Page 62 of Two Wrongs

“Maybe you can still catch them. Call, and we can talk about it while you teach me to cook,” she offers.

I take my phone out of my pocket and find the text I had Charlie send me with the phone number. When it starts to ring, I put it on speaker. If she’s going to be a part of this, then I want her to be involved.

I’m about to hang up when I hear someone answer the phone. “Dr. Taylor,” he answers.

“This is Griffin Hale and Wren Parker returning your call.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d be on with Mrs. Hale. Liam made it sound like the two of you don’t get along.”

Wren winces. “Griffin told me he was going to try and call you back, and thought I should be here for the call so we could schedule this easier.”

“Of course, that makes sense,” Dr. Taylor agrees. “He’s done well here for the first week. He’s mostly through detox, and once the physical symptoms subside we can schedule a group session.”

“Detox? I didn’t realize he was that bad, or that his symptoms would last over a week,” I say.

The doctor makes a noise, and I can hear papers flipping on the other end of the line. “I see he did sign a disclosure form for both of you. Liam was abusing both drugs and alcohol for several months. While that usually wouldn’t be too long for someone to quit without medical intervention, the amount and combinations he was using have made it necessary to be handled by trained medical professionals. That’s why I’m reaching out to schedule therapy. Liam is very lucky he got help when he did. He was very lucky he didn’t overdose with how much he’s been taking. It’s imperative we all work together to help him work through the issues that prompted him to use and start to address those things while he’s still under supervised care.”

“When are you thinking about having the therapy session?” Wren asks.

“Let’s set it for next Thursday. He should be over the physical side effects by then,” Dr. Taylor says.

Wren nods, even though the doctor can’t see her, and walks out of the room. “We’ll be there,” I answer for both of us, then go after her. I’m always either running from her or chasing after her.

I find her sitting on the back porch looking out into the back yard. This is my favorite spot in the world. The edge of my property is wooded and gives it a secluded feeling. Wren stares straight ahead, her knees pressed against her chest with her arms wrapped around them. I kneel in front of her and push her hair back from her face.

“Baby bird, what’s wrong?”

She blinks, and the blank look in her eyes fades. She tries to smile, but it’s weak. “I’m just not ready for this to be over.”

My chest tightens. Funny, in all the talk over meeting with the therapist, I forgot there was a clock hanging over our heads, ticking down to the moment where she’d leave and I’d be here picking up the pieces. Somewhere in this mess I guess I started to think we’d somehow find a solution where we could stay together and keep Liam from getting hurt. That’s pretty naive thinking for a man my age.

I take her hands and help her to her feet. “It’s not over tonight. I’m not ready either, so for tonight, let’s just be us.”

She exhales, and her smile becomes more natural. “Okay,” she says softly.

“Ready for that cooking lesson?” I ask.

“Whatever you want, daddy,” she teases.

“In that case—“ I lift her and toss her over my shoulder. “I think I need to work up an appetite first.”

25

Wren

Griffin’s hand covers mine, stopping me. “I said dice, not destroy.”

I let go of the knife, so I don’t get angry and stab him with it. Through my teeth I say, “I told you I don’t know how to cook.”

He takes the knife and shows me how to cut the onions into really small pieces, rather than hack at them like I was doing. “I didn’t realize we’d have to start with the very basics.”

I scowl at him. “You’re usually in a much better mood after you come. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The muscle in the corner of his jaw twitched. “Maybe I didn’t find everything I was looking for.”

Without meaning to, I gasp. Then I back away to go find my pants. Suddenly standing in nothing but his shirt makes me feel too vulnerable. Every time Liam rejected me, criticized me, all of it ran through my head.

It took me a few months to realize he picked fights with me and then used them to keep a barrier between us. In about a week, I’d have to sit in a room with him, the man I’m sleeping with, and a therapist and start to confront these issues. Running away sounds better and better every day.

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