chapter forty
Wren
A cardinal is chirping nearby and the distant caw of a crow serve as a musical background for our morning coffee. We’re quiet in the calm light of early morning. I have an interview in the city later this evening for a fashion magazine, but I want to get some gardening in before we leave.
Colton stands from his seat and goes into the yard. I watch him walk up and down the rows in the garden as he sips his coffee. He’s wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants and his camo print garden Crocs. One hand in his pocket and one around his mug as he peruses our crops. I haven’t been out there yet this morning. Colton has always done a security sweep of the yard before I’m allowed off the porch. Over the months of living here, the perimeter sweep has morphed into him moseying around the garden.
He goes down the small gravel path that leads to the fruit bushes and I watch the sun glisten on his bare shoulders. He tosses the last few dregs of coffee out of his mug into the roses and turns back to the berry bushes. I frown. There haven’t been more than a few flowers and small, sour berries on the bushes and I gave up hoping I’d get anything from them this year. Berry bushes typically need a few years to mature before they produce any fruit, according to the research I did. But Colton appears to be doing something to the plants.
A few moments later, he comes back with a wide smile and a coffee mug full of blueberries. I gasp.
“No way!”
“Yes way, now make me more of those muffins,” he demands cheerfully as he sits back down at the table.
“Next batch. These we need to enjoy in their pure state,” I say and pluck one out of the mug and pop it into my mouth. It’s sweet and juicy, maybe a little more tart than I’d prefer, but I grew them. I grew these berries. They came from my yard and from my work. And, I guess, Colton’s work. But directed by me.
His phone rings just as he chews his own berry. He sighs as he answers it. “Hello? Yes, this is him. I sent the check last week. What do you mean?” He looks at me suspiciously. “All of it?”
Oh, right. His mom’s medical bills!
“Okay, thank you. You too. Bye,” he says into the phone before hanging up. His eyes never leave me.
“I forgot to tell you,” I say innocently.
“Wren, you can’t do that,” he groans and scrubs his hand over his face, scratching at the beard he’s been growing.
“Well, I did.”
“When?”
“It’s funny you should ask that. It was before you were unmasked. I tracked down your mom with your first name and a description of your ass.”
“You’ve got to be joking!”
“Sort of?”
“I can’t accept this. It’s too much,” he says and grips my hands in his.
“You can totally accept it. You deserve it,” I insist.
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I love you. I wasn’t sure if I was going to fire you to unmask you or not, and that would have messed with your income. I didn’t want your mom’s treatment to get paused even more. I even got some information on a rehab and a new apartment closer to us. And, this will have to be a secret, but if you get me the bookie’s contact information, I’ll arrange for a cash drop.”
“Get dressed. You’re meeting her now.” He stands up and pulls me up with him.
“Now?”
“Yeah, you need to look her in the eyes when you tell her you’re about to change her life,” he says and pulls me into the house.
“Colton,” I laugh. “Let me get my folder from the office and you can look it over first. There’s some important information in there.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” he says, his eyes swimming with a sadness and desperation. “She’s… she’s the only family I have. I’ll owe you for the rest of my life and I know that, but I’ll do anything to get her healthy.”
“No, Colton. You won’t ever owe me. This isn’t something you’ll ever have to feel indebted to me for. I need you to understand that. If anything, I owed you for everything you’ve put up with working for me and-and for keeping me safe. And for being a big part of home .”
“Home.”
“Yeah,” I say and shift awkwardly on my feet.
He smiles and kisses me before pushing me up the stairs. “Get dressed.”
I dress in a robin’s egg blue sundress and a pair of white sneakers and meet Colton in the kitchen. He’s rummaging through the cookie tin and assembling a plate for his mom. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hug his ass and thighs and a tight green t-shirt. His hair is styled with a matte clay one of the glam squad members got him hooked on at a previous interview. He smells like freshly applied deodorant and cologne. I breathe him in.
We head out the door with a craft paper bag filled with a cookie plate and a little banana bread loaf I had in the freezer and he texts his mom we’re on our way. As we’re heading out the door, he informs the Crow’s Nest at Dad’s place we’re leaving for the address of his mom’s apartment.
The drive isn’t long, but I’m nervous. I knew I’d meet his mom eventually, but I figured there’d be more scheduling involved. I had hoped to have her over for dinner. Impress her with my cooking or something. But here we were, walking up to the brick apartment complex.
Colton presses a button on an intercom. “Hey Mom, we’re here.”
A buzz sounds and the door unlocks. Colton opens it and leads me to his mom’s apartment door. The hall smells like stale cigarette smoke and a mixture of foods, but when his mom opens the door, it smells like coffee and vanilla. She is a tall woman compared to my slight frame, but she is curled in on herself like she is feeling weak. Her smile is warm and bright as she looks from Colton to me.
“Hi, baby boy,” she says and greets her son.
“Mom, this is Wren,” he introduces me and steps aside.
I hold out my hand to shake hers, but she clucks her tongue and pulls me in for a hug. Her embrace is tight despite her weak appearance. I hug her in return, despite feeling awkward.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” she says as she pulls back to look me up and down. “I’m Sandy, Colton’s mom, and I’ve heard so much about you.”
I flinch. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t very nice to him.”
She looks confused for a moment. “He never said a negative thing about you. Now, come in, I’ve made coffee!”
The apartment is small and cramped with old furniture not fitting for the space. But Colton and I sit on the couch while Sandy brings over mugs of coffee.
“It’s been a busy few weeks for you two, hasn’t it?” she asks from the kitchenette.
“It sure has,” I reply.
“I knew Colton was working for someone high profile, but I never imagined. The mask, the code name- gosh, it was like he was James Bond!”
I giggle and Colton rolls his eyes.
Sandy puts the baked goods we brought on a platter and I look around the space. While it is cramped, it feels homey. There are pictures of Colton as a child everywhere and a more recent one of what looks like his bootcamp graduation. I peer at all the pictures while Colton blushes next to me.
Sandy rejoins us and we chat about the city, our garden, and I tell her about Angelica. She’s excited to meet Angelica, and we plan for her to come over one day.
“Mom, we’re here today because I got a call from the hospital’s billing department. Wren here has paid for your treatments,” Colton says.
Sandy is quiet for a moment as she processes this. “What?”
“I, um, love your son, and I wanted you to be taken care of. You see, I thought I was going to have to fire him and I didn’t want—”
“You paid my bills?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh,” she says before breaking down into tears.
“I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped,” I say and swallow around a tight, dry throat.
“You are an angel,” she sobs.
Colton snorts.
“An angel,” she insists, ignoring her son. “Thank you! Oh, thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
“I knew he was in love when he talked to me about the birds outside my hospital room with a smile on his face. Who smiles while talking about pigeons?” She cries and holds my face in her hands. “You are an angel to me.”
“Mom, Wren wants to help you more than just bills,” Colton says just above a whisper. He told me this would be the hardest part of the entire conversation. I can’t tell if his lack of faith in her is based on reality or not, but regardless of the outcome, I am here for him.
Sandy pulls away from me so she can see both of us. Her eyes narrow in worry. “What else could there be?”
“We want you to go to rehab,” Colton says, slowly and evenly. Like he is bracing for backlash.
“It’s a therapeutic spa with a focus on sobriety and wellness,” I explain, hoping the luxury would be more tempting.
Sandy is quiet as she gathers up the empty coffee mugs and used paper napkins. As she works in the kitchenette, I hold Colton’s hand. His head is bowed and his brows bunched as we wait for her to kick us out.
I can tell that’s what he thinks is about to happen. But something about the way Sandy’s eyes linger on the baby pictures and children’s clay finger pots lined up on the windowsill has me thinking she’s going to agree.
It’s close to ten minutes before she returns to the worn recliner chair. Her face is set in a determined look I know well because I’ve seen it on her son’s face. “You know, I’ve never had a professional manicure or a massage.”
“That happens to be a special interest of mine,” I say.
Her lips curl into a smile, very like her son’s, but her eyes don’t change from their serious expression.
“I’ll go,” Sandy says, and I feel Colton jump next to me.
Colton’s hand is slick with sweat in mine and I squeeze him.
“I need to be alive and well for my son’s wedding to an angel,” Sandy finishes with a sly look at her son.
“Oh my god, Mom. You can’t say that!” Colton groans, sounding like an embarrassed teenager.
I laugh, knowing she’s just goading her son.
“I know, baby boy. Yes. I will go to rehab,” she finishes and looks at me. “Thank you.”
“After rehab, we’ll discuss with your doctors the next steps for your treatment,” Colton says. “Because Wren and I want to continue to help you and support you.”
Tears mist across Sandy’s eyes again and she blinks them back with a nod.
“Also, how much do you still owe the bookie?” Colton gruffs.
Sandy’s eyes widen as she looks between him and me. I look away, realizing she’s ashamed of this.
“Five grand,” she whispers.
“We will have it in cash by the weekend,” I say. “And then it’ll be over.”
Sandy makes us a frozen pizza and lemonade for lunch and even brings out the baby album. I’m delighted to see it. I know there’s one somewhere at Dad’s place, but I don’t know that I’ve ever looked through it.
“I’ve had enough baby pictures for a while,” Colton groans as I coo over a picture of his preschool graduation.
“How often are you looking at baby albums?” I laugh.
“Apparently, you’d be surprised,” he says and finishes the last slice of the pepperoni pizza.
I cock an eyebrow at him.
“Hawk- er, John, has an entire shoebox full of mementos and pictures from your childhood. He gave me the ‘hurt her and I’ll kill you’ speech,” Colton explains.
Sandy and I exchange glances. I did not know he had that. And I had no idea he felt so strongly about me.
“I didn’t know that.”
“He loves you like his own family,” Colton says, and cleans up after our lunch.
“I kind of feel robbed,” I say as I gently hand Sandy the baby album.
“This Hawk guy is another bodyguard?” Sandy asks.
“My Dad’s. Hawk is the name of the position, like Blue Jay. But Hawk has always been the same man,” I explain to her and twirl a loose string on the couch cushion.
“Many years, then?”
“Yeah, like twenty,” I murmur.
“Well, of course he sees you as family. He’s watched you grow up,” Sandy says.
“I was never allowed to see him as my family. He was staff. And not in an ‘I’m better than you’ kind of way, but in a ‘I can’t know you for our own protection’ way.”
“It sounds like this protection kept you from having trusting relationships.”
“Well, I trusted Hawk, of course. It was his job to protect us,” I say.
“A different kind of trust. Like… emotional trust,” Sandy explains and puts the baby album back on the shelf.
I shrug. “Maybe. Yeah. I mean, I have a few people. My Dad, for one. And my best friend, Gemma. Now I have Colton.”
Sandy nods and looks over at Colton, who is leaning against the kitchen counter, watching us talk. “I hope letting the world know you opens you up to new and wonderful relationships. Security is more than just physical.”
“Not too many relationships,” Colton grumbles from the kitchen.
Sandy and I share a smile before she turns back to Colton. “Speaking of people who are like family to us, Mrs. Stewart saw you on TV and is mad you didn’t call. She was by here yesterday.”
Colton rolls his eyes.
“Seems like we have another stop to make,” I say, and stand up. “I’ll have to let her know when to expect contractors there to restore her front porch.”
“Wren, you need to stop,” Colton chuckles.
“No, if she is your family and your mom is going through the trouble of getting healthy to walk you down the aisle at our wedding, then Mrs. Stewart is my family, too.”
Sandy cackles, and Colton groans, realizing he’s outnumbered. We leave Sandy’s apartment and I think about what she said. Of course, having strong protections and boundaries in place kept me physically safe. But not allowing people the chance to know me prevented me from experiencing the feeling of emotional security and trusting relationships. I had spent so much time hoping someone would see me as worth the effort of going through the security hoops but nobody was ever close enough to know me enough to take that risk. To do that work.
With Colton driving us down the road, sunlight in his hair and a soft smile on his lips, I peek at the picture Sandy slipped into my hand as we were leaving. It’s little Colton, probably six or seven years old, in the bird sanctuary my mom used to help run. There’s a fat, brown wren in his hand as he smiles shyly at the camera. There’s a shiny yellow sticker with a cartoon blue jay on it that says “I’m a protector!” proudly placed on his Power Rangers sweater.
And there next to him, smiling fondly, in a staff uniform, is my mom.