Page 24 of Goose's Wren

I look at her out of the corner of my eye.She’s not bitter.She’s not angry.She’s just done.The kind of done that only comes after a thousand little betrayals.

“Didn’t expect that.The two of you always seemed close,” I say quietly.

Wren lets out a soft laugh, more exhale than amusement.“Yeah, well things aren’t always as they seem.Life’s funny that way.”

We fall into silence for a little while, and it’s not uncomfortable.It’s like two people sitting on the edge of a memory, but not ready to jump into it yet.

She stands after a while, stretching her arms over her head, and I don’t mean to notice how short her sleep shorts are but hell if I can help it.She’s beautiful without even trying, and now that I see her, I can’t unsee her.

She turns toward the door, her hand on the knob.And before I can stop myself, the words come out.

“I know the letters Sparrow used to give me weren’t hers.”

She freezes.

It hangs there between us, the weight of it thick in the air.I can hear the insects in the trees.The soft clink of the bottle as my grip tightens.

She doesn’t turn around.Doesn’t move.Just stands there, fingers curled around the doorframe.

Minutes pass, or maybe it’s seconds that stretch too long.

Then I hear her soft voice that now seems impossibly sad.“Took you long enough.”

She steps inside before I can say anything else.The door swings shut behind her with a soft thud, and a few seconds later, I hear her bedroom door close.

I stare at that door like it might swing open again, like she might come back out and say the rest of what I need to hear.

But she doesn’t.

So I sit there on the porch swing with my beer forgotten in my hand.

And I whisper into the dark, “But is it too late?”

Wren

Back in my room, I shut the door gently behind me and lean against it for a long moment.My heart is pounding so loud I swear it echoes in the walls.

Goose finally knows the truth.

The words circle through my head like a storm: “I know the letters Sparrow used to give me weren’t hers.”

Took you long enough.

I said it like I was cool, like it didn’t mean anything.But the second I got behind this door, the second I was out of his line of sight, I’m ready to crumble.

I press my fingertips to my lips, trying to hold something in.A laugh.A sob.

I don’t even know which.

My eyes fall to my bag sitting under the window.The same worn-out canvas one I’ve carried with me through every shitty apartment, every bus ride, every escape.

The notebooks are in there, tucked safe between ratty sweaters and a pair of jeans with holes in the knees.The words he’s been carrying around all these years.The words that were always mine.

I used to dream of this moment.Back when I was younger and still naïve.I imagined it happening so many times.

Him looking at me with that fire in his eyes, realizing he’d been in love with me all along.The way he’d rush over, gather me in his arms, tilt my chin up and kiss me like he’d been waiting for years.Like I was worth it.

And now...

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