Page 29 of Wrangled Love

Briar’s voice draws me out of my haze, steady and soft, sensing that I’m seconds away from unraveling.

“Caleb’s a bright, kind, and curious kid who didn’t become that way by accident. His mom loved him with all she had, and it shows in every part of who he is,” she states, her tone gentle. “Whatever her reasons for keeping Caleb to herself, he was her whole world, and in the end, she chose you to take care of him even after she was gone. That has to count for something.”

She’s right.

There’s no doubt Amelia loved Caleb beyond measure, and the proof is in the small things. The handwritten notes in the children’s books from her house, the way Caleb can color inside the lines, and the fact that he can tie his shoes already. All of it speaks to the hours Amelia must have spent with him perfecting those skills.

It doesn’t erase the pain and frustration, but it does offer a new perspective—the hope that one day I might be able to forgive Amelia, even if I never get the closure I desperately wish for.

I rest my hand over Briar’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I haven’t thanked you properly.”

“For what?” she asks.

“Caring about Caleb as much as I do.”

It’s Friday night, and I’m contemplating going to bed early when I get a text.

Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat

Birdie: SOS! I was at the diner earlier and overheard Mr. Grady say that one of his chickens is getting pecked on and she’s not worth the trouble. He’s going to put her down tomorrow!

Birdie: We have to save her before it’s too late.

Briar: He’s got thousands of chickens. How would we know which one it is?

Birdie: She’s in her own pen waiting for her execution.

Charlie: Welp. Guess we’re going on a chickenrescue mission.

Wren: Seriously! The FOMO is real.

Charlie: You left us unsupervised. This is on you.

Briar: Besides, you’re our backup plan if this goes sideways.

Wren: Like when you tried rescuing a box of kittens from a dumpster that turned out to be baby possums, and one of them bit Charlie?

Wren: I still owe my cousin for meeting you at the clinic after hours to give Charlie that rabies shot.

I laugh at the memory. For living in a small town with four thousand residents, we sure do find ourselves in precarious situations quite often.

Charlie: I thought we agreed to never speak about that again.

Briar: So… what’s our game plan to save this chicken?

Charlie: There’s only one solution: Operation Feathered Freedom. We’re breaking her out tonight.

Briar: I’m pretty sure this is illegal.

Charlie: Only if we get caught.

Birdie: You guys are the best!!

Wren: Better write my number on your arm so the cops know who to call for bail.

Charlie: Appreciate the vote of confidence.

Between Birdie’s bleeding heart and Charlie’s knack for finding trouble, it’s a miracle we’ve stayed out of jail this long. It does help that Sheriff Matterson is Birdie’s dad—he tends to look the other way when we get ourselves into trouble. Most of our past run-ins with the law involve unlicensed rescue missions or Charlie’s disregard for “No Trespassing” signs.

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