60. Chapter 60

60

Wren

T he cabin door creaks open at 8:47 PM. I'm hit with the warm smell of microwaved pizza and the drone of some cartoon blaring from the TV. Alex is sprawled on the threadbare couch, his chubby face slack with sleep, a half-eaten slice of pizza threatening to fall from his tiny hand.

I drop my bag by the door, the thud making Lenny's head snap up from his phone. He's slouched in the ratty armchair, all awkward limbs and messy hair.

"Hey," he says, scrambling to his feet. "You're back early."

I grunt, kicking off my shoes. "Yeah, Marge came in to cover the last bit of my shift. Said I looked like shit."

The cabin's not much—two cramped rooms barely big enough to swing a cat in—but the soft light from the cheap floor lamp makes it feel almost cozy.

I move to the kitchenette, eyeing the stack of dishes in the sink. "I see you boys had a feast," I mutter, grabbing a clean-ish glass and filling it with tap water.

Lenny has the decency to look sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that. I'll clean up, I swear."

I wave him off, gulping down the water. It tastes metallic, but it's wet. "Don't sweat it. How was the little terror today?"

Lenny glances at Alex, still dead to the world on the couch. "Handful, as usual. But we managed. How's the nursing home?"

I lean against the counter, surprising myself with a small smile. "It's… not bad, actually. Old folks are a trip, you know? Today, I got Mr. Jameson to take ten steps with his walker. Last week, he could barely stand."

"No shit?" Lenny raises an eyebrow. "That's pretty cool, Wren."

"Yeah, well," I shrug, but I can't quite hide the pride in my voice, "beats the hell out of my last gig."

Lenny nods, understanding in his eyes. He knows enough about my past not to ask for details. "Any other exciting developments at Evergreen Meadows?"

I snort. "Exciting? It's a nursing home, not a fucking circus. But…" I pause, thinking. "There's this lady, Mrs. Kowalski. Tough old bird. She's teaching me Polish swear words when the nurses aren't looking."

Lenny laughs, then quickly clamps a hand over his mouth, glancing at Alex. The kid stirs but doesn't wake. We both breathe a sigh of relief.

"Speaking of food," I say, changing the subject. "You eat anything that wasn't out of a box today?"

Lenny has the grace to look guilty. "Uh, does pizza count?"

I roll my eyes. "Jesus Christ, Len. You're gonna turn into a fucking grease ball at this rate." I move to the fridge, yanking it open. It's pretty bare, but there's some eggs and wilted spinach. "I'll make you an omelet. You need some actual food in you."

As I crack eggs into a bowl, Lenny leans against the counter, watching me. "You don't have to, Wren. You must be beat."

As I crack eggs into a bowl, Lenny leans against the counter, watching me. "You don't have to, Wren. You must be beat."

I shrug, whisking the eggs with more force than necessary. "I'm fine. Besides, someone's gotta make sure you don't die of malnutrition."

We fall into a comfortable silence as I cook. The sizzle of eggs hitting the hot pan fills the small space. I can feel Lenny's eyes on me, and I know what's coming before he opens his mouth.

"Wren," he starts, his voice hesitant. "You know you don't have to—"

"Don't," I cut him off, my voice sharp. "Don't start that shit again, Lenny. We're family. This is what family does."

He nods, but I can see the guilt in his eyes. I sigh, flipping the omelet with more aggression than needed. "Look, I know it's not… ideal. But we're making it work, yeah? You're in school, Alex is healthy, and I've got a job that doesn't make me want to blow my brains out every five minutes. That's something."

Lenny nods again, this time with a small smile. "Yeah, it is."

I slide the omelet onto a plate and shove it at him. "Eat. And tomorrow, you're learning how to make something that doesn't come with microwave instructions, got it?"

He takes the plate, grinning now. "Yes, ma'am."

I'm about to ruffle his hair when the stench hits me like a truck full of week-old garbage.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I recoil, my face scrunching up like I just licked a lemon. "When's the last time you washed that mop on your head? It smells like something crawled in there and died."

Lenny's fork pauses halfway to his mouth. He looks up at me, all wide-eyed innocence. "Uh… Tuesday?"

"Tuesday of what year?" I shoot back, waving my hand in front of my nose.

He shrugs, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "I'm cultivating a specific aroma. The ladies dig it."

I snort. "Yeah, if by ‘ladies' you mean stray cats and dumpster raccoons."

Lenny clutches his chest in mock offense. "You wound me, dear sister. This is high-quality man-musk."

"More like teen spirit gone nuclear," I mutter. Then, louder, "Wash your hair, you little troll. I'm not having Em think I let you marinate in your own filth."

He rolls his eyes but nods. "Fine, fine. I'll de-musk for the prodigal sister's return."

I ruffle his greasy hair, immediately regretting the decision as I wipe my hand on my jeans. "Good boy. Now finish your food before it grows legs and walks away."

Shaking my head, I turn away from Lenny's exaggerated pout and walk over to Alex, still passed out on the couch. His face is smeared with pizza sauce, and his T-shirt's riding up, exposing his pudgy belly.

Fuck, when did he get so big?

As I reach to pick up the half-eaten slice threatening to fall from his hand, his eyes flutter open. "Momma?"

Something in my chest tightens. "Yeah, little bear. Momma's home."

He blinks sleepily, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Missed you," he mumbles, arms reaching up.

I scoop him up, grunting at his weight. "Missed you too, kiddo." I press a quick kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin.

As I carry him to the master bedroom, my mind drifts back to the day he was born. Fuck, that was a nightmare. Twenty-six hours of labor in a dinky clinic in Piney Grove, population 1,872. Middle of fucking nowhere, which was exactly what I needed.

I'd rolled into town eight months pregnant, car barely holding together, with nothing but a duffel bag of clothes and a wad of cash I'd rather forget how I earned. But something about this place… I don't believe in fate or any of that bullshit, but it felt right.

I lay Alex down on the bed, and he immediately curls around his ratty old teddy bear, Bobo. The thing's missing an eye and most of its stuffing, but Alex won't sleep without it.

"Night, little bear," I whisper, pulling the blanket over him.

"Night, Momma," he mumbles, already half asleep.

I stand there for a moment, watching him. Sometimes, it hits me like a punch to the gut—I made this. This perfect little person who somehow doesn't have an ounce of the darkness that's in me. How the fuck did that happen?

Shaking off the thought, I head back to the main room. Lenny's still glued to his phone, thumbs flying over the screen.

I grab a glass from the dish rack and pull out the boxed wine from the fridge. It's cheap shit, but it does the job.

"You want some?" I ask Lenny, waggling the box at him.

He looks up, nose wrinkling. "Nah, I'm good. That stuff tastes like ass."

I snort, pouring myself a generous glass. "Your loss, kid."

I flop down on the couch next to him, taking a long swig. The wine's bitter and acidic, but it washes away the lingering taste of hospital antiseptic from my throat.

"So," I say, nudging Lenny with my foot. "You ready for Em to get here tomorrow?"

Lenny's face lights up, and he finally puts down his phone. "Hell yeah! It's been forever."

I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. Em's visit has been all he's talked about for weeks. "Yeah, a whole year. Kid's gonna flip when she sees how big Alex has gotten."

"You think she'll still want to play video games with me?" Lenny asks, a hint of insecurity creeping into his voice.

I roll my eyes. "Len, she's your sister, not fucking Beyoncé. Course she'll still want to hang out with you."

He grins, relaxing a bit. "Cool. I've got this new game I think she'll love. It's got zombies and—"

I hold up a hand, cutting him off. "Spare me the details, nerd. I'm sure you two will have a blast killing virtual braindead monsters or whatever."

Lenny laughs, then his expression turns thoughtful. "Hey, Wren? You think… you think Em's okay? Like, really okay?"

I take another swig of wine, buying myself a moment. Truth is, I worry about Em all the fucking time. She's out there in the real world, trying to make something of herself. Part of me is proud as hell, but another part… Fuck, another part wishes she was here where I could keep an eye on her.

"She's tough," I say finally. "Smart as hell, too. She'll be fine."

Lenny nods, but I can see the worry lingering in his eyes. I sigh, setting down my wine glass.

"Look, Len. Em's got a good head on her shoulders. She's not… she's not me, okay? She's gonna do great things."

"You do great things," Lenny says quietly.

I snort. "Yeah, changing diapers and wiping old people's asses. Real fucking heroic."

"That's not what I meant," Lenny insists. "You take care of us. You got us out of… you know. And now you're helping people at the nursing home. That's pretty great."

I feel my throat tighten, and I have to look away. Fuck, when did this kid get so perceptive?

"Yeah, well," I mutter, reaching for my wine again. "Someone's gotta make sure you losers don't starve to death."

Lenny grins, the tension broken. "Speaking of not starving, you think Em still likes those gross peanut butter and pickle sandwiches?"

I laugh, the sound surprising me with its genuineness. "God, I hope not. That shit was nasty."

"Remember when she made Alex try it?" Lenny says, chuckling. "His face was priceless."

"Poor kid," I say, shaking my head. "Probably traumatized him for life."

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in memories. Then Lenny speaks up again.

"Hey, Wren? Thanks. For… you know. Everything."

I feel that tightness in my chest again. Fuck, I'm getting soft in my old age. "Don't get all sappy on me now, kid. Save it for Em tomorrow."

Lenny rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "Whatever. I'm gonna hit the sack. Night, Wren."

"Night, Len," I say, watching as he disappears into his room.

I sit there for a while longer, nursing my wine and listening to the quiet sounds of the cabin. Alex's soft snores from the bedroom, the hum of the ancient refrigerator, the creaking of the walls as they settle.

It's not much, this life we've cobbled together. But it's ours. And tomorrow, our little family will be complete again, even if just for a little while.

I drain the last of my wine and head to bed, a small smile tugging at my lips. Em's coming home. Maybe I'll even let her make me one of those godawful sandwiches.

Turning off the lights, I chuckle under my breath. That's family for you—the only people you'd willingly eat a peanut butter and pickle sandwich for.