My Darling Mayhem
: Chapter 1

Something hit the kitchen floor with a smack.

I knew exactly which magnet had just fallen from my fridge, and which postcard was now floating aimlessly after being abandoned from said magnet. However, today, I wasn’t paying attention to it as I sifted through the cupboard. I had somehow run out of instant rice, which was a travesty. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew I used it, but like mashed potatoes and canned veggies, I had found a tiny life hack in using instant meals.

‘Montana fell again, Momma.’

My five-year-old’s voice cut through the air, forcing my eyes over to the small postcard that had fallen to the floor. I knew he was waiting for me to bend down to grab it and place it right where it had been, just like I always did, but I had hit my limit with that damn magnet.

‘Maybe Montana needs to go, Bud.’

‘Mommm.’ Cruz rolled his eyes; they were whiskey-colored, like mine.

I withheld a smirk, waiting him out before gesturing at the fridge. ‘Colorado Springs is still up, and so is Mount Macon, that mountain town we want to go see in Oregon. Texas hasn’t moved, and Disneyland is still intact. They deserve the fridge space, don’t you think?’

Cruz sighed while getting up from his spot at the table. ‘Montana has horses.’

That’s right. I forgot how badly he wanted to see ‘Tana’ when he was little after watching a few YouTube videos of some dream vacation spots. That’s how we got into this whole postcard tradition. I ordered a postcard from every state that I wanted to visit with Cruz, and each day, we’d look at the fridge in hopes of fulfilling our trips.

Before I could grab the withered picture, my son bent down and curled his little fingers around it, bringing it to his face.

We didn’t have religion or care much for politics or sports teams, but these postcards were our little symbol of hope. Seeing that it was becoming more of a tradition to him than to me, I sighed.

‘I’ll buy a stronger magnet.’

My son smiled at me as if I had just hung the moon instead of an empty message with a faded image of a state I’d never been to on our fridge. My heart melted just like it always did.

‘Maybe we can ask Lydia over at the office store.’

An alert popped up, reminding me that my son’s school was hosting an open house for kindergarteners later. While shooting a quick text to my friend, I abandoned my search for dinner ingredients because now we needed more than just magnets.

The dots danced at the bottom of my screen, making me nervous. Lydia wasn’t exactly a close friend, but she was the closest thing I had in Atlas.

Cruz set his dishes in the sink and asked Alexa how much time he had left on his morning timer. I slid the milk back into the fridge and ensured all the dishes were put away before grabbing my cell again.

I muttered a curse, quiet enough that Cruz didn’t hear. I pulled up my work schedule and realized I had run out of time.

‘Okay, we need to go, Peanut.’ I filled a travel mug with coffee and pulled open the drawer, holding my silverware, medicine measuring cups, and spatulas. I already knew I wouldn’t replace the lid inside, even if I did have time to sift through it. Which I didn’t. Instead, I bumped the drawer closed with my hip and set my coffee by my purse.

Cruz was already pulling on his shoes, securing the Velcro strap. ‘Don’t forget today’s my last day!’

His little smile stretched, showing a row of baby teeth. He hadn’t lost any yet, and I wasn’t sure when he would start, but I wasn’t ready for it. Just like I wasn’t prepared for him to be finished with Mrs. Garza’s in-home preschool.

I crouched in front of him and moved his hair aside. ‘Yep. Starting tomorrow, you’ll be going to school like a big boy. Are you excited?’

I already knew he was, but I loved letting him tell me about it.

‘Yes!’ He gave a little jump, and suddenly, his arms were around my neck. I squeezed him tight and sat back to inspect him.

‘Shoes, jacket and bag?’

He replied by checking off an invisible list: ‘Shoes, jacket, and bag.’

I moved to turn off the hall light and ensure his bedroom switch had also been flipped. Our house wasn’t something I would have been able to afford on my own, but my boss had a weak spot for me, and when one of their model homes didn’t sell, she bought it and then rented it out to me. It was a modern two-bedroom with a generous floor plan and an office. Fresh white carpet framed the living room, where I’d placed a sectional couch facing a modest flat screen.

I’d found discount deals at home décor shops and, over the years, managed to create a home that made me feel relaxed when I walked into it and calm when I locked the door behind me. It had a fenced-in backyard for my son, and it was in a safe neighborhood.

As a teenager, I wanted to be seen for what my family name meant and how important that made me. I was obsessed with the idea of being attached to my father’s legacy and would go as far as hanging around members who were dangerous to me at that age, all so I could be seen. Now, I wanted seclusion, a place to raise my son in peace without a single trace of my family.

‘Shoes!’ Cruz called out, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I briefly glanced in my bedroom mirror, ensuring my clothes weren’t out of place. I had a few notes and pictures tucked into the solid oak frame. I placed things within my eyesight, so I had to face them when I looked at my reflection. That way, I’d never forget them or what impact they had on my life. My eyes wandered to the faded image of my ex, feeling a familiar ache of regret. Not that I missed him, but I hated what his absence and abandonment did to Cruz. My brother’s face stared back at me in a photo from when he was a gangly teenager, and I was in middle school. He was giving me a side hug in the photo, and we both looked like nothing on this planet could ever come between us…what a lie that ended up being.

Let go, forgive.

Move on, Wren.

I distracted myself by running my fingers over my black dress, inspecting the small red cherries printed in little rows across the cotton fabric. It cinched in at the waist and had a cute frill along the bottom, which cut off just past my knees. I wore black heels, and my caramel-colored hair was pulled low on my neck, with lighter strands framing my face. My red lip color looked striking against my tan skin, and the dark lashes framing my amber eyes made me look younger than my thirty-five years. At least, that’s what people were always saying when they found out how old I was. My mother’s genetics made my skin look this smooth and my hair this silky soft; even my lashes were attributed to her.

Thinking of her had me glancing at the photo I had up, showing her solemn face after I gave birth to Cruz. Even holding her grandchild, she looked upset; it nearly made me laugh at how perfectly her it seemed. Which was why I kept the photo pinned there. My smile turned down as I remembered that she was the only person I told, and I made her swear not to say a single word to anyone else in the family…or to⁠—

‘Mom!’ Cruz yelled, pulling me from my thoughts.

I flipped the light off and grabbed my purse. ‘Lights.’

He volleyed back. ‘Bag!’

I moved into the small hallway, past his bathroom, where I ensured the light was off, and then returned to the living room.

‘Purse.’

Cruz smiled up at me. ‘Jacket.’

I pulled on a red cardigan and looked down at my son. We both smiled and said, ‘Ready.’

The air was crisp as we walked outside. Part of the reason this model home had never sold was that the initial floor plan didn’t include a garage. So, it sat vacant for months until it was finally offered to the local sales team. I didn’t mind that there was no garage; I kept an umbrella by the door and wore thick coats on snowy days.

‘Door?’ Cruz asked, eyeing the lock.

I pulled my keys out and slid the silver into the top lock, turning it until it was secure.

This little game of ours was our way of making sure we were always paying attention and helped us to avoid forgetting things.

‘Phone,’ I said out loud, following him down the steps. I glanced to the left, seeing the same view as I always did, with a brown fence separating my house from Mr. Plover’s. I liked that my driveway was longer than several of my neighbors’; it allowed me more privacy. To my right was a similar-looking divider, but for a home that had just been built. It was strange to look up and see the two-story monstrosity whenever I left the house.

It was the last one to be completed on this street, so now our little neighborhood was whole, with a stretch of homes down each side of the street, white sidewalks, and well-manicured trees planted. At the end of the circular cul-de-sac was the new house, standing tall, like a sentry, watching over the rest of our meager one-story homes.

My focus returned to my son, who walked to the back door of my smaller sedan and placed his hand on the handle. ‘Lunch.’

He knew I always forgot to pack one, and we didn’t have time for me to run back inside, so I simply smiled.

‘Lunch.’

His features relaxed, and it made something in my heart ping around.

My son’s love for me always made me emotional, which might have been why my eyes clouded the slightest bit with tears. My car didn’t have a backup camera, so I used my mirrors to reverse while also blinking away the unbidden emotions when suddenly a motorcycle sped into the cul-de-sac. It was behind me so fast that I had to slam on my brakes, making us jerk against our seat belts. The coffee in my travel mug, which I could never replace a lid for, splashed everywhere, and Cruz let out a tiny cry.

Enraged, I let the first thought fly from my mind unbidden, ‘What the fu—’ but stopped the second my eyes flicked to the mirror, and I caught my son’s worried look.

‘Wait here, Peanut.’

I opened my door and realized the motorcycle had pulled into the driveway next door. It was the brand-new two-story house that had just been built. I had no idea who had purchased the home, but I assumed it was someone from the city who planned to rent it out. Maybe it was, but whoever this person was had just pulled in like they were the new owner.

The man sat atop a chrome bike, pulling off his helmet—it was one of those half helmets, with just the chin strap underneath. He had on a black leather vest with a myriad of patches on the back. I didn’t register what they said, but I noticed the rider had longer blond hair that looked wind-blown. His entire ensemble looked messy and wild as if he were a rogue bolt of lightning that had found a place to strike and linger.

Crossing my arms, I walked along the white sidewalk that attached our two driveways and approached the man.

‘Hey!’

He twisted, still seated on his bike. He turned his engine off, which helped because I didn’t want to get too close just to verbally berate him.

Narrowed eyes focused on me as if I had just done something wrong to him. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Yeah…’ I gestured behind me, where Cruz was peeking through the window with a curious expression. ‘You nearly hit us.’

The man’s eyes flicked to the car, then back to me. His jaw flexed as if he’d slammed his back molars together in frustration.

Finally, after a few stretched moments, he deadpanned, ‘Sorry.’

His gaze swung forward as if to dismiss me.

For some reason, that just didn’t feel like enough.

‘Are you the new renter here?’ I asked, lifting my eyes to the two-story house. This model’s finishing touches were farmhouse-style. White siding sheathed the outside while black paint framed the shutters and trim, with raw wood beams for posts. It was beautifully made.

The man sighed as if this conversation was exhausting to him. His boot shot out, kicking the metal stand for his bike, and then he tossed his leg over the seat and stood while he regarded me. He was tall…like six foot two, or⁠—

‘Was there something else you needed?’

My anger snapped back in place, heating my chest like a furnace. I wanted to flip him off or get in his face and yell. I settled on delivering my best resting bitch face. ‘Just wanted to know if we’re going to have to deal with your insufferably loud engine all the time or if maybe you were just here fixing something.’ I smiled as if I’d just paid him a compliment. I was being a bitch. I knew I was, but all I could think about was that little sound Cruz had made when we’d jerked forward or the way the coffee spilled all over my car.

My rudeness was warranted. His was not.

Right as my mouth opened with an extra reply, another bike roared from around the corner, speeding down the street. Then another. I stepped back, slightly concerned, wanting to be closer to Cruz.

The man glared at me.

Shit, how many were going to show up here?

My breath caught right as my heel found a crack in the sidewalk, making me nearly pinwheel backward.

‘Careful, princess, don’t need you falling and breaking that pretty face.’

He turned away from me, walking toward the house without giving me a second glance while the two other bikes stopped in his driveway, both men wearing the same leather vest he had on. One of the men scowled while I made my way to the car; the other laughed while whistling at me. My face heated, not because he’d catcalled me, but because I shouldn’t have given this man the edge of knowing his presence bothered me. Now, he’d likely be here all the time with his band of misfit friends and all their loud motorcycles.

This was a good neighborhood. We didn’t need a fucking motorcycle club moving in.

Sliding back into my car, I revved my pathetic four-cylinder engine and drove away, watching the men in my rearview laugh and shake their heads while I went.