He knew that and wasn’t asking for it. Dane wasn’t surprised when Jack cut the call, obviously pissed. He waited for the guilt to roll over him, half expecting to change his mind. But instead of feeling cold, the image of Wren standing in the studio, her prayer-like hands, the tips of her fingers touching her lips, her eyes wide as she followed her kids’ routine, jumped into his mind, along with her peaceful face when she slept, the little piggy snort she always made when she rolled over, the way she never took anything in until she’d had a cup of coffee. Yes, people were dying on the other side of the world, but he didn’t have to throw himself into the chaos. Other people could step up to the plate this time.
The thought that he’d chosen, as per her wish, Wren, and his happiness and mental health, settled deep within him. As the sky lightened, the sun tossing ribbons of orange and pink on the river’s surface, he knew what was best for her was bestfor them. And what was best for them was what was best for him.
He understood that now.
ChapterSixteen
It was the night of the Bonfire of the Bewitched—thesummer edition—and the culmination of the Summerween festival. And somehow, despite what had been a busy summer, Dane still felt like he’d only arrived in H-Town last week. After leaving the Charles River, he’d returned to his empty, musty apartment and passed out for a solid eight hours—the best sleep he’d had alone for, yeah, years. He’d dropped by the Humanatus HQ to get an update and wish his team well, and spent quite a bit of time reassuring them and Jack that he’d be back. At some point.
He wasn’t sure when.
Now he was back on the bleachers in H-Town, sitting halfway up, in front of the stage, waiting for the kids to perform. He looked around and took in the event. Ridiculous amount of fairy lights? Check. Food-and-drink trucks and stalls? Check. More summer-inspired Halloween decorations than he could count? Double check. Tourists? A shit ton.
In the days, weeks, and years ahead, he’d remember this evening. Some moments in his life would never go away—blood, broken bodies, screams, sorrow. But tonight … tonight was different. He’d remember the light, the heat, the smell of roasting meat and burned sugar, the rise and fall of conversation and laughter, the promise of a carefree night.
Later, as he’d been informed, locals and tourists alike would gather to write their regrets, hopes, and wishes on specially printed parchment. One by one, they’d toss their words into the bonfire’s flames, some believing, some hoping, the fire held magic enough to burn away the bad and attract the good. Dane shrugged. Life was hard; if a touch of make-believe helped you have hope that things might get better, even for a moment … well, what harm was there in that?
He smiled at a toddler staggering past dressed up as a bumblebee. Some people were dressed in summer-inspiredHalloween costumes, some wore masks, and others wore casual clothing. Many carried drinks in various shades of neon—he’d heard from Luna via Wren that the stall owners only agreed on the color scheme after many hours of arguing—and visitors feasted on buckets of fries, burgers, and skewers of caramel popcorn.
He was quite sure there wasn’t a watermelon left in the state, as there seemed to be a million watermelon jack-o’-lanterns sitting on hay bales, on porches, wearing sunglasses and glowing maniacally, candles flickering inside. Pink flamingos in witches’ hats were also in abundance, as were all the skeletons, decked out in sunglasses, hula skirts, or surfer shorts, that Luna and her crew could find. To Dane, it was like someone had told the decorating crew to leave any sense of taste and decorum behind. It was batshit crazy, and Dane could easily see himself, sometime in the future, while knee-deep in blood and broken bones, in disaster and human suffering, recalling this memory in an effort to remember how to smile.
Seated where he was, he caught the occasional glimpse of Wren in the wings of the stage, flitting from dancer to dancer, adjusting clothing, whispering in ears, and handing out reassuring hugs. On arriving in H-Town a couple of hours ago, he’d wanted to run straight to her, but he knew that she was busy and didn’t need him distracting her. No, they’d talk later, when the stress of the performance was over and they had time.
He tipped his head, saw Poppy lay a quick hand on Wren’s back, and was glad her best friend was with her. Earlier in the week, he’d offered his help, but she’d gently refused, telling him Poppy could apply makeup and mop up nervous tears better than he could. He wasn’t offended; marshaling nervous teenagers was hardly in his skill set.
Dane loved watching Wren, noticing every flare of impatience, every spark of joy, the occasional flash of sadness he was sure he’d caused. All her emotions were underpinned by a streak of nerves. Knowing how important this was to her, he hoped the kids did well. It didn’t matter whether it was a performance by untrained kids or a high-value dance video, Wren had standards and expectations, and not meeting those standards would be a professional failure. His woman was tough on herself. He understood that, he was tough on himself, too.
A hard elbow jammed him in the ribs, and he pulled his eyes off the stage to look at Wren’s godmother. His eyes widened as he took in her weird-as-fuck outfit. She wore a bright aqua witch’s hat, and for some reason, she’d attached a miniature pink flamingo to its wide rim. But instead of wearing whatever witches wore—robes? A necklace of teeth made from their foes?—she sported a sparkly orange jumpsuit, something straight out of the 1970s and thatMamma Mia!movie. Black biker boots completed her outfit.
Luna ordered the person next to him to move up, and when they did, she wedged herself between them and placed her hands on her wide knees. If he sat like that, some woman would, and rightly so, chew him out. Luna looked at him, and for the first time, he saw honest emotion in her eyes. Unfortunately, it was pure rage, and it was directed at him.
“You made my girl cry,” she stated, her tone low and slow and completely venomous.
“I did. And I’m really sorry I did.”
“Why are you back?” Luna asked, her eyes narrowed.
Dane pointed to Wren, who was talking to Hadley. “For her,” he calmly stated. “If she lets me, everything I do from now on will have her front and center.”
It took a long,longtime for Luna to nod, for her eyes to lighten. Then she sat back and pointed a blood-red nail—tipped with carefully painted bats—at his nose. “I might not be so good at spells, but I have a coven of witches behind me who areverygood. I do not want to make use of their talents, but if you hurt Wren again, I will.”
Luna didn’t scare him, but her coven did. “Noted.”
She sat back, folded her arms, and tipped her head to the side. “Let’s talk about Dr. Morris’s practice.”
“Okay,” Dane said and grinned at Luna’s shock. Keeping the wannabe witch off balance was one of his favorite things to do.
* * *
Wren walked off the stage and took her first proper breath of air since that morning. The music had worked—there had been no glitches, no ghost appearances, no marching-band interruptions or random outbursts of military music—the spotlights worked and the kids, mostly, remembered their steps. Even Tad was there, on crutches, his leg in cast, to cheer them on.
They’d been amazing … and she was so proud of them.
Someone touched her shoulder, and Wren, not wanting to talk to anybody, not yet—she was operating on fresh air, caffeine, and more than a few homeopathic tranquilizers—took a moment to turn. When she did, she saw Penn, Colt, and a stylishly dressed woman in front of her. Colt’s mom, Nika, introduced herself and Wren shook her hand. Her dancers were good, but Colt stood out. His performance had been amazing, and she was immensely proud of him, even if his father wasn’t.
“Thank you for your letter of introduction to the Philadelphia High School of Performing Arts,” Nika said. “But Colt has been offered a place at the Boston Arts Academy. He’s accepted it. I think it’s time we lived as a family again.”
It was a good school, and being a family was always a great option. “I’m excited to hear that, and I’m happy for him.”
