Chapter 21
My body aches in the most pleasant of ways as laughter spills out of me again and again from watching Robin gobble around the library dressed like a turkey. Paris’ little boy laughs like a hyena at his antics.
The town pulled through for him. Not only did they put Thanksgiving back on the calendar, but they are also throwing Kayden the biggest birthday bash we could conjure.
Beginning tomorrow at noon, he will travel by float wearing a birthday crown.
Then there will be a party here in the library catered by Autumn, Lori, and Saffron.
Afterwards, there will be presents and cake, and then finally, we will all gather as a family at Saffron’s—the Larsons, the Finnleys, and even Paris and Kayden.
At some point, the youngest Larson will show up. It will be a full house for Thanksgiving, something I’ve never experienced in my thirty years—a full family holiday. Sure, when we were younger back before our parents died, we had gatherings, but I don’t remember them .
I want to remember this, and I want to commit every moment to memory. Like the way Paris smiles up at Robin with unshed tears in her eyes as he swoops Kayden up and totes him around the room. The little guy’s laughter rings throughout the space, and it only spurs Robin on.
“You look happy.” Arlo leans beside me against my little nook in the tree. The memory of showing him this corner is still fresh in my mind.
“I missed him and his insanity.”
“Siblings do that to you.” His eyes seek his twin sister across the room, her head tilted toward Sera’s. “They get under your skin and drive you insane, but when they aren’t there, you miss them like crazy.”
“It really makes no sense that one person can drive you batty and yet you could never dream of living without them.” But it’s true, I couldn’t dream of living a moment without Robin.
“The queen bee comes in tonight, and part of me can’t wait to see her, and the other part can’t wait for her to leave.”
I laugh, knowing he’s talking about his youngest sister, Willow. “I thought the queen bee was Bloom.” My pocket buzzes, and I pull my phone out to check the messages.
Unknown: Be there this weekend.
Me: Or be square.
I chuckle to myself, drawing Arlo’s attention.
“What’s so funny?” I look up as he questions me, but he doesn’t once glance at my phone, so I adjust my screen for him to see.
“Spam texts.”
His heavy brows lower, and he reaches for my phone, a slight question in his gaze. “May I?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Birdie.” His finger slides up, his frown deepening the more he reads. “How long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know, a few weeks?” I think back to the first text I got but realize that isn’t entirely true. I had a few on the drive up that I had Lark answer with the same snark.
“I don’t think these are spam texts.” His lips move as he memorizes the number, pulls out his own phone, and shoots it off to Kenzie. “I’ll have the master check it out.”
I shrug because it’s not that big of a deal to me. “What makes Kenzie the master?”
“You’re kidding, right?” He chuckles, drawing the attention of a few parents who give us that look. The one that screams we’ve been up to no good, but we are, in fact, behaving. At least in my eyes, we are behaving.
“I’m serious, isn’t she like the mayor?”
“Don’t say it too loudly,” Arlo hisses. “She isn’t the mayor, Ernie is, but Kenzie is his assistant. An overqualified, over-educated assistant that belongs in the FBI.” He shakes his head. “I swear she can find nearly anyone, so I have no doubt that she will—” His phone chirps. “See?”
“Okay, but I don’t think she’ll get far with a spam number.”
“Huh.” He grunts.
“Okay, I’ll bite. Who is it?”
“It’s a burner phone.” He points at me like I stole his cookies, which I might have. Saffron made these mint chocolate chip cookies that were so good. I think I ate a dozen before my stomach threatened to puke them all up. “I still don’t think you should interact, you should block the number.”
I snatch my phone back, scrolling through all my clearly well thought out one-liners. “If it bothers you that much…” I hedge, not seeing the big issue here.
“Look, I won’t tell you what to do, Birdie, but I think you should be careful.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, melting me into a puddle on the floor.
I tuck my phone into my pocket as he walks away to join his sister, while my obnoxious brother comes over, pulling up his turkey head.
“Ready?” he asks as sweat pours off his forehead.
I clap my hands, leading the turkey out of the library. “Okay, kiddos, say bye to Mr. Thanksgiving! I’m going to walk him home to the forest!” True, I’m actually going to walk him around the building first, where he can shed the costume.
I hold open the door for him as we pass in front of the windows where little noses press against the glass, smearing boogers and who knows what else.
“Keep walking, or I’ll fry you,” I threaten.
“Harsh,” comes his mumbled reply. Finally, we get around to the side of the building, and he chucks the head into the grass. “Get me out of this thing.”
“You’re the one who wanted in there.” I grab the head, my attempt at being helpful, and skip across the street.
“Wrong way,” Robin mutters, pointing toward the other street where the creek sits behind little cottages. “Look at that one.” He points to a little white house with bright teal shutters, everything freshly pressure washed and painted.
“Oh!” I gasp. I look over there from time to time, but I never actually focused on the little homes. I didn’t want to dream too much about settling down.
“Yep,” he replies, waddling across the street in his costume. He nearly falls over, retrieving a key from under a fake rock.
“These people are far too trusting,” I grumble as I snatch the key and open the door. “You won’t fit.” Still, I leave the door open in case he walks through and joins me.
“On that we both agree.” With a grunt, he spills into the bare living room. Absolutely nothing lines the walls and fresh paint lingers in the air. To the right is a little kitchen, and a hallway splits the two sides of the house in half.
I rub my fingers against the granite countertops and gray cabinets, then the island where little stools spin when I touch them.
“It’s cute, right?” Robin flicks on a switch, shutting the door and taking off his turkey suit.
“It is,” I agree with a sigh as I wander down the hall.
A freshly painted door leads into a smaller bedroom that could be an office or storage room.
Across the hall is a brand-new bathroom with white and green tile.
At the back of the cottage is a bedroom that runs the width of the house, with a sliding glass door that leads out to a small yard and then the creek beyond.
“Good.” Robin comes up beside me. “Because it’s mine.”
I freeze, not willing to move as I stare at the rushing creek, then beyond to what must be a farm. “Robin,” I whisper.
“Don’t act like you’re surprised.”
“I’m not.” I hand the key back to him and toss the head into a corner of the room where boxes sit. “You brought boxes?”
“Yep.” He pops the P. “Our pods arrive next week.” He smiles as though he’s far too proud of himself. He knew before he even left—he knew, and he planned.
I look around, trying to see what he sees and feel what he feels. Robin easily throws himself into everything he does. Damn the consequences.
“It took me over a year to plan the move to Maine.” I turn around, seeing my brother for the first time in years. His stance is casual as he leans against the wall, fiddling with the switch before he flicks the light on. “Yet you just show up and shake everything up.”
“Why can’t you see what I see?”
“Because if I allow myself to feel again, I’ll only get hurt.”
“Wren.” He grinds his jaw and clenches his hands, refusing to run to me, but I know his words will be almost as harsh. “Call him.”
“Who?”
“Arlo.”
“And say what?” I throw my hands up in the air.
“Ask for that third date.”
“Why is everyone privy to our relationship?” Or lack thereof.
“You don’t see what we see.”
“What, Robin? What do you see?”
“A woman who is falling in love with a man and holding herself back for no reason at all.” Robin says the words without a hint of shame.
“So you move to a town I end up stranded in for what, Robin?”
“I told you.”
“I’m not buying it.”
“Maybe,” he pushes off the wall, his nostrils flaring for a moment. “Just maybe I want to find a home too.”
“Robin, I thought you loved Maine.”
“I love my family more, and when you realize you aren’t going anywhere, I’ll be here for Sunday dinners and every single holiday. I’ll watch Lark when you need me to, and maybe I’ll find a solid future for myself where the demons of my past no longer haunt me.”
“Robin.”
“You aren’t the only one hurting, Wren. I need to heal, and I know with every fiber of my being that this is where I belong. I just hope you realize it as well before it’s too late.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Robin?”
His shoulders sag. “Nothing,” he lies, the word rolling off his tongue. “Can we get back to the topic at hand?”
“Sure.” I tuck my hands in my back pockets as the doorbell rings. “I’ve got it.”
He can’t look at me, and I know I’ve hurt him. My feet scuff along the new carpet to the front door, where I can just make out Paris’ head through the distorted window.
“Hey.” I open the door to her smiling face as Kayden holds onto her thigh.
“I just wanted to say thanks to Robin.” She looks around me to Silent Springs’ most eligible bachelor.
“Sure, I was just going.”
“You sure?” Paris whips her head back around. “I don’t want to interrupt a sibling moment.”
“It’s not a problem.” Robin stalks into the room, crouching low as Kayden sees him and runs toward my brother.