Page 34 of My Darling Mayhem

NINE

WREN

“Areyou going to call the police?” Cruz whispered while staring through the back window at our broken fence.

I was so angry that my hands shook.

“No. Police won’t fix this.”

As we spoke, Archer was yelling at various men to leave. The man who’d run through the fence looked ashamed. His tall, burly stature seemed to nearly curl in on itself as Archer yelled at him. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten hurt; no one did—just my fence.

Cruz had been in the living room, watching cartoons when I explained that I would stop next door to ask Archer what all the noise was about. I had left my door locked and the landline next to him so he could call me if he was worried, but I was right next door and had only been gone for a few minutes.

Still, I hated myself for that split second of fear he had felt when he heard the motorcycle burst through the fence. I hated the look on his face when he’d opened the front door, crying, meeting me halfway down the driveway, unsure of what was going on.

I had picked him up and tried my best to soothe him, but my mind kept casting horrific visions of what could have happened if my son had been outside. It was unlikely because I had left, and Cruz never went outside when I walked to get the mail or even went out front to water the plants. He knew our system, but still…what if I hadn’t gone over to Archer’s and Cruz had gone outside?

What if he’d gotten hurt?

The spiral of what-ifs thrummed through me like a snapped guitar string. Every time I tried to stop, it would snap back front and center.

My son watched as the people next door collected pieces of fence and debris. “Archer will fix it; I know he will.”

I didn’t comment, knowing my temper wouldn’t allow me to say anything nice. Even after the moment we had, where he seemed so affected by what I had said last week. Or how I had revealed that I noticed his absence and wanted to continue our question game.

My arms were still crossed over my chest, watching from the living room window with Cruz when there was a gentle knock at our back patio door.

Archer stood there, head lowered, jaw working. He was upset, which was good because I was too.

Cruz jumped up and ran to the door to pull it open. Regardless of what I said about safety, even at this moment, my gut still didn't give off any warning vibes about my neighbor. I knew Archer was upset about what had happened and would never intentionally put Cruz in danger.

I allowed Cruz to open the door as I stood back a few feet, still guarded and upset.

“Hi, Archer.” Cruz tipped his head back and greeted our neighbor excitedly.

Archer smiled at my son, and seeing how genuine it seemed was like a hit to my chest, leaving me reeling for entirely different reasons.

“Hey bud, how are you?”

Cruz hung on the door handle. “I’m good. I was scared when the motorcycle hit the fence, though.”

Archer’s demeanor shifted entirely. He dipped his head while shame slipped over his face. I hated how it looked on him. The regret so potent that it made my stomach churn.

“I’m really sorry about that, Cruz.” Archer lifted his face, his eyes finding mine. “I should have known better than to allow my friends to come over. Things got out of hand, and I—” His voice cracked, which had something in my chest cracking too.

I spoke up, taking over the conversation. “Why don’t you come inside.”

“Mom just made cookies.” Cruz ran over to the counter excitedly.

Archer tucked his hands into his pockets while peeking over his shoulder outside. “I actually should probably head back. I don’t want to bother you guys any more than I already have. I only came over to tell you that I’ll have a crew out here tomorrow to frame that piece of fence, and it should be finished by the end of the week.”

My son’s little eyebrows dipped to the center of his forehead before glancing up at me. I knew he was trying to work out what Archer meant.

“Are you going to come in and try our cookies? I helped with them.”

I laughed at how Cruz completely ignored everything Archer said.

“Cruz, don’t pressure him.”

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