Page 3 of Goose's Wren

I honestly can’t remember the last time I even saw her.Maybe it was before she left, or maybe it was one of those nights when I was too far gone on whiskey to remember my own name.I do recall a couple of the brothers mentioning she stopped by once, but I was too deep in a bottle to care.

And now, here she is.Standing in front of me like some ghost from the past, looking nothing like the kid I remember.

She’s definitely not Sparrow.

That’s the thing that gets me the most.She looks nothing like her sister, acts nothing like her either.Wren was sharper than her sister although a little more quiet and shy.There’s something in her eyes now though, something guarded and heavy.

But none of that matters to me at the moment.I shut it down before it can even start.

I force myself to keep my tone short, professional.Treating her like any other customer and acting like I don’t care.And maybe if I pretend hard enough, I’ll believe it too.

But when she turns and walks away, something in my chest tightens.

I should let her go.I should turn around, go back inside, and keep pretending as if she is no one to me.

Instead, I just stand there, watching her disappear down the road, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.I want to call her back but for what?

The other guys filter back into the shop, but Torque lingers.I don’t have to look at him to know he’s watching me, probably reading every damn thought running through my head.

After a long moment, he exhales, crossing his arms over his chest.“You gonna tell me what that was about?”

I shake my head, finally breaking my stare from where Wren just was.“Nothing to tell.”

Torque snorts.“Bullshit.You looked like you were ready to take her head off.”

I don’t answer.Just exhale sharply through my nose and walk past him, heading for the shop like I can shake this off.

I grab Wren’s bike on the way, pushing it into the bay with more force than necessary, my grip tight on the handlebars.The sooner I fix this piece of shit, the sooner she’s gone.

Maybe she’ll take off before the past starts creeping back in, before Sparrow’s ghost starts clawing at the edges of my mind.

I keep all of that locked away, buried deep where it belongs.There’s a box shoved in the back of my closet, filled with all the little reminders I was too stupid to throw away.Old love notes, pictures, scraps of a past that never should’ve meant as much as it did.

I should’ve burned it years ago.

I’d almost forgotten it existed until today.

Until Wren showed up out of nowhere, shaking something loose in my chest that I don’t want to acknowledge.

I roll the bike into position, forcing my focus on the work instead of the way my thoughts spiral.One thing at a time.First, fix the bike.Then, when the day’s done, I’ll go home, pull that old box down, and set fire to every last piece of it.

It’s nothing but a reminder anyway.

A reminder that I was never good enough.

Not even for a piece of snatch from the wrong side of the tracks.The same goddamn side I came from.

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