Chapter Twenty-One

The night we left the hospital, I called him. But he didn't pick up. I thought I really blew it or maybe his mother got to him before I could. Summer was coming to a close, so maybe it was good our relationship ended before then. But I couldn't stop thinking about him.

How could I become so obsessed with someone so quickly? Every little thing reminded me of him. Every time I got good news, he was the one I wanted to call. Two months ago, I didn't even know him, and now my days revolved around him.

I gave him two weeks. If I hadn't heard from him by then, I'd take it he moved on. But as much as I tried to pretend I was okay, I knew I wasn't. It sucked. Was I supposed to fight for him?

His mother was a problem. And no matter how much he ignored her or cut her out of his life, it didn't change anything. He still wanted to prove something to her. She still had an impact on the decisions he made. And although he wouldn't directly admit it, everything he did was because of her. Even deserting her.

And I'd already lost a battle with her once; I wasn't strong enough to compete with her again.

I grappled for days on what I should do. I didn't want to end things just as much as I wanted everything to end. On the last day of the second week, I decided to give him one more call, but he beat me to it.

"Songbird?"

I thought I'd never hear him say that again. All my doubts disappeared as soon as he said it. He had somehow tricked my brain to associate good things with when I heard it.

"You done ignoring me now?" I asked.

He laughed. At a time like this. When our lives were completely obliterated by our twisted fate, he laughed. It must be in the air because I couldn't help but laugh too. Probably because I had no idea where to start, or if I wanted to start at all.

"Do you still have that yellow dress? Come with me somewhere."

Always spontaneous, Wren wanted me to be his plus one at his sister's wedding. Up until the day of, he declined every invite. According to him, she was the sister he actually liked, and after my little brawl with his mother, word got around. She wanted to meet me. Technically, all his sisters did, but she was the only one he'd allow.

"Blair, Ivy, or Ainsley?" I asked.

The phone went silent. I almost thought he hung up, but then he let out a wispy breath. "You looked me up."

I ignored how upset he actually sounded. I had every right to. "Not that there was much to look up. Your mother did a good job of keeping you all out of family photoshoots and medicine blogs. And with your name change..." Your life before you were Wren Wade was practically folklore. But I didn't say that. If I did, we'd never make it to his sister's wedding. And I wanted to avoid the conversation as much as possible.

He picked me up later than expected. I figured it was his plan all along. We missed the ceremony. I've never seen a wedding. I was a little upset I didn't get to go.

Ainsley didn't do things quietly. One thing I could tell right off the bat? She loved the color pink. Blush calla lilies lined the walkway to the reception hall. Sheer rose-colored tulle hung from the front doors. Fuschia greek statues stood across the grass. Guests took pictures and inspected them like artwork. I could hear the faint sound of a piano playing beyond the doors, and the chatter of voices. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't excited to go inside. I wanted to see what life was like for Wren once upon a time.

At the threshold of the doors, he took my hand. It was warm and filled with sweat. I glided my eyes over his face, but he didn't look my way. He fixated on what laid ahead. He took a deep breath, and we finally walked inside.

My stomach growled at the first sign of food. The smell of warm candy apples wafted to my nose and I licked my lips in anticipation. Pink rose petals covered the floors. Peach fairy lights twinkle above our heads and somehow, the air felt clearer from here.

A group huddled just beyond the reception area. It was like they were standing guard. At our arrival, they turned their heads. Every eye lingered on us, picking apart our interlocked hands and touching shoulders. I didn't know who any of them were, but I figured they were his family. And right in the middle stood Emilia. I was on her turf. In fact, I always had been. It took one look at her to remind me I wanted nothing to do with her or her world.

I wondered why Wren brought me here. Did he want me to start something with her or show I was above it? He had too much faith in me. Every time I saw the woman, I wanted to scream. It felt wrong to be here. I didn't fit in. But, honestly, neither did he.

He stopped and shifted on his feet. One look at his mother and all the blood drained from his face. As her eyes lingered on our hands, he swiveled on his heels and bolted in another direction. I had to struggle to keep up. Me in heels were already weapons of mass destruction. If he didn't want me to take him out too, he needed to slow down.

As we got further and further away from the reception, I heard his gulps for air. Even his hand shook as he held on for dear life. When he found an empty room, he pulled us inside. It was small and forgotten. A single piano sat to the side, but dust collected every inch of the place.

Slamming the door shut, he dropped my hand and flopped onto the bench.

"I wasn't going to make a scene. I do have some self-control," I said, leaning into the wall. I was thankful we hadn't gone inside. This was real. And I really didn't want to see his mother or meet his sisters.

"What?" he heaved. "No, it's not—" A series of nasty coughs interrupted his words.

His face had turned deep red and he unbuttoned the top of his shirt. The coughing had settled, but he hadn't stopped shaking. He gasped for air and contorted in pain. He was having a panic attack.

I launched forward, kneeling in front of him. I took his hand, but he pushed me away.

As his head fell into his hands, I tried to find the right words. "Hey, Wren. It-it's okay. Look at me. You gotta breathe." I'm pretty sure he knows that.

"I-I'm..so-rry." He shifted in his seat as if it would help him breathe.

Why was he apologizing? I had no idea how to handle a panic attack, but I've heard it may help if you ask what made them upset. "What happened?"

But that seemed to only make it worse. Tears sprung from his eyes as he squeezed them shut. I wanted to hug him, but he clearly didn't want to be touched, so I needed to find another way. "Okay...uh, tell me what you see."

"Ye-yellow."

"Yes!" I shouted louder than I needed to. "My dress is yellow. What else do you notice?" He crumbled into himself like I asked him an impossible question. "Shoot. T-tell me about music. Why do you like it?"

He didn't answer right away, but music was the one thing that made his eyes light up. It was the thing he loved more than anything.

"I'm in...con-control," he said

Good. I can do this. "You like music because you're in control. That's amazing. How does it make you feel in control?"

"Play-playing..." he trailed off when his breathing went rigid.

"Playing. It makes you feel cool?"

"No. It's...something I can do...alone. I don't—don't need anyone else's help." He slowly found his way back to himself. "I create...I give it meaning. I decide...if it matters to me. And when I finish it, I own it. But it doesn't own me."

"Right." We both took a deep breath. "Perfect," I whispered.

I fell onto the bench beside him, and the room was quiet again. I didn't know his mother had that effect on him. I get why it was important he separated from her. He was under her thumb as much as I was under my father's. Something about parents. You're so desperate to not disappoint them, you give up everything in the process.

I understood what music was for him. It made perfect sense. That was what I liked about animation, being in control, but there was a big difference. Music saved him. Animation distracted me.

I wanted nothing more than to leave. After everything that just happened, I wanted nothing to do with this place. Things were so much simpler a few days ago.

"Sorry." He hung his head.

"Stop apologizing. It's not your fault. None of it."

"It's not that...I mean, thank you for saying that. I just...get freaked out by big crowds."

Now, I was confused. I thought he was having a hard time because of his mother. "You play on stages in front of them all the time."

"That's different. They're there for the music, maybe to see me play, but they just want to vibe and feel something. Out there? They just want to judge me. Make me feel like I'm not good enough. "

"Is that why you brought me?" I asked.

He sunk his head into his shoulders before nodding. "Yeah, I know it was selfish. You just have a way of making things better."

"I don't mind being your floaties from time to time."

"You shouldn't have to be."

And he shouldn't have to be mine.

"I'm mad at my mom as much as you are." He switched subjects, and I fell right into it.

"Doubt that. I want to punch her in the face."

Maybe I was a little too honest, but he laughed. "Can we get past this?" he asked.

I still didn't know what to feel. I was so angry, but more than that, I felt a divide. There had always been one between us, but now I knew why. "I don't know. It's just so much more than just your mom. Everything else..."

"That's not my life anymore."

"But it still affects everything. I get why you are the way you are. I get why you see the world the way you do. Because you had resources I never did and opportunities I'll never have. It's hard for you to understand how I think because you weren't raised on survival. And I can't understand you, because I wasn't raised on success."

"I mean, my life wasn't perfect. I'm still fighting through all the shit I went through. Just because hell looks different to us, doesn't make it any less real." He tried to keep his voice even, but it raised at times when he really believed what he said.

"You're right." I relented

"But?"

"But...I was raised to believe I had to work and fight for everything I wanted."

"So was I."

"You had to fight because your mother made you earn it, but you knew what success looked like. You saw your mother and sisters achieve it every day. It was possible and within reach. I didn't have that. My parents didn't have it and when they got it—" I tripped over my words. "Well, you saw how hard my mother worked to not lose it."

He was silent for a while. "But imagine knowing you're supposed to be successful. You're supposed to achieve all the things life has to offer because it was meant for you, and you don't have any of it. You can't. It fucks with your mind."

"But that's why you dream. Sure, things didn't work for you in one area, but you still have a hundred more opportunities. You still were meant to achieve something. Even if it's different from before."

"And you can't? Your dad made his dreams come true."

But at what cost? He gave up everything for it. His family, his sanity. He almost lost his wife because he was so afraid he'd lose it. Whenever you look out the window and see people who look like you struggle, it's hard to imagine something different for yourself. He did the impossible, and it still almost took out everything in its reach.

It's one of the reasons we moved to Patterson's Alley. He wanted us to see success from people who looked like us, and even then, I wasn't convinced. I could succeed in Patterson's Alley, but Wren had the entire world.

I swiveled around to the piano. Our conversation was starting to give me a headache. We were talking in circles.

"Do you play?" I asked, pressing my finger into the keys.

He slid around. "Nah."

I was surprised. Placing my fingers, I anticipated how out of tune the piano probably was. "I only know one song. Mrs. Davidson actually taught me. The first song her husband would teach guitar players was Let it Be, so naturally, the first song she'd teach on piano was Here Comes the Sun."

We laughed as the piano wailed. You could still hear the melody within the mess.

"That's amazing. It's Carson and Ainsley's wedding song," he said.

Every time I played an instrument or showed any musical talent, he'd get this doe-eyed look on his face. And as if on cue, the opening chords to the song play in the reception hall.

"Would you like to dance with me?" he asked.

He took my hand and pulled us to the middle of the floor. With his hand nestled in the small of my back, I placed mine over his shoulder blade. He intertwined our hands and began to sway.

"I still love you," he whispered.

"I still love you too," I whispered back.

His ears turned bright red as he smiled. Pulling me in, his lips rested on my ear and he sang to me. "Here comes the sun, do, do, do."

I closed my eyes. It would be nice if the world really could melt away. Or we could go to some faraway land where no one knew us. But our problems would find us. They always did.

He pulled back and kissed my nose, my cheeks, and then my lips. As I fell deeper into his touch, someone cleared their throat and we broke apart.

His mother, dressed in sky blue, stood at the door. Her eyes shifted from him to me. "I think we should talk. Don't you?"

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