Swing and a Mishap (Summersweet Island 2)

Fuck. I did do that. But it’s just because California has one of the best college ball programs around, and it doesn’t change the fact that she still accused me of throwing my money around just to make her feel like shit, and that’s not cool.

“And honestly, dude. I don’t even think it’s about the money. Not really.” Bodhi shrugs, reading my mind as he starts chewing on the end of the straw left over from his Shirley Temple. “You need to put yourself in Wren’s shoes for just a minute here and think with your head instead of your anger. She has had Owen all to herself his entire life, and now, suddenly, she has to share him. It’s scary for her, and she probably feels like she’s losing him already because he’s growing up so fast, and then you get him a college scout, reminding her he is growing up fast and he’ll be leaving soon, and yeah. That’s a tough pill for someone like Wren to swallow, whose entire life has revolved around that kid and his happiness. You’ve got fifteen years of history to compete with and fifteen years of Wren being the only real parent in Owen’s life. And I know it’s not a competition, but I’m just saying, ease up a little on the anger and give her a break. Let her get used to the fact that they aren’t alone anymore and she doesn’t have to do everything on her own any longer.”

Son of a bitch.

“You’re not Kevin Stratford.” Bodhi laughs. And then throws his head back and laughs some more until he finally gets it out of his system. “And Wren knows you’re not him, man. I’m pretty sure if you would have sat her down and given her a heads up about this instead of surprising the shit out of her and making her feel like she was losing control, she would have been totally cool. Probably not ship Owen to California cool, but I don’t think she would have minded him just having a conversation with the guy and gotten some advice. Come on, this is Wren we’re talking about. It was a shock, and that poor woman probably still has PTSD from Kevin, so I’m sure all sorts of fun things he’s said to her over the years about how she could never afford to make Owen’s life better were running through her head when you guys sprung that on her.”

That one glass of beer I’ve been nursing for hours starts bubbling and churning in my stomach, making me feel sick. Why didn’t I use my fucking head? My only excuse is that I’m new at this, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Bodhi’s right. I love Owen, and I just want the best for him, and I never meant to make Wren feel like what she’s given him isn’t. All I’ve wanted my entire adult life is a family I could spoil and give the world to, and now that I have it, I didn’t even think. I just charged full speed ahead without even considering Wren’s past or how it would make her feel.

“The good news is there wasn’t a Sip and Bitch scheduled last night,” Palmer reassures me. “I would put money on the fact that Wren didn’t bitch to the girls, because as soon as she got home, she felt like shit for what she said to you.”

And there it is, the reason why I kept feeling some kind of way, because Wren didn’t complain about me to her sister and Tess. Sip and Bitch is in their blood. They’ve been doing it since they were kids to complain about everyone who has ever pissed them off or hurt them. It just feels and sounds so much like Wren that I know he’s probably right. My sweet, amazing woman with a heart of pure fucking gold, who never wants to do anything to make someone mad at her, would definitely regret the things she said to me as soon as she walked away and really thought about everything that happened, and how I’d rather fucking die than ever make her feel like she’s not good enough. And I’ve done nothing but sit around being pissed off, waiting for her to come to me, because I felt like the wronged one here.

Jesus Christ, I suck.

“For fuck’s sake does no one answer their goddamn phones?”

All of us look up from the table to see Murphy standing next to it, looking even more pissed off than I’ve felt for the last twenty hours and fifteen minutes.

“Mine’s dead.” Bodhi shrugs.

“I left mine out in my cart,” Palmer adds.

Flipping over my phone I left face down on the table on vibrate, I see two texts from Murphy and five missed calls, one of the texts nothing but a video attachment.