Chapter 12 #2
“I don’t want to disappoint anyone!” The pressure that’s been gripping my chest for the past six weeks tightens, and I say that part far too loud to be comfortable.
I glance around, trying to ensure no one has overheard and is staring.
Thankfully, everyone around us is lost in their own conversations.
Taking in a deep breath, I force myself to seem normal, if only to ease Hallie’s nerves.
I’m sure a professional would have a lot to say about my trying to ease my own anxiety only to ease Hallie’s, but we’re not touching that one.
Not today. “I just…I want it all to be perfect. The festival. The lights, the magic. All of it. And I want everyone to be able to enjoy it. Just like my grandma did.”
“No matter how much or how little you do, it will be amazing, Wren. But if you’re dead on your feet, you won’t be able to experience that magic yourself.
And you know that, at the end of the day, she did all of this so that you and the rest of your family could feel that magic.
The rest of the town just benefited from it. ”
“Hallie, I have to—” I start trying to justify, to explain, but she stops me.
“I know,” she says, softness and genuine understanding in her eyes. “Trust me, babe, I know. But she’d be mad as hell that you’re looking this worn out. She’s telling you to get into your bed, to go home, to say no occasionally.”
I scrunch up my nose in irritation, mainly because the words strike true.
“Where is this coming from?”
I shrug but don’t tell her the whole truth. Instead, I give her a crumb of it.
“I’ve just been thinking, you know?” I definitely don’t tell her that the thinking has been spurred by my neighbors’ cutting words and potentially painful honesty.
“I like helping, but I just sometimes wonder if I’m helping people who just don’t want to do something rather than can’t do it, you know. ”
She nods. “I know. And I love that you’re so kind and empathetic, but I won’t lie.
I’ve been worried about you. You’re always running on empty these days, and you have lost the spark of cheer you normally have this time of year.
I hope this is a moment of epiphany for you, and that by asking, you’re taking the first step toward prioritizing yourself more.
Get some rest. Go to bed before midnight.
” She gives me a gentle look, then reaches over and grabs my hand.
“Seriously, Wren. I’m worried about you. ”
Guilt churns in my gut as I realize that I may have been inadvertently adding more stress to her plate in the form of concern for me, but it also almost feels like the kind of permission I need to do what feels selfish and prioritize myself in a silly way.
I open my mouth to tell her that I’ll try my best not to take on more and to prioritize myself a bit more, but I’m stopped when I hear my most dreaded words as of late from a conversation somewhere beside me.
“You should ask Wren! I’m sure she would do it!”
I don’t even know who says it since they’re out of sight, but my shoulders tense up all the same. Hallie must not hear it, but she catches my shift in mood, and her brows furrow.
“Remember last summer, my mom’s dog had puppies, and she let me keep them at her place for a bit so my kids wouldn’t get attached? She even found homes for all of them.”
That’s when I pinpoint the voice to belong to Molly Paulson, one of the PTO moms.
I, of course, remember the incident she’s speaking of because I had planned to spend a few days at Seaside Point during summer break to get away, but the dogs required constant attention, so when I agreed to help out, that went out the window.
Molly’s mother is older, and we all decided—and by we, I mean Molly and her mother—that it would be best if I kept the mom and all four puppies at my place before we shipped them off to their new homes.
It was a fun summer filled with unlimited puppy snuggles, and I was happy to help out as well as find new homes for the puppies, but it ruined any chance I may have had to spend some lazy days on the beach over my summer break.
“Oh, you’re so right! She always helps. She’s right there, I should go ask now.”
From the look on her face, Hallie has heard them and quickly understands what is happening. She looks at me with wide, expectant eyes, and I hold my breath, hoping maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I’ll become invisible, and they won’t see me. Or maybe—
Not a single one of my hopes is met.
“Hey, Wren, Hallie,” Linda says, standing across the raffle table from me.
“Hey, Linda, hey Molly, how’s it going?” I ask, my friendliest and fakest smile on my lips.
Please don’t ask me for anything, please, please, please.
Because, despite running on fumes right now and despite not having even the tiniest bit of time to shower in peace, I know if she asks me outright to help her out with whatever issue she’s juggling, I won’t be able to find it within myself to say no.
I’m Wren King, after all.
The town sweetheart, the one who always says yes, who is always willing to lend a helping hand. The one who always has it covered.
“Good! I was just talking about you, actually. Found four baby kittens behind the bar this morning,” Linda states. My stomach drops as she looks at me with an expectant look.
“Oh, no! Were they from a stray?” I ask, trying to drag out this conversation. Perhaps if we don’t reach the point of her conversation, it will never happen. Maybe we’ll get interrupted, and I’ll have to step away before she can manage to ask me.
“We don’t know—the mom was nowhere to be found. We’re trying to find someone willing to foster them for a bit. They need round-the-clock care, and with the kids and everything, I just don’t have the time, you know?”
I give her a look that’s probably closer to a grimace than a smile.
“Mm-hmm,” I say with a nod.
“Anyways, so I was talking to Molly about my predicament, you know, and she reminded me about how you took in her mom’s puppies that one time. I think you’d be the perfect person to watch them, you know?”
The blood drains from my face.
I look across the table to my best friend, and Hallie’s eyes are wide, and she’s mouthing hell no to me. Then her eyes move over my shoulder, brows furrowing before a pleased look takes over her face, but I can’t focus on that. Instead, I’m stuck in my current predicament.
I want to cry.
I want to scream.
But I don’t.
I’m Wren King—the youngest King, the town’s sweetheart, the one who always jumps in when someone needs help.
It’s an honor to be the person everyone can rely on. It’s a point of pride for me. Being the one who helps is as much a part of who I am as being Dottie’s granddaughter or being a teacher.
Who am I if not the person everyone can rely on?
And let’s be honest, I’ll probably be up anyway. What will it hurt to feed a couple of kittens through the night?
So I suck it up and plaster a pleasant face on. “I guess I could—”
Except the words don’t come out as I planned because a warm chest is to my back and a calloused hand is to my mouth, stopping them.