Chapter 11
ELEVEN
SARAH
Don’t hate me. I know I’m supposed to be on a flight to Vegas tomorrow morning, but I won’t be able to come until Saturday. Wren changed her mind and wants me to be at the hearing tomorrow.
I could never hate you. Do what you need to. I’ll see you on Saturday. But I do insist you take the jet. —N
Sarah 10:49 PM
Oh, you insist?
Nell 10:50 PM
Yes. I do. Your new itinerary is in your inbox. Good night, Sarah. —N
Sarah sat quietly on a chair in the corner of the judge’s chambers in the Juvenile Court of King County, Washington, the following morning.
She watched Wren closely as she sat stiffly in the chair in front of the judge’s desk, her curls pulled back into a low, tight braid, wearing a blazer she had borrowed from Sarah that was too large for her lanky frame.
The blazer had been Wren’s idea. She said it made her look “more adult,” but all Sarah could see was a teenage girl trying her best to be strong.
The attorney beside her, a maternal woman named Elise, was speaking now as she calmly and confidently explained the terms of emancipation: Wren’s financial independence, stable housing, continued education.
Letters of support from adults in Wren’s life, including Jamie, her teammate Shannon York, Wren’s coaches, and Sarah, all attesting to Wren’s maturity, were also presented.
Wren checked every single box needed as Elise laid out the evidence with a precision Sarah couldn’t help but respect.
To the left of Wren sat two chairs meant for her parents, but they were empty. They hadn’t shown up, and Sarah wasn’t shocked by that in the slightest. They had taken the money and cut out, exactly as she’d known they would, because that had been the agreement.
The judge listened to Wren’s attorney as she flipped through the documents.
Sarah knew this case was likely one of dozens on the docket.
She knew Wren was, in the eyes of the law, little more than a line item needing resolution.
But sitting here, watching Wren pretend she wasn’t watching the door, looking for her mother one last time before the hearing started, Sarah couldn’t stop her hands from curling into fists as her anger at the whole situation filled her.
“Miss Parker,” the judge said, directing her attention to Wren.
“You understand that this decision, if granted, means your parents will no longer have any obligation to support you under the eyes of the law. You and you alone will be responsible for your welfare. That means financial, educational, medical, and otherwise. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Wren said confidently.
“And you still wish to proceed with this petition?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Okay, then,” the judge said, stamping the file in front of her. “The court grants the petition for emancipation. Effective immediately, Wren Parker, you are now recognized as a legal adult in the state of Washington.”
Wren sat perfectly still before nodding in acknowledgment. Elise leaned in to whisper something in her ear, but Wren only nodded again, pushing her chair back and rising to her feet.
When she turned, her eyes found Sarah’s in an instant. For a second—the shortest second—Sarah saw it. The grief. The hurt. The aching, empty space where her parents should’ve been. Then it vanished.
Sarah rose to meet her, keeping her voice low. “You okay?”
Wren shrugged. “I didn’t expect them to come.”
That wasn’t what Sarah had asked, but she didn’t press. She reached out and gently touched Wren’s elbow. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get some lunch. You get to pick. Anywhere you want.”
Wren hesitated. “This is really dumb, but can we go to the Space Needle?”
Sarah tilted her head, not quite understanding.
“I want to see the city,” Wren said. “From above. Like . . . all of it. I’ve never been to the Space Needle. My parents always promised we’d go together one day, and, well, I’ve lived in Seattle for a year now and I still haven’t been.”
Sarah swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. It was such an innocent request, but one that clearly meant a great deal to Wren.
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, we can definitely do that.”
Sarah slipped her arm around Wren’s shoulders as they walked out of the building and onto the busy downtown street.
“You should be really proud of yourself, Wren. It took a lot of bravery to ask for what you needed. I know I’m proud of you.”
“I am.” Wren smiled weakly as Sarah gave her shoulders one last squeeze, then they slid into the back of the car waiting for them.
The next morning, the jet Nell had arranged for her landed at a tiny airstrip in the middle of the Nevada desert.
She looked out the window, wondering where the hell Nell had flown her, but at this point, she had enough trust in Nell to go with it rather than follow her usual impulse to ask questions.
She stepped out of the aircraft and onto the tarmac before laughing at the sight of Nell, who was leaning against the hood of a lavender-colored Lamborghini Aventador.
“This is so unnecessary,” Sarah said, smiling at Nell.
“Who said it’s for you? I like fast cars.
And besides, isn’t the color beautiful?” She watched as Nell ran an elegant finger across the hood of the car.
“I had it custom-made as a gift to myself. Purple is my favorite color.” Nell pushed off the hood, then leaned in to Sarah and placed a swift kiss on each of her cheeks.
“How was the flight? Were you well taken care of?”
“You know you always take care of me.”
“I know, but I like hearing you say it. Come. We’ve got an errand to run,” she said coyly.
“An errand? Is that why you flew me out here, to the middle of nowhere, instead of directly to Vegas?”
“Guilty,” Nell said, before popping the hood of the car, revealing the trunk.
She reached out, taking the suitcase from her.
Nell was nothing short of chivalrous. She closed the hood with a dazzling smile that stretched wide as she pulled her sunglasses down.
“Let’s ride.” Her grin was almost criminal, but it was a look Sarah had come to know well—one Nell showed only when she was most pleased in watching her plans unfold perfectly.
Sarah slid into the passenger seat, taking in the custom lavender leather interior and quickly recalling the last time she had been in a fast car with Nell. Heat spread through her at the thought.
“You wanted clarity about what to expect when we’re together,” Nell said, as she fastened her seatbelt. Sarah did the same.
The engine purred to life beneath them as Nell pulled out of the hangar and onto a two-lane highway, taking them deeper into the desert.
“I told you I would make this trip worth your while. Don’t worry, that still stands true.
But for the next few hours, it’s just you and me—two friends going on a desert adventure.
” Nell took a hard left-hand turn, accelerating quickly.
The force of the maneuver caused Sarah to lean farther back in her seat.
“Tonight, however, I will need you to be on your best behavior for me.”
Yeah. There was never a dull moment with Nell, and that only made Sarah smile even more.
After a quick pull-off at a roadside diner in the middle of nowhere that Nell insisted on stopping at for “the best peach pie in Nevada”—and it really did live up to the hype—they got back on the road. The sun hung heavy in the sky above the desert, casting long shadows across the rocks.
Neither said much for the next twenty minutes.
The silence felt like a breath of fresh air, one long, deep inhale as she settled into the contentment of being in Nell’s aura.
She stole a look at Nell, her signature long dark hair secured in a fishtail braid, but that hadn’t stopped little wispy strands from escaping to frame her high cheekbones.
“I can feel you staring,” Nell said, as she made another unexpected turn, this time into a cluster of nondescript storage units surrounded by nothing but desert and a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.
“I was thinking how much I like it when you have your hair braided like this.” Sarah reached over and picked up the end of Nell’s braid, her fingers grazing her collarbone with the slightest touch.
Sarah was pushing a boundary. She was aware of that, but she couldn’t help herself.
“You had it the same way at Thanksgiving.”
Sarah let the end of the braid fall from her fingers as Nell pulled the car to a stop in front of a gate. She glanced around the lot, confused.
“This is now the second time you’ve driven me to somewhere mildly sketchy in one of your fancy cars. Is this a pastime of yours I should be aware of? Or is this the part where you reveal you’re one of those billionaire doomsday preppers with a bunker full of freeze-dried food and gold bars?”
Nell didn’t laugh; simply keyed in a code at the gate.
“I personally wouldn’t use the word prepper, but yes,” Nell said, “and it would be naive of me not to be.”
Sarah blinked in disbelief. “Wait—are you serious? I was joking.”
“Deadly serious,” Nell said plainly. “Money buys you access to all sorts of things. Information is one of them. Once you know the things I do, you stop assuming everything will always be fine, and you start planning for when it’s not. You know how I hate to be unprepared.”
The gate clicked open, and Nell drove inside.
“Forty-two, forty-two . . . ah, here we are,” Nell mumbled to herself, pulling the car to a stop.
“You live in one of the most geologically unstable regions in the United States,” she continued, stepping out of the vehicle.
“Your region is susceptible to earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanoes, and you’re telling me you’re not prepared for any of that?
Those are only the environmental concerns.
Don’t get me started on supply chain collapse, civil unrest, and the ever-looming possibility of a rapid descent into fascism. ”