Page 45 of Off the Beaten Path

A smile touches my lips. “Uncle Grey has to go to Wren’s auction that night.”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, and a broken piece of me feels like it’s stitching itself back together at the way her tone perks up. “Uncle Grey told me he’s going to find his wife at the auction.”

Laughter rumbles in my chest. I can’t wait to bring this up at dinner tonight. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm. I bet she’s going to be pretty.”

I steer the car around the final curve in the road before reaching Mom’s driveway. “I’m sure he will be glad to hear that.”

“But not as pretty as Aunt Finley,” June says quickly. “No one is as pretty as Aunt Finley.”

The truck rumbles to a stop in Mom’s driveway, and I shut it off before turning in my seat to face June. “I don’t know, June Bug. You might give Aunt Finley a run for her money. You look a lot like her, you know.”

June’s pale blue eyes brighten. “You think?”

I boop her on the tip of her nose. “I know. You look like Aunt Finley and talk like your Mommy and act like…”

The words catch in my throat, and I don’t let myself say them aloud. Because it’s Wren I’m thinking of. Wren, with her easy smiles and ability to jump into life without deliberating over the consequences. Wren enjoying the little moments because they seem just as important to her as the big ones. Wren poking my buttons to see me smile. Wren letting me sort through the mess in my head in peace. I see all of my favorite traits in Wren reflected in my little June Bug. I think if she grows up to be anything like Wren, I’ll be lucky.

June scrunches her nose. “Who do I act like?”

“You act like you, June Bug,” I say softly. “Now let’s go inside and have dinner. If you eat all your veggies, I might just let you have dessert.”

A girlish squeal erupts from the back seat, and I press my lips together to hold back my smile, climbing out to catch June before she jumps from the back of the truck. Her little hand fits into mine, and she hops down, the red cowboy boots she’s been insisting on wearing lately kicking up dust beneath her feet.

June shoots off like a rocket before I even have her door closed, and I take my time meandering inside, letting the cool air kiss my skin. It feels a little warmer today, like the first hint of spring, and it seems like the last rays of sunshine hung on just a little longer. It almost makes me sad. The town comes alive in the spring, but I like the quietness of winter.

A car pulling into the driveway disrupts the silence, and I turn around, not sure who to expect since Grey’s and Finley’s cars are both already parked out front. Surprise shoots through me when I see Wren’s yellow Beetle coming to a stop. She looks equally shocked to see me, although it ismymother’s house.

“Hey,” Wren says as she climbs out of the car, her strawberry blond curls catching in the wind and drifting around her face.

I shove my hands into my pockets. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Her head dips toward the back seat, brow wrinkling in confusion. “Your mom is supposed to be helping me with the party favors for the auction.”

My own face mirrors hers as bewilderment settles over me. “Tonight?”

“Yeah, she—”

“Wren,” Mom says, her voice carrying from on the porch. She’s got her arms wrapped around her middle against the cold, her feet tucked into fuzzy slippers. “Come on in.”

Wren and I catch each other’s glances for a moment, unspoken words passing between us. It feels as intimate as it does unfamiliar. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to have a secret conversation with someone with only a look, the kind of easy camaraderie that comes from knowing someone well. I don’t know how I feel that the person is Wren.

Wren looks like she wants to say something, but Mom just turns in her fuzzy slippers and disappears inside the house, leaving us no choice but to follow. Wren walks ahead of me up the stairs, and my eyes follow the sway of her hips, unable to forget what they felt like beneath my hands.

I shake the thought away and close the front door behind us, shutting out the cold air. Wren’s eyes dance up to mine again, holding for a brief moment before she continues down the hall and into the kitchen, where country music is playing softly over the speakers.

Wren’s voice carries as she says, “Hi, everyone. Jodi, I didn’t realize you’d have company.”

Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I head for the kitchen, ready to listen to whatever excuse my mom decides to make up. Wren might not see this obvious setup for what it is, but from the looks on Finley’s and Grey’s faces, they do.

I turn to see Mom waving a hand in dismissal. “I must have gotten the times mixed up. I was planning for you to come after dinner, but since you’re here…”

Wren’s gaze catches on mine, and I can see the exact moment she realizes what Mom is up to. “Oh, Jodi, I couldn’t.”

Mom pats Wren on the cheek. “Nonsense, sweetie. Food is all ready. I insist.”

What follows is an awkward shuffling around as we fill our plates with Mom’s homemade baked mac and cheese, roasted veggies, and fried chicken. Despite Mom trying to fill the heavy silence, tension clings to the room like dew on grass. Other than Mia, I’ve never brought someone home for family dinner. Neither has Finley nor Grey, even though Finley has been dating Gus for months.

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