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I know. I hated Psych, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the best sign of sanity.
I pull out my phone and take a picture of my flowers, then send it to Sawyer.
Wren
I can’t believe you sent me dandelions.
Sawyer
Do you like them?
Wren
I love them. Thank you.
Sawyer
How’s your day?
Wren
Long. I’m hungry, tired, and cranky. How’s your day?
Sawyer
… … …
The dots start and stop a few times, and then... nothing.
Okay then.
Maybe he thought I was complaining.
Or trying to pick a fight.
I wasn’t.
I’m just tired.
When he doesn’t respond, I pocket my phone and look at the card one more time.
Make a wish.
~ Sawyer
He remembered.
* * *
Later that night, Phoebe and I are standing behind the nurse’s station during a lull when she asks me about my dandelions. Since it’s Friday, I brought them with me because I want to bring them home when my shift ends, and everyone... absolutely everyone has asked about them.
“Come on, Dr. Davenport. They’re weeds,” she insists.
“I swear I’m not answering you until you call me Wren.” I fix the pretty purple bow tied around the vase and smile. “And they’re not weeds.”
“Okay, Wren.” she over-annunciates my name. “Fine. They’re not weeds. I always called themwishiesgrowing up. So who sent you thewishies?”
“I guess my not-enemies-with-benefits friend.” Yeah. That sounded as bad in my head as when I said it.
