Chapter 25
Never in my life have I spent the evening with a guy and done nothing more than lie in his arms. Granted, I ruined the moment by getting a concussion, and Arlo’s alarm clock blared every two hours, startling both of us awake.
After the third or fourth time, we crawled upstairs and passed out in bed.
For the next alarm, we changed into jammies, and then by the next one, the sun was rising, so we sat up in bed and ordered breakfast from a local diner.
That was the extent of our jaunt to southern New Hampshire after Thanksgiving. Though I wanted to exploit the Black Friday sales, I couldn’t find it in me to crawl out of the cocoon we’d made in that little cottage.
We talked, napped, ate, then repeated the process completely. Though I had to call Lark and break the news that her mom is a true klutz. Honestly, we could make a game of how often I fall.
When the dizziness didn’t go away, we ran to the local emergency department, where they concluded what I already knew.
I gave myself a concussion on a Matchbox car—a Mustang that I slid into my purse and kept as a memento for the best weekend I’d ever had in my life. All in thanks to my meddling, matchmaking daughter. I’m not even mad.
Nope. I am hopelessly in love with this man.
We left first thing Saturday morning. I admit the car ride made me so nauseous that a quarter of the way, we stopped at a rest stop and bought Dramamine out of one of those dispensers I thought only distributed condoms.
A handful of miles away, I got a call from Lark. Keeping my eyes closed, I answer, “Hey, kiddo.”
“Hey,” she replies with so much hesitance that all the alarm bells in my head go off with one goal—to shatter my eardrums, which is ridiculous because the sound is all in my head.
“What’s wrong?” I move too fast, my eyes flying open to see big, fat snowflakes landing on the windshield.
“Just calling to see how close you are,” Lark says, changing her voice to that Southern saccharine drawl. I flip the phone to speaker so we can both hear Lark. One of us needs to have our wits about us, and it isn’t me.
There is one assurance in this world, and that is the fact that my daughter is exactly like me in every way. We don’t yell, we are Southern, after all, but we call someone annoying us ‘honey’ and explain things so slowly, you think we are just being sweet.
We aren’t, not at all.
So when Lark lays it on thicker than honey butter, I know without a shadow of a doubt that something went down that I will not like.
“A few miles out,” I answer, glancing at Arlo whose brows furrow into one big Bert brow. You know, the Muppet.
“Perfect.” Oh no, she says that word as though it pours from her lips like molasses.
“Code red?” I whisper.
“Don’t be silly. You are so graceful.”
My eyes widen, and I look at Arlo, who gives me a quick glance and speeds up the car. “Ten minutes. We will be there in ten minutes. Are you safe?”
“So, you remember that show with the zombies?” she asks, knowing damn well that I hate zombie movies. They just aren’t believable. I mean, compared to ghosts, it’s a no-brainer. One is more believable.
“No.”
“Oh, you know the one, with Daddy Winchester.” She giggles in the background like she’s a Sweet Valley High teen.
But it does the job. I know exactly what she’s talking about. “The bat!” I gasp.
“Turns out Autumn made one at the last craft night.”
“Oh no,” Arlo whispers.
“Yeah, so I’m safe, Mama.” The line goes dead.
“Why does your sister have one of those bats?” I hiss at him as I glare at my black screen. I can’t believe she hung up on me.
“Lucille?” Arlo laughs, then leans back in his seat without a care in the world. “All of my sisters have one, so does my mother. And yes, before you ask, they made a craft night out of it, and yes, Lark is safe with them.”
I relax a little bit.
That’s when he adds, “I just hope they don’t kill whoever they are using it against.”
“Arlo!” I exclaim, moving far too quickly and causing my head to swim.
“I mean, if they broke out Lucille and her sisters, then I hope we aren’t driving home to bury a body,” he remarks with so much seriousness that adrenaline pumps through my veins until I can taste it on my tongue.
“You can’t…” I shake my head. Surely he isn’t serious about this.
“Relax.” He chuckles, reaching for my hand as he turns down the road toward home. “I would never.”
“I’m worried about the emphasis you put on I.”
“Yeah, my sisters are special,” he grumbles as the house comes into view.
A fancy little blue sports car sits in the driveway with a man resting on the hood, while Seraphina, Autumn, and even Willow each hold a bat with varying shades of menace pouring off of them. Lark and Saffron rock in the chairs on the porch, huddled under a blanket.
“That car won’t last a season out here,” Arlo mutters as we park, drawing everyone’s attention. “Who is that?”
“No idea.” I squint, but all it does is make my head swim. This is not the time to have a concussion, but here we are, and there isn’t a darn thing we can do about it except move on.
As one, we push out of the car, and I flip my sunglasses down because it’s bright out here, blindingly bright.
“Wren!” The strange man hops up, and in two strides, he walks over to me. “There you are, sweetheart, I was so worried about you.”
Autumn, not missing a beat, almost thwacks him with her bat, but it does the job, and he halts his movements. Through my glasses, I try to look at the guy, but he’s a little blurry, the lines of his face blending together to form a blob.
Darn Matchbox Mustang. I pat my good luck car in my pocket.
All I can make out of the guy is that he’s not dressed for New Hampshire weather, wearing black slacks, a button-down, and a loose tie—definitely not traveling attire.
I’m still braless, because I couldn’t figure out the hooks in my concussed state, in a pair of sweats, a long-sleeved shirt, and my coat.
“Who are you?” I rub my forehead as everything aches behind my eyes.
I might not be able to make out all of his features, but his expression sinks. Arlo comes up behind me, resting a comforting palm against my lower back. I snuggle into his warmth and safety.
“She doesn’t know who you are, so leave.” Autumn applies a little pressure. She must know what she’s doing, because she knicks the fabric. It tears open, and she gives him a satisfied smile.
“You ripped my shirt,” the stranger growls at her.
“You are lucky that’s all I did,” she retorts.
“Wren, are you going to let her talk to me like that?” The guy turns to me, and oh, look, I can see his face turning red. He’s an angry elf.
“Yes, I don’t know who you are.”
Then he says the words that form a pit in my stomach. “How can you say that when we made Lark?”
My heart thumps and lodges itself in my throat. All I can do is squeak for a moment as I cling to Arlo for support.
This cannot be happening. “Why are you here, Christian?”
“Why am I here?” He takes a step back, throwing his hands in the air. It’s dramatic, if you ask me. “Why am I here?” he repeats, and I see Saffron rush Lark inside just as Willow and Seraphina move around to the side. “I’m here because you moved our child hundreds of miles away from me.”
Is this guy serious? “You bounced the moment that line turned pink!” I screech at him.
“Don’t tell lies about me, baby girl.” His voice turns into that Southern charm, and I know he’s about to put a show on for everyone.
Even as a teen, he manipulated everyone and everything until he got what he wanted.
I can only hope that they see right through his facade.
“You can’t leave the state of Georgia with our daughter. ”
I laugh, because that is literally all I can do at this point. Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and I just can’t stop. “That might be true, Christian, but you are forgetting one minor detail.”
“What’s that, suga?” And that voice right there is how he got my sixteen-year-old self into bed with him.
“You aren’t on her birth certificate.” Arlo squeezes me tighter just as my muscles tense and coil. “You have no custody.”
I didn’t follow Christian over the years, not after graduation. It was always just Eric and me against the world, especially when Robin moved and Gram passed away.
“Excuse me,” he says incredulously. “You can’t steal my right to my child. You shouldn’t have even been able to move.” He shakes his head, and a sliver of worry spreads through me. “Did you get my messages?”
“You were the one sending her creepy texts?” Arlo speaks up.
“Who are you?” Christian flings out his hand, scoffing at Arlo.
“Her boyfriend,” Arlo retorts, squeezing me tighter.
Hearing those words on his lips feels so good, and I want to kiss him senseless over it, but first, we have to get rid of Christian.
“Boyfriend?” Christian’s laugh turns unhinged. “What, you going to play step-daddy to my kid?”
“Hey.” Autumn taps him on the chest with her bat. “Watch yourself.”
I hear Christian exhale, and I know more Southern charm is going to slip past his vile lips. “Wren, use common sense here. Lark is my daughter. You took her out of state. Tell me why I shouldn’t call the police right now?”
These are my worst fears come to life. Christian and I never had the best relationship when we were teens, and if I’m being honest, we only experimented that one night, and look what happened. Then four weeks later, he noped out of my life.
There are many reasons why he might be here right now, and not a single one of them is comforting or encouraging. He can drive up in that fancy sports car of his and wear an expensive suit, but it’s all an act.
I exhale slowly, centering my nerves and struggling to get my pounding heart under control. I slide my hand into Arlo’s and squeeze once before I walk over to his little car, and like the hot mess I am, I open the back door and watch as a sliver of what appears to be everything he owns tumbles out.
Grunting, I move to the driver’s door and open that as well.