CHAPTER FIVE
WREN
I’m packing things into my suitcase. If nothing, this trip has yielded its share of surprises, but I’ve got my entire life in New York, my work, sick kids who are counting on me to make their dreams come true.
I smile at the thought of Carter showing David his slapshot. I hope I can make it happen. Carter seemed keen enough.
Keen for other things, perhaps…
As much as I want to let that daydream play out, I know it’s not going to happen. It shouldn’t. At least by heading to New York I can put some distance between us, stop any progression—warranted or otherwise.
I finish zipping up my suitcase and take one final look at the fifties room, quoting my favorite line from Grease. “A hickie from Kenickie is like a Hallmark card, when you only care enough to send the very best.”
Downstairs, the hotel manager surveys me over his spectacles. “How was your stay, ma’am?”
I hand over my credit card. “Refreshing,” I tell him, not exactly sure why I didn’t go with one of the classics.
He raises an eyebrow. “Good to hear.”
The credit card machine beeps. He looks down before handing back the card. “I’m afraid the card’s been declined.”
I pass it back. “There must be some mistake. Can you run it again?”
He puts the card back in, but it’s the same result.
I start to sweat. What’s going on?
I find another in my purse, our joint Visa, but it’s also declined.
Shit.
I point outside. “I’m just going to call the bank. Is it okay if I leave my luggage here?”
The manager nods. “Sure thing. Take your time.”
If this was New York the cops would be here by now.
Outside, I’m about to call the bank when my screen lights up with an incoming call.
“Hello,” I answer, not immediately familiar with the number.
A man’s voice. “Wren, I’m glad I caught you. It’s Richard Abel.”
Our lawyer? Why’s he calling? “If this is about David’s will, I’m afraid it will have to wait, Mr. Abel.”
“Actually,” he starts, “it’s concerns another matter. I have some bad news.”
*
I see Carter’s Jeep swing into the parking lot. He jumps out looking like a lumberjack, walking through the doors of the hotel.
I stand to greet him. “God, thank you so much for coming. I had no one else to call.”
“It’s no problem.” He takes out his wallet and approaches the front desk. “How much is it?”
The hotel manager, a picture of patience, replies, “One thousand and forty-five dollars, sir.”
Carter doesn’t even blink, shuffling out bills from his wallet and handing them down in a pile. “A thousand-fifty. Keep the change.”
The hotel manager smiles. “Thank you. Say, you didn’t used to play for the Canucks, did you?”
Carter nods. “Once upon a time.”
The manager smiles, happy no doubt to be paid. “You two have a great day now.”
Carter gestures for us to go. I come to his side mortally embarrassed but thankful all the same.
“I can’t thank you enough,” I tell him as we head to the Jeep.
He wheels my luggage behind him. “Like I said, it’s no problem.”
“I’ll pay you back. I promise. Every cent.”
Carter smiles and opens the passenger door, helping me up into the Jeep. It’s just as well. The damn thing needs a ladder it’s so high.
Carter jumps in and starts it up, the engine cha-chunking away in front of us. He lets the handbrake off and begins to drive. “Run me through it again.”
I breathe in. “Our lawyer said David was defrauding the company, embezzling money… more. The authorities have already taken our assets, locked up the house. Our accounts are frozen, unlikely to be thawed any time soon given the talking to I got. To put it simply, I’m screwed. David’s dead and he’s still messing up my life.”
Carter keeps his eyes on the road, calm. “It’s not the end of the world. You have your job, employment. You can find another place, but in the meantime, like I said, you’re welcome to stay at the cabin. Stay as long as you want.”
“That’s generous, Carter, but…” I realize I can’t actually summon a good excuse. I do need somewhere to stay. The first thing I did after the lawyer rang was to call Dad, but it went straight to voicemail. Even then, his own funds dried up a long time ago—the whole reason he’s been on the hunt for a sugar momma these last ten years. I called June, but that too went to voicemail. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to crash in on her, not with the in-laws around and the kids… I don’t want a thing from David’s parents, which left only Carter. He picked up on the first ring.
I hang my head in my hands as we come onto the highway. “What the hell am I going to do?”
“First, you’re going to relax. I’ve got plenty of food, firewood… We’re fine.”
“You’re not one of those doomsday preppers, are you?”
He laughs, hands on the wheel. “No, but one thing prison did teach me is that it pays to be prepared.”
I’m not about to argue. “Why?” I ask.
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me?”
He takes a moment to consider it, before looking across at me, his eyes iridescent. “Why not?”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated, like you somehow have to make up for your brother’s mistakes.”
He nods. “I know. I’m simply helping you out in your time of need—truly. Nothing more.”
I should feel placated by that statement, so the disappointment that springs up comes as a surprise.
You do want more, don’t you? I ask myself.
But I’m not ready to head down that road yet, however delightful it might be.
“Have you seen the news, read any papers?” Carter asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
“It’s already showing up.”
“What David did?”
“Yeah. The press is going to come after you, for your side of the story, especially if they find out about…”
He’s talking about David’s wee ‘infidelity.’
I hadn’t even considered this. “That’s the last thing I need.”
“Which is another excellent reason for staying low at the cabin for a while, waiting until this all dies down. You said work was happy to let you have some time off, right?”
“Sure.”
“So, that’s what you’re going to do.”
I don’t like being told what to do full stop, but when Carter says it, I don’t mind. He’s speaking so much sense it’s like prison has turned him into some kind of beefcakey, woodsman Yoda.
And you’re dying for a look at his lightsaber, aren’t you?
Shut up, Head.
David was pretty average on the penis front, not that I’m any anaconda aficionado, but I remember spotting Carter getting changed through his bedroom door once. It was a split second, but I got enough of a look-in to know he was significantly larger than his brother on that front.
Man, the experimentation that led to, my awkward teenage fingers exploring the newfound wetness below, thinking about that exact moment, the size and shape of that thing, wondering what it would be like to touch… or taste.
I cross my arms over myself, even though Carter’s got the heater on, even though I’m wearing fifty layers. I don’t know why, but I feel exposed sitting here beside him, his big hand on the stick shift. I attempt to turn the subject to him, to stop the panic tipping me over the edge. “What are you going to do, now you’re back? Are you going to become one of those bearded hermits who shun technology and own a dog named Boxer?”
Carter laughs, his other hand moving up to squeeze the steering wheel. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m still not big on the beard thing. They just… get in the way.” He looks across to me, his dark eyes gleaming with the knowledge they’d know exactly what to do between a girl’s legs. “And as for the dog, you were the canine owner last I recalled.”
I shake my head. “David made me give Zeus up, thought he was destroying our apartment.”
“Wasn’t he a tiny Jack Russell?”
“With a big appetite. You should have seen how pissed David was when he came home to find his favorite Stefano Ricci tie torn to pieces.”
I take out my cell. “I’m going to call the lawyer again.”
Carter places his hand on mine.
I’m surprised how hot it is, molten metal on my skin. “It can wait. Just relax.”
Easier said than done, but I nod.
“Breathe,” he says, “in and out.” The rhythm of his voice is sexual in the extreme.
I give it a go, feeling ridiculous.
“That’s it—in and out.”
I pant harder than I should.
“Not so hard,” he laughs. “You’re not trying to give birth here.”
“I bet it’s going to be as painful, though.”
“Wren, I know this situation seems dire, but trust me, you’re not alone here. I’m going to help you get through it, whatever it takes.”
“Thanks, Carter.” I smile. “I really appreciate it. I’m serious.”
He smiles back, before his expression turns neutral. “There is one thing I have to tell you, however.”
Uh-oh. “And what’s that?”
“I’m all out of Nutella.”
*
Carter places my luggage on the floor of the cabin. “Boy, you don’t pack as light as you used to.”
He’s right. I’ve changed, standing here in my Dior cardigan and D&G jeans. I’ve become the good wife, the social butterfly-slash-accessory David wanted me to be. Here, in the middle of nowhere, I look straight up ridiculous. “I suppose my wardrobe has expanded from various shades of angst and teenage trauma.”
“You mean violet, magenta and mauve?”
I laugh. “I really was obsessed with purple, wasn’t I?”
He jerks his head towards my cleavage. “You’ve still got it.”
I freeze. Is he talking about my breasts? I reach up to hold them before thinking better of it. “Sorry?”
“The necklace, the one I made you in shop class.”
“Oh.” I take the pendant out, holding it in front of myself. It’s a metal pendant shaped like a wren Carter gave me back when we were sixteen. David never knew he gave it to me, never asked about it. “I’ve had to replace the chain, and the poor guy’s been smoothed a little over the years, but yeah, I still have it.”
Carter smiles, nodding to himself. “I thought for sure you would have trashed it, upgraded to something a little more… fitting of your status.”
I laugh, but really I’m ashamed, holding the small wren between my fingers, the metal warm from sitting against my skin, right above my heart where I’ve always liked it. “I have more than enough junk from Tiffany & Co, though I guess that’s all gone now.”
Carter takes the hint. “Look, there’s only one bedroom here, so I’ll take the couch.”
I take out my cell. “Oh, I’m going to call the lawyer again, get this sorted out. I’m sure it’s just a big misunderstanding. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”
“Wren…”
“If not, I’ll call June. She’ll be able to sort something out.”
“What about Dad?”
“Magnus?” I question, shaking my head. “Absolutely not. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“I’d say he owes you. The least he can do is look after you given his perfect son went and fucked up your life.”
“Carter,” I begin, “it’s okay. I’ll figure it out, and as for sleeping arrangements, I won’t be staying long. I need to get back to New York.”
He nods, seeming somewhat disappointed. “Alright.” He points behind himself. “I’m going to take a bath. You’ll be okay?”
I hold up my cell. “Time to give this thing a workout.”
I step outside and pace around the front of the cabin. This is what I do best, my cell, my magic wand, my Excalibur, but not today. The lawyer can’t provide much more advice than ‘hang low’ and calls to various state enforcement agencies lead to dead ends or voicemails. An hour in and things aren’t looking good.
Thankfully, June is a little more up to date on the situation. “My god, Wren. I’m so sorry,” she starts.
“It’s okay,” I reassure her, even though I’ve started to shake. “What have you heard?”
“I had Tim drive past the place earlier. The cops, FBI, whoever the fuck they were had it completely cordoned off, trucks taking away everything. You’d think it was a murder scene.”
It might have been if David was still around.
“Where are you?” she asks.
I swallow. “At Carter’s.”
“He picked you up?”
“And paid the hotel bill.”
“That’s going above and beyond.”
Sure is.
I look to the house, to a foggy bathroom window. “You can say that again.”
“What about your dad? Can he help?”
“I can’t get hold of him.”
I can almost picture the way June’s shaking her head right now. “Fucker, probably balls deep in his latest gold-digging expedition.”
“June, I need to get back to New York.”
A pause. “Wren, honey, we’ll pay your ticket, of course we will, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“The press is all over this. I don’t know if you’ve checked into your social media accounts, but they’re blowing up, and not in a happy Oprah ‘free cars for everyone!’ kind of way.”
I hate to think, not like I give a damn about all those snotty Big Apple bitches.
“Can I stay with you?” I throw it out there meekly.
A huff. “The house is packed, kid… with the in-laws here, the party, but if you really want we’ll make room.”
I wipe away a tear, don’t even know when I started crying. “No, no, it’s fine, and thank you.”
“Stay with Carter for now, Wren. You’ll be safe there.”
Will I? I can barely keep my emotions in check. God knows what my hormones will do if given the chance.
“Wren,” she continues, when I don’t answer. “Do you want me to come up there? Because I will. Fuck Tim’s parents. I’m here for you.”
I smile, brushing away another tear with the cuff of my cardigan. “No, you’ve got guests, the party, and, like you said, I’m safe here. I’ll be fine.”
I hear one of the twins crying in the background.
“Shit. I’ve got to go. Batman’s had a run-in with the corner of the kitchen counter.”
“Go,” I tell her, attempting to sound more confident. “We’ll talk soon.”
“You’ll get through this, Wren. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
The line goes dead.
For a moment, I stand there breathing out clouds of fog into the crisp, woodland air.
It’s all a dream, I tell myself. Time to wake up now.
But it’s not.
I take another breath and dial the next number.
*
Twenty minutes of being bounced around operators and I’m still nowhere. No one can provide a straight answer on anything. ‘We can’t comment on an ongoing investigation’ is all anyone seems to know how to say.
I head inside dejected, my cheeks tight with dried tears, but I tell myself I’m stronger than this.
Do not let him screw you over like this, or destroy your life more than he already has.
I won’t.
Fuck him. Fuck David.
I hold my cheeks, slapping them a little before stepping inside, about to call out to Carter when I see his bedroom door is open.
It’s déjà vu.
He’s buck naked, a towel between his legs.
I freeze up like a god-damn popsicle, my feet glued to the floor.
Prison has done wonders for his thighs and butt. They’re so firm and tight you could hammer nails with it.
He tosses the towel onto the bed, turning to close the door and in the process spotting me standing in the hallway like some kind of stalker-statue.
Now it’s his turn to freeze.
As much as I try to resist, my eyes drop down into the danger zone, and yep, there it is. And holy shit, but it somehow seems bigger, even flaccid like that, swinging between his legs like the freakin’ hand of Big Ben, the head of it ripe and round as a plum.
That’s not a penis, I think. That’s a weapon of mass destruction.
He looks down, as if he too has noticed that ‘Yeah, that’s quite an appendage’ before reaching back for the towel and closing the door.
“Sorry!” I call out, my voice breaking. “I thought you would have finished your bath by now.”
“I decided to tidy up first,” comes his muffled voice.
“Oh.” I mutter back, adding, “cool.”
The fuck, Wren? ‘Cool’? What’s next? Cowabunga?
I breathe out and turn, pacing around the lounge room, my face on fire.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he returns, pulling on a shirt and in the process allowing me a perfect view of the Promised Land.
He puts his arms out. “Better?”
Not really.
“Yes,” I mutter, still blushing hard.
He takes a seat on the couch. “How’d it go?”
I swallow the frog in my throat, shaking my head and frantically trying to scrub the image of his supercock from my head. “Not very well. It doesn’t look like I’ll be headed back to New York any time soon.”
Carter claps his hands together. “It’s sorted then. You’ll stay here, until you sort this out, until we sort it out—as long as it takes.”
“Thanks, Carter,” I reply, for what seems like the tenth time today.
He stands, winking. “Looks like I better get used to closing doors around here.”