Page 76 of Off the Beaten Path

She shrugs, and the movement looks so lifeless that the ache in my chest moves deeper, piercing my heart. “It’s bad, Holden. The kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom look okay, just dusty and dirty, but the living room and the front porch are destroyed.”

I want to tell her we’ll figure something out, but I can tell it won’t mean much when she’s staring at the charred remains of her future. So I just wrap my arm around her, and when she melts into me, my chin settles on the top of her head. She feels so familiar to me now, and I can’t believe that she was living next door to me for so long and we never fit together like this until now. I have a hard time not regretting the time we wasted, but I’m thankful for every second I have with her.

We sit there for so long, long enough for my muscles to grow stiff in the damp chill of the early morning. “C’mon, we should get out of here. Try to figure out a solution.”

She nods against my chest. “Okay.”

“Let me buy you a coffee.”

“Coffee sounds good.”

“We can leave your car here and get it later,” I say, rubbing circles on her back.

“Okay.”

My lips twitch. “Are you going to agree with everything I say?”

Wren nods again. “Yeah, I think so.”

“How about we take your Christmas lights down?”

She pulls back, and relief whooshes through me at the hint of a smile on her face. “Not a chance.”

I hold her tight one last time, my lips finding that spot on her temple that I can’t stop kissing, and then I hop off the hood of her car, holding out my hand. Nothing has felt more right than when she slips her hand into mine, squeezing once. I think she’d let me lead her into fire right now, but what she doesn’t know is that she’s nestled so deeply into my life that she’s become mine. Mine to protect, mine to cherish, mine to serve, mine to take care of. Mine to love.

We’re quiet as we make our way into town. I miss the musical sound of her laughter, the way she sometimes hums under her breath without even realizing it. I’ve never noticed how much sound and color she’s brought into my life until she’s quiet and gray.

I’m the first one to notice the signs in town, taped to every shop window, written in bright colors. The ones saying they’re taking donations or giving a portion of their proceeds to Wren.

“Wren,” I breathe. “Do you see them?”

She hasn’t, and I can tell the moment she does by the way her body goes ramrod straight in her seat, straining against the seat belt as she reads the signs. Her hand comes to her throat, and when I slash my eyes in her direction, I see the way her tears have returned, brimming on the edges of her lashes.

I slow the truck to a stop in front of Smokey the Beans, and we both see Myra and Melissa at the same time, seated at their regular table, a line of people waiting to reach them. Even from here, I can see people writing checks or handing over cash to put in the cash box Myra is clutching in her bony hands.

Wren is speechless as she watches the scene unfold, silent tears streaking down her face. Her voice is choked as she asks, “They did this all forme?” She sounds so disbelieving, and I can’t fathom why. The only thing I’m unsure of is why we didn’t consider this happening.Of coursethe town rallied around her. She’s constantly giving of herself to this town, and they’re finally giving back.

I reach for her hand, squeezing once. “Of course this is all for you, Red. C’mon, let’s go inside.”

I think she’s still in shock as I open the passenger door and help her down, her hand clinging to mine like it’s her lifeline. When we open the door to Smokey the Beans, the usual noise and clamor dies down, everyone turning to face us. I see a myriad of expressions reflected back at us—pity, sadness, pride, but most of all, love. Every single person in this town loves Wren Daniels, and none of them will let her dream die.

The cacophony of noise returns simultaneously, and everyone rushes forward, offering condolences and hugs to Wren, promising to help her get back on track in no time. My hand slips from hers in the chaos, and when she turns around to look for me, finding me immediately in the crowd of people, something snags in my chest. That smile is returning to her face, the one that looks like sunshine, even if it’s still tearstained and hesitant.

It brings a smile to my own lips, and when she notices it, hers grows wider. It feels like the warmth of a summer day spent in the mountains, nothing but wide-open space and blue skies ahead.

I motion to the bar, and mouth, “Coffee.” Wren nods, and within seconds, her focus is pulled back into the crowd of well-wishing townspeople. For the first time since we got the call last night, I actually feel a kernel of hope. Everything actually will be okay, Wren most of all.

“Did the cabin look cool on fire?” June asks later that night when she, Wren, and I have just sat down to dinner at my dining table. Wren chokes on the sip of water she’s just taken, and I have to press my lips together to keep from smiling.

June looks between the two of us, confusion written on her features. “What?”

“Nothing, June Bug,” Wren says. My heart constricts, just like it does every time I hear her call my daughter that. “It did look a little cool, but not cool enough to want to try seeing something else on fire.”

I don’t know how she does it, answers June so effortlessly, keeps her curiosity piqued while still reinforcing safety. It’s like she’s been around June’s whole life, not just the last few months, and I’m starting to wonder how we made it before she showed up. That thought should freak me out, send me into a tailspin, wondering what will happen if things end badly between us and June gets hurt in the process, but I can’t see that happening. When I look at Wren, I see forever.

It’s not until we’ve finished dinner and the two of them have successfully heckled me into allowing June to have dessert that the subject of the fire comes back up.

June licks chocolate syrup and melting ice cream off her spoon before saying, “Grandma said everyone in town is going to fix Wren’s cabin.”

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