She was the Wild Child.
And she didn’t belong to me, she was on loan.
It was not my place to pull her out of the woods.
It would be years before I understood why she stole that book.
It would be years before I fully understood what was going on inside her head that night as she read the rhyme to Lauren.
And I’m not the kind of man who cries—hell, I wasn’t even the kind of kid who cries. But when I discovered that book hidden under the backseat of my truck almost six years later and I read the words she had scribbled inside it—her own poem handwritten alongside the printed one—I did cry.
Because I knew.
Chek didn’t save Wendy when he pulled her out of that Mexican orphanage.
No one could save Wendy.
She was never going to grow up to be Sasha. She was never going to be Lauren.
She was Indie. She was Angelica. She was Daphne, and Avery, and yes, even Lily was too old.
It was a mistake.
That’s what hit me that day I read the poem Wendy wrote in that book.
Saving these girls was a huge mistake because we got them too late.
The rest of them were already out of my hands, but just because I understood this didn’t mean I was gonna give up on Wendy.
When I found that book it was too late to go backward.
There was nothing left but the future in front of us.
Six years later Wendy was almost sixteen and we had stopped being “friends” the year before when I sent Lauren to live with Sasha. We still worked together, but everything was very professional.
Sixteen was also still in the good times because even though I was technically dead, Chek still had a year and a half of life ahead of him. The Company was not gone, but no one was really working for them anymore. It was very scattered because after Kansas happened, Adam was just getting back to normal after Indie tried to kill him.
Seven years later was seventeen and Chek was dead.
Birthday number seventeen was hard.
But by the time birthday number eighteen rolled around, my world was changing. Or rather, my worldview was changing. Maybe that’s not quite right, either. Maybe… maybe that’s just when I realized that Wendy was my world?
CHAPTER FIVE - WENDY
When did I start living on the road?
I guess I didn’t know I was living on the road until my tenth birthday. Before that I always considered home to be home. But after that, I had to find a place to fit Nick.
Because birthday #10 was our first real goodbye.
BIRTHDAY #10
14 YEARS AGO
“Are you awake?”
I snuggle down into the covers and pretend I’m not.
“I know you’re awake. We’re leaving today.”
I flip the covers over my head. “But it’s my birthday. I’m ten. Ten is a big fucking deal. We can’t leave on a birthday. It’s not fair.”
Nick Tate is across the hotel room changing Lauren’s diaper. She’s content and doing that goo-goo thing she does when she’s happy, flinging her legs around, biting her fist, and generally acting like a baby.
“I know it’s your birthday. That’s why we’re leaving. We’re meeting Chek in Pensacola tonight and it’s a drive, so…”
Chek. I blink a couple times. I had kinda given up on him. I thought for sure he was never coming back for me. In fact, I was so sure of this that I started picturing myself with Nick and Lauren in a forever kind of way. Like a family. It’s not a bad life. There are no jobs, so it’s a little boring, but it could be a lot worse.
This hotel we’re in is a big deal. It’s like a mini-resort. It’s got a pool, and a water slide, and a lazy river, and a beach. And I had already pictured myself swimming in that pool, and sliding down that slide, and relaxing on that lazy river. Like, hello? This is the kind of place where you spend a birthday! You do not pack up your shit, get in a truck, and go somewhere else when you’re already at the perfect place.
This is not rocket science. I don’t care who’s coming back. This is my day.
We’re going to leave tomorrow. It’s already planned. And we’re going to go somewhere interesting. Nick always lets me pick where we go next. Some days I just close my eyes and point to a place on the map. Some days I do research. So I dunno how I’d feel about Chek coming back, even if it wasn’t my birthday.
I say, “But we were going to visit the bayou.” And I think I’m actually whining a little.
“You’re still going to the bayou,” Nick says. “I’m pretty sure Chek has a job coming up in the swamp. So.” He looks over his shoulder at me, smiles. It’s fake. “You don’t need me to take you there.”