It’s strange. I’ve always thought myself to be someone people felt comfortable with. When a friend has a problem, they often come to me to talk it through. Yet no matter how many times I see her, a mystery remains. And in the past weeks, I’ve thought more about the conversation we had on the day we met, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. She mentioned something about her genes being messed up, and I have no idea what that means. She’s made one or two other strange comments that might be related to it, but she never went further than that. And, selfishly, I wish she would want to tell me.

But for now, I’ll keep saving up the crumbs she gives me and hope to connect the dots one day.

Bending, I grab one of the saws we left next to the trees, then hand it to her. She takes it with her chin held high.

After shaking her shoulders, she tries different ways to place her hands so she has the best grip, neither of which is the one I would use, but I don’t utter a word. She said she could do it.

When she has a handle she believes is good on the saw, she sends me a look that is so menacing it makes me want to laugh. “Which one do you want me to cut?”

“Whichever one you want.”

Turning, she looks around her, then starts to walk around while examining all the trees one by one. I look over my shoulder and check to see where Callie is, finding her playing fetch with Molly in front of the cabin. So much for helping me. At least there’s no client waiting at the front to be led around the place. When I bring my attention back to Wren, she’s standing in front of a tree, studying it. I guess that’s the one.

“Do you want me to show you how to do it?”

“I’m fine,” she answers with the most serious voice.

Don’t laugh, Aaron.

“You don’t even want a tip?”

She throws me a glare that tells me to shut up. I lift my hands in the air and stay silent.

Knees bent, she places her arms at an angle that I’d bet my balls isn’t comfortable. The saw is barely notched into the dark bark of the tree as she examines everything one last time. When she looks confident in her angle, she starts sawing.

It doesn’t go well, to say the least.