Chapter 21
Wren
Ireach for my glass of wine and take a hefty sip before placing it on the side table as Daisy Jones and the Six plays in the background. I’ve kept my brain occupied with plans for Hannah’s Haven instead of the heavy conversations Jett and I had this week.
I curl deeper into the corner of the couch, bare legs tucked beneath me, a throw blanket half-draped over my lap for comfort.
The cottage is quiet tonight, but in a way that feels less lonely than it used to.
With each passing day, it starts to feel more and more like home.
A place I can settle in and feel safe. The type of place I’ve been desperately searching for.
Condensation slips down the side of the wineglass catching the glow of the lamp beside me. The air smells faintly like bergamot and juniper from the candle I lit after cleaning the kitchen. It’s the same one I bought because it reminded me of him, of us.
I sing along to the song playing on TV and let the music wash over me.
I’ve always been a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, and when this book came out that was loosely inspired by it, I had to read it.
Now, it’s my comfort show, and I refuse to admit how many times I’ve rewatched this series since it premiered.
My phone vibrates in my lap, startling me. As I glance down, my heart kicks faster than it should.
I don’t recognize the number, but I feel the slightest bit of relief when I recognize the Silo Bay area code. The knots ease in my stomach as old instincts, old fears, start to vanish.