wren. It would show how responsible and involved I was. Not that I was doing it to prove something to a judge. I just wanted Wren to have the same experiences I did. I hated that I had to play these games when I wanted to be more involved in the decision-making process.

“I hope she says yes,” Wren said wistfully.

I gave her my most charming smile. “Well, my mom always said I could convince anyone to do anything.”

Wren giggled. “You always say that.”

I held a hand over my heart. “Are you saying it’s not true?”

Wren scanned my face and then shrugged. “I don’t see it.”

I laughed because she sounded so grown-up just then. “Just you wait. You’re going to be surprised.”

She let out a breath. “I hope so. I really want to play.”

Wren was taller than most girls her age. She took after me with her light brown hair, blue eyes, and lanky build. “Have you been practicing?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have a hoop.”

Maybe that was another thing I could suggest to Lola. Their flat driveway was perfect for one. “You have one at my house, and we can practice after we eat.”

“Really?” Wren’s eyes widened.

“We should have an hour before I need to get you back.”

“Yay!” she said as she shoveled in the rest of her ice cream, eager to play.

At home, Wren rushed to change out of her school outfit into play clothes. I grabbed a ball and took a few practice shots. The first one hit the rim, but by the time Wren returned, I’d swished one.

“Wow. Was that a three-pointer?”

I winked at her, pleased she’d paid attention when I’d watched games around her. “Not even close.”

“Can you show me how to do that?”

I handed her the other ball that was smaller. Then I demonstrated the way you were supposed to hold the ball and push it off your hand. “Like you’re waving good-bye.”

Wren snorted. “Daddy, that’s silly.”

“Hey. That’s how I was taught. Lie on the ground. I’ll show you how you can practice at home without a hoop.”

We lay side-by-side on the grass next to the driveway, both of us pushing the ball in the air in the motion I’d taught her. At first, Wren’s ball fell away from her more often than not, and she had to jump up and grab it before it rolled onto the street, but after a while, she got the hang of it.

I heard the rumble of Everly’s small sedan as she parked on the curb.

Everly grabbed her bag and got out, walking over to us. “What are you two doing?”

“Playing basketball. Watch,” Lola said as she demonstrated the move again.

Everly smiled at her. “You’re good at that.”

“I’ve been practicing,” Wren said seriously.

Remembering my role, I got up to kiss Everly. It was nice to have someone to greet at the end of the day.

“Ew. Not in front of me,” Wren said dramatically, an arm thrown over her eyes.

“Get over yourself and come say hi to Everly.”

Wren scrambled to her feet, tucking the ball into her side, and hugged her.

Everly closed her eyes, her arms still snug around Wren. “I missed you, sweet girl.”

I wondered if Lola greeted Wren as eagerly when she came home or if she took her presence for granted. I only got to see her for a brief time, so I was appreciative of every minute. But I had a feeling it would be the same no matter how much time Wren spent with me.

“How was dinner?” Everly asked when Wren pulled away.

“Good. We got ice cream.”

Everly’s smile fell slightly. “Sorry I had to miss it. Maybe I can come next time.”

“I’d like that,” Wren said.

If Wren wanted to be alone with me, I trusted she’d say something. I know Everly worried about overstepping, but she’d always been a part of our lives; she was just more now. She needed to get used to being wanted and needed in our lives.

Maybe that was step one of this fairy-tale project. I meant to talk to Wren about that at dinner, but we got sidetracked with her history project, and I forgot to bring it up.

Checking the time, I said, “We need to get you home.”

I was always respectful of the custody agreement. I never wanted to give Lola a reason to say I was irresponsible. Besides, Jackson had drilled into me the importance of adhering to it, even if I didn’t agree with it.

“I wish I could stay longer,” Wren said, hugging Everly again.

“You know what we should do?” The idea suddenly popped into my head.

“What?” Both Everly and Wren said at the same time.

“We should get a puppy.”

Wren jumped up in the air. “Yes!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Everly said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I probably should have discussed it with you first, but it literally just came to me.”

“Uh-huh,” Everly said as if she didn’t believe me.

“You’re getting a new little brother or sister at Lola’s, and you need something to take care of here, too,” I said to Wren.

“I think that would be good,” Wren said, picking up on my cue that we needed to convince Everly.

“It would be good to teach you responsibility.”

“Yeah, I’ll feed her and walk her.”

“How do you know it will be a girl?” Everly asked her.

“Well, duh. Girls are the best.”

“That’s true,” Everly said with a smile directed at me.

“Come on. We’ll discuss it next week. I need to get you home.” I ushered Wren into the backseat and pulled away from the curb. I hated only seeing her for a few hours.

“Do you think if you’re my basketball coach, I could stay at your house more often?”

“Maybe. It’s up to your mom, though.”

“Why is everything up to her?” Wren asked.

“That was the original agreement when you were a baby. We thought it would be best if you were with your mother.” Lola was breastfeeding, so it was easier for Wren to stay with her, but she was older now.

“I want to see you more, though.”

“I’m working on it, but these things take time.” I tried to explain things to her in a way she could easily understand them. I didn’t want to get into attorneys, judges, and courts. That was something she didn’t need to worry about.

“Yeah, okay.” Wren turned to look out the window.

Determined to bring her out of her funk, I said, “I need your help with something.”

She met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “What is it?”

“Do you remember how Everly gets sad when anyone brings up her dad?”

“Yeah,” Wren said impatiently like she wanted me to get to the point.

Everyone knew to avoid the topic, even my family. “I think she doesn’t believe that people stick around. She’s always worried they’re going to leave.”

Wren pursed her lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I, but it’s not that simple. I want to show her that fairy tales really do exist.”

Wren’s eyes brightened as she gushed, “Oh, I love fairy tales.”

“That’s why I need your help. How can we prove to Everly that nice people do exist, and they don’t always leave?” I asked.

“I think she liked the twinkle lights. We could make her a special dinner with candles and flowers. Maybe take her somewhere cool. Like on an adventure.”

“Hmm. Where could we take her?” I asked as I signaled for the turn onto Lola’s street.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” Wren was quiet for a few seconds and then said as we pulled up to her mother’s house, “I think the most important thing to do is show her she’s loved.”

“Yeah?” I asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

“I think everyone likes that.”

I was impressed with Wren’s insightfulness. Was it what Everly was missing? Why she said she was lonely in her apartment? She had friends, but I knew they were starting to pair off themselves. Her mother was deeply hurt by her father’s leaving, and I wasn’t sure she’d ever recovered. Everly spent more time with my family than with her mother. Maybe she didn’t feel loved. How would Wren feel if I didn’t make the effort to see her? Unlovable? Unworthy of anyone’s time and attention?

I couldn’t believe an eight-year-old could see the situation so clearly. “I think you’re on to something, Wren.”

I got out and helped her out of the backseat, carrying her book bag to the door.

I rang the doorbell, and we waited for Lola to answer.

“I think Everly is lonely.”

“We’ll need to treat her extra special for a while so she knows she’s loved and wanted.”

“Yeah, I don’t want her to be sad.”

I squatted in front of her, needing her to know how I felt. “You’re the best kid. You’re kind and sweet. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said just as George opened the door.

“George. How are you?” I straightened to my full height.

“Good. Good. How was dinner?” he asked as Wren stepped through the doorway.

Each time I had to leave her, a piece of my heart broke off and went with her. I hated it.

“Great. We’re going to write a fairy tale.” Wren disappeared, probably to find her mother.

George’s lips quirked. “A fairy tale, huh?”

I sighed, not wanting to share my plan for Everly with him. “Yeah, it’s a long story.”

“I bet. See you next Wednesday,” he said, starting to shut the door.

“Actually. Do you think I could talk to Lola real quick?” I wanted to talk about basketball before the sign-ups were posted.

George shook his head, one hand still on the door. “She’s lying down. Not feeling well with the baby due soon.”

The baby was due in a couple of weeks. Around Thanksgiving. “No worries. I’ll call her another day to discuss it.”

“No problem.” Then he shut the door, and my heart cracked a little more. I hated leaving Wren, even though I knew it was good for her to spend time with both of us.

A week with me and one with her mother wasn’t that much to ask. It would be ideal when Lola and George’s baby came. It would give them time alone with the baby and Wren extra time with me and Everly. Wren might feel neglected when the baby came. Not that Lola would intend for that to happen; it was just reality. Babies took more time and energy than older kids. I remembered what it was like when my baby sister was born.

I’m sure my parents didn’t even realize it, but they were on edge because of the lack of sleep and Sage’s constant crying, and they griped with each other because of it. It wasn’t a pleasant time in my household. Once they figured out she had acid reflux, things got better. Then Sage smiled for the first time, and I fell in love for the first time. Sage and I’d been close since. Maybe she’d have good advice on how to reach Everly.

Treating Everly like the princess she was, was a good start. I just wasn’t sure how to prove I wouldn’t leave her like her father had unless I went all in. Things with her already felt different than with any other girl I’d been with. And I didn’t think it was just because she’d moved in with me.

I liked her. First, as a friend, and now, as something more. There was this chemistry simmering between us, and I couldn’t wait to explore it. I had a feeling we’d be explosive together. Maybe it was our history, but I think we’d been pushing this attraction for each other down deep for years, and I was ready to explore it.