Book 4 Chapter 1
WREN
There were exactly fifty-eight hours, thirty-two minutes, and seventeen seconds standing between Wren Parker and her flight home to Philadelphia—and more importantly, the return to her usual everyday routine. Her flight couldn’t come soon enough.
That was probably a shitty thing to think, right? She should be excited about an uninterrupted weekend to hang out with her friends and celebrate the fact that Julie Jacobson was getting married…right?
Wren’s stomach grumbled; she needed food, just a little something. She shuffled her way down the hall into the expansive kitchen of the ocean-front rental property she was calling home for the next few days.
She spotted a bowl of fruit next to the fridge and expertly plucked a banana from the basket, peeled it, and broke off a piece to pop into her mouth. Water next. It took Wren a few tries, but eventually she found the glasses, filling one and chugging it in one go.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Wren scanned the room, grinning at the sight of penis confetti in various shades of pink dotting the large kitchen island.
A black felt letter board adorned with little white plastic letters stating, Bach your ass off—JJ’s getting married!
sat on the counter next to a bowl filled with a mixture of brightly colored phallic-shaped bracelets and temporary tattoos.
Coffee, coffee, coffee. The word ran through her mind on a loop as she looked through the unfamiliar space in search of the next item on her list.
A nudge on her shoulder pulled her attention as a takeaway coffee cup was pressed into her hands by Whitney Watson—Wren’s teammate on both the US Women’s National soccer team and the Philadelphia Freedom.
“No coffee maker. I checked when I got here. We’re all fucked.
” Whit smiled, lifting the cup. “Grabbed you your fave. One brown sugar maple latte with oat milk. And got this for everyone else.” She held up a to-go coffee box.
“I guess this is what happens when the one tea drinker on the team plans the party. Do you think Henley even considered caffeine?”
“Probably not,” Wren said, graciously accepting the coffee from Whit and taking a large sip, the liquid warm and creamy on her tongue.
“You’re up early. Time change messing with you?” Whit teased, reaching forward to muss her hair, which Wren ducked quickly to avoid, but not without getting a solid jab into Whit’s side.
“Unfortunately,” Wren confirmed, taking another sip of her coffee, rocking forward onto the balls of her feet. “I know it’s only three hours, but it’s enough to be inconvenient to my routine, you know?”
“You doing okay with that?” Whit raised her eyebrow.
“Oh yeah, totally fine. Just, like, you know…going with the flow.” Wren wiggled her hand in front of her face, mimicking ocean waves before quickly dropping it, grinning sheepishly.
She was being awkward. “I don’t have a bachelorette party routine.
It’s like a vacation, you know? It’s hard to relax because you don’t really know what’s happening next.
Like I have my daily routine for in season, and the one for off season… ” And now she was over-explaining.
“I know it’s different, but different is good sometimes, yeah? You saw the schedule for the weekend that Henley sent around?”
“There was a schedule?” Wren’s grin tugged from the corner of her mouth.
“Wren, you really need to start checking your email.”
“It’s overwhelming.”
“It’s important.” Whit pulled out her phone. “I texted you the screenshot for today’s plans,” she said, and a moment later, Wren’s phone vibrated in her pocket, rattling against a metal tin.
Oh right, meds. Wren had already forgotten why she had even come into the kitchen in the first place.
She reached into the pocket of her oversized hoodie, fingers wrapping around the tattered metal tin she kept her ADHD medication in.
She thumbed over the vintage pinup girl printed on the lid of the rectangular container—a Christmas gift from Nate the year before—fumbling for a moment before she fished out her dose, washing it down with a swig of her coffee.
“Taking that with coffee is a bold choice.” Whit raised an eyebrow, tilting her head towards the tin in Wren’s hand as she shrugged off her jacket, setting it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
God, Whit was such a mom sometimes, but Wren didn’t mind.
Instead, she flashed a cocky smile. “I like the turbo-charge feeling.” She caught the annoyed look Whit shot at her that Wren knew to mean you’re pushing it, kid.
“What? I got everything on the list. Food, water, meds, coffee—in that order. Honestly, I deserve a medal for actually doing it! I’m holding a good consistency streak. ”
Whit pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. “Yeah, dumbass, you’re just supposed to spread it out a little bit and not do it all in the span of two minutes.”
Wren winked. “That’s phase two of routine implementation. Baby steps.”
“You know, it’s really hard not to like you…even when you’re being a brat. And I think you know that, and I think you take advantage of it.” Whit’s annoyed tone was one she so often took with Wren. And it definitely did nothing to stop the smile that spread wide across Wren’s face.
She laughed, setting her coffee on the table as she pulled her coat on. “It’s part of my charm.”
“Charm. Sure.” Whit rolled her eyes, reaching out to shove her gently.
“When did you get in, by the way? How was the drive from Portland?”
“The drive was good. Under two hours. Very worth it to see all of you and still visit my parents with Jess and the baby. But between you and me, I’m kind of glad to be sneaking away for the next few days.
Baby is about”—she checked her watch—“nine hours away from coming down with some mysterious illness.”
“Is Nova still a baby if she’s three?” Wren asked, genuinely curious.
Whit scoffed. “She will always be my baby, Wren, but I guess you have a point.” She looked over her shoulder and down the hall. “Everyone is here except Riss? She’s coming later, yeah?”
Wren nodded, mentally counting off the people sleeping upstairs. “Yeah. I think everyone is here... I need to do a take-two on names because I already forgot JJ’s sister’s.”
“It’s Jenny.”
“Oh yeah, that sounds right.” Wren shrugged. “Anywho, I was going to go take a walk, you know, move my body a little bit first thing in the morning before everyone else is up. Gotta try to keep that part of my routine. And I gotta give Nate a call and check in.” She shrugged. “Wanna come?”
“Nah, dude, I’m good. I’m going to hang out and read. I’m sure Shan will be up soon.”
Wren turned on her heel towards the door leading out to the back deck.
“Don’t forget your coffee,” Whit called after her.
“Right.” She had already 100% forgotten. “Thanks.”
Wren pushed through the door, humming along to the second verse of the same song that had been looping through her head. The chilly bite of December wind whipped around her, stinging her cheeks as she shrugged her shoulders, wiggling the hood of her jacket over her dark curls.
She took the steps down to the beach below two at a time, an easy feat given the length of her legs.
She was tall. Like, she should have played basketball tall, but she never quite had the hand-eye coordination necessary.
Hand-foot coordination, on the other hand?
That came as naturally to Wren as breathing.
The worn boards creaked beneath her feet as she reached the bottom step, timing a little hop perfectly to the music playing in her head, landing in the soft sand.
Her feet sank slightly as she looked out at the horizon.
It must be low tide; the water had receded, leaving wide swaths of damp sand and rock mixed across lingering tidal pools.
“Big dog!” Wren said, cupping her hand over her phone, hoping it was helping shield the speaker from the wind.
Nate Grant’s easy voice filled her ear as he greeted her. “How’s the west coast, Birdy?”
Wren grinned at the nickname Nate had given her five years ago. “Right now, it’s gray.” She laughed into the phone. “And wet.”
Since moving from Seattle to play for the Philadelphia Freedom five years ago, she hadn’t really come back unless a league game happened to force her to be in the area. Outside of soccer, there was no reason for Wren to be in the Pacific Northwest, not after everything that had happened.
“Run me through your plan for the weekend. Who all is there again?”
“The usual crew. JJ—obviously, since she’s the one getting married—Henley, Shannon, Whit, JJ’s sister, JJ’s college friend, and me.
Riss will be here later. And before you ask, everything is covered.
Henley and I made sure there are plenty of non-alcoholic options available for the whole weekend.
Don’t worry.” Wren quietly awarded herself a point for being so on top of things.
“I’m not worried about that, I know you’ve got it covered.”
Wren smiled—she was absolutely nailing things today. But this was an easy win, and she knew it. She knew Nate was going to ask that question—he was her sponsor after all. Although technically speaking, that had ended once she had received her one-year sobriety chip.
Explaining who Nate was to her was kind of confusing.
Like, how was Wren supposed to explain that this person is the best friend of her ex-girlfriend’s mom’s ex-girlfriend, whom Wren, like, kind of used to see a few times a year for like holiday celebrations with said ex-girlfriend, then she went to rehab, and he became her sponsor because he too had gone to rehab?
Where the hell was she even to start with that?
So yeah, it was a weird connection, but it had stuck.
And now, five years later, Nate was the closest thing to a father Wren had ever known.