Page 35 of A Place Like You

“Why don’t I help you so we can go once he’s up from his nap,” I offer.

“Please, Mom,” Milo insists.

Wren looks at me with amusement. “You can still run, but if you help us with the chores, we might be able to finish soon and go to the park.”

The sight of Milo’s bright smile warms my heart, and for a moment, I feel reassured that I might have done a good thing by coming here. But beneath that warmth, a flicker of uncertainty lingers. I hope that my presence doesn’t unintentionally mess things up for them. I genuinely want to help Wren and Milo, but what if he expects more from me? What if I disappoint them in some way?

Chapter Twenty

Drake

After Wren takes Milo to his room, I set about clearing the table and carefully putting away the leftovers inside the refrigerator.

I hear Wren’s footsteps approaching, and as she enters the room, her voice breaks the silence. “Thank you for the food.”

I turn to face her, a small smile playing on my lips as I reply, “I’m just glad he liked everything I brought.”

The temptation to ask Gael to cook for Milo regularly tugs at me, but I quickly crush the thought. This should be a one-time thing, a simple gesture. Getting involved in their lives further might complicate everything, and I need to be careful not to overstep boundaries.

“He loved everything,” she says, cleaning the table and heading to the sink. Her movements are graceful, and I can’t help but admire her. She’s breathtakingly beautiful.

“You can still save yourself and go back home,” she suggests, her eyes glancing at me with concern. “You must be tired after working at the ranch all morning.”

I wave her concern away with a dismissive gesture. “Pfft, I’m fine,” I assure her, trying to sound nonchalant. The truth is, being here with her and Milo feels more like home than anywhere else. There’s a sense of comfort and belonging in their presence, something I never thought I’d find.

“Let’s get to work. Do you have a dishwasher?”

As we begin to tackle the dishes together, I notice the absence of a dishwasher in her kitchen. It’s a small space, but it feels cozy and intimate. “This kitchen, like the house, is too small and too old to have certain things,” she explains. “We don’t use that many dishes. It’s only the two of us.”

“Donna’s kitchen has the same issue, and she plans on feeding us often,” I state, ready to find an excuse not to drop by Donna’s place when she invites us to avoid the chores that come with having to share a meal with the entire family.

We start working together, washing the dishes. I do my best to focus on the chores, but the close proximity makes my heart race. Her presence is both comforting and electrifying.

As we work side by side, Wren asks a question that shifts the conversation drastically, “Did you find out if any of you left a significant other behind?”

“Seems like we’re all single,” I answer, my mind drifting to our discussion while milking the cows. We had to check with everyone to make sure nobody had a significant other waiting for them, potentially putting them at risk.

Except for Lake, Cal’s best friend and the love of his life. She joined the program but disappeared, leaving Cal desperate to find her. He believes she might be a double agent, working for the very criminal organization that’s hunting us down.

CQS, our security team, claims they are handling her situation, but Cal is filled with both anger and worry, unsure if he’ll ever see her again. During our conversation, I could sense his pain even if he didn’t openly admit it. He’s torn between anger and concern, unable to fully let go of the connection they once shared.

Wren’s gaze locks with mine, and I can see the concern in her eyes. “I’m glad no one else is in danger from . . . what is it that you did to get on the wrong side of the mafia?”

I let out a small chuckle at her assumption. “What makes you think it was me?”

“You’re a plastic surgeon. You alter people’s appearances for a living. My guess is that they hired you to do such,” she states matter-of-factly, causing me to freeze in my tracks.

She’s wrong, but . . . she might be onto something. It takes a moment for me to find my words.

“No, that’s not it,” I say, my voice lowering as I try to process her theory. “But my father tried to pressure me into doing that for some of his associates.”

The realization hits me, connecting the dots between Wren’s theory and my father’s request. “I didn’t think much of it, but now I wonder if that demand has anything to do with what happened to him.”

I hesitate to say more. It’s a dangerous situation, and I don’t want to put Wren or anyone else at risk. “It’s complicated,” I mumble, stopping myself from saying anything further.

“Where is your dad?” she asks.

“Are you ready to exchange information, Wren?” I ask, wondering if it’s wise to tell her anything at all.

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