Chapter 7
Wren
Blake surprised me. His persistent a*s didn’t sit on my bottom step waiting for me to get home from work every morning so he could pressure me into a date like I’d expected.
But he left gifts on occasion.
Piping hot coffee and muffins. A small pot of violets. A little wren figurine that curled my lips into a smile I didn’t want to give him but did with my back turned toward the jobsite. Handwritten notes of encouragement to brighten my day—and I hated that they did.
No one had ever been there for me when I really needed it, and as though Blake had somehow managed to see into my exhausted brain, he hit my feels like some boxer smashing against my walls. His short one or two-liner pep talks and inspiration to keep plugging along in attaining my goals boosted me on more mo
