2. Wren
TWO
WREN
My face hurt from smiling.
Not in a good way, where it was genuine. No, I had been fake smiling at all the couples I had met with throughout the day. I was a sales agent for Encore Homes, a desirable builder that had sunk its teeth into the small town of Atlas, New York, where families had started flooding by the dozens.
Our little town was nestled just an hour outside New York City, and these homes have been selling left and right for the last three years. Encore had started purchasing land, creating cute neighborhoods with nearby parks built-in, tailored landscaping, and gorgeous views of the only nearby lake.
The homes sold themselves; I was just here to walk interested families through floor plans and lot choices. When they wanted to see a model home under construction, I’d drive over and walk them through the options. Then, of course, I’d take all the additional steps to help them secure the home.
It was good work. It didn’t pay an exorbitant amount, but I didn’t have to work two jobs; I could easily afford my bills while still shoving a few hundred bucks into savings every paycheck. Besides, I had a great boss who treated me like family and gave me a massive break on rent. I knew my little house would rent for nearly twenty-five hundred a month, being this close to the city, but she only charged me fifteen hundred. It was still a lot for my income, but it was manageable, even with my son’s expenses, which no one was helping me with.
“Can we please see the Sterling floor plan again?” The woman wearing a warm gray cardigan put her hands together as she faced me. She had wavy black hair, a wedding ring with several bands added, and just a solitary diamond. Her husband wore a generic brand of jeans. While the home they wanted was close to seven hundred thousand dollars, I could tell they weren’t the type that dripped with extra money. So, even though I only had an hour before I needed to leave to make it to the store in time, I pulled up the floor plan on my laptop and slid it toward them.
The woman glanced at her husband, and he turned toward their realtor with an expectant expression. Brian Hastings, the man who constantly reminded me why it was better to stay single than ever tempt fate with online dating, stared back at me.
“Wren, I think the Mathews wanted to walk the Sterling again.”
The couple beamed, nodding their agreement.
The drive over to the model home wouldn’t be super far, but depending on how long they took, it might mess with my timeline. It was my fault for waiting this long to get Cruz’s school supplies, but things kept coming up. I’d been called in on more days off than I could even count. Whenever my boss, Denise, needed me, I’d drop everything and come in. Denise never cared if I had Cruz with me, so I never told her no.
I forced my face to remain open, with a smile they’d never know was fake. “Sure, let me grab my keys, and we can drive over. Brian, you know the location?”
He pulled out his phone, ignoring me while muttering a yes. It took me right back to the last date we’d been on when he’d done the same thing. I knew his job kept him tied to his phone, but he could have put it on silent and gotten to his clients later since it was after working hours.
I walked to where my purse was and texted Mrs. Garza, letting her know I’d be there closer to four instead of three to grab Cruz, and then locked the office. Once I was departing to lead everyone over to the model home, I tried to ignore how I was the only person who had a car that was over twenty years old. It was made worse when I started the car, and the familiar squeal of the belt echoed around the lot.
My face heated as I drove forward, leading the caravan toward the opposite end of town. The small town of Atlas often felt like its own little island, separated from the world. Historic red brick buildings stood like withered sentinels along the town's main strip. Colonial homes were scattered through the older parts of the city, and during the fall, the entire town felt like we were in our own little autumn-colored snow globe.
The new suburban neighborhood appeared after we passed three red lights and a right past the old library. I passed the two freshly built homes and parked along the curb, eyeing the new three-story house. It was nearly a twin to the one built next to mine but differed slightly because it had three stories instead of just two. I smiled, exiting the car and relishing the sunshine that cut into my eyes and the warm breeze that made me rethink my cardigan.
Brian fell into step next to me as we made our way up the porch and into the house. The couple immediately passed us, gawking at the tall ceilings and the exposed beams. Once they were farther into the house, Brian hung back.
“You haven’t returned any of my messages.”
I kept my smile intact, making sure my voice was soft. “Well, you messaged me on Snapchat…”
“So?” He turned, so we hung back near the foyer while they moved into the kitchen.
I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “So, you’re a thirty-five-year-old man…text me, call me. Teenagers use social media to talk…”
He scoffed, shaking his head, which made me think of my new neighbor and irritated me irrationally.
“Sorry, guess I got confused because of how our relationship started…you know, with you sending me nudes on social media and all.”
Ohmyfuckinggod.
I turned on him, my mouth gaping as the Mathews came back into view.
“We just aren’t sure about the downstairs den option; can we look at the possibilities to customize it?”
I plastered on a fake smile and pulled out the folder under my arm with the alternatives they could select. They browsed and asked more questions, all while Brian smirked behind my back.
My face warmed at the reminder of how stupid and desperate I had been. I was in a funk, missing adult conversation, and honestly just lonely. Brian and I started messaging, and things went from texting to sexting embarrassingly fast, but he’s an attractive man and someone who didn’t require a lot of small talk. We both already knew what the other did for work, which left us open to discussing different things and how we were essentially just looking for a hookup.
So, by the time we had eventually gone on a real date, we’d already been fucking casually for nearly three months. Mostly in the back of his car and in parking lots. Sometimes in the model houses, but never in either of our homes. He’d never met Cruz, and I ended things after we tried dating for real. We didn’t have a relationship, we hooked up, and I instantly regretted the nudes after I had sent them.
I hated always having to live with regret. It was like my soul was tainted, and no matter how good I tried to be or how clean I lived, one tiny speck of dust would corrode the entire thing again.
No matter how painful it was, I never seemed to learn my lesson.
Once the Mathews were finished, Brian took off just as quickly as they did, likely too afraid that I’d call him on his shit or the fact that he was a lazy lay. He loved getting head but never went down on me. His dirty talk was weak and cringe-worthy. I didn’t mind that he had a smaller dick; he knew how to use it, but he was just lazy, and his kisses were sloppy. Not worth the effort, but I still let things drag when all I wanted was someone to touch me. To literally stroke a finger down my arm or move the hair from my shoulder.
No one ever talked about how that becomes a craving. More than sex. More than sleeping next to someone. Just having touch becomes an absolute obsession. So really, even if he didn’t have a dick, I likely would have continued to fuck Brian until we dated, and I realized I was falling back into the same patterns I always did before where I fell for complete assholes.
I needed a nice, sensible man—someone with a bank job or maybe a tax accountant—someone who went to bed early, had a steady job, and would be there to talk to every night. An idea sparked as I left work and headed to get Cruz from preschool.
Maybe I could start with the bookstore. I could hang around and see what sort of men popped in or change my preferences on my online dating profile.
But fuck I didn’t want to do online dating again.
With a sigh, I turned into Mrs. Garza’s neighborhood.
Cruz was practically vibrating with excitement as he jumped off the steps, and I checked him out of preschool, sadly, for the last time. I hugged Mrs. Garza and took pictures with her and Cruz before leaving for the store.
“We have to drive over to the bigger store in Luxy, okay?” I looked at Cruz in the rearview mirror. He was staring off into space, ignoring me. Ten minutes passed; his excitement seemed to evaporate completely the longer we drove until he finally spoke up.
“Davon’s dad came to get him today. He gave me a high five.”
A swelling, familiar panic started to fill my stomach. Anytime Cruz brought up Davon’s dad, he got really sad, and it was almost impossible to cheer him up. Part of me hoped he’d just change the subject, but then he continued talking, and my heart took an invisible punch.
“How come my dad doesn’t come see me?”
I checked his expression in the mirror, hating how his little brow furrowed.
“Well…your dad, he’s…well, it’s complicated.”
Five years, and I still had no idea how to explain that his father had gone to prison. I had no idea that he had any ties to any gangs, much less would fulfill an order and take out a rival member in broad daylight. The memory of receiving that phone call and seeing it on the news had been one of the worst in my life. The positive pregnancy test came a week after he’d been arrested. Matthew had called and asked me to bail him out and wanted me to attend his hearing and testify that he was a peaceful man.
In response, I boxed everything he owned, gave it to a charity, and moved as far away as possible. I had written to him and told him about his son. Matt never wrote back. I sent a picture of Cruz a year later, asking again if he wanted to be involved, and he never wrote back. I only provided a post office box for him to send mail to, and that address was in Luxy, the next town over. Still, no mail had ever arrived.
“Does he love me?”
“Very much…but he’s making some bad choices right now.”
Cruz waited, then asked another question that was like being hit in the chest with a piece of concrete. “Like Uncle Juan?”
My eyes nearly watered at the mention of my older brother. The last time I saw him, I was only sixteen years old…he was in college, attending Rake Forge University in North Carolina. His smile was muted, his dark brows drawn in tight as he glared at me. My mother found out who I had snuck out to see, who I had been riding around with, and called Juan to come talk some sense into me.
“You’re being an idiot. Do you want to die, is that it? You care so little for your life that you don’t care who takes it? Stop stressing Mama out. Stop acting like a fucking idiot and grow the fuck up.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. At how those words had wholly rearranged my soul. How my hero had made me feel so insignificant and stupid. Then, when I had started straightening out, I went back to school, stopped hanging out with the crowd I’d been with, and started trying…he’d gone and done exactly what I had.
But it was a thousand times worse because he stepped into a role he promised to never accept. He swore we’d be free of our father’s ties to the Cartel, and my big brother picked up those reins and ran with them, all for a pair of pretty blue eyes. He was a hypocrite.
He broke my heart, and I refused to stick around another second to watch as he burned my mother’s world down or his own. I couldn’t watch a repeat of what had happened with my father.
“Yes…just like Uncle Juan.”
The rest of the ride was silent, and I wished for just one second that I had one man…just one that I could introduce to my son that I knew was worthy of being in his life.
The small classroom was vibrant, with yellows, reds, and greens painted around the room. The back wall looked like a tree, with actual branches jutting from the wall where the teacher had nailed them. It was cute and fun. Cruz had a little laminated name tag taped to half the square table we were positioned at. Instead of desks, they had cubbies for all their things. Small red baskets containing basic supplies sat on each table.
“Thank you all for coming to our open house. I’m Bonnie Gerald, and I’ll be your child’s kindergarten teacher this year. I encourage all the kids to call me Mrs. G.” The woman with fiery red hair and fair skin scanned the room, making eye contact with the parents. There were nearly thirty of us squeezed in, most of us sitting in the tiny chairs that our asses barely fit in. I was in one with Cruz, sitting on my lap. The other half of our table was vacant, while the laminated name for another child sat, but whoever it was for hadn’t arrived yet.
“The children have all been paired up in groups of two, as you can see by the small table arrangements. I did this purposefully, as we will incorporate English and Spanish into our curriculum this year. Each table has at least one student proficient in one of the languages, and the two will rely on each other as teammates when they need help.”
Cruz barely knew Spanish, which was entirely my fault because when he finally started speaking at three, I was so happy that I just stuck to English. Being away from family and anyone to speak Spanish with made me not speak it as often. It shouldn’t have surprised me that Mrs. G. assumed my son would be the one who spoke Spanish with our last name being Vasquez, but still…it bothered me that she hadn’t reached out to ask.
“Mommy, I don’t have a table friend. What if they don’t show up?” Cruz whispered in my ear.
I glanced over at the empty side of the table and saw the name spelled out: Kane.
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Maybe he just couldn’t come to the open house.”
Cruz relaxed into my chest as we continued to listen to the teacher. Halfway through the policies and importance of kids practicing at home, the chair beside us slid out, and a flash of white had me turning my head.
My son perked up as we both registered that it must be Kane, who just slid into the space next to him. Relief had me smiling down at the cute kid with lightning-white hair, blue eyes, and light brows. I was worried my son would be alone this year or until Mrs. G. decided to rotate kids around.
The teacher turned on a PowerPoint, and the small transition had Cruz leaning out of my lap toward his new neighbor. The two boys huddled together laughing and somehow had already exchanged pocket toys. Cruz usually carried a Hot Wheel’s car with him or something similar, and apparently Kane did as well.
The new position where Cruz was huddled had me facing the side instead of the front of the room. It allowed me to see Kane’s parent, who was crouched next to his chair.
I had to do a double take because why was my new neighbor here? Maybe I was wrong…it couldn’t be him. I slid my gaze back over, and sure enough, he had the same hair as this morning, tangled and windblown but tucked behind his ears. Same leather vest, with patches, worn over a white T-shirt. Same asshole vibes.
Quickly returning to the PowerPoint, I tried to think through what I had said earlier this morning…and how he’d spoken to me. Irritation flared as I recalled his rude commentary and how his friends catcalled me.
Why was he here?
Mrs. G. finally got through the presentation, and she said something funny that I missed but had everyone clapping. I watched the man beside me ruffle his son’s hair while pointing at his name tag. Had he noticed me yet?
Would he even remember me? I was still wearing the same clothes as I was this morning except my hair was down now, but there was no way he had that bad of a memory.
The class began dispersing. The lights kicked back on, indicating that the PowerPoint presentation was over. The teacher now stood in a huddle of parents who were all asking various questions while introducing their kids.
I would have to explain to her that Cruz didn’t know enough Spanish for him to be half of the language duo she needed. I was about to stand up and join the line of parents, but she suddenly broke away from the group and walked toward our table, making apologies to the parents she left behind.
The man who had nearly run us over this morning, who was now standing, finally seemed to notice me. At least, it seemed like he did with the way his brows dipped and his cloudy blue eyes narrowed like he couldn’t place where he knew me from. Seeing him in a smaller, confined space made him look taller than he had earlier. His t-shirt was boxy, as though he’d purposely bought it extra baggy. It worked for him, though, as did his threadbare jeans tucked into dark motorcycle boots.
I tried to refocus on the teacher, but when he took a step toward me, Mrs. Gerald stepped between us.
“Mr. Green?”
I looked at how his blue eyes and fair features reminded me of some Viking shows I’d seen. His dark tattoos seemed to highlight his lean muscles, which were visible even under the fabric of his shirt. His longer hair was pulled into a tidy bun at the nape of his neck. The pieces behind his ear were messy and untamed, reminiscent of something rogue and wild like I’d seen in him earlier.
“Right, but you’re not technically on the approved list…so I don’t want to confuse Kane on who can pick him up.” I overheard Mrs. Gerald saying to him.
My eyes snapped to my neighbor’s jaw, appreciating how defined it was, as it tensed and he looked down at his feet. “I realize that, but his foster parents said?—”
“It doesn’t matter what they say; it matters what the courts say. I appreciate that you want to be a supportive older brother, but until a judge says Kane is in your custody, it’s really not appropriate for you?—”
“Archer, look!” Kane turned around with a massive smile, holding up a name tag.
There was a drawing of a motorcycle on it that he was proud of. When I saw how my neighbor responded to seeing it, something in my stomach flipped.
He sidestepped the teacher, who had been berating him, and bent down until he was at eye level with his little brother. “Kane, this is awesome. We’re going to have to add this to your gallery.”
Kane beamed. “I can’t wait until I have my own bike.”
Cruz was also inspecting it now with wide eyes and a huge smile. “You can ride a motorcycle?”
“My big brother takes me on rides, and one time he let me dr?—”
Archer placed a hand on Kane’s shoulder, pulling him closer while ruffling his hair. “Not everyone needs to hear about that, buddy.”
I hid a smile, trying to ignore how cute the brothers acted together because I still didn’t like this man on principle. Then I remembered what Mrs. Gerald had said about foster parents, and my smile fell. It sounded like my neighbor was trying to get custody of his little brother, which reluctantly, I internally had to admit, was sweet. I hated that the teacher was berating him in front of an audience. It was still rude, even if it was just me close enough to hear. Archer's eyes flashed toward his little brother as a red flush began creeping into his cheeks, which made guilt churn in my chest. I didn’t know him…I didn’t owe him anything, and yet…
“Well, Mr. Green, I still think you shouldn’t?—”
“Cruz doesn’t speak Spanish,” I blurted, interrupting Mrs. Gerald’s lecture. My neighbor’s eyes darted to mine, widening slightly, showing his surprise. I looked back, unsure why I had helped him but feeling the need to do it just the same.
Mrs. Gerald pushed some of her unruly hair behind her ear; her face flushed the tiniest bit while she quickly glanced at Archer and then me. “I’m sorry, what?”
My gaze bounced around the room, seeing a few other parents looking over at us. My nerves were starting to fray as I stepped closer and tried to quiet my voice. “It’s just that…you have Cruz and Kane as partners, but I’m afraid you made an assumption about Cruz being able to speak Spanish. He can’t.”
“Mrs. Vasquez, I ap?—”
“It’s Miss, and you can just call me Wren,” I interjected again because I apparently couldn’t control my mouth anymore.
“Wren.” Mrs. Gerald gave me a flat smile while clearing her throat. “Our system isn’t perfect but you did put that you were bilingual, so I figured that perhaps you could assist with a few things at home with Cruz and what he learns, he can share with Kane.”
I wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work, but it was kindergarten, and I appreciated that they were attempting to diversify the curriculum. I smiled and nodded my agreement. She finally turned and gave our area a break, leaving my neighbor talking to Kane while the two of them started for the exit.
“Come on, Cruz, we need to head out too.”
My son grabbed his little backpack, and we started for the door, seeing that his new deskmate and older brother had stopped by the counter to drop off supplies. My neighbor’s blue eyes stayed glued to us as we walked past.
I’d push the strange awareness of his gaze to the recess of my mind. Where details around my past lingered, my estranged family, and the fact that Brian had already sent me three messages since our conversation earlier, asking if we could meet up.
The place where things just didn’t matter. The dead space. That’s where any and all information regarding Mr. Green would go.