58. Chapter 58

58

Wren

L enny hoists Alex up, the kid's legs dangling like a ragdoll's. "Alright, Lexi Bear, time to face the day."

I snort, grabbing my keys. "Yeah, ‘cause a toddler's day is so damn grueling."

"Door time, buddy," Lenny announces, setting Alex down. The kid toddles forward, determination etched on his tiny face.

"That's it, Lexi Bear," Lenny cheers. "Use that bear strength!"

Alex's pudgy hand wraps around the knob. He grunts, face scrunching up like he's trying to solve world hunger.

"Opwen!" he demands, yanking with all his might.

The door doesn't budge. Shocking.

"Almost got it, champ," I say, biting back a laugh. "Just a little harder."

Alex glares at the door like it personally offended him. I watch his little hands grabbing onto the knob, pressing down his lips, he lets out a frustrated whine, but his little jaw sets. Kid's got more stubbornness than sense. Wonder where he gets that from.

Lenny reaches for the knob. "Here, let me help—"

"No," I snap, sharper than I mean to. "He can do it."

Lenny's head whips around, eyebrows shooting up. "Really, Wren? He's two."

"Yeah, and he needs to learn things ain't easy." I meet his gaze, not backing down. "He's almost three," I correct him.

"Jesus," Lenny mutters, shaking his head. "You know, it's okay to let him be a kid sometimes."

I ignore the jab, focusing on Alex. "Come on, Lexi Bear. Show that door who's boss."

Alex's face is a mask of concentration as he tries again. This time, the door creaks open an inch.

"I dwid it!" he squeals, beaming up at us.

"Hell yeah, you did." I ruffle his hair, chest swelling with pride.

Lenny rolls his eyes, but I catch the smile he's trying to hide. Yeah, yeah. I'm a hardass. Sue me.

The moment Lenny sets Alex down, the kid's off like a shot. He wriggles out of Lenny's grasp with all the determination of a greased pig at a county fair.

"Whoa there, tiger!" Lenny calls out, but Alex is already making a beeline for the front porch.

I watch as my pint-sized soldier charges forward, arms pumping like he's storming the beaches of Normandy. His little legs are moving so fast they're practically a blur.

Then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Alex trips over his own feet. He face-plants with a soft thud, and for a split second, my heart stops.

But before either of us can react, he's already scrambling back up. No tears, no fuss. Just a quick shake of his head, like he's clearing cobwebs, and he's off again.

"Jesus," I mutter, impressed despite myself. "Kid's tougher than a two-dollar steak."

Lenny chuckles, relief evident in his voice. "Takes after his Momma, I guess."

Or Papa… The thought slices through me, sharp and unwelcome. I clench my jaw, forcing it down .

No. Not going there.

I'm about to fire back a retort when I catch sight of Alex's face. He's grinning from ear to ear, eyes sparkling with excitement. It hits me then: he can't wait to get out there, to play, to explore. To just be a kid.

For a moment, I'm frozen, one hand on my bag, the other clutching my keys. When did my little bean sprout turn into this fearless explorer?

"Wren?" Lenny's voice snaps me back. "You coming?"

I shake it off, grabbing the rest of our stuff. "Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on."

We pile into my beat-up truck, Alex secured in his car seat. The engine coughs to life, protesting like an old man forced out of his La-Z-Boy.

"You working both jobs today?" Lenny asks as we rumble down Main Street.

I nod, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. "Yep. Slinging hash at Maggie's, then over to Pinecrest Pines. Gotta make Mrs. Hendricks do her physical therapy."

"Cool. I'll grab the squirt after school, then."

We pull up to Little Pinecones, the daycare run by Pam, a woman with the patience of a saint and biceps that could crush walnuts. Must be from wrangling toddlers all day.

"Alright, Lexi Bear," I say, unbuckling him. "Time to terrorize Miss Pam."

"No terror," Alex says solemnly. "Be good boy."

I snort. "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts."

Pam greets us at the door, her smile warm enough to melt the frost off my windshield. "Good morning, Wren! And hello there, Mr. Alex!"

Alex buries his face in my neck, suddenly shy. This kid, I swear. One minute, he's ready to take on the world; the next, he's clinging like a koala.

"Hey, Pam," I say. "Fair warning, he had Fruit Loops for breakfast. Sugar high incoming."

Pam laughs. "Nothing we can't handle. Right, Alex?"

Alex peeks out, one eye visible. "Play trucks?"

"You bet, sweetie. We've got a whole fleet waiting for you."

I set him down, and he's off like a shot, beelining for the toy corner. So much for being shy.

"Thanks, Pam," I say. "I owe you one."

She waves me off. "Please. That boy's a joy."

I watch Alex for a moment, his little hands already covered in paint as he mashes trucks together. A lump forms in my throat. Damn kid's turned me into a sap.

"Alright, I'm out," I say, clearing my throat. "Gotta go flip pancakes for the breakfast crowd."

As I climb back into the truck, Lenny eyes me. "You good?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. Three years ago, I was slinging drinks and breaking noses. Now I'm dropping my kid at daycare and worrying about sugar highs. Life's funny like that.

We pull up to Pinecrest High, a building that looks like it was designed by someone who really loved rectangles.

"Later, sis," Lenny says, hopping out. "Try not to poison anyone with your cooking."

"Bite me," I retort, but there's no heat in it. "Stay outta trouble."

He grins, all cocky teenager. "Where's the fun in that?"

As I watch him saunter off, I can't help but marvel. The scrawny, scared kid I dragged out of Chicago is gone. In his place is this lanky smartass with an easy smile and a spine made of steel.

I pull into Maggie's Diner, home of artery-clogging goodness and gossip central for Pinecrest. Time to trade one family for another.

Maggie's already at the grill, her gray hair escaping its bun. "About time, girl! These hash browns ain't gonna flip themselves!"

I grab an apron, tying it with practiced ease. "Yeah, yeah. Keep your hairnet on; I'm here."

The smell of bacon and coffee hits me like a brick wall. It's a far cry from the stench of stale beer and cigarettes I used to wake up to. Funny how life works out.

I settle into the rhythm of the morning rush. Pour coffee, take orders, dodge Frank's wandering eyes. Same shit, different day. But today, there's an extra spring in my step. Friday's coming, and with it, Em.

"Someone's in a good mood," Maggie comments, eyeing me suspiciously as I hum while refilling the napkin dispensers.

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just looking forward to the weekend."

Maggie's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? Hot date?"

I snort. "Yeah, right."

The urge to tell her about Em bubbles up, but I squash it down. Old habits die hard, and keeping my cards close to my chest has kept us alive this long. "Just glad for a break from this grease trap."

Maggie's eyes narrow, like she can smell the deflection. I grab a rag, wiping down the already spotless counter. "Speaking of grease, when's the last time we cleaned these griddles? Pretty sure I saw something evolving there yesterday."

It's a cheap shot, but it works. Maggie's face scrunches up in indignation. "Now listen here, missy. Those griddles are cleaner than—"

I let her rant wash over me, nodding at the right moments. Crisis averted. The less they know about me, about us, the safer we all are. Even if this town feels safe, I can't shake the feeling that it's all too good to be true.

The bell over the door jingles, saving me from Maggie's tirade.

Don't get me wrong. Maggie means well, but the less people know about my life, the better.

The bell over the door jingles, and in walks Old Man Jenkins, right on schedule. "Mornin', Wren," he croaks, settling into his usual booth.

"Morning, Jenkins," I reply, already pouring his coffee. "The usual?"

He nods, rheumy eyes crinkling at the corners. "How's that boy of yours?"

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Growing like a weed. Kid's gonna be taller than me by next week."

Jenkins chuckles. "Takes after his daddy, I bet."

My spine stiffens, but I keep my face neutral. "Nah, he's all me," I lie smoothly, turning away before he can ask any more questions.

That's the thing about small towns. Everyone's always fishing for information, trying to piece together the puzzle of the newcomers. But I've gotten good at deflecting, at giving just enough to satisfy without revealing anything important.

The morning wears on. I dodge questions about Alex's father, about my past, about why we moved here. It's like a dance, and I've memorized all the steps.

"Order up!" Maggie calls, sliding a plate of pancakes across the counter.

As I grab it, a thought hits me. Em's coming. Lenny's here. Alex is happy. For the first time in… fuck, maybe ever, things are looking up.