Carolina Wren

Chapter 55

Wren's POV

Guilt is a funny thing.

I've felt it plenty of times in my life. Usually because I'd done something to upset Dylan or even Keegan. When I had to hurt them while I pulled a splinter out of their palms. When I had to tell them 'no' about something they wanted. When I held Keegan while he was throwing a raging tantrum and felt horrible that I didn't know how to help him. When I learned that he had hearing loss and hadn't realized. When I had to teach them how to hide to protect them from Sheila and her friends. When I taught Dylan how to lie. Knowing that I'd have to teach Keegan one day, as well.

Even with Juni, brand new to this world, there was always a lingering guilt. When I held her as a newborn, crying her eyes out while she had to settle for a teenage sister who was just doing the best she could. When I had to pick up the cheapest formula on the shelf because there wasn't enough money for anything else.

I always feel like I could be doing more, trying harder, doing better for the three of them.

Outside of the kids, I struggle to remember feeling much guilt over the years. There was guilt over knowing that without me, my dad wouldn't have had to save so much money for rehab and might still be alive. There was guilt that I didn't go looking for him sooner, that I might have been able to save him.

When I was dealing with Sheila? Hardly ever. Not anymore, at least. When I was younger and still naive enough to believe that all mothers loved their children, I'd felt guilty for disappointing her. For not being the daughter that she wanted. I cried in my room for hours the first time I hit her back—Dad didn't like hitting and I'd felt horrible for disappointing him, even if he was gone. Beyond that, dealing with her was just a chore.

But this... I haven't had friends in so long, it almost feels like I never have. The guys haven't even felt like friends in several weeks, but they had been and part of me longed for that feeling again. I still didn't think they'd treated North correctly, but when my mind wandered back to how I'd yelled at everyone, especially Victor, my stomach turned and my throat tightened.

And the way I'd spoken to North... the things that I'd said, the implications that I'd made that I didn't even believe. He'd made me so angry, but I knew he had done it on purpose. He knew that if he pushed me far enough, he'd get the response he thought he wanted, the fight he was aiming for. The treatment he thought he deserved.

Everyone had been walking around on eggshells for the rest of the day. I kept hoping it would blow over by the next morning, but breakfast today had been just as awkward as dinner last night. I'm not used to being around people who don't sweep things under the rug when they were in the wrong or continue to yell at me when they're upset. It's awkward and paired with my own guilt about how I acted, I'm not sure what to do or how to act.

It didn't help that they were giving me a wide berth. I don't blame them, and in a lot of ways I was still angry, but we have to learn how to live together and I'm starting to realize I don't know how to do that. Not in a way that was going to make our situation as harmonious as possible. At the end of the day, I need this to work long enough for me to get in a position where I can find a job and support the kids on my own.

Upstairs with the kids so I can get them dressed, my resolve is strengthened by Dylan's concern. Looking up at me with uneasy eyes that seem unusually odd without his glasses, he asks, "Are you still mad at Victor and the others?"

I don't want to tell him yes. I don't want to drag him into it. I don't want his home to become a place where he's stressed that at any given moment fighting could break out, even when Sheila isn't here. "We just haven't settled our disagreement yet."