“Oh, actually, yes!” The sound of papers crinkling and drawers being opened and closed comes through the receiver. As good an attorney as Selina is, her office is always a mess. “The girls at the front invited me and Jenna to go for drinks at this new place on Boylston. I’m trying to find the name but…” More papers crunching. “Oh, got it! At Bubbly’s. Want to come with us?”

I don’t even need to think about it before saying, “I’m pretty busy tonight, but thanks for the invitation.”

“You sure?”

Always the same thing. She offers. I decline. She asks if I’m certain.

“Yeah, I’m sure, but you girls have fun.”

“All right, then. Bye Wren!”

After saying goodbye and hanging up, I go grab my planner, an eraser, and a pencil. If I can’t back out of this plan, then the only thing I can do is create a new routine for myself. My eyelid twitches as I read over the carefully planned schedule I’d written for the next month.

Relax, Wren.

My hands are tight around the eraser as I go through the pages one last time. Realistically, I know that changing the schedule won’t have an impact on the state of my brain. It’s not like the acetylcholine release between my neurons will decrease all of a sudden because of it.

It still feels like removing a safety net from under me, though.

Dropping my agenda on the coffee table, I go to my room and change into running clothes, then clip the leash to Molly’s collar. Running will help take my mind off things. Maybelle stays behind, sleeping soundly in her small bed. With her old age, small frame, and damaged eyes, she much prefers staying inside to exercising, especially in this frigid New England weather.

As I leave the apartment, I find myself thinking maybe I should’ve said yes to going out. Talking to other people about the weird coincidence of working for the family of the man I met in a strange way last summer might’ve helped.

But then I would’ve created a precedent.

“Going to be just you and me, I guess,” I say as I pet the head of one of my two best friends and start running. It has to be. Because to have someone to talk to, you need to let someone in. And that’s not happening anytime soon.

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Aaron

“Callie, come on, you’re going to be late!” I shout from the kitchen as I finish packing my little sister’s lunch. I’ll never understand how it can take this long for a ten-year-old girl to get ready in the morning.

“Coming!” she answers from upstairs, which I know is a complete lie. It always is when she says that.