Chapter 31
Chapter
Thirty-One
Nash pulled into Wren’s driveway and spotted Christian sitting on the front porch.
He parked and, before either of them got out, Wren turned to him. “By the way, I meant to mention this earlier, but . . . the spare key to my house is missing.”
“What?” His eyes narrowed with confusion.
She explained what happened yesterday.
Concern rushed through him. “You should have told me.”
“I was going to, but there’s been a lot going on.”
“I’d like to check things out before you go inside.”
“Of course.”
They climbed out, and Wren waved to Christian. “I’ll be back around in a second.”
He nodded.
They both strode toward her cabin.
Nash paused on her porch and told Wren, “Give me five minutes.”
She didn’t argue, but she didn’t sit down either. When he glanced back a minute later, she was in the doorway with her arms crossed, watching him work. This was her safe space—it was Mason’s safe space. He understood her need to protect it.
The cabin was small. A front room with a kitchen along one wall, a hallway, two bedrooms, one bath.
It smelled like coffee and something sweeter underneath—maybe the scent of shampoo Wren carried home with her from the salon.
Signs of the boy were everywhere. Drawings covered the refrigerator two and three deep, held up with magnets shaped like fruit.
A soccer ball sat wedged under the end table.
There was a stack of library books on the arm of the couch and a plastic dinosaur on the windowsill facing out, like it had been posted there on purpose.
Nash had lived in his rental three weeks. He had a couch, a coffeepot, and a dog.
This was a home. He’d forgotten what one looked like from the inside.
Every interior door was shut. Bathroom, both bedrooms, the closet in the hall. He’d walked through a lot of houses. People didn’t generally live that way.
He checked the windows first. All of them were latched, none of them broken, and there were no scuff marks on the sills. The back door was the same.
Nobody had forced anything. Whoever came in here had walked through a door like they owned it.
“Anything?” Wren asked from the doorway.
“Nothing yet.”
He worked the hallway next. There was a door frame there with pencil marks up the side of it, a dozen of them, each one dated. The lowest ones were low enough that Mason would’ve been barely walking.
Nash moved past it and opened the hall closet.
Towels. A vacuum. A shoebox of Christmas lights.
He shut it again, the way he’d found it
“You keep a tidy house,” he said.
“I keep a house with a seven-year-old in it. That’s not the same as tidy.”
He checked the rest of the house and came up with nothing.
That didn’t make him feel better. Nobody had forced a window or a door, and nothing was gone but a key.
He’d almost rather they’d taken jewelry. A thief took what he came for and didn’t come back. This one had taken the thing that let him return.
“Wren.” He came back up the hall. “Who else has a key to this place?”
“Just my sisters.”
He grunted. “Someone got inside your cabin somehow without leaving any marks. So either this person picked the lock or you left it unlocked.”
“I never leave it unlocked . . .” She frowned. “But I have been distracted the past couple of days. I . . . I guess I just don’t know.”
“Whatever happened, you need to pack a bag,” he said. “Until we can change the locks, you’re staying with your sister.”
Before Wren could react, she heard a door bang open in the distance. She turned toward her window and saw Nora striding toward her. Marlowe was behind her, and both of them stopped short.
“What’s going on?” Nora asked, her gaze flicking between Wren and Nash.
Wren knew there was no need to withhold the truth from her sisters. “I’m getting ready to pack up a few things for me and Mason. We need to sleep at the main house tonight.”
“Why?” Marlowe narrowed her eyes.
There was no good way to lead into it, so Wren didn’t try. “My spare key is gone. I believe someone took it.”
“What?” Nora gaped. “Why would someone do that?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t feel safe staying here right now,” Wren said.
“I’m going to go let Tank out,” Nash said, his thumb pointing toward his house. “I’ll be back in a few.”
No one said anything as he walked away.
Finally, Nora shifted and crossed her arms. “When did your key go missing?”
“I just noticed yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Nora’s voice rose. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? That seems like pertinent information!”
Wren’s jaw tightened at the accusation in her sister’s voice. “There’s been a lot going on.”
Nora frowned before asking, “What did Luke say?”
Wren glanced back at the house.
The back porch was empty, and Christian was nowhere in sight. She didn’t want him to hear this part.
She lowered her voice as she said, “He wants Christian to see a doctor. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” Marlowe repeated before her arms came up across her chest. “And, of course, you agreed.”
Tension spread across her back. “I did agree.”
“Wren—” Marlowe started.
“He’s been gone ten years, and nobody’s laid eyes on him but us.” Wren kept her voice even. “We can’t keep him here and hope for the best.”
“He’s only been home for two days.” Marlowe’s chin came up. “He needs more time. I don’t know why you both can’t see that!”
“That’s not fair,” Nora said.
“It’s completely fair! Neither of you are listening to what he wants.”
“We are listening!” Nora’s voice cracked. “You want to know what I actually think? I think if I’d pushed yesterday like I wanted to, we’d already have answers, and we wouldn’t be standing in the yard arguing about it.”
“Of course . . . because you’re always right.” Marlowe rolled her eyes.
“I’m not always right! But I am a nurse, and I’m the oldest sister. I have a certain responsibility—”
“Girls!” Wren said, trying to stop the argument before it went too far. “There’s something else.”
They both stopped arguing and turned.
Wren drew in a deep breath before saying, “Luke said don’t leave Christian alone with Mason. Until we know more.”
“He said that?” Marlowe said, accusation tinging her voice
Wren decided not to beat around the bush, as the expression went. “Yes, he said that.”
She gaped. “And you’re going to listen to him?”
“Mason is seven years old.” Wren’s throat had gone tight. “His safety is my first priority. Always. Luke is right to advise caution.”
Marlowe laughed, and there wasn’t one bit of humor in it. “Listen to yourself. That’s our brother. That’s Christian, and you’re standing here talking about him like he’s something you found in the yard.”
“Even if that is Christian, we don’t know how he’s changed or what he’s been through.”
“He’s still our brother!”
“And I have a child I need to protect! You wouldn’t understand.” Wren heard the words leave her mouth and couldn’t call them back. “You don’t get to tell me what being a mom is supposed to look like.”
The yard went quiet.
Marlowe’s chin came up. “That’s really how you feel?”
Guilt flooded her. “Marlowe—”
“Go on and finish it, since you started.”
Wren’s face heated. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.” Marlowe wiped her cheek with the back of her wrist. “I know what you think of me. You’ve never had to say it out loud, and neither has Nora. But you blame me for Christian’s disappearance.”
“You were supposed to be watching him,” Nora muttered. “Instead you wanted to hang out with your friends.”
“You don’t think I blame myself for that every day? Because I do! I know it’s my fault.”
For ten years, the three of them had only had each other. Not their father, who’d stopped calling. Not their mother, who’d basically checked out.
It was just the three of them. Whatever else the Loveless sisters had lost, they’d had each other.
Two days was all it had taken to weaken their bond.
Tears pressed in her eyes.
I wish he hadn’t come back.
The thought hit Wren out of nowhere, and she froze.
She pressed her hand against her chest as an ache formed there.
Ten years. For ten years, she’d prayed for the exact thing they’d just been given, and she’d imagined every version of how Christian’s return might happen.
Except this one.
Now she’d gotten her wish, and some part of her wanted to give it back.
God, forgive me.
“Why won’t you let me be alone with Mason?” Christian’s voice came from the porch behind them. “You don’t believe me, do you?”