Page 32 of The Bright Side of Christmas
From the look on her face, Hallie has heard them and quickly understands what is happening. She looks at me with wide,expectant eyes, and I hold my breath, hoping maybe I imagined it. Or maybe I’ll become invisible, and they won’t see me. Or maybe?—
Not a single one of my hopes is met.
“Hey, Wren, Hallie,” Linda says, standing across the raffle table from me.
“Hey, Linda, hey Molly, how’s it going?” I ask, my friendliest and fakest smile on my lips.
Please don’t ask me for anything, please, please, please.
Because, despite running on fumes right now and despite not having even the tiniest bit of time to shower in peace, I know if she asks me outright to help her out with whatever issue she’s juggling, I won’t be able to find it within myself to say no.
I’m Wren King, after all.
The town sweetheart, the one who always says yes, who is always willing to lend a helping hand. The one who always has it covered.
“Good! I was just talking about you, actually. Found four baby kittens behind the bar this morning,” Linda states. My stomach drops as she looks at me with an expectant look.
“Oh, no! Were they from a stray?” I ask, trying to drag out this conversation. Perhaps if we don’t reach the point of her conversation, it will never happen. Maybe we’ll get interrupted, and I’ll have to step away before she can manage to ask me.
“We don’t know—the mom was nowhere to be found. We’re trying to find someone willing to foster them for a bit. They need round-the-clock care, and with the kids and everything, I just don’t have the time, you know?”
I give her a look that’s probably closer to a grimace than a smile.
“Mm-hmm,” I say with a nod.
“Anyways, so I was talking to Molly about my predicament, you know, and she reminded me about how you took in hermom’s puppies that one time. I think you’d be the perfect person to watch them, you know?”
The blood drains from my face.
I look across the table to my best friend, and Hallie’s eyes are wide, and she’s mouthinghell noto me. Then her eyes move over my shoulder, brows furrowing before a pleased look takes over her face, but I can’t focus on that. Instead, I’m stuck in my current predicament.
I want to cry.
I want to scream.
But I don’t.
I’m Wren King—the youngest King, the town’s sweetheart, the one who always jumps in when someone needs help.
It’s an honor to be the person everyone can rely on. It’s a point of pride for me. Being the one who helps is as much a part of who I am as being Dottie’s granddaughter or being a teacher.
Who am I if not the person everyone can rely on?
And let’s be honest, I’ll probably be up anyway. What will it hurt to feed a couple of kittens through the night?
So I suck it up and plaster a pleasant face on. “I guess I could?—”
Except the words don’t come out as I planned because a warm chest is to my back and a calloused hand is to my mouth, stopping them.
THIRTEEN
Unknown
Come to the bar.
I stare at my phone for a while, trying to figure out what is happening. After my number got leaked almost a year ago, I got a new one and have given it to very few people, much less anyone who would invite me to a bar on a random Wednesday.
Who is this?
