Page 90 of Songbird: Black Kite
The eyes that mirrored my own so closely, it was almost freaky.
Her alabaster skin was dotted with pale freckles that danced across her nose, and for a moment I was afraid I might just fucking cry.
I loved her. I loved her so goddamn much it hurt.
She stared at me, her eyes flaring wide for a moment before her features settled back into indifference.
“Can I help you?” she asked, sounding inconvenienced, and I almost laughed at the snark in her tone.
I paused, suddenly unable to remember how to speak, and simply just stared at the child I’d never met but somehow had already made room for in my heart.
I must have stared too long and too hard, because Cooper dropped one hand onto her hip and muttered,“Hello?”
“Uh, I’m looking for Wren.”
She snorted softly before turning to shout over her shoulder, and I almost reached for her, afraid that if she left, if she walked away now, I might never see her again. Like the entire experience had only been a figment of my imagination.
“Mom!” she called, her holler so abrupt I jolted, stuffing my panic back down and trying to stop my hands from shaking. “Door’s for you.” With that, Cooper gave me one last assessing look, then turned away, her gaze already on her phone as she disappeared down the hall. She’d left the door open, however, and after I’d lost sight of her, I took the opportunity to stare around the house.
Similar to the one we’d rented, it was well decorated, a mix of natural woods and dark colors showing across the open concept space, only instead of the stark black and white theme, Wren’s house was done in earth tones like clay and sage. From my spot by the door, I could see granite countertops and black appliances, and then past that, a wood-burning stove in the far corner. My mind conjured up scenes of Wren and Cooper cooking together, working side by side to make something delicious, then settling down with a cozy fire and a good movie.
The pain in my chest at the thought that I’d missed those moments was hot and sharp.
I couldn’t fuck this up; I needed to prove to Wren that I wasn’t here to cause her problems.
I just wanted toknowthem.
“Who is it, Coop?” came a voice from the other hallway, and then there she was, standing before me like a dream made flesh.
My Bird.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Her photos really didn’t do her justice; she was stunning. Somehow both ethereal and tangible at the same time, and as I looked at her, all the tension in my shoulders released, a thousand worries leaving me in an instant, because she was here.
And she was perfect.
“Hey, Bird,” I said, and her mouth dropped open in shock. She stared at me, blinking rapidly as she processed what she was seeing. Dressed down after what I imagined was a long day at work, she was wearing black leggings and a loose-fitting t-shirt with a V-neck in a rich navy color.
“Hawk,” she breathed, staring at me like she didn’t believe I was actually there, something I could totally relate to. “What are you doing here?”
“I just,” I started, confused by her question. “I thought it was time.”
“Time?” she repeated, her brows drawing low over her hazel eyes. “You thought it was time. Time to what, exactly?”
“Um,” I started, sensing I was entering dangerous waters. “Time to come see you. To see you both.”
Whipping her head to the side, Wren glanced down the hall where Cooper had disappeared before moving toward me and out onto the porch, shutting the door behind her.
“You don’t get to do this, Hawk,” she said, her tone low as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be here. Not now, after all this time.”
“Wren, you have to understand—”
“Oh, I have to understand, do I?” she snapped, the fire in her gaze practically burning me alive. “Let me tell you whatyouhave to understand, Mr. Big Shot. You have to understand that you had your chance. Fifteen years ago, when I needed you, you shut me down. You made your choice then, and we’ve both had to live with the consequences.”
“What—” I started, meaning to ask her what she meant, but she spoke over me, her anger flaring higher.
“I can’t believe you have the audacity, after everything you’ve done, to actually show up here, at my home—atourhome—as though there would be no repercussions.”
As though a thought had just occurred to her, Wren’s head snapped up, her gaze darting around the street, looking for something or someone. When she spied Charlie, she tilted her head to the side quizzically, but ultimately looked back to me, her eyes now full of fear.
