Chapter 70
Chapter
Seventy
That night, Wren stepped onto the porch of her cabin and pulled the door almost closed behind her.
Almost.
She left it cracked just enough that she could hear if Mason called out.
He was asleep in her bed, curled on his side with the blanket pulled up to his chin. She didn’t want to be more than a few steps away from him.
It had been a long night. She’d barely had a chance to talk to her family, but the little she’d seen Nora had shown her how upset her sister was.
The two of them had hugged. She thought Nora would be okay. But still, this had to be a lot to comprehend.
Nash waited near the porch rail for her—Nash and Tank. “You sure you want company?”
“I am.” She started toward the steps, then stopped.
Across the yard, the main house had gone dark except for the light over the kitchen sink. Someone had stepped onto the back steps and stood there in the dark, facing the woods.
Christian.
He came down the steps and started across the grass toward the cabin.
Wren glanced back at Nash. “Give me a minute?”
Nash followed her gaze. “Take your time.”
He moved down to the far end of the porch, and Tank went with him.
Wren met her brother at the bottom of her own steps. From here she could still see the crack of light where the cabin door sat open.
“You’re still awake,” she said.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Christian had an unopened Coke can in one hand. “Is Mason in there?”
“He’s in my bed. Out cold.”
Christian nodded slowly.
She waited for him to ask if Mason was all right. Everyone had asked that tonight. Her mother had asked four times.
Instead, Christian sat down on the steps. “How’d you find him?”
“A picture Jacob sent Nora. It had the location built into it somehow. Nash figured it out.”
“So the man who took Mason made a mistake.”
“I guess he did.”
Christian stared at the can in his hands. “Was Mason by himself in the house?”
Her throat tightened. “He was.”
“In a room?”
“A closet.”
Something moved through Christian’s face and settled. He stared at the can. “Did they leave the light on?”
Her throat tightened even more—until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She thought about that hallway and the third door at the end of it and her son curled in the corner with his knees against his chest.
“No.”
Christian nodded again, but there was nothing in the motion she could read.
“He was probably in there six or seven hours,” she said.
“That’s not very long.”
The words sat between them in the dark.
He must have heard himself because he looked up fast. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.”
“It’s good.” His voice came out rough. “That it wasn’t long. That’s what I meant.”
“I know it is.”
Somewhere past the barn, the cicadas started up again.
“Everybody went looking for him,” Christian said. “The whole town went looking for him.”
“They did.”
“That’s good too.”
Wren watched her brother and couldn’t think of one thing to say that wouldn’t make it worse.
He pushed himself up off the step and turned toward the main house. Then he stopped. “Nobody looked for me that long.”
“That’s not true. We didn’t stop looking.” Her heart lodged in her throat. “Christian, you’ve got to know that—”
“I’m not mad.” He said the words plainly, as if he’d worked it out a while ago somewhere and was only reporting what he’d landed on. “You couldn’t have kept it going forever. Nobody can. I just think about it sometimes.”
He took a step away.
“Christian,” Wren called.
He stopped and half turned.
She licked her lips, uncertain what she needed to say. Finally, she settled on, “I’m glad you’re home.”
He held her gaze a moment longer than the words needed. “Me too.”
Then he crossed the yard and went up the back steps, and the kitchen light went out behind him.
Wren stayed where she was until she couldn’t hear him anymore. Behind her, the cabin door sat open on its crack of light, and Mason hadn’t made a sound.
She climbed back up to the porch, where Nash was waiting.
Wren sank onto one of the porch steps, Bo beside her. Nash sat on her other side, and Tank bookended all of them.
For once, the two dogs weren’t at odds.
Several minutes passed, and neither Wren nor Nash spoke.
Moonlight washed across the yard and silvered the roof of the main house. Somewhere in the trees, the cicadas sang. Wren listened to them and tried to remember what normal sounded like.
“Did you hear all of that?” she asked Nash softly.
“Some.” Nash rubbed his thumb along the edge of the step. “Enough.”
Wren waited. He didn’t offer anything else, and after a moment she understood he was letting her decide whether she wanted to hear more.
“Say it,” she said.
“He never asked how Mason was.”
“I noticed.”
“He asked how long, and whether he was alone, and whether the light was on.” Nash kept his eyes on the yard. “Those are the questions of somebody comparing notes.”
Wren pulled her knees up. She’d gotten there on her own, and she’d been hoping Nash would tell her she was wrong.
“That’s not an accusation,” Nash said. “A boy who lived through an experience like that would ask exactly those questions.”
“But so would somebody who’d heard about it from a boy who did.”
Nash didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
Wren looked at the dark shape of the main house and didn’t say the rest of what she was thinking. Besides, she had other things to talk about.
“Prine’s coming out in the morning. Nine o’clock.” Wren pulled her sleeves down over her hands. “Three days he’s been home, and nobody official has asked him a single question. Now they’re going to ask him all of them at once.”
“How’s he taking it?”
“He said okay.” She glanced toward the house. “That’s all he said. But I’m worried about him. He came home confused enough already. Then reporters showed up. Mason disappeared. Jacob turned out to be involved . . .”
“At least they’re gone now. The reporters.”
Wren looked toward the road. “Thank goodness for that.”
“Did they ever figure out who leaked Christian’s return?”
She shook her head. “Not that anyone’s told me.”
Nash frowned slightly.
“I know.” Wren sighed. “One more thing to wonder about.”
“And Nora?”
That question hurt in a different way.
Wren looked down at her hands. “She’s doing about as well as you’d expect after finding out the man she was dating may have been using her from the beginning.”
Nash was quiet.
“She keeps saying she should have known.” Wren shook her head. “I told her that’s ridiculous. Jacob wanted her to trust him. He worked at it. He planned all of it.”
“She’ll believe that eventually.”
“I hope so.”
Movement near the main house caught Wren’s attention.
The front door opened.
Her mother stepped outside. Her father followed. The two of them laughed quietly about something.
Wren straightened slightly. “Well now . . . that’s something I haven’t seen in a while.”
Nash followed her gaze. “What?”
“My parents standing within five feet of each other without looking like one of them might commit a felony.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Wren smiled.
Her mom and dad stood near the porch steps talking. Wren couldn’t hear what they were saying, but neither looked angry. Her father actually smiled at something. That was even stranger.
“Quite the change,” Wren murmured.
After another minute, her mother touched his arm. Then she stepped back.
Even from this distance, Wren could see her mouth form the words, “Good night.”
Her father nodded, walked toward his car, and climbed inside.
Wren watched his taillights disappear down the road.
Her mother stayed on the porch another moment before slipping back inside.
Wren let out a breath. “Maybe today changed things more than we thought.”
Nash looked at her.
She turned toward him.
Moonlight caught one side of his face.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
And this time, the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.
Nash held Wren’s gaze.
For a second, he forgot about the investigation. Jacob. All the questions still hanging over them.
He only saw Wren.
Somehow, in the middle of everything that had gone wrong since he’d come to Fog Lake, Wren had become one of the things that felt right.
Wren leaned toward him and rested her hand on his forearm. “You have to let some of this go, Nash.”
He looked away.
She didn’t move her hand. “We all do. I’m starting to realize that about myself too. I’ve carried so much guilt for so long that I think I convinced myself it was doing something useful.”
Nash looked back at her.
“It wasn’t.” She shook her head. “It didn’t fix my family. It didn’t bring Christian home. It didn’t make me a better mother. It just kept me looking backward.”
He understood that better than he wanted to.
Wren rubbed her thumb once against his sleeve. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately. Maybe guilt is supposed to teach us something. But once we’ve learned what we can from it, carrying it around forever doesn’t honor what happened. It just keeps us from living.”
Nash swallowed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to let all of it go. But for the first time, he wondered if maybe he could.
Eventually, at least.
“I never expected to meet someone like you when I moved here.” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
Wren smiled.
“I came to Fog Lake because I wanted to be alone and have some peace,” he continued. “Then that lunatic dog of yours bounded into my yard and ruined everything.”
Wren laughed. “You leave Bo out of this.”
“He started it.”
“He was being friendly.”
“He was trespassing.”
“That’s such a harsh word.” She cast him a playful look.
Tank gave a low huff beside them.
Nash pointed at him. “See? Tank agrees with me.”
Wren laughed again, and the sound did something warm to his chest.
Then her expression softened. “Thank you.”
Nash knew immediately what she meant. “For today?”
“For all of it.” She looked toward the cabin door. “We might not have found Mason if you hadn’t been here.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do.” She held his gaze. “You showed up for us over and over. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
Something changed in her expression.
Nash felt the shift also.
Wren slowly withdrew her hand. “So what happens now?”
“With what?”
“You.” She tucked one leg beneath her. “When your medical leave ends.”
Nash looked out across the yard. “I’m not sure yet.”
“You’re going back to Nashville, aren’t you?”
“Maybe not.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about asking whether there’s an opening closer to Knoxville.”
Wren’s eyebrows lifted. “Knoxville?”
“I have more time to think on it.”
“You do.” Her smile grew. “It’s because of Bo, isn’t it? That’s why you want to stay closer.”
He laughed.
“But just so you know . . .” she continued. “I like that idea too.”
Nash looked at her. He really looked at her.
Moonlight caught in her hair. Her eyes were tired, but there was something peaceful in them now that hadn’t been there before.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.
Wren didn’t look away. Neither did he.
Nash lifted one hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his palm.
That was all the permission he needed.
He leaned closer.
The kiss was soft. Careful. Nothing rushed. Nothing demanding.
Just the quiet press of her lips against his and the unmistakable feeling that something between them had shifted.
When he pulled back, Wren stayed close.
Her eyes opened slowly. “Well then.”
Nash smiled. “Yeah.”
Behind them, Tank sneezed.
Wren laughed and rested her forehead briefly against Nash’s.
For once, Nash didn’t feel like running from whatever came next.