Chapter Fourteen
Wren read all of the books Josh loaned her on the drive to Ellsworth. Hank and Connor alternated driving, though Wren never took the wheel. When Hank asked if she wanted to, the color drained from her face. He had quickly retracted his request, and Connor suggested he drive Wren's shifts.
"I'm really sorry," Wren muttered from the passenger side while Connor drove. Hank sprawled across the backseat, asleep.
Connor glanced at Wren briefly. "There's no need to apologize. I don't get tired like you and Hank do."
"Yeah, but… You deserve a break, too," Wren shrugged.
Connor's head tilted slightly. "Are you afraid because of your accident?"
Wren lifted an eyebrow. "How perceptive of you."
"I'm sorry."
Wren rubbed her forehead. "Sorry. I'm just…"
"Anxious?" Connor guessed.
Wren sighed. "Yeah."
"It's alright," said Connor. Wren looked at him and softened.
"Thank you," she murmured.
Connor's brow twitched. "For what?"
"For…" Wren trailed off. "Being you."
Light slid off Connor's face as they passed underneath streetlamps. He slowed the car to match the speed limit outside and seemed focused on driving, but Wren caught the twitch of his lips. She noticed how his mouth seemed to resist stretching into a small smile.
Wren glanced at the clock. 8:12 PM. They had split the drive into two days, since it was nearly a twenty-hour drive. While flying would have been easier, they decided that Wren going through a metal detector was not such a good idea. Wren unfolded her legs to stretch her hips and twisted in her seat to stretch her back.
"We will arrive in twenty-three minutes," Connor murmured.
Wren's heart jumped into her throat. She folded her arms to disguise her trembling. "Should we wait until morning to see them?"
"No," said Hank from the backseat, leaning forward. "We have a limited time here, so we shouldn't waste time."
Wren's pulse fluttered. Her heart seemed to parkour inside her chest. She curled her fingers into fists and tucked them under her arms. She focused on steadying her breathing.
Ten: Hank's hand rested on her shoulder.
Nine: Tall trees towered over them as they drove along.
Eight: They were just outside city limits.
Seven: Early evening stars shined in the twilight sky.
Six: Both of Connor's hands gripped the wheel tightly.
Five: The lines around Connor's mouth hardened, pronouncing his frown.
Four: He furrowed his brow.
Three: His eyes sparkled in the dying light of day.
Two: His freckles constellated his skin.
One: She cared for him more than she should.
Wren's heart twisted sharply in her chest, stuttering her breath. In her years of working for Prometheus, though they saved her life after her accident, she never felt alive. She existed, a ghost flitting in and out of the walls, a succubus eating men's hearts and licking the blood off of her lips only to return to hell with chains around her wrists. Love had been violent and never free for her and her life had been one torment after another. Prometheus suffered Zeus's wrath, but Wren took Prometheus's place, and became its prisoner while it raked its claws through her, only to heal her and cut her again. Prometheus was the monster who ate her intestines, only to stuff them back inside her, stitch her up and do it again. She no longer knew if she were Persephone and Prometheus had her trapped in Hades with promises of spring and freedom, or if she was Hades, lurking in the shadows, damned to damn the evils into eternal punishment. She was not Death, she was the judge. Or, she had been when she worked for Prometheus.
But Connor had brought her home. He had pulled her out of the shadows, pulled her straight out of the hell of her own mind. She had not expected to find home in Detroit, especially with Hank and Connor. But their house no longer felt like a prison, but home. Occasionally, the darkness threatened to pull Wren back, but Connor was always there, offering a hand to pull her back. Did that make him Hades, or Persephone?
Wren shook her head at herself. She really needed to stop reading so much mythology.
Connor slowed the car to a stop in front of a large colonial-style house. Wren could just barely make out the mint green color of the exterior in the dusk. Connor gazed up at the house, his lips parting. He looked at Wren, his eyes capturing hers.
She knew what war felt like. But looking into his eyes, Wren knew what peace felt like, too.
"Ready, kid?" muttered Hank.
Wren tore her eyes from Connor's to look at the house, but his eyes remained on her face, holding her. She let out a deep breath. "No." She pushed open the car door. Connor shut off the engine and got out of the car, Hank following. Wren led the way up to the front door, Connor and Hank flanking her. Her hand shook as she reached out to knock on the door. Her knuckles hovered over the wood.
"It's alright," murmured Connor. Wren glanced at him. His eyes smiled as he dipped his head to her.
Wren nodded stiffly and faced the door. She closed her eyes, let out a breath, and knocked on the door. She stepped back and gripped Connor's hand. His fingers hesitated before curling around her hand. Her anxiety did not leave, but she felt a bit stronger. He was solid while her knees shook. He was gravity that kept her from drifting into the void.
The door opened and Wren stopped breathing. A woman who resembled Wren stood in the doorway, her brow puckered. Her eyes flitted from Connor, to Wren and to Hank. And then they returned to Wren. The woman's frown deepened, harshening the creases in her face. Then, the frown in her brow melted. Her eyes widened and her lips parted.
"Wrenley?"
Wren opened her mouth but found she could not speak. She still had yet to breathe. Tears burned and blurred her vision. The woman –Wren's mother –threw her arms around Wren, who stumbled, still gripping Connor's hand. Wren glanced at Connor over her mother's shoulder. The lines of Connor's forehead tightened. Wren placed her free arm around her mother.
"It's me," she croaked.
Shannon Blanchard pulled away from Wren, her dark red hair sticking to her tear-streaked face. "You… How are you… Where have you… We thought you were dead!"
"Mrs. Blanchard," said Hank, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder, "we can explain everything. But it's gonna take a while, and it isn't gonna be easy."
Shannon stared at Wren, her mouth hanging open. She wrenched her gaze from Wren to acknowledge Hank. "Who are you?"
"I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson and that's Detective Connor. We're with the Detroit Police Department," said Hank, showing his badge.
Shannon Blanchard looked at Connor for a moment. Wren relaxed when she saw no hostility in her mother's demeanor as she turned to Hank. "Police? Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Mrs. Blanchard," said Hank, "this is just a bit of a complicated situation."
Shannon nodded slowly, her face pale. She avoided looking at Wren. "Of course. C-come in. There's a lot of explaining to be had, I suppose." Shannon led the way inside.
Wren looked at Hank, who stepped in first. She looked at Connor, who met her gaze. She still held his hand. His eyes glowed in the light that flooded the porch. Wren squeezed his hand before she let it go and stepped inside her family's house. Wren paused in the foyer, glancing at the table pushed against the white paneled walls. On the table sat picture frames. Wren looked at them, tears blurring her vision. She blinked them away as she lifted on of the frames. Connor stood next to her, examining the picture, too.
It showed a man who Wren recognized as Charles Blanchard from the photos she'd seen at the DPD while researching herself. Next to her father sat Shannon, her mother. Sitting in front of them was a young man in his early twenties. He resembled Charles, with light brown hair and eyes. He grinned at the camera, his arm placed loosely over his sister's shoulders. Wren peered at the sister. It was her. She gazed into her younger self's blue eyes, alight with joy. She wore an open-mouthed grin, as if she were laughing at something. Her hair hung past her breasts. She looked about eighteen in the picture.
Wren placed the picture back onto the table. She sniffled and wiped her eyes before jerking away from the pictures. She did not want to look at memories she no longer had.
They stepped into the living room. The ceiling was high with exposed beams. A cobblestone fireplace adorned one side of the room. The couches were dark grey, with white fuzzy blankets folded across the backs of them. A set of stairs stood to the left. To the right was the doorway to the kitchen. Shannon gestured to the couches.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable," she breathed. "I'll… I'll go get Charles." She left the room.
Hank sat down on one of the couches. Connor followed suit, but Wren remained standing. She crossed her arms and looked around the room. She trekked toward the hearth, where more framed photos decorated the mantle. "They never took my pictures down."
"What?" Hank asked.
Wren cleared her throat. "They never took my pictures down."
"They never stopped loving you, kid," said Hank quietly. Wren turned to face him.
"Is it too late to leave?" she asked.
Hank's lips upturned. "Just a bit, kid."
Wren pursed her lips and paced the room. She was aware of Connor and Hank's eyes following her movement, but the idea of sitting and waiting for her parents to reenter the room scratched at her brain like a rat.
"So," said a deep male voice, stopping Wren in her tracks, "you're alive."
Wren turned to face her parents. Charles Blanchard towered over Shannon. He folded his arms taut across his chest as he narrowed his eyes at Wren, who shrank back. The color trickled from her face. She had killed men much larger than her father, but she felt like a kitten under his stare.
Charles stepped into the room, his boots thudding against the floor. He glanced at Hank and Connor. Charles's shrewd eyes roved over Hank and observed Connor. As soon as his eyes rested on the LED on Connor's temple, Charles glowered.
"And you've brought an android into my home," he said coldly. He stepped closer to Wren, who resisted the urge to back away. Her father's eyes were brown, but not like Connor's. How was it that the android's synthetic eyes were softer and warmer than her father's? Charles's expression softened, but only slightly. He pulled Wren into a hug. She stiffened and her eyes widened. Her father released her before she could return the embrace. "You've got some explaining to do."
Charles sat on the couch beside Shannon, facing the couch upon which Connor and Hank sat. Wren joined Connor and Hank, squeezing herself between them. She relaxed when her shoulders brushed theirs. She resisted the urge to take both of their hands in hers. Connor moved his hand closer to her, brushing her knuckles with the back of his hand. Wren's fingers twitched to acknowledge him.
"So, why don't you start with why you've brought a stranger and an android into my house?" suggested Charles, leaning back.
Wren glanced at her mother, who avoided her gaze. Wren straightened. "They helped me find you."
"Find us? What do you mean?" Shannon looked up, tears in her eyes.
Wren's heart tugged. "I mean… After the car wreck… I didn't… I…" She looked around helplessly.
"She lost her memory," Connor offered. Wren met his gaze and mouthed her gratitude. His lips twitched with a soft smile.
"You…" Shannon breathed, drawing Wren's gaze to her, "you don't remember us?"
Wren pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I wish I could."
Shannon bowed her head. "You're here now. That's all that matters."
Wren's throat swelled with a lump. She swallowed. Charles huffed. "But where have you been? What've you been doing? How'd you survive?"
Wren tensed. "I… Uh, someone saw the crash and drove me to the nearest hospital. They managed to save me, but I was in a coma and they had to airlift me to a better hospital. When I woke up, I didn't remember anything, except part of my name. But I was in a different town, so… I just started over. I've been drifting for the past ten or eleven years. I ended up in Detroit recently, and I started working as a cop. Hank and Connor helped me find you. They've been… They've been really good to me."
More than good, Wren thought. So much more than good.
Shannon shook her head, the corners of her mouth stretching downward. "God, that accident… We thought you were dead… We looked for you, but the police said you must've been… d-dragged off by an animal! We never gave up, not really… God, James! Y-your brother, James, h-he lives in Ellsworth still. He visits your grave every day. W-we need to tell him that you're alive, and okay…"
A chill settled in the pit of Wren's stomach. "Grave?"
"A memorial," muttered Charles. "We didn't have anything to bury, but we…" He stopped and clenched his jaw. Wren's chest tugged to see her father show emotion.
Shannon wiped her eyes. "We couldn't do nothing."
Wren curled her hands into fists. Hank laid a hand over hers. She closed her eyes for a moment before relaxing her hands. She held Hank's in hers. Then she gripped Connor's. She lifted her gaze to meet her parents'. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."
Shannon shook her head. "Sweetheart, you're here now. I'm glad you did find us. And I'm glad you… You weren't alone out there." Shannon's eyes flicked to Hank and Connor, a small smile twisting the corners of her mouth.
"Where are you guys staying?" Charles asked.
"We haven't made arrangements anywhere yet," said Hank.
"Stay with us! We have a guest room and your old room…" Shannon trailed off when Charles looked at her.
"The android is going to stay?"
"Charles, don't be that way," Shannon scolded.
"Androids have destroyed this country! I've every right to be that way."
"Connor's my friend," Wren gritted out, gripping Connor's hand tighter.
"Humph. Whatever." Charles stood and stomped out of the room.
"Well, he's a ray of fuckin' sunshine," said Hank.
Wren looked at him. "Hank!"
"No, it's okay," said Shannon, holding her hands palms forward. "Charles isn't much of an android supporter."
"I can make arrangements elsewhere," said Connor.
Shannon shook her head. "Don't be silly. He'll get over it. The two of you have been taking care of Wren, so you're more than welcome to stay."
Wren tilted her head. "Why… Why aren't you calling me Isabelle? That's my name, right?"
Shannon gaped at Wren for a moment. "It is," she said, "but we haven't called you by that since you were… Eleven, I think. You told me it was too girly and that there was another girl at school with that name. You just came downstairs one day and told us to call you by your middle name. I think it fit you better than Isabelle, anyway."
Wren's lips twitched. "Yeah, I think so, too."
Shannon stood. "Lieutenant, I can show you the guest room. Wren, your room is upstairs and to the right. Connor… You don't sleep, do you?"
"No, Mrs. Blanchard," said Connor. He offered her a pleasant smile. "I can entertain myself."
Shannon looked at Wren and Connor's hands, still intertwined. "Well, I was going to say that you could take James's old room, if you want. It's upstairs to the left."
"Thank you, Mrs. Blanchard."
"You can call me Shannon," said Shannon, smiling slightly. Hank patted Wren's knee before standing.
"I'll see you in the mornin'," he said.
Wren nodded. Shannon turned to Wren, her brow pinching. "How long are you staying?"
"A few days," Wren replied.
Shannon relaxed. "I can call James and let him know… He can meet you again."
Wren held her breath and nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Thank you…" Wren swallowed. "Mom."
Shannon's eyes brightened. She placed a hand to Wren's cheek. "You're welcome, baby girl."
Wren blinked back tears. Shannon thumbed Wren's cheek, her eyes –blue, like Wren's –sparkling with tears. She glanced at Connor, a smile tugging at her lips. She dropped her hand. Wren watched her mother lead Hank out of the room.
"Wren?" Connor queried after several seconds passed.
Wren blinked and glanced down at their hands. She let go of his hand. "Sorry."
"It's alright," Connor assured her. Wren looked at him, their noses bumping. She drew back slightly.
"Come on," she breathed. She stood and led Connor up the stairs. She did not remember the house per se, but she felt like she did. The floorboards beneath her feet were soft with familiarity. The taupe walls hugged her close, bringing forth memories that danced away before she could remember them. She stopped in front of the door to the right. The door stood closed, but she knew it was her room. She turned the brass handle and pushed the door open. It creaked and Wren stepped inside her room.
It was clean, but it looked as though nothing had really been touched in ten years. It looked like a teenage girl's room. A pair of ballet slippers hung over the back of a chair in the corner of the room. The bed was wrought white iron with a sage bedspread. A dresser stood across from the bed. A bookshelf stood next to the window. A vanity set stood against the right wall, nearest to Wren. Framed photos decorated the bookshelf, dresser and vanity set. A bulleting board hung on the wall behind the bed. Pictures, ticket stubs and notes decorated the board. Wren glanced around, trailing her fingers along the surface of the vanity set. She crossed the room to the bookshelf and examined it. A notebook sat on top of the bookshelf. She opened it and thumbed to a random page.
08.15.18
I rode my bike to Christine's house today. We made an evil plan to get Jonah to like me! Mwahahaha!
A blush crept up Wren's cheeks as Connor neared her. She quickly flipped to a different page, not wanting Connor to read her fourteen-year-old self's thoughts.
03.25.22
I can't believe I've finally graduated high school! I thought I'd never get out of this town. I can't wait to start school. I'll miss my friends… But GOD am I ready to get out of this place! And Dad is driving me nuts. He can be such a dick to Mom and I hate watching it. But Mom never does anything about it. I can't wait to get away. Maybe the distance will help.
Wren looked up, her eyes wide. Connor's LED flashed as he processed the information. His brow furrowed. "Your parents seem to have a strained relationship."
Wren nodded and closed the notebook. She set it on top of the bookshelf. "That was the last entry, too."
"Perhaps reading this will help you remember things," said Connor, picking up the journal. He offered her a pained smile. "Or, at the very least, give you a sense of what you were like and how you grew up."
Wren snatched the journal from him. "I'm not sure I want to read my teenage girl thoughts. Embarrassing stuff."
Connor tilted his head. "But it might help you."
Wren looked at the journal. "Yeah, it might."
"We could read it together."
Wren narrowed her eyes as she looked up at Connor. "I'm not sure I want you to read my embarrassing thoughts."
"I understand," Connor replied, though the droop of his shoulders suggested otherwise. He turned to leave. "I'll see you in the morning."
"See you," Wren called. Connor switched off the light and stepped out of the room. Wren sighed and opened up the journal. She started from the beginning, read two entries, and stopped. She set the journal aside and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. She laid there for several minutes, listening to the clink, clink, clink of the fan.
Persephone, Hades, Prometheus. Clink, clink, clink. Connor, Wren, Prometheus. Wren, Connor, Prometheus. Wren, Prometheus… She rolled over, gripping her pillow as her head pounded in tandem with the clinking of the fan. The pillow smelled of lavender and vanilla. Had she once smelled of lavender and vanilla? What did she smell like now? Blood and gunpowder? Did she smell like a grave? Did the rot of the underworld cling to her clothes like cigarettes staunched avid smokers?
Wren pushed up from the bed and swept out of the room. She stopped just before the door to her brother's old room, where she knew Connor sat awake. She paused before knocking on the door. Her inability to sleep was not Connor's problem. She shifted her weight and backed away from the door. She turned and entered her bedroom, the door creaking. She flopped onto the bed.
If she was Hades, and Connor was Persephone, she was not going to drag him into Hell.
…
Wren picked her way across the yard, feeling rather cold despite the sun's warmth. Hank and Connor walked with her, their footsteps whispering in the grass. They climbed the slope of the cemetery and stopped at the top. Wren read off the names of gravestones as she passed –Prota, Sallow, Kline –and stopped when she reached Blanchard. She walked along the row of stones, stepping on the graves of dead relatives that she did not remember. She wondered if she had met any of these people personally, if they had been kind to her, if they had gushed over how big she had gotten over the years… Had she experienced any awkward moments with these family members?
She pushed the thought from her mind and stopped when she reached the end of the row. Fresh flowers –peonies –decorated the gravestone. It was glossy and black, glinting in the sunlight. It stood among the other gravestones like a god. Carved into it was an inscription.
Isabelle Wrenley Blanchard
December 27, 2004 - ?
"Wherever you are, may angels guide you."
Wren took in a deep, shuddering breath. Hank placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. Connor stood close enough that his arm brushed against hers. Their knuckles touched.
"Well, look at that. We know your birthday," said Hank. Wren tried to smile but the corners of her mouth hardly twitched. Hank squeezed her shoulder. "You're not really buried there, kid."
"I know," Wren breathed.
"You're alive," Hank muttered, moving to block Wren's view of her gravestone. Wren forced herself to meet Hank's gaze. He placed both hands on her shoulders. "You're alive, Wren. You're okay."
Wren forced herself to nod. She swallowed. "I-I'm alive."
"C'mere, kid," Hank muttered, pulling Wren into a hug. She clung to him, inhaling his scent. His shirt smelled like laundry detergent struggling to mask the stench of cigarettes, whiskey and Sumo. Wren managed a smile, comforted. Hank withdrew and patted Wren's arm awkwardly. "You good?"
"I'm good." Wren offered him a small smile.
Hank dipped his head. He looked to Connor and tapped his temple. "You still got that address stored in there?"
"Of course," said Connor.
Hank rolled his shoulders and looked at Wren. "You ready to meet your brother?"
Wren nodded, but her stomach flopped. Hank led the way back toward the car. Wren and Connor fell in step with one another. He said nothing, but his presence was enough to comfort her. Wren slid into the backseat and Connor joined her. She furrowed her brow at him, but he merely offered her a pleasant smile in response. Wren shrugged, not wanting to protest. She liked having Connor near.
She looked at her fingernails and picked at them. Since when had she grown so attached to the android? She supposed it had been too gradual for her to pinpoint the exact moment when Connor wormed his way into her heart. Hank, too. She cared about the both of them. They were no longer her acquaintances, or allies or observers. They were not her caretakers or babysitters. They were her friends. Sure, she had found her bloody family, but in some ways… Hank and Connor were the closest thing she had to a family. She had not felt alive until she lounged on the couch, watching a Marvel movie with Hank and Connor.
Hank parked the car outside of the small house just outside of Ellsworth. The three of them gazed at the yellow exterior of the house. It seemed welcoming enough. Hank twisted in his seat to look back at Wren. "You good?"
Wren nodded. "Yeah. Let's go." She pushed open the car door and got out, leading the way to the front door with Hank and Connor in tow. She rang the doorbell and waited, holding her breath. The door opened to reveal a tall man. He resembled Charles in a way, though he was far more freckled than Charles. In that way, he resembled Shannon. His eyes seemed kind, not unlike Connor's. His brow furrowed as he looked at Hank, Connor and Wren. She waited for him to recognize her.
His eyes widened when he did. "Wren?"
"It's me," said Wren, offering her brother a small smile that looked more like a grimace.
James Blanchard blinked, his mouth agape. He looked from Hank to Connor and back again. "What the hell?"
"This'll be easier if you let us explain," said Hank.
"Yeah, yeah, come in," said James, opening the door and stepping aside.
Wren pursed her lips and entered the house. The hardwood floor creaked. She stood to the side as Hank and Connor flanked her. James looked her over, his eyes still wide. A rather dazed look clouded his eyes. He gestured to the living room. "Make yourselves comfortable."
Hank led the way, plopping down on the leather sofa. Wren sat next to him, maintaining her stiff posture. Connor sat beside her, though he balanced his elbows on his knees. If he did not have his LED, one would guess that Wren was the android by the way she sat. She rubbed her hands down her pants and bounced her knees. She stopped when she noticed Connor watching her.
James entered the room with three glasses of water. He set them in front of Connor, Wren and Hank. James stiffened. "Oh. You don't drink."
Connor's lips twitched and his eyes softened. "I appreciate the gesture."
James nodded jerkily and took the glass. He sat in the armchair across from the couch and sipped from Connor's former glass. He set the half-empty cup on the coffee table. "So… Uh, Mom told me that something regarding your case had come up, but… I never expected this."
"I asked her not to tell you," Wren muttered, her throat itching. She coughed to clear it. Her hands curled around her knees. "I wanted to tell you in person."
"With an entourage," pointed out James, his eyes flitting from Connor to Hank.
"Sorry… That's Hank and that's Connor. I work with them at the Detroit Police Department. They helped me find you," said Wren.
"Speaking of finding people," said James, "uh… You know we've been trying to find you for a decade?"
Wren lowered her gaze. "I know. And I'm sorry." She kept her eyes down as she reiterated the half-truth that she told her parents the night before. The long silence that met her words did not comfort her.
"Do you know how long it took us to find you? She had no idea who she was, except that her name was Wren and that she was in some horrible car accident. Not much to go on," said Hank.
Wren lifted her gaze to observe her brother. He held his hands to his face as if he were praying. His eyes slid open and he met Wren's gaze briefly before looking at Hank. "Pretty nice of you guys to come all this way with her."
Wren glanced between them, pressing her lips together. She met James's gaze. "They're like family to me."
She stared straight ahead when Connor and Hank looked at her. James held Wren's stare for several seconds. He leaned back, rubbing his palms on his thighs. "Then… They're more than welcome here."
Wren's brow pinched. "You're not… You're not mad?"
James's shoulders slouched. "Wren, why would I be mad? You're here. You're alive."
Wren's eyes filled with tears. "But… I don't remember you."
"I think you do," said James, smiling softly. "Subconsciously, at least. You wouldn't be this affected if you didn't."
Wren bowed her head. Tears splashed onto her lap. Hank patted her knee. Wren wiped away her tears and lifted her head. "Thank you."
James looked at his watch. "Listen, I gotta pick up Izzy from school. But… We've got some catching up to do. I can take you guys to dinner after I take Izzy to her mother's."
Wren frowned. "Izzy?"
James grinned. "My little girl. She'll be twelve next month. You met her before the accident, but she was just a baby."
Wren pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm an aunt?"
"Surprise," James sang, wagging his fingers. Wren laughed. James grinned as he stood. Wren followed suit. James held open his arms. "Can… Can I hug you?"
Wren ran into her brother's arms, tackling him around the middle. He let out an oof, but returned the embrace quickly and tightly. Wren closed her eyes. Her brother smelled like pine needles and dirt, but it wrapped around Wren like a blanket. She knew this smell.
"Wren, be careful!" James called from the ground. Wren rolled her eyes as she grabbed the tree branch above her. She pulled herself up and balanced on the branch.
"It's sturdy! See?" She bounced on her perch. James placed his hands on the sides of his head, his mouth hanging open, letting out a string of curses. Wren laughed, lost her grip and fell out of the tree backwards. She landed in the bushes not far below.
"Oh, fuck! Fuck, Wren, are you okay? God, you're such an idiot," James rushed over, his eyes wide. Wren snorted as she sat up, twigs and leaves caught in her hair. Aside from several small scratches and one giant-ass bruise, she was fine.
"You said fuck! You finally said it!"
"Oh, fuck you! I saw your life flash before my eyes…"
"Come on, I was barely eight feet off the ground."
"Only," muttered James, rolling his eyes as he helped Wren out of the bushes. "That's eight feet too many, doofus."
Wren blinked, withdrawing from the memory and from James's embrace. James patted Wren's shoulder. "You guys like pizza?"
"Is the Pope a Catholic?" Wren retorted.
James snorted. "Fair point. Why don't you guys meet me at Finelli's. It's a pizzeria downtown."
"Sure," said Hank. "What time?"
James looked at his watch again. "Six-thirty?"
"See you then," said Wren. She gave her brother another hug before leaving the house. A small smile toyed with her lips.
"That went better than with your parents," said Hank, climbing into the driver's seat. Wren and Connor sat in the back.
"Yeah," Wren agreed, releasing a long breath. They were quiet the rest of the drive. When they returned to Wren's parents' house, Hank retired for a shower. Wren and Connor headed upstairs. They sat on her bed, flipping through the books from the bookshelf. Connor reached for the journal. Wren snatched it away from him.
Connor frowned. "It could help bring forth memories, Wren."
"I know." Wren frowned and looked at it.
"Why are you scared?"
Wren looked up sharply. Connor held her gaze, unbothered by the fire in her eyes. She softened after a moment. "I… I'm remembering things, the more I'm exposed to certain stimuli… The longer I'm away from Prometheus, the more I remember."
"And?"
Wren sighed. "And… I can't sort the memories out. There's no definite timeline. I can't really tell what memories happened when. They're out of order."
Connor furrowed his brow. "You're afraid this will confuse more?"
"No… I don't know what I'm scared of, honestly. Maybe I'm scared of what I wrote."
"You were very young, Wren. I doubt this journal contains anything incriminating."
"Let me rephrase: I'm scared I'll be embarrassed by what I wrote."
Connor tilted his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Wren huffed. "This probably has my deepest secrets in it. Well, when I was in middle and high school, at least. That's every human's awkward phase."
"'Awkward phase'?"
"Puberty."
"Oh," said Connor, lifting his eyebrows. A small smile tugged at his lips. "Androids don't experience such a phase in life. Though, I suppose you could compare deviancy to puberty."
Wren snorted. "I think it's a bit more complicated than that."
Connor returned Wren's smile. He laid on the bed and propped himself up with his elbow. Wren stared at him. He looked so… normal. Warmth flooded her chest as she stared at him. A soft smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She looked down at her journal.
"If we read through this, you have to promise me something," Wren said.
Connor looked up at her, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "Anything."
"Don't make fun of me."
Connor smirked. "I'll do my best."
Wren let out a long sigh and opened up the journal. "If this doesn't trigger anything except shame, I'm blaming you."
"Did you mean what you said?" Connor asked suddenly. Wren looked up, catching the seriousness of his tone. He averted her gaze.
"What do you mean?" Wren queried.
"You told your brother that Hank and me were like family to you. Did you mean that?" Connor said. He held Wren's gaze, his brows gathering.
Wren parted her lips and widened her eyes. "Oh. Um. Yeah. I mean… You guys are the closest thing I have to a family, but if that's overstepping or you guys don't feel the same way, I understand. I'm not trying to pressure you or anything, and it just kind of slipped out –"
"Wren," Connor interrupted quietly. Wren clamped her mouth shut, staring at him. One corner of his mouth pulled into a soft, lopsided smile. "We feel the same way."
[Path Unlocked: Connor ((and Hank)): Family]
Wren failed to contain the grin that spread across her face. Connor returned it, albeit softer than hers. She looked down at the journal. "Let's read through some of these before we have to get ready."
She skipped the entries that she had already read and opened to the third one.
09.03.15
After dance practice today, I went walking with Christine and James in the woods. Nothing happened.
12.26.15
OMG! For Christmas, I got new pair of ballet shoes and a BIKE! I'm so excited! I also got money for music.
01.13.16
Today we played in the snow. James freaked out because he thought he got frostbite, but Mom told him that his hands were just cold, LOL.
02.14.16
There's a new kid at school. He's nice. I told him he could sit with us at lunch. He moved here from Portland. His name's Jonah. I asked him if it was like that guy from the Bible, but he didn't know who I was talking about.
03.16.16
I think Jonah thinks that Christine, James and I are weird. He doesn't really hang out with us anymore… but that's okay. I like the three of us anyway.
04.24.16
I got a D on my math test today. Dad was so mad that he threw a plate. He told me that I'm smarter than that and that I shouldn't play outside so much. Ugh, I don't get why he's so mean sometimes. Mom looks kind of scared sometimes. James tells me to ignore it, though.
05.30.16
I'm so freaking glad school is over! I'm grounded because I never got my math grade up from a C to a B. I'm not allowed to go to the movies for two weeks. So unfair!
06.17.16
AAAAHHHHH! I hate my dad! He made me clean all of the fricking bathrooms today. So gross.
07.07.16
Today, James, Christine and I are planning to go to that abandoned theatre house in town. We wanna ghost hunt! I'm super excited but also terrified. Apparently, there was some fire years ago that killed everyone in the theatre. I don't know why it's abandoned now, but James said we could always go to the library and look up old records to find out.
07.08.16
I'm grounded again. We went into the theatre house, and it's super rundown. The floor was all dry-rotted and falling apart. I went upstairs to investigate and… I FELL THROUGH THE FREAKING FLOOR! I was really lucky and only twisted my ankle, but I can't dance for the rest of the summer, probably. Dad was pissed. I didn't tell him that we were in the theatre house (he would probably skin me ALIVE if he knew that). He's mad that I wasted his money on those dance classes that I can't go to anymore. So, yep. I'm grounded again.
08.15.16
I get to dance again!
11.30.16
Mom and Dad are arguing again… Mom is upset about the presidential election, I think. Dad is just… Dad.
02.13.17
Stupid Valentine's Day is tomorrow. Of course, perfect Bailey Saunders and Danny Harris are going to be all over each other. Gross.
04.16.17
I have a solo dance recital coming up and I'm freaking out. I've never danced by myself before! I just hope Dad is proud of me…
05.31.17
Dad said I did well with my recital!
08.14.17
So, um… Today something embarrassing happened. I was climbing a tree with Christine. She told me she has a crush on Danny Harris (GROSS). I slipped while climbing, but the branch caught my shirt. I was literally dangling from a freaking tree with my shirt over my face and my arms up in the air while Christine LAUGHED HER ASS OFF AT ME! I had to get out of my shirt and drop to the ground to get down. Then I had to climb the tree AGAIN, freaking shirtless, and get my shirt and put it back on. THANK GOD we were deep in the woods and no one was around to see!
10.13.17
OMG! Mrs. Ross announced our school play today… We're doing The Lion King! I want to play Nala!
11.15.17
So… I didn't get the part of Nala. But Mrs. Ross told me I'm a great dancer, so I'll be in every dance number! But I don't have a speaking or singing role. I wish she'd give me a chance.
06.23.17
The play was so much fun! Jonah even came to see it. He told me that I did a great job.
Wren closed the journal. "We should probably start getting ready."
Connor nodded. He tilted his head. "Are you alright?"
Wren nodded. "Yeah. It's just… weird. I was kind of annoying back then."
Connor's lips twitched. "You were young."
Wren grinned. "You can say it. I was annoying."
"I'm not allowed to make fun of you, remember?" Connor lifted his eyebrows at her.
Wren chuckled and pushed him playfully. "Smug little shit."
A smirk twisted Connor's lips as he pushed himself off the bed. He trekked to the door and paused before leaving, his head cocking to one side. "I might be able to help you sort out your memories, should you remember more."
Wren furrowed her brow. "How?"
"Interfacing," said Connor.
"Maybe we can try it," said Wren, folding her arms. "But later. I have to get ready."
"Of course. I'll see you soon." Connor left the room. Wren swallowed and glanced down at the journal. Did she want Connor to see her memories? Would he still consider her family after witnessing some of the things she had done?
…
"So," said James, leaning forward after the waitress went to place their order, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
"I'm sure you do, too," Wren said, folding her hands in her lap.
James shrugged. "Yeah, but you don't remember your past. I can't help you with everything, obviously, but I was there with you through a lot of it."
Wren inhaled deeply. The problem was that she had so many questions that she did not know what she wanted to ask. She looked at Hank a little helplessly. He raised his eyebrows before looking at James.
"What happened the night of the accident?" Hank asked.
James snorted and looked at Wren. "And your first question is something I can't really answer. I don't know what happened. I was at home, and then I… I got the call that they'd found your car. We searched for you for days, weeks… I checked in with the police every week for an update. But… nothing. You had just… disappeared."
Wren lowered her gaze, her stomach churning.
"Well, do you know who might know more?" Hank demanded.
James frowned, but offered no response. Connor shifted beside Wren. He folded his hands on the table. Wren stared at the red-and-white checkered tablecloth, avoiding her brother's gaze.
"We know she was associated with a Mr. Jonah Cage. Would he have more information?" Connor queried.
"Fuck that guy," spat James. Wren looked up at her brother, her eyes widening. "He's a worthless piece of shit. I'm glad Wren doesn't remember him."
"We speculated that Wren might have been a victim of domestic abuse," said Hank slowly. Wren felt his eyes on her. "Is that true?"
James worked his jaw. "Yeah. I didn't notice… right away. Small things at first. She started drinking. She stopped hanging out with her friends, stopped coming to our family dinners, stopped visiting Izzy… Jonah used to say really mean things to her, too. He never had anything nice to say about her, and Wren… You just made excuses for him." James held Wren's gaze, tears sparkling in his eyes. "When you quit your business, I cornered you. Demanded that you talk to me. When I saw you, I barely recognized you. You were so skinny. You looked like you hadn't slept… You were wearing long sleeves and sunglasses. A shit ton of makeup. More than you've ever worn. I asked you to roll up your sleeves and take off your glasses. You refused, so I slid your sleeve up. There were bruises all up your arm…" James trailed off and shook his head. Tears slipped down his cheeks. He bowed his head for a moment before lifting his eyes to meet Wren's. "I wanted to help you, but… You told me to fuck off. You ran off with Jonah, and I didn't hear from you until now."
Wren's mouth fell open. "I told you… I… Why? Why would I do that? Why would I want to stay with him?"
James rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you really loved him. And… It was no secret that Jonah Cage was a Red Ice dealer. You were arrested for possession of Red Ice once, too. I bailed you out. I think you were an addict and Jonah… He kept you trapped in that shitty relationship because he fed your addiction. But I think… I think some part of you loved him, too."
Wren stared at the tablecloth again. The colors blurred together as tears stung her eyes. "I can't believe I…" She looked up at her brother. "I'm so sorry, James."
James let out a damp laugh. "Wren, you've got nothing to be sorry for. You were in a dark place. I should've done more to get you out of that situation. Maybe… Maybe you wouldn't have gotten in that wreck."
Wren shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. I'm to blame."
"It sounds like Jonah's got some of the blame, too," said Hank. Wren looked at him. His eyes crinkled at the corners.
Wren wiped her eyes. "Yeah, but… I'm responsible for my actions."
"Look, Jonah will know more of what happened that night," said James. "But I wouldn't be surprised if he were dishonest."
"We'll be careful," said Hank.
Wren nodded. She frowned. "Did you say… I had a business?"
"Oh yeah," said James, brightening. "You were starting a dance academy. Christine runs it now. Well, I guess you don't know who Christine is…"
"I do," said Wren, her eyes stretching. "I… I found my journal at Mom and Dad's house. I was hoping it would help me remember something."
"Has it?" James asked eagerly, leaning forward.
"Inconsequential things," said Wren. "Nothing really coherent."
James rubbed his mouth. "Interesting."
Wren picked at her fingernails. "What was I like? Before… you know."
James blew out a breath that puffed out his cheeks. "You were… weird. Weird sense of humor. You never took yourself too seriously. You could dance like a ballerina or a stripper, whichever you decided. You were always up for an adventure, but you were awkward as hell. Blunt as hell, too. You got into fights at school because you had a 'fight me' attitude. You lost every fight, by the way. You were just kind of… fearless. You were artistic. You could choreograph a dance to just about any song. You liked poetry and art and music… I've never met anyone who spent as much time in the woods as you, though. You climbed trees to think." James let out a watery laugh. He mimed pinching in the air. "You know how arts and crafts stores sell fake flowers? You used to collect the flowers that fell off and littered the aisle. You'd stuff your pockets full of fake flowers and hide them in a drawer. I remember the first time you did it. You were about… I don't know, eight? You came to me and told me that you'd done something very bad. You were scared the police were gonna come get you. Then you showed me that you'd taken those stupid, fake flowers. I promised not to tell anyone. You never stopped taking the ones that fell off. You always picked them up off the aisle. You had a drawer full of them… You ended up putting them into a scrapbook. I think I still have it."
Wren managed a small smile. Hank shook his head, though the corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. "She's still awkward as hell."
James laughed. "I can tell. She's so awkward in person, but when she starts dancing, she's a whole different person."
"I know," said Hank, grinning. "I walked in on her dancing in the kitchen a while ago."
Wren lifted her shoulders and cringed. "I was feeling the music, geez."
The waitress brought their pizza on a large pan and set it in the middle of the table. She refilled their drinks, encouraged them to enjoy and left. James divvied out slices of the house special onto plates for Wren and Hank before taking some himself.
"So," James said, sprinkling parmesan cheese onto his pizza, "What've you been up to in Detroit?"
"I'm an officer," said Wren, waiting for her slice to cool.
"Yeah, I'm still having a hard time believing that," said James, grinning.
"Think I can't handle it?" Wren challenged.
"I don't know…"
"She can," piped up Connor. Wren glanced at him. Connor held James's stare. "So far, her cases have ended successfully. Captain Fowler was especially pleased with her undercover work."
Wren pressed her lips together, hiding a grimace. James's eyebrows shot up. "Undercover work?"
Wren shook her head. "I barely did anything."
"You held your own in a fight with a guy twice your size," said Hank.
"Guess you win fights now," chuckled James.
"It took a lot of work," said Wren, lifting a brow. She shrugged. "And I had a good team. Not really looking forward to my new partner."
"Yeah, good luck with Gavin," snorted Hank.
Wren took a bite of pizza to keep from replying. It burned the roof of her mouth, but she chose to suffer through it rather than spit it out. James furrowed his brow in askance as he chewed.
"Wren was moved to the homicide unit," Connor explained. "Her new partner is known to be… difficult." He glanced down at Wren. "Though he is usually only difficult when I'm around."
"He's still an asshole."
"Does he have a problem with androids or something?" James asked.
"Yes," said Connor. He frowned. "Though I'm not sure why."
"Probably feels threatened by you," said James.
"Why doesn't Dad like androids?" Wren asked.
James scowled. "Oh, you know. Typical stuff. 'They've taken our jobs! They've taken our women! They've taken our men! They want rights! They're just machines!' No offense, Connor. I don't think any of that, of course."
"None taken," said Connor.
Wren pursed her lips for a moment. "And Mom? What are her feelings?"
"Indifferent," said James. "We never had an android, so she doesn't have much experience with them."
"And you?" Wren questioned. She stiffened, ready to defend Connor.
"Supportive," James assured her. "I mean, I'm not an activist or anything, but I'm not a dick to androids and if I see someone acting that way, I try to step in. I kept up with the liberation movement. I saw Connor on the news that day, leading the army of deviants. Pretty badass."
Wren glanced at Connor, beaming. She puffed up her chest. Connor looked away from them, though his lips quirked upward. "All I did was march."
"You did a little more than that," butted in Hank, reaching for his second slice of pizza. "He had to fight himself at the CyberLife Tower. Not really himself, but another RK800 model."
Wren widened her eyes and looked at Connor. "You never told me that!"
Connor's brow pinched. "I didn't think it was that important." He looked at Hank. "You had to discern which of us was the real Connor."
"Yeah, that wasn't too hard," said Hank, waving Connor off. "I just needed one of you two to show empathy."
Wren reached under the table and squeezed Connor's hand. He glanced at her but said nothing.
"Were you in Detroit when this went down, Wren?" asked James.
"No, I hadn't moved there yet," said Wren. She smirked. "I do know the other android leaders, though."
James widened his eyes. "Shut up! No, you don't!"
"Yes, she does," said Connor, sounding amused. "Markus, North and Josh are close friends of ours."
"Josh lends me books, North and I go shopping and Markus taught us to paint," Wren oversimplified.
James grinned. "That's awesome. The whole liberation was, to be honest. The media kept calling deviants terrorists, but they hadn't killed anyone. They were so peaceful. Media couldn't cover that up."
"No," agreed Hank. He looked at Connor with twinkling eyes and a half-smile. "I've never been prouder."
Wren's heart nearly burst at the look on Connor's face.
…
The next morning, Wren trudged into the kitchen for coffee. Her parents were already awake, sitting at the kitchen table. Her father scrolled on a tablet, reading the news. Her mother jumped up from her seat and washed out her empty coffee cup.
"Would you like to get lunch with me later? Just us girls?" Shannon said as Wren poured coffee into a mug.
Wren nodded. "Yeah. I'd like that."
Shannon beamed. "Great. We can leave about 11:30?"
"Sure," Wren replied, smiling slightly. Shannon squeezed Wren's shoulder before shuffling out of the kitchen. Wren resumed fixing her coffee with creamer. She stirred it, her spoon clinking against the mug noisily. It seemed much louder with her father's tense presence.
"You've been sleepin' in your room alone, right?" Charles muttered.
Wren froze, her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She lowered her arm. "Yeah, why?"
"I don't like the way that thing looks at you," said Charles.
Wren frowned. It took her a moment to realize that by thing her father meant Connor. Heat boiled in Wren's chest. She curled her fingers so tightly around her mug that it shook, nearly sloshing the contents over her. "He's a person, and his name is Connor."
"Don't feed me that liberal bullshit," snapped Charles. "It's a machine."
Wren turned on her heel. "If you're not going to respect Connor, then I'm leaving."
Charles looked up at her, his dark eyes cold. "Then leave."
Wren's lungs constricted, but she held her head high. She strode past her father to head upstairs.
"I don't like the way you look at it, either," Charles called after her.
Wren stopped at the foot of the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at her father. "What, like he's a person?"
Charles lifted an eyebrow. "Like it's your entire world."
The breath caught in Wren's throat. She looked away, pursing her lips. She marched upstairs and entered her bedroom, where she found Connor waiting for her. Heat prickled up her neck.
"Did you hear any of that?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she preferred.
Connor looked up from a book of poetry, his brow furrowing. His LED flickered. "Hear what?"
Wren forced herself to relax. "Nothing, never mind."
Connor furrowed his brow and blinked softly, but did not push for an explanation. Wren let out a sigh, thanking the heavens for a person like Connor. She sat on the edge of her bed and sipped her coffee.
"Would you like to try sorting out some of your memories?" Connor queried, closing the poetry book.
Wren stilled. "Um… Okay." She set the coffee mug on the bedside table.
Connor rolled up his sleeve. Wren stared at his exposed skin for a moment longer than necessary. She pushed up her sweater sleeve. Connor held out his arm. Wren reached toward him. He gripped her forearm and Wren curled her hand around his forearm. Their synthetic skin melted away, leaving their naked plastic touching. Connor stared at their arms for a moment. Then, his eyes lifted to meet hers.
When he initiated the connection, an electric jolt ran through the circuits in Wren's body. Her eyes fluttered shut. Connor was in her very bloodstream. She felt his presence within her processor. Memories flickered in her mind's eye, like sped-up scenes in a movie. Connor seemed to be speeding through them to find the earliest one, based off of her appearance and demeanor to determine her age. The memories stopped, showing a staticky view of the ocean.
"Belle! Isabelle!" called a voice.
She turned, hearing her name. "Momma! Look what I found!"
Her mother jogged toward her, then stopped, glancing down at Wren's cupped hands. Her mother bent over to peer at the object in Wren's hands, thinking it was a seashell. She let out a squeal and snatched the object from Wren's hands before chucking it into the ocean. "Don't go around picking up strange objects!"
"What was it?" she asked, her heart fluttering.
"It was just a hermit crab," said her mother, running a hand through her hair. "They're pretty harmless, but I don't want you picking up anything that could hurt you. Okay?"
"Okay."
The memory shifted to a different one, one Wren had seen before: Her falling out of the tree and James cursing for the first time.
Connor continued to sort through Wren's memories. He stopped after a moment. Wren felt his hesitation as a memory from Prometheus popped up. Wren squeezed his arm to let him know that it was okay to view this memory.
"Your body is not your own. Whatever your target wants or needs, you will be. That is the key to manipulation, my dear. You must become no one in order to be everyone." Her overseer sneered, his lips next to her ear. She shivered. Her overseer gripped her face, squeezing her jaw until it ached. "Tell me, CY001, do you still feel desire?" His hand dragged from her jaw to her throat. He gripped her neck. Wren remained still. She must be no one. She must be no one. She must be no one. Her overseer's hand palmed down her collar to her breasts. "Does your skin tingle when I touch you?" He unbuttoned her shirt. "Or have they rendered you a machine?" His hands ran down her sides. "And you feel nothing?"
Connor broke their connection, sending another electrical jolt through Wren's circuits. She gasped as her synthetic skin rippled back over her arm. She parted her lips as she stared at Connor, whose LED cycled red.
"Connor, are you okay?" Wren demanded.
Connor seemed to tear his gaze away from his hand to Wren's face. "Did that man… Did he…?"
A lump formed in Wren's throat. "No. He just wanted to test my limits."
Connor nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, I… I stopped sorting through your memories."
"It's okay," Wren assured him, "this can't be easy for you."
Connor's brow furrowed. "It's not me that I'm worried about."
Wren's chest softened. She reached forward and grabbed Connor's hand. "I'm okay."
…
Wren sat in a little sandwich shop across from her mother, her hands in her lap. She looked around at the sage walls and brown tables. The restaurant exuded an earthy feel, which Wren appreciated.
"So," chirped Shannon, squirming in her seat, "how is life in Detroit?"
"It's great," said Wren, "I have some friends and a great job. I… I get really busy with my job, so I haven't really taken the time to explore Detroit like I should, though."
"Any… boys –or girls –in your life?" Shannon asked, lifting her eyebrows.
Wren opened and closed her mouth. Connor immediately jumped to her mind, but he was the only "boy" she was really close with. She was not sure if he counted. "Eh, not really."
"You and Connor seem close," said Shannon, propping her elbows up on the table.
Wren nearly choked on her water. She coughed for a second before shrugging. "Yeah. I mean, yeah, we're friends. He's been a really good friend to me. He's helped me through a lot."
"You care about him," stated Shannon.
"I do."
"Is it… romantic?" Shannon queried.
Wren widened her eyes. "What? N-no."
"Wrenley, honey, I know a lot has changed, but I know you. I know when you like a boy."
"Mom… No, it's not like that," Wren insisted.
"Wrenley, you can lie to yourself all you want, but a mother knows. All I'm saying is, be careful. He is an android, after all." Shannon shrugged and sipped from her soda.
Wren's face darkened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"He's just… different."
"How so?"
"He's not human."
"Yeah, but he's a person," snapped Wren.
"I didn't say he wasn't."
"Then what were you saying, exactly?"
Shannon huffed. "Wrenley, you're a human and he's an android. They're still fighting for certain rights. I don't even know if it's legal for a human and android to become romantically involved. I mean, I don't really know the logistics of these things… At the very least it's taboo. And he may not be capable of providing you the same things a human can."
Wren's cheeks warmed. "Mom, please. Stop. I already told you that we're not like that, so it doesn't matter."
Shannon held up her hands. "That's all I'm saying."
Wren worked her jaw as the waiter brought their food. Wren ate in relative silence, barely tasting her food. She knew her mother meant well. She knew that her father wanted the best for her, too. But their attacks on Connor unnerved her. She wanted to defend him, and did to the best of her ability.
Another disturbing thought picked at Wren's brain. If both of her parents said she looked at Connor a certain way, did she? She certainly cared about Connor a great deal, and to some degree found him attractive, but was he her entire world, as her father suggested?
Her heart sank when she realized that there was truth to her father's words.
...…
It seems Wren is figuring out her feelings (finally). We'll see how Connor is doing the next chapter. So some of you seem interested in my posting a song for each chapter. I'll try to keep them in theme with the chapter as well, but it may veer slightly. I'll post an instrumental song as well (I have two playlists for Connor and Wren lmao). Thank you guys so much for your support! I read and reread your reviews to sustain me while I'm suffering in grad school lmao.
Songs: Welcome Home by Radical Face; Memories by Emmit Fenn