Chapter 48
Wren
While Atticus sits at the table, devouring a bowl of cereal, I scroll through my text messages, half-awake but already restless.
Nick hasn’t messaged in a few days. That alone feels like a gift from the universe. Still, I can’t relax. I keep expecting his name to pop up, like a snake lurking in the grass.
Further down, Natalie’s name flashes across my screen.
Natalie: You around today? Want to meet up?
I don’t respond. I can’t—not yet. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she and Hunter had a history and she never breathed a word of it.
I keep flipping back and forth in my mind—there has to be an explanation. Maybe it wasn’t that serious? Maybe she didn’t think it was relevant? But according to Hunter, it was serious to her. She wanted marriage. Babies. A life. It took her years to get over him.
And she never told me.
The longer I let that thought sit, the worse it feels. I can’t just hang out with her like nothing’s changed, like I don’t know there’s a giant unspoken secret between us. But I don’t know how to bring it up either.
I leave her on read and toss my phone onto the couch.
After Atticus finishes his cereal, I poke around the house again, turning over every pillow, pulling open every drawer. Searching for that damn sunflower notebook. Still nothing. It’s like it vanished into thin air.
But the pit in my stomach says otherwise.
“Mom?” Atticus pipes up, wandering into the living room with his favorite stuffed dog. “When can we see Hunter again?”
I look up, caught off guard. “What makes you ask that?”
“’Cause it’s been a while.” He plops onto the couch, clutching his toy. “And I like him. He’s fun. And he makes you happy when he’s here. I like when you’re happy, Mom.”
I smile softly, sitting beside him. “He is fun.”
“I wanna ride in his tractor,” Atticus says, eyes wide. “You said he has a tractor. Can I? Can I ride in it?”
I hesitate. I’m not going to tell him that Hunter has been around, just . . . not during daylight. I’m not ready to explain the arrangement we have—the one I keep telling myself is just physical, even though my heart is starting to argue otherwise.
“We’ll see,” I say, standing to grab my phone.
I call Hunter. He answers on the second ring.
“Hey,” I say. “I’ve got a little boy here asking when he can ride in your tractor.”
Hunter chuckles on the other end. “Good timing. I’m just mowing some grass ways today. You can bring him out if you want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll drop you a pin as soon as we hang up. He can ride in the jump seat with me.”
I glance at Atticus, already bouncing on the couch. “Okay. We’ll head out soon.”
Hunter sends the location, and Atticus insists on packing a backpack. He fills it with fruit snacks, juice boxes, a toy truck, and his lucky coin—some rusted thing he found behind the barn the other day. His excitement is so pure, it makes my heart ache a little—both happy and nervous.
Happy because he’s so eager to see Hunter.
Nervous because the lines between all of us are blurring, and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep pretending we’re not well on our way to becoming something.
Something messy.
Something dangerous.
And maybe something real.
The butterflies in my stomach take a nervous turn. The last time I let someone this close to us, we both got burned. The thought of that happening again makes me recoil, makes me hold my breath until it physically hurts.
“Come on, Mom, we gotta go!” Atticus bounces on his heels, his shoelaces untied and his smile almost wider than his face. “Hunter needs me in the tractor. We can’t keep him waiting. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
I grab my purse and keys and chase Atti out to the driveway, barely able to keep up with him.
If this blows up in my face, if Hunter breaks my heart . . . I’ll get over it.
If he breaks my son’s heart? I’ll never forgive him.