AllFreeNovel
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“No, I don’t see. It had to be a man who looks at me like I’m some kind of scourge. Some leftover domestic baggage he’d rather do without. You only thought about yourself, and you cost me a father who always loved and cared for me. And you did that for this?”
“Yes, I did, Wren. Look at us now. I mean, look with your own two eyes. The best house in the best suburb, the best college. Trips, cars. Anything you and I need, want, and for the rest of our lives.”
“Everything but love.”
My mother stops cold. She blinks and lowers her head.
“You haven’t a clue, do you? You don’t know what it takes to be a mother, to give a child what it truly needs. It’s always been you, looking out for Number One. If there were leftovers for me, fine. Well, you’ve played your last game with me. I won’t be taken for a ride anymore.”
“Dearest…” She approaches. I back away.
“Goodbye, Mom. Have a wonderful life.” I keep my fingers crossed as I say the lie.
I make my way to the front door. I stroll, then I walk, then I race for that front door.
The moment I’m outside, regardless of the wind and rain, I smell the fresh air and know for the first time in my life I am free.
In the car I borrowed from Maddie to make this trip, I cup a hand over my cell and dial.
“Hunter?”
“Yes, doll. Where are you? I can barely hear you.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. Can I come by?”
“Always beautiful, always.”
I hang up. And drive like I’ve never driven before. This time I’m not running from something, but moving towards something. My tears fall from my blurry eyes, mimicking the cold rain that the windshield wipers are flicking away. It feels like a dam is finally breaking.
Chapter 32
32
HUNTER
Iplay with a spare quarter I had kept in my pocket from tending to the laundry. I am agitated but trying to keep it together. Wren sounded anguished on the phone. I hate to hear her upset, ever. I want to cradle her in my arms until the pain evaporates out of her mouth like smoke.
When I hear a knock at the door, I leap up, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Wren is standing there, looking as delicate as a mouse, her mouth trembling with big moon eyes glossy with tears.
My resolve hardens but softens at the same time.
“Babe…”
She falls into my arms and begins to sob. I guide her inside carefully. We sit on the couch with her head still pinned to my chest, my arms synched around her waist like a toddler far from home.
I let her cry in silence and feed her some nourishing with only my touch. I stroke her fragrant hair as she cries, years and years of built up frustration and manipulation gushing out like a shattered dam.
Her weeping eventually descends into a whimper, and she lifts her head from my chest. I can feel the wetness of her tears having stained my shirt, but I don’t care. I stroke her cheeks, thumbing away the droplets that remain.
It is entirely cliche to say, but even when Wren is sad and upset, she is beautiful. The pain part I am not a fan of.
“What happened, Wren?” I ask, taking her pretty face in my hands. “You can tell me anything and everything. You know that.”
Her whimpering slows down, and she nods with approval. I push a few strands of hair out of her face as her eyes slide to the side, disappearing into the dreamland of the past.
“My mother. She’s…she’s the same as always. Manipulating me. Not telling me the direct truth. It’s no wonder I’m so fucked up.”
Wren’s face distorts, and she begins to bubble over again. I let it flow and continue to stroke her cheeks with my thumb. Her sorrow is my sorrow. I want to drink it up and take it all on as my own.
