Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

DECEMBER 5th, 2019

A sudden downpour caught Nashville by surprise, the forecasted sunny weather met an abrupt end when a crack of thunder shook the structure of the main roads just after eight am. With the holidays approaching, little families found themselves stuck inside, decorating cookies and busying the kids with themed crafts as they waited for the worst of the storm to pass.

A whimsical themed apartment just off the outskirts of the city faced the most action from the storm, and the windowpanes suffered each blow from the strong gusts of wind that slammed against the glass. Tree branches rustled outside, filling the typically quiet space with gentle chaos. The pattering of rain against any surface it could touch was a grounding melody for the pacing twenty-nine year-old woman. Pink painted fingertips pulled at neatly straightened blonde hair, blue eyes darting across the room for any single thing out of place.

The kitchen was pristinely made up. Multiple sets of dinning china were stacked on display mantles, while the multiple appliances had been scrubbed clean. She had cleaned and re-cleaned anything out of place, having gone to length so great she emptied out the fridge that was hardly stocked to begin with.

Nashville had been home for so many years. The apartment she bought nearly ten years ago held so many memories, but she never remembered feeling so helpless inside of its four walls. Breathing in deeply through her nose and pinching her frantic eyes closed, the woman forced herself to listen to the sounds of the storm.

Another crack of thunder rattled the apartment, though a soft sensation spreading up her legs as she stood in nothing but black shorts and a white hoodie distracted her from her original plan. Looking down at the white fluff-ball, she got down on her knees, picking the kitten up.

"It's okay, Dibbles." She whispered her reassurances to the cat, who meow'd in response. Anxiously, she waited for the doorbell to ring. She'd been called almost two hours ago, and still there was no update on the company she waited.

An upstairs bedroom had seen the worst of her anxious nesting. Fresh lavender colored bedsheets had been unfolded across the matters, topped with a same color frilly comforter and a gentle white blanket that felt as soft as clouds. The desk lamp had been changed out for something less intimidating and more child-friendly, while a stuffed animal sat on a white oak desk, awaiting its new best friend.

Two hours ago, the woman had gotten a call. Not a call she'd been expecting, but rather a call she almost ignored. The split second decision in a half-asleep state had almost changed the trajectory her day, but thankfully, by some odd miracle, she'd accidentally hit the wrong button in her barely conscious state. She was so glad that she did.

Her mother had been the second call that morning. But now, it was almost eight thirty, and the doorbell still hadn't wrung. For a brief moment, the woman wondered if it was broken, if the wires had become corroded or the button had gotten jammed, but halfway to the foyer to check the state of the system, the painfully annoying chime sounded through the entire apartment. Breathing out a deep sigh of relief, the woman doubled her steps, only taking a single moment to decide her next action.

"Hi." She breathed out, feeling like she could finally relax at the sight of her company. "Please, come in." She opens the door wider, not so discreetly wiping her sweaty palms down her shorts. Smiling warmly, she nods toward the kitchen. "Is there anything I can get you both? Maybe a water? Breakfast? It's still early, I was going to make myself some eggs if you haven't eaten yet."

"I'd appreciate some water, thank you. Wren, would you like anything? You hardly touched your bagel this morning." The kind voice of another woman filled the apartment, drowning out the sound of pelting rain. If the blonde hostess couldn't see the state of her companies appearance — wet faces, wet splotched clothing, frizzy hair — she wouldn't have been aware of the current rain, but it was a blinding reminder that the world was still spinning outside of her Wonderland apartment.

The child stayed silent, looking down at her hands as she sat beside the kind woman. Her stomach was in knots, head pounding in her skull. She could feel each and every luh-buh of her heart in her fingertips.

"Just a water then Taylor, thank you." The woman sighed, looking at Taylor fondly. "I do apologize for such an early ring. We needed an emergency placement for this one." A finger was jutted at the young girl who couldn't have been older then ten years old. Her eyes were bloodshot, hair neglected, but at the mention of her presence, she shrunk even farther into herself.

"It's no problem, the storm would've woken me up anyway. I'm just glad you called. Really, really glad. I had almost given up on finding a placement." Taylor laughed nervously, sitting down across from her company with a rigid back and trembling fingers.

"I suppose that's for the better. It means we have less kids coming in and out of homes, as disappointing as it is for empty nesters." The woman opposite Taylor laughs, and the blonde can understand her humor. Less kids in homes was a good thing, but it still hurt.

"Right, of course. But genuinely, Emily. I am really thankful for this opportunity. With work dying down for a few months, it couldn't have been a more opportunistic time." The clinking of glass being set on the table is the only sound that follows Taylor's admission, as the other woman, Emily, sorts through a manila folder.

"Taylor, this is Wren. Wren, this is Taylor. You're going to be staying with her for a while, how does that sound?" Emily asks softly, scanning the folder before moving her focus to Wren, who still hasn't said a word. "You can speak, honey."

"Good." Her voice was probably the softest voice Taylor had ever heard, and her heart sank at how broken and tired she sounded. She knew the ins and outs of this position, but it didn't hurt her any less to see the direct result of childhood abuse.

"I'm glad. Taylor, is there someplace Wren can hang out while I brief you?" Emily asks, attempting to spare the child the pain of having to relive the events of the last four hours. Four hours that would leave irreparable mental damage.

"Yes, of course. I can set you up in the living room with a movie, how does that sound?" Taylor's quick to jump to her feet, rushing both Emily and Wren out of the kitchen and towards the living room, where a collection of cat pillows and fluffy blankets awaited them. Getting the hint that Wren wasn't up for much conversation, Taylor selected Disney+ without asking, scrolling through the animated movie list before she found 'Alice and Wonderland'. Maybe it was a bit on the nose, but it had always been a safe option. "You can change it to anything you want, but I figured choosing something you like in front of me might be a little intimidating right now. It's low enough so we can't hear it in the kitchen, I won't know if you change it, it can be your secret. Whatever you'd like."

With one last glance at the stiff little girl, Taylor led Emily back into the kitchen, prepared to hear the worst. "Don't spare any details. I can handle it."

"Wren was placed in a home three years ago, after her birth parents were struck by a drunk driver. Father walked away with minor injuries, Mother died on impact. Today, I got the call from the local prescient that they had responded to a call about screaming and crying in the upper apartment, and when they arrived, had found Wren bound to a bed while her placement parents fought over a butchers knife. Foster-Father stabbed the Mother in the arm, both'll live, but Wren could see the entire exchange from her open bedroom door." Emily frowned, flipping through the file in front of her, ignoring the stinging in her eyes as she read over the worst of it. Taylor was shocked to silence, looking between Emily and the open kitchen doorway in rapid successions.

"I-I know you can't tell me anything more, but... but, is something being done? Are they being arrested?" Her voice shakes, and Emily is quick to assure her.

"I wouldn't typically disclose this information, but, Wren was only just transferred to my sheet. I think being on the same page would help us both in getting to know her and making sure she has the best care possible." Emily takes a single page out of the file, slipping it to Taylor with a tight expression. "That covers the extent of her medical history. Every reported bump and bruise is listed on that sheet. But, yes, the Tighlmans are being arraigned as we speak. They won't be seeing sunlight anytime soon. Wren is extremely malnourished, the medical examiner noted that she has multiple old fractures in her ribs and wrists, old scarring on her soft tissue. You should be aware of the bruising. She's already skittish of physical contact, but should you get close, there's serve bruising on her wrists and side from fighting the restraints, and we assume she was beaten with a belt. The marks on her back are consistent, and incredibly sore."

Taylor looked up from the sheet of paper, a single tear slipping past her waterline as she read further. "She's only eight?"

Solemnly, Emily nods. "I've seen a lot of rough cases since I started this career. Her's is... particularly heartbreaking. Bio-Dad relinquished all parental rights after the death of his wife was too much. No remaining family. That little girl is completely on her own, and the only people she had to count on tortured her."

"It says her name is Wrenley." Taylor mentions, interest peaked at such an interesting name. It wasn't one she'd heard before, but from the little she saw of the traumatized girl at her table, she knew that it fit.

"Do not, under any circumstances, call her Wrenley. Her previous caseworker didn't give me the full backstory, but I know she was present during the crash. I think it has a connection to her birth mother." Emily frowns, reaching for the medical sheet. Taylor hands it over, trying to keep it memorized for a later date. "I'm going to leave you with her legal documents, as well as an index card of her allergies. Not many, just walnuts. There's an epipen in her backpack. I trust you remember the safety training course and how to administer it?"

"Yes, yes. I know how to administer it." In the background, the storm continued to pelt the windows, a blinding flash of lightning brightening the entire apartment for a second.

"Good. Unless you have any other questions, I'll leave you with her basic information. You have my card, any problems and I'm on my way." Emily smiles, beginning to collect her things. "Last thing I need before I'm out of your hair is a home inspection."

"Can I just ask, how long do you think this placement will be?" Nervously, Taylor chewed on her bottom lip, pushing aside the rising hope she felt.

"Indefinitely. Of course, I'll take yours and Wrens feelings into consideration, monitor how the both of you settle and adjust, but if everything is good, then I see no reason I should uproot her all over again. They had a child psychologist speak to her before we left the hospital. Right now, the only thing he's suggesting is consistency and patience. If there's any hope at helping Wren overcome this, I can't have her bouncing between fosters. Your work travel is fine, everyone is aware of your occupation. If work was going to be a problem, you wouldn't have been approved for your license. However, I ask that you give me at least two weeks notice of any international travel, and a weeks notice for any state travel that exceeds twenty-four hours."

"Perfect. I'm planning on remaining in Nashville until after Christmas, and was planning on spending New Years in London. But, I'd like to get Wren settled before I do that, so I'll be sure to have my publicist contact you closer to the date if things change. I do have to ask though, how does Wren take male presence? My partner doesn't have his license, but he's as much interested in being apart of her life as well. I want to make sure we've built some trust and have her settled before I do anything involving him or my parents and brother." Taylor takes a sip of her own water, feeling how impossibly dry her throat is becoming.

"The psychologist doesn't think she's prone to any sort of reactions. I would just ease her into things, she's a bit of a wild card for me at the moment. Her last caseworker was transferred to Louisville last week, so I was kinda thrown in with the sharks on this one." Emily laughs softly, standing up from the table, and prompting Taylor to follow her. "I need to see where she'll be sleeping, as well as your fridge."

Taylor leads the way to the silver appliance, pulling open the double doors to reveal a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and assortment of other groceries like a pint of chocolate ice cream and a head of lettuce. "I wasn't expecting your call, obviously I would've been more prepared. I can have a grocery order at my door within the hour. But, let me show you to her bedroom. Again, with how last minute this has been, there aren't many personal touches yet. Do you happen to know any of her interests?"

"Sorry, but I'm as in the dark as you. I would suggest Monsters Inc. I noticed she shoved a Sulley t-shirt into her bag as she was packing." Emily offers, and Taylor nods, filing it away for a later date.

Stepping into the living room, Taylor knocks on the wall as to not startle Wren by getting close. "Hey Wren, I'm going to show Emily where you'll be sleeping, would you like to check it out with us?" Taylor asks softly, understanding if the girl preferred her time alone for the minute. However, she's surprised when Wren nods slowly, like she's afraid of stepping wrong. "Perfect, it's just up those stairs. Would you feel more comfortable going ahead of us, or behind us?" At her silence, Taylor smiles kindly. "You don't need permission to speak up, buddy. You're free to say whatever you want. That might take some time, but I'll remind you, okay? I would like to know what you're comfortable with though, I want you to feel safe."

Staring, almost baffled, Wren slowly mumbled her answer, avoiding Taylor's eye as she whispered, "Behind."

"Okay, follow me." Taylor leads the way up the stairs, walking slow enough to make sure Wren can keep up. When she reaches the top of the stairs, Meredith is waiting for them. She meows greedily, pawing at Taylor's ankle. "This is Meredith. She's a bit dramatic." Taylor says, bending down to pet the cat, a faint smile on her lips. She looks toward Wren, unable to help the way she stares, but the little girl looks too mesmerized by the fluffball to notice. "Do you wanna pet her, Wren? She's sweet, just wants all of your attention. I can back up if you wanna pet her, so we're not so close."

Wren quickly shook her head, and not wanting to press, Taylor accepted her answer, standing up again. "Alright, I'm sure she'll be around later. The bedroom is this door right here. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so it's pretty bare for now. We'll get you some clothes and decorations when you feel up to it." Taylor smiles, walking into the room, letting Emily and Wren follow her into the space. Wrens eyes immediately land on the teddybear, but she stays at a distance, shifting nervously between her feet. "I got that for you, honey. It's yours."

"M-Mine?" Wrens eyes snap to Taylor, her mouth hanging open in shock, her eyes daring Taylor to say it's a joke and take it away. Her expression made Taylor wonder when the last time, if she ever, had a teddy bear, but the millennial quickly stopped that train of thought, deciding Wren's story was sad enough without her added meddling.

"Of course. I won't touch her unless you say I can, she's yours." Taylor grins, already hooked on hearing Wren's sweet voice. "I had my mom drop it off along with some clothes before you got here. I wasn't sure about what you liked or your size, so I had her grab a couple different designs and sizes of everything. Whatever you don't like we can return, it's not a big deal to me buddy."

"Alright, I've seen everything I need to. Thank you for your time, Taylor." Emily smiles politely, then shifting her attention to Wren. "I'll be back in a week to check on you, okay? You can trust Taylor, let her help."

"I can show you out. Thank you again for this, Emily, we'll be in touch." Taylor opened the front door, locking it behind the caseworker and turning her attention to Wren, who was waiting at the top of the stairs. She looks petrified as ever. "I know that you don't know me yet, buddy, but I promise you have nothing to worry about. Would you like to unpack your stuff?"

Wren nodded silently, making her way down the stairs to grab the bulging backpack. Taylor offered a kind smile, removing both glasses of water from the kitchen table and walking them over to the sink. "I'm sure you want some time alone, I'm going to wash these and then I'll be up to see if you need any help. Does that sound alright?"

Wren nods silently, and Taylor offers her the biggest smile she can muster without intimidating her. She hears the pattering up feet up the stairs when she turns back toward the sink, and breathes out a heavy sigh of relief. Introductions are the hard part, but getting to know Wren should be easy once they find a groove. Taylor was willing to take her time with Wren, but she already loved her. How could she not? Sweet green eyes, a freckled nose, silky light brown hair that looked almost blonde under the kitchen lighting. She was cute, and shy, and desperately craving love.

After Taylor finished washing the two glasses, she set them up to dry, wiping her hands clean of the soap suds and water as she picked up her phone to call Andrea back.

"Taylor! How'd it go, honey? She settling in alright?" Her mothers worried voice slips through the phone line, sounding weak from her rounds of chemo earlier in the weak.

"Her caseworker just left. Mom, it's so bad. So so bad. She looks like she's scared of her own shadow." Taylor drops her head into her heads, collecting a shaky breath before she could force herself to continue. "I have her upstairs unpacking, she liked the teddy bear. I don't think... Mom, I don't think she's ever had one. Not from the way she was looking at it."

Andrea gasped, her own heart following with sadness for the girl. "What's her name, honey?"

"Wren. She's eight. I have to look over the paper Emily gave me for her birthday. She didn't mention it being soon." Taylor stalked over to the kitchen table, barely stepping over Olivia who darted out between her feet. "Jesus, Dibbles." She cursed, pressing the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, looking through the papers before an audible gasp tumbles from her lips. "Mom! Shes December thirteenth!"

Andrea gushed at the news, clearly picturing the shock and delight on her daughters face. "You'll have to do something sweet then. I don't wanna keep you too long, honey. Go check on her."

"Alright. Bye Mom, I love you." Taylor chorused, smiling when Andrea wished her the same back. She hung up the phone, throwing it in her hoodie pocket before she took the stairs two at a time. The bedroom door was still open, and she had the perfect view of Wren sat in the middle of the floor, looking through an assortment of clothes, holding an all too familiar yellow CD in her hands. Knocking on the doorframe, as to not startle Wren with her unexpected presence, she smiled kindly. "What do you have there, buddy?"

"It's you?" In all honesty, Taylor hadn't expected Wren to say anything, but her smile doubled at not only the sweet little girls voice, but the questioning tone she held while looking down at Fearless.

"It is me. I sing those songs." Taylor explained simply, smiling when Wren nods, moving on like nothing had happened, definitely not the reaction Taylor expected. Taylor looks at the assortment of clothes on the floor, most are plain necessities. A lot of black and white and greys. She frowned. "I see you have a lot of t-shirts, buddy. It's kinda chilly outside, do you want to order some more options? It's okay if you wanna wait."

"More?" Wren frowned, looking between her t-shirts and leggings and then back to Taylor.

"Yeah. Do you wanna come see my closet? Maybe you'll like something in there. We can get you some long sleeve shirts, some jeans, some shorts. I heard you might like Monsters Inc, I'm sure we can find a pajama set."

"I like Sulley." Wren pointed to a shirt hidden at the bottom of the pile, the bright blue and purple character staring back at Taylor with his typical animated wave. The shirt was old, a hole in the bottom, and Sulley looked like he had seen better days too. "And Boo."

"We can definitely get you some Monsters Inc pajamas then. Do you like Boo's door?" Taylor asked, adjusting her position to sit criss-crossed on the hardwood floor, still keeping her distance. Wren nods silently, and Taylor beams. "What do you say we get some paint and make your door look like hers. Would that be pretty cool?"

"We can?" Wren asks skeptically, bottom lip bitten between her teeth. Taylor just continues to smile, nodding her head.

"Of course, buddy! This is your room, you can do whatever you want to it." Taylor grinned, nodding toward the pile of clothes on the floor once the previous topics been settled. "Do you need help? I can hang those up for you while you sort through your other things. I might have a CD player somewhere in the storage closet, if you want to listen to Fearless."

"I can?" Wren perked up, beaming up at Taylor with the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. With a pure forest colour around her deep midnight purple, hardly any alternative colour was present around her iris.

"Of course. I can play it on my phone, or I can play it through the CD player. Whatever you want." Taylor smiles, and hesitantly, Wren points to Taylor. "You want me to play it? Alright. Any specific song?"

Despite looking like she wanted to answer, Wren shock her head. Taylor didn't pry, just shuffled the album and got to work at putting her clothes away. She watched Wren shuffle through her backpack, pulling out a couple of loose knick knacks. One looked to be a miniature Statue of Liberty, while the other was slightly larger, with a round glass bulb and soft blue base. Inside, a statue of a tiny fairy with butterflies in her hair were showered in glitter, the motion of Wren pulling it out of the bag, shaking the water and glitter around.

"That's a pretty snow globe, Wren." Taylor complimented, moving to sit down on the edge of the girls bed. Her foster-daughters bed. She would never get used to that. It would never feel real.

"Thank you." She whispered, moving to place it beside the teddy bear on the desk, brushing her fingers along the soft beige belly of the bear. Taylor watched her for a moment, smiling happily as 'The Best Day' began to play in the background. Wren's entire demeanor changed, and Taylor swore the faintest smile appeared on her lips.

"Did you know I wrote this song for my Mom?" Taylor asked, catching Wren's attention again. The little girl shook her head, so Taylor continued. "Yeah, she was my best friend when I was little. She's still my best friend. She's the one who got you that bear. I called her while I was doing the dishes, she said she's glad you like it."

Wren plays with her fingers, looking back and forth between Taylor and her trembling extremities. "W-Will you tell her I say thank you?"

"Of course. She'll love to hear that. Alright, we've unpacked all that you have. Do you want a tour of the house? I think you'll like the theater."

Chapter Text

the rest of the world was in black and white, but we were in screaming color. and i remember thinking

DECEMBER 5th, 2019

The storm outside had subsided sometime after one o'clock, but grey skies remained, and gusts of wind still slammed against the windowpanes. The gloomy overtone of the day hadn't been lost on Taylor and Wren, despite hiding inside the dimly lit theater. They sat lazily on the floor of the large red-velvet lined room, Taylor's laptop synched to the giant projector screen as they browned clothing options. Wren hadn't opened up anymore, but she also hadn't completely shut Taylor down. The blonde figured it was progress, in some fucked up way.

"You can tell me what you like, Wren." Taylor said after the sixth time of the brunette beside her remaining silent as she skimmed the options. She figured synching her screen to the projector would be the best option, giving the girl a chance to still keep her distance while getting necessities that really couldn't wait much longer. "Would it be easier if you tell me your favorite color?"

"Blue." Wren whispers, worriedly glancing at Taylor for her opinion on the color. Although the blonde notices, she doesn't comment, simply offering the little girl an encouraging smile.

"Dark blue? Light blue? I can filter in some specific blues for you to look at." The blonde types blue into the specific search bar, hovering over the two shade selections while she waits for Wren's opinion. "I promise I won't mind whatever color. I want you to get something you'll like and be comfortable in."

"Light blue." Wren sighs, voice quivering. Taylor wonders how somebody can beat a child down so bad they fear even sharing their favorite color.

"I like light blue, too!" She beams, "Any shade of blue really. But, I have a lot of light blue hoodies back in New York." Upon seeing the confusion on Wren's face, Taylor giggles. "I haven't told you about that yet, have I? I have houses all over. New York, Nashville, Rhode Island, LA, and one in London. I spend the most time in New York though. Have you ever been?"

Wren nods, "Once."

The blue eyed woman beams, adoring the city that never sleeps more then she'd ever be able to express. Although, Nashville's right up there on the list, her long history cemented into the streets of the city feeling something like the essence childhood. "Did you like it?"

"Yes. That's where I got the Statue of Liberty." Wren knows Taylor saw the mini statue, she saw no reason to hide that detail, but anything else was left unsaid, another mystery Taylor hadn't earned the privilege of knowing yet.

"We can check it out again if you'd like. We won't be back in New York for a while, but if that's something you'd like to do, I can definitely make it happen." She smiles, not missing the way Wren's eyes brighten in glee.

"I'd like that." She whispers, nervously fiddling with her fingers. "I-I like that shirt." She points to the screen, finger directed at a light blue shirt with long sleeves and snowflakes on the front.

"Perfect! Good job, telling me! Do you see anything else? It's okay if you don't, we can always try another website." Taylor gushed, adding the blue shirt and the matching blue shorts to her cart, even if Wren hadn't said she liked those too. Taylor figured it wouldn't hurt to give the girl options when putting together an outfit.

"I-I liked the first pink shirt we saw. W-With rainbows." She mumbled, and Taylor grinned, going back to the front selection page and adding the pink shirt to the cart as well, throwing in a couple similar designs and colors as well. "Thank you, Ms. Taylor."

"It's just Taylor, buddy. You don't have to thank me, either." Taylor so desperately wanted to pull the brunette girl into her arms, kiss her head and prevent any further harm from ever crossing her path, but it was too soon. The poor thing beside her had only just stopped trembling.

An hour later, Taylor had successfully gotten the girl to pick out a handful of outfits and a pair of converse sneakers, despite the silence that came from her company at the prospect of so many new things. She figured they'd shop for toys sooner or later, but not wanting to overwhelm the child even more then she already had, they left well enough alone for the day.

"How about some lunch, honey? Emily said you didn't eat this morning." Taylor hummed, "I can make us some grilled cheese. We can watch a movie, or play a game down in the living room."

Despite the theater, Taylor still preferred the comfy couch downstairs with all of her assorted cat pillows and fluffy blankets. The ambiance of luxury hadn't fallen into her routine, simply a means to achieve some privacy at the end of the day.

Wren agrees, although Taylor's not sure if it's more for the sake of actually being hungry, or just to avoid punishment. Either way, she takes it as a win, guiding the way back down to the kitchen. Benji greets them in the doorway, meowing at his mother with an arched back and wagging tail.

"This is Benji, Wren." Taylor scoops up the kitten who is significantly smaller than the other two she has. "I adopted him a couple of months ago." She beams, "I'm not sure if you've ever seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, but that's what he's named after. It's probably a bit mature for you right now, but I'll show it to you one day." Taylor grins before releasing the cat again, watching him scurry off to his new playmate, weaving in between her legs with loud purrs. "It's okay. You can pet him. I'm going to get started on the grilled cheese."

As Taylor turns around to grab a pan, Wren bends down to embrace the fluffy Ragdoll cat, rubbing between his ears and down at back. His purring only increase, and Wren grins a bright smile at the sight of him nuzzling into her. When he nuzzles a bit too aggressively into her knee, she topples over, landing on her bottom, but lets the cat climb up into her lap, cuddling him close, however keeping a close eye on Taylor to make sure she doesn't turn around.

Unaware of the sight behind her, Taylor grabs the loaf of bread from beneath the stove, and then spins around to grab the cheese and butter. Her heart races seeing Wren on the floor, cuddling her littlest kitten tightly. With fast reflexes from nearly two and a half decades of scrambling to jot down song lyrics before she forgets, she snaps a picture of the scene, acting as if she hadn't noticed anything out of place when she feels little eyes cautiously peering into her back. Slathering one side of the bread with butter, she plops it into the pan, unwrapping each individual slice of yellow American cheese.

"Hey, Wren. Do you want one slice or two?" Taylor asks, turning around slowly, giving the little girl enough time to decide if she wanted to stay on the floor or stand up. Taylor isn't surprised to find her anxiously swiping her palms down her pants, standing on two feet when she turns around, but her heart still drops.

"Um. I don't know." She frets, eyes frantic.

"Hey, that's alright. I usually make mine with two. Do you wanna try the cheese before I add it? Decide if you like it?" Taylor holds up a slice of cheese, extending it to Wren who shyly shuffles over. Benjamin follows at her heels, his tiny teeth trying to dig into her pants. "Benji, no. Stop biting. I'm sorry, Wren. You can shoo him away if you want."

"I-It's okay." Wren promises, taking the cheese that Taylor offers. Her eyes light up at the first bite, having only ever had the cheap grilled cheese her previous foster parents made, one with stale shredded mozzarella and old bread that was burnt on every corner. "Two please."

"Do you want to finish this slice?" Taylor asks kindly, offering the remaining square of cheese that she hadn't broken off. "I can open another."

Shyly, Wren nods. She steps closer to Taylor, close enough to really see the freckles that are dotted across her legs. Taylor grins at the progress being made, but doesn't make it a big deal.

"Do you want to help me? I used to love being my moms sues chef." Taylor beams, laying two slices of cheese on the sizzling slice of bread in the pan. It's definitely over cocked, but nothing she can't tolerate. She'll make the next one for Wren, not wanting to make her feel like she's expected to eat burnt food.

"What's a sues chef?" Wren mumbles, watching Taylor use a spatula to flip the sandwich before one side goes completely black.

"It's basically an assistant chef. If you want to help, I could really use a hand grabbing two plates from that cabinet. I forgot." Taylor grins sheepishly, and for the first time, Wren offers a shy giggle, the apples of her cheeks and tips of her ears becoming a faint flush of pink.

Looking toward the cabinet Taylor pointed to, she was careful to avoid stepping on Benji, finding somewhat of a certainty in her steps as she approached the deep coloured cabinets. The whimsical knobs were just out of reach from her fingertips as she reached up, bracing against the counter and raising to her tippie-toes as she tried her best to reach the cabinet. Taylor hardly surprised her giggle, turning off the burner on the stove and pulling up an island stool for Wren to climb up on.

"I guess this makes me the sues chefs sues chef." She teased, letting Wren figure the situation out for herself, her mothers words from childhood coming back to her in comforting waves as she held her breath watching Wren kneel on the wooly stool, 'Let them do dangerous things carefully, Scott. They'll be okay.'. Wren would be okay, even if she fell, even if Taylor couldn't get to her in time. It was only a few feet off the ground, and her hands would probably catch her before her head did. Not typically such a worrier, this child being solely her responsibility had already changed her perspective of simple danger.

"Here, Taylor!" Wren beamed, her sweet eyes squinted as she analysed the blue design on the outskirt of the ceramic china. Taylor grinned, accepting them thankfully.

"Thanks for your help, buddy. Do you wanna do me another favor? It's alright if you don't." Taylor plated the first made grilled cheese, using the same knife she'd used on the button to cut it diagonally down the center.

"Um, I want to." Wren decided, right back to her fidgety reserve as she bit her bottom lip. Taylor wished she had even the slightest insight for what was going on in her head.

"You sure? You can always escape to the living room with Benji." The blonde assured, buttering another slice of bread and turning the burner back on low, dropping the bread in the pan before she added the two slices of cheese.

"M-My last placement didn't let me help. I... I used to help my mom bake when I was little." Wren averted her gaze, shaking like a leaf in a summer storm as she avoided Taylor's gaze.

"Thank you for sharing that with me, buddy. That was super brave. Alright, can you grab the jug of lemonade from the fridge for me? Mom dropped it off this morning." Taylor smiled, not dwelling too much on Wren's admission before they had some basic trust established. The slightest wrong step would send her running right back to that corner she'd only just stopped hiding in. "And Wren? If you ever wanna bake something. I'd love to."

The little girl just smiled shyly, waddling toward Taylor with two hands holding the glass jug of homemade lemonade. Granulates of sugar float around the bottom of the jug, but it's not much of a concern as Taylor instructs Wren to pick out the fanciest glasses she can find. "Why fancy?" Wren crinkles her nose, setting two mismatched wine glasses in front of Taylor on the messy island.

"Why not?" Taylor smirks, finishing up the second grilled cheese and cutting it in the same diagonal way. She carries the two plates over to the island, and then pours them both lemonade, leaving the dishes and stray ingredients to be dealt with later.

"I figured we could talk about me, now. I know how tiring it gets when the only thing anybody wants to talk about is you. I wanna get to know you, but you deserve to get to know me too. I can give you a list of questions to pick from, or you can ask your own. Whatever you're comfortable with." Taylor takes a bite of her sandwich, not all that bothered with the thick crunch of the over toasted bread.

"I c-can ask you questions?" Wren's eye become wide with shock as she pulls apart the grilled cheese, eating stray ends of the crust before she shows the slightest interest in the actual sandwich.

"Anything you want." Taylor nods, sipping on her lemonade, making a show of swirling it around the glass making Wren crack a smile and try and imitate her.

"Um... what's your job?" She asks innocently, nibbling on the grilled cheese.

"I'm a singer, buddy. I thought you would've known that after you saw my face on the CD. I can show you some of my albums and awards after we finish up in here. How does that sound?" Taylor asked, and Wren nodded, although slightly still confused, she didn't vocalise it, even if Taylor could see it in her face.

"Do you have a favorite song? That you wrote?" Wren asked, taking another bite of her grilled cheese, not realizing that she'd stopped hesitating, entirely focused on the soft look in Taylors eyes as she maintained eye contact.

"Can I have two? For different reasons?" Taylor asked, and Wren nods. "I'm the most proud of All Too Well. But, I think my favorite song that I've written is Lover."

Wren perked up, "I know that song! It was on the radio when Emily picked me... up." Her demeanor fell, remembering the events that led to this conversation. Taylor frowned, reaching for Wren's hand but she pulls it back in a hurry, eyes panicked as she freezes.

"I wasn't going to hurt you, buddy. I'm sorry I scared you. I know we just met today, and you have every reason to not trust me, but I want to help you, however you need me too. Do you understand? You're safe here. If you wanna talk, if you wanna yell and break things, if you just want to cry, or need a hug, just come to me okay? I'm never gonna turn you away, not even at midnight." Taylor pulled her hands into her lap, staying as still as possible to communicate her honesty, the bleeding truth behind her words.

"Okay." Wren whispered, though she didn't move her hands back to the table, sitting stiff and rigid in the too big stool. She looked tiny, shoulders pulled to her ears, little body hardly tall enough to be fully over the island. Her chest came to the lip of the counter, legs kicking against the legs of the stool in a rhythmic pattern.

"Do you want to ask me more questions, buddy? I can tell you about how I grew up in Pennsylvania." Taylor offered, and Wren nodded at the offer, remaining silent with her bottom lip bitten between her teeth. "Okay, honey. I lived in a small town for fourteen years. It was beautiful, we had a property on a christmas tree farm. In the winter, we'd go out back and take our sleds down the hills, sometimes we'd run into the trees, you never knew where you'd end up. Everything would be white after a snowstorm, it would light up the entire house. When Dad would call us back inside, Mom would be waiting with hot chocolate in the kitchen, a big smile on her face after watching us through the window. She always put peppermint sticks in mine, Austin liked cinnamon."

"I remember, I remember a day in middle school. I was thirteen. Some girls who I thought we my friends had been picking on me, they found out about my singing, they didn't approve. I came home crying. Mom grabbed the keys, told Dad it would be just him and Austin for dinner that night. She took me to the King of Prussia Mall. We window-shopped for hours, talked the entire drive their and back about everything and nothing. By time we got home, I had forgotten about what made me so upset. I remember feeling so lost. I didn't know who I was going to talk to at school anymore, but none of that mattered. I'd had the best ending to my horrible, horrible day. That house wasn't just a house. It was my home. We moved to Nashville the next year. Hendersonville became home too, but Wyomissing is the first place I think of when somebody asks." Taylor smiles tearfully, not missing how Wren cling to the every word of her story.

"D-Did you cut down your own Christmas trees?" Wren asked shyly, and Taylor beamed.

"Yeah. We'd pick a day in December, a week or two before Christmas. Austin and I would always fight about which tree was the tallest. Dad would pretend to pick one of ours, but him and Mom had already picked out the best one to bring inside. We have boxes and boxes of ornaments. Some of them Austin and I made in school, others just random characters we liked when we were little. Mom uses more traditional ornaments now, but it's that's something you wanna do, we can look at some displays in the mall, and I can ask Mom to bring over my box of ornaments. Who says we can't have a fun tree?" Taylor grins and Wren smiles shyly.

"Okay." She agrees, nodding softly at the offer.

"Speaking of Christmas, I usually head over to my Moms house. My Dad and my brother fly in. We keep it small, and we open presents in our pajamas. Would you like to do that? We can have our own Christmas here, too. I just don't want you to think I'm keeping you away from my family. They can't wait to meet you, Wren. We'd open Santa presents here, though." Taylor smiles kindly, trying to pave a path of honesty and trust with Wren. Her file was as much of an indication that her feelings were never considered as a written testimony would be.

"Santa's not real." Wren scrunched her nose, looking at Taylor with pure confusion.

Taylor matched her expression, heart hammering in her chest at the protest of Christmas magic being ruined for an eight year old girl before she even got the chance to play Santa, "Why do you think that?"

"He never came." Wren frowned, "M-My teachers at school said even if you don't have a chimney, Santa has a magic key. So why didn't he come? Mr. Timothy said believing in Santa is stupid."

"Santa does have a magic key. I spent Christmas with my Dad's family one year when Austin and I were little, and they didn't have a chimney. I was so worried, Austin cried for hours, but when Mom put us to bed, we heard the reindeers on the roof, and in the morning, all the presents I thought he would've left in Pennsylvania were downstairs. Maybe Santa couldn't find you? I'm sure he tried his best, but sometimes it's hard to find people. Should we write him a letter tonight? And tell him where you are? I should have some special Santa stamps in my office somewhere." Taylor suggests, and Wren nods.

"He didn't forget about me?" She worries, looking down at her half eaten grilled cheese, avoiding Taylor's eye.

"He could never forget about you. I'm sure it was an honest mistake. We can write one to him now, if you want? You don't have to finish that if you're not hungry." Taylor smiles softly, extending a hand to take Wren's plate if she decides she's done. The little girl hands it over, watching Taylor's every move with eyes full of innocence.

When her back is turned, scraping the remains of the cold sandwich into the trash, Taylor finally lets her reserve break. Her nostrils flair, eyes dark with anger. What kind of people ignore a little girl on Christmas? A little girl they choose to take in at the very least. She'd right that wrong, she was absolutely determined to.

Setting the plates in the sink, she was surprised to find Wren at her side with the two empty wine glasses. "Thank you for helping, buddy. Now what do you say we leave these in the sink for a bit so we can write that letter?"

"W-Will you write one too?" Wren worries, and Taylor nods immediately. Cautiously, she reaches her hand out for Wren, feeling like the world stops moving around her when the little girl slowly links their limbs, holding on loosely, as if to make herself feel invisible. "Thank you for lunch."

"You're welcome, buddy. But you don't have to thank me." Taylor squeezes her hand softly, letting her calloused fingertips trace the soft knuckles of the little girl. "Now, let's go find those stamps and envelopes?"

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Taylor watches Wren stare at the empty paper in front of her, her small hands are gripping onto a black ballpoint pen so tightly, that her knuckles are becoming white from the pressure. Her tongue pokes out from between her lips, but the concentration has led her to nowhere. Taylor's own paper is already filled with words, a makeshift Santa letter that will really just be mailed to her mother. Andrea's already been made aware of Taylor's plan, and the blonde knows that her mother will be anxiously awaiting the two envelopes for the next few days to come.

"Can I help you with anything, Wren?" Taylor asks softly, setting her own pen down. She'd been doodling peppermint designs on the corners of the letter, trying to keep herself looking busy so Wren didn't panic.

"I don't know what to say." Wren whispers, the thick tinge of shame in her quivering little voice makes Taylor's heart sink.

The blonde slowly stands up from her office chair, circling around the desk until she's at Wren's side, close enough for the little girl to smell the hints of citrus in her daily perfume. She's taken her hoodie off, and with how close the two are in this moment, the freckles on her arms are visible.

"Tell Santa where you are." Taylor says softly, getting down on her knees so that she's head-level with Wren, her forearms leaning against her desk. The lounge chair they pulled away from the corner is just high enough, that Wren doesn't have to sit on her knees to reach the hard surface, but Taylor thinks she looks adorably small anyways. "Can I help you start it?"

Wren nods, looking pleadingly at Taylor. She offers the pen to the blonde, but she simply shakes her head. "You write it. I'll just help." She smiles kindly, pushing the pen away from her softly, and waiting for Wren to get ready. "Start off with Dear, Santa. It's important you always address who the letter is about."

Wren scribbles down the letters, handwriting impossibly neat and pristine on the paper. Her A's are adorable, the swoopy tops looking like little umbrellas for the rest of the letter, everything else is perfectly straight, looking like it had come straight out of the type-writer. "Perfect. Why don't you tell Santa that you're with me? That you're going to be staying here now."

'Dear Santa,

I'm not staying with Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adriana anymor. I'm staying with Ms. Taylor, she has three little kitties. I think you...'

"Taylor?" Wren whispers, eyes pinched with fear and hesitation as she looks over at the blonde. When Taylor nods her listening, Wren continues, her voice barely above a whisper. "How do you spell couldn't?"

Taylor grins, "C-O-U-L-D-N, now make an apostrophe, it's the little flick that you used when you spelled I'm... good job, and then a T. Couldn't." Taylor beams, watching Wren print the letters carefully and neatly.

'...couldn't find me when I was with Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adrianna acus they...'

"I-Is wouldn't spelt the same? With the... with the...?" Wren trails off, trying to remember the word Taylor had given her. Her cheeks are flush, the tips of her ears the same shade of red as she looks at Taylor embarrassed.

"Apostrophe. Mmhm, that's right! Good job, buddy." Taylor grinned, heart soaring in a deep feeling of pride she'd never felt before.

'...wouldn't let me right you a letter. Ms. Taylor says that's why you didnt come, so she sayd to right this.'

"What else?" Wren slowly warms up to Taylor being so close, hardly hesitating as she looks between the blonde and the quarter filled paper with fancy text at the top that says Taylor's name. The lines are a deep gold color, and Taylor had told her that it was special paper she uses sometimes for work.

"Write the address." Taylor tells her the numbers and words to write, and Wren follows her instructions meticulously. "Now, why don't you tell him a couple of things you want? I won't look if you don't want me too."

When Taylor starts to stand, Wren looks at her panicked, shaking her head quickly. "S-Stay."

"Okay, baby. I'm right here. Keep going, you're doing so good." Taylor coos, bending down again, ignoring the pain in her knees.

'Ms. Taylor said to tell you what I want. Can you bring me the never growing up song please. Mommy used to sing that. Can you bring another Sulley? Mr. Timothy throwed the first one away. And...'

"Taylor?" Wren asked, looking toward the blonde who has a faint smile on her lips as she reads the words Wren writes. "How do you spell bracelets?"

"Can you sound that one out? We'll do it together. BRA-CE-LETS." Taylor smiles, and Wren copied her words.

"B-R-A-C-L-E-T?" She asked shyly, but Taylor shook her head.

"That's so close, buddy. But, there's another E between the C and the L." Taylor nodded encouragingly and Wren nodded, jotting it down in her note.

'...more bracelet beads.'

"That's all I can think of." Wren admits, setting the pen down on the table. It's not much, but it gives Taylor enough insight to put together a few birthday and Christmas gifts for the little girl.

"It's perfect. Now, you have to close the letter. No, no, not literally silly. I just meant you have to sign your name at the bottom." Taylor giggles when Wren starts to fold the paper up. She blushes, doing as Taylor asks, and then looking at her expectantly. "Do you wanna draw him a picture? If not, we can fold it up and put it in the envelopes. It's not too late, we can drop them off at the post office if you want to send them today."

"I don't know what to draw." Wren frowns, looking at the set of markers Taylor pulled out from one of her drawers.

"Why don't you draw him a picture of the cats? You told him I have them, I'm sure he'd want to see." Taylor encourages, and Wren nods. She flips the paper over onto the blank backside, grabbing the brown marker that Taylor left on the desk from when she'd scribbled a Christmas tree.

Three cats later, Taylor and Wren were putting stamps on the corner of the envelopes, the letters sealed inside with a kiss for good luck.

"Alright, you go find your jacket, and I'll tie these together so they get to Santa at the same time." Taylor shoos the little girl away, hurriedly scribbling her moms address next to the stamps. One side of the envelope says 'To: The North Pole' whole the other says Andrea's home address. Tying the envelopes that one of each is visible, Taylor hopes Wren doesn't notice before they're able to drop them at the post office.

When Wren appears in the doorway again, her black coat is buttoned up, holes in the pockets and sleeves, stained with what Taylor hopes isn't blood. The blonde frowns, "Buddy, do you want to borrow one of my coats? That ones got holes in it, I don't know how warm it'll keep you."

"I can?" Wren whispers, and Taylor nods instantly. Offering her hand to the little girl, Taylor leads the way into her bedroom.

"You can pick whatever one you want. They're all going to be big, but it'll work until we can order you a new one." Taylor opens her closet doors, stepping to the side so Wren can look at her options. She's barely four feet tall, and the closet racks hang far above her head, hangers completely out of reach. So, when she finds one she likes, she points to it shyly, turning to look at Taylor. "Good choice. Mom and I have matching ones. It was the first coat I bought with my own money." Taylor remembers the day fondly. It was the first paycheck she saw for her music, and she insisted that her and Andrea need matching winter coats. It was November, 2006. The storms were crazy, and the gold buttons were like a dream under those bright fluorescent lights. "We should get you a hat too. It's only ten degrees outside!" Taylor gasps playfully, rummaging through a drawer until she found a knitted baby pink hat with braided ties and pink pompoms. "That's from when I was your age. I wore it every winter until it didn't fit anymore. I couldn't throw it away, but I think it'll fit you nicely. If you want, you can keep it."

"I can?" The same amazement circled her eyes as she watched Taylor move just close enough to settle the hat over her head and ears, leaving the ends untied.

"Of course. What's mine is yours, even if that coat drowns you." She giggled, helping Wren fasten the buttons that came all the way down to her shins. The purposefully long coat came mid thigh to her, but almost two feet taller then the little girl, it was quite an adorable sight. "Alright, ready to rock, superstar?" Taylor grins.

"Aren't you the superstar?" Wren's head tilt was the epitome of innocence, eyes raking the pictures displayed around Taylor's room with enough attentiveness to notice a majority of them featured her with friends and family, but a select few all featured an instrument, usually the piano.

"Touché. You're a superstar by association then." Taylor laughs, saying goodbye to Meredith as they pass her in the hallway. The white scottish fold turned her head, trotting away, hardly giving the blonde a second glance. "The post office isn't that far. We can walk if you want, or we can drive and we can see if some of my favorite houses have their Christmas lights on. I probably shouldn't feed you fast food on your first night, but... it's Christmas time?" Taylor tries to reason with herself, and Wren just offers a shy shrug. "Honey, you can have a voice here. I know that it'll take some time, but I want you to tell me what you want, what you don't like, if I make you mad. I'm gonna mess up sometimes, but I'm never above apologizing when I hurt your feelings. Do you understand?"

Wren shuffled back and forth on her feet, nodding nervously. "C-Can we drive?"

"Of course. I don't know if you'll need a car seat. Did Emily have you in a car seat on the way here?" Taylor asked, suddenly remembering that although Wren is eight, the standard age to outgrow a booster seat, she's on the smaller side in height. A problem neither Taylor nor Austin had. Something that hadn't even crossed her mind.

"She said I needed one. She didn't have one though." Wren whispered, playing with her fingers.

"Okay honey, you have two options, okay? We can wait to drive by the post office, and I can have my mom drop by with a booster seat, or we can head to the post office now and go to Target before we look at the lights. People might come up to us in Target though, sometimes they recognize me and want a picture or want to say hi." Taylor explains softly, getting down on her knees to give Wren the height advantage.

"Um," Wren looks around nervously, bitting on her bottom lip with watery eyes. "W-We can go to Target."

"Okay, that sounds like a plan. Let me just grab a hat, okay, buddy? While we're there, we can look for some room decor. Would you like that?" Taylor asks softly, beyond proud that Wren made the decision on her own.

When Wren nods, Taylor rushes back upstairs, almost wishing she'd left her bodyguard on the schedule for today, she decides against texting Chad. He's a nice enough man, stationed in Nashville with her until the week before Christmas when he'll fly back to New York to be with his husband and kids, but she doesn't want to insert herself into his plans for the night, and she's not sure how Wren will react when she's barely functioning around just Taylor to begin with.

After Taylor finds the baseball cap she's looking for, one of Joe's that he's left with her, she stumbles down the stairs, unable to stop herself from taking a picture of Meredith and Wren all cuddled up waiting for her on the last step.

"She likes you." Taylor smiles, pocketing her phone and sitting down on the step beside Wren, reaching out a hand to Meredith who lazily leaned into her touch, sprawled out on her back across Wren's thighs.

"Really?" Wren looks up at her with bright eyes, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Really. She usually hides from new people. You better watch out, you might find her and Benji in your bed tonight." Taylor jokes, standing up, leaving her cat to sulk in Wren's clutches. "Are you ready, buddy?"

When Wren nods, Taylor smiles, leading the way toward the front door, making sure the overhead light in the kitchen is turned off before they leave.

Chapter Text

it only hurts this much right now, was what i was thinking the whole time. breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

DECEMBER 5th, 2019

A lot of things didn't happen that evening. The predicted sunshine weather never returned, Wren never realized that Andrea's address is scribbled on the back of the letters to the North Pole, and Taylor didn't get recognized. Currently making their way through Target with a cart, the slim box of a standard black booster seat was the only thing they'd acquired thus far, but now Wren's eyes were dancing along the shelves of the room decor aisles, her smile wide. 

"Do you like that blanket, honey?" Taylor asks, eyes skimming the shelves to find what Wren was so entranced by. The pink knit blanket was right in her eyeshot, soft and thin as it sat rolled into a bundle. Shyly, Wren nodded, letting her fingers dance over the soft fabric. Taylor didn't spare a second thought, reaching for one and throwing it into the basket of the cart. "I want you to get anything you like, okay? I want this to feel like your home too." Taylor already had a plan for the New York apartment, a place she spent most of her time, but it was important to her that in Nashville, the first place Wren would ever share with her, that she got to have her own creativity show.

"C-Can I get him?" Wren asks, looking longingly at a pale yellow giraffe sitting alone on the shelf. Taylor smiled brightly, grabbing him by the neck, and offering him for Wren to hold.

"You don't have to ask, buddy. Whatever you want, we'll get." Taylor says softly, looking around the aisles some more before she found a dome lamp, decorated with small pastel peaches. "Do you like this?"

Wren nods, eyes bright. "Perfect, I ordered different furniture for your bedroom this morning. I wanted you to have something that was bought for you, and I think this will look cute on the desk."

"Thank you." Wren whispers, and Taylor doesn't fight her on saying thanks when it's not needed this time.

"Can I hug you, buddy?" The blonde asks instead, and Wren's eyebrows immediately raise. Her response is enough to say she hasn't been hugged in a while, and if she had been, nobody had ever asked. Waiting until Wren nods, Taylor closed the space between them in seconds, cradling the little girls head with a tender touch. They must've stayed like that for a minute, other shoppers passing through the aisles, before Taylor pulled away, smiling brightly. "You never have to ask for a hug if you need one."

Not finding anything else they like in that aisle, Taylor rounds the corner to the toys, smirking when Wren is immediately drawn to a puzzle. Belle is on the front, and from the side, Taylor can see the the full piece is a design of both the Beast and Belle in front of the enchanted rose. She remembers those days, being obsessed with Princesses and singing the world in the car until she ran out and started making her own. She might've missed that stage of Wren's life, but she'd endorse any remnants of childhood that remained.

"Why don't you pick a couple puzzles? I'll pick a couple too." Taylor suggested, eyeing the wall of puzzles until she found one that perfectly suited the walls of her hallway, a thousand piece puzzle of cat paws seemed perfect, and was added to the car in seconds. "What do you think of this one? It's got flowers." She points to another, which Wren nods her to head. "Which ones have you got?" Taylor takes a peak, smiling as they're all Disney Princesses. Although, she does quite like the one of Rapunzel letting her hair down the tower. "Good picks. Should we get a Christmas one? We can start it tonight."

"That one?" Wren points to a puzzle of a snowy cabin, the lights dim inside but the sky black as midnight. Taylor beams, reaching for it off the highest shelf and adding it to the cart.

"Perfect." She decides, walking further down the aisles until they reach the card games and game boards. She throws another deck of Uno cards into the basic, not knowing where she'd left the last pack she bought. One of the few downsides to owning so many properties in different states, things were always going missing and turning up months later. "Wren, do you like any of these? I have a couple in the game closet, but I'm thinking we should get Sorry Sliders."

"I don't remember playing any of these." She looks at the games, becoming increasingly overwhelmed as Taylor ponders the options.

Noticing the quick breaths that are coming from her counterpart, Taylor turns away from the selection, eyes frantic as she reads the clear panic in Wren's chest, the constant changes and new beginning they met today starting to catch up with the little girl. "Hey, that's okay. We can play the ones at home for now, and see if you like any of those. It's okay. Can you take a deep breath for me, buddy?" Taylor frowns when Wren struggles to do that, laying one hand on Wren's chest and bringing the little girls clammy and trembling palm to sit on her heart over her clothes. "Breathe in. Breathe through. Breathe deep. There you go, breathe out. Can we do that again? In. Through. Deep. Out."

"Should we get out of this section, buddy?" Taylor asks, and Wren tearfully nods. "It's okay, I'm not mad. You've been through a lot today. It's okay to need a moment."

"C-Can I hold your h-hand?" Wren asks shyly, voice hoarse from the minor attack Taylor interrupted. Taylor slips her hand into Wren's, squeezing twice before she's leading them back to the cart.

"I want you to pick out a cup. Sometimes we'll be at a hotel for a couple of nights, on a plane for hours, in a car to an event. It's nice to have something familiar, a little piece of home." Taylor led the way to the cup section, walking slowly with her hand in Wren's and the other on the cart handle. "There are a lot of options. Why don't we stick to one's with a straw."

Wren followed Taylor down the aisle, stopping in front of a beige colored tumbler, the handle slightly curled to mold to the shape of the holders fingers. "Do you like that one?" Taylor asked, grabbing it off the shelf. Wren nods, so Taylor puts in down in the cart beside the giraffe that somehow ended up in the basket.

Telling that Wren was beginning to grow claustrophobic in the store, Taylor guided her back to the cart, keeping her between her chest and the carts handle. "I promise we're almost done. I wanna see if we can find some clothes for you, and then the notebook aisle. I need another."

Wren nods, stepping when Taylor stepped, stopping when Taylor stopped. She watched Taylor throw in a book that was propped against the side of the alley, grab a pack of cookies with a little wink and a raised finger to her lips. They found the stationary aisle first, and Taylor reached for the first black notebook she could find. Wrens eyes watched the sketchbooks, fingers ghosting along the cover of a mid-sized book, decorated with sketches of flowers.

"Do you want that, buddy?" Taylor asks, coming to Wrens side to see the sketchbook. "Throw it in the cart, baby. Do you wanna get some pencils? Look at these ones, they're pink with gold ends." Taylor picks up the pack, noticing that the sketching pencils have affirmations carved into the sides with gold paint highlighting them.

"Yes please." Wren mumbles, grabbing onto Taylor's hand once again, stepping so close that their arms brush. Taylor smiles, nudging Wren the slightest bit, taking a minute to listen to the songs that play through the speakers.

"Okay, last stop, then we'll get some food and go see the lights. Sound like a plan?" Taylor asks, pinning Wren between her again, giggling when the little girl takes a step too quickly and runs into the cart handle.

Taylor had checked Wrens sizes when they started looking for clothes online. The ones she showed up in were tight, slightly worn from continuous wear, so Taylor had ordered everything in the next size up, though they were still two sizes away from the standard size for an eight year old. She told Wren to look for a size six, and both of them spilt up to scan the racks and asiles, the blonde looking over the racks every couple of seconds to make sure she could see the top of her head. Taylor grabbed the basics first, sticking with neutral colors like white, black, and brown, but grabbing a few pastels, unable to help herself as she stumbled upon a couple of long sleeved tops with colorful designs. Leggings, jeans, and shorts were becoming a mountain in the basket, so Taylor went back to looking through the shirts, grabbing a couple Christmas designs with cute reindeers and candy canes. A wide smile brightened her face, grabbing at a pastel purple shirt, and she called for Wren instantly.

"Wren! Come here, baby! Look!" She grinned, holding up the shirt to her chest. "It's Sulley!"

Wren beamed, grabbing it from Taylor's hand with a bounce in her step and a twinkle in her eye, a drastic change from the sheer fead on her face that morning. Progress. They were making progress. She looked entirely at ease, apples of her cheeks pink from excitement.

"Why don't we pick up two? One in your size and one in the next." Taylor grinned, already grabbing the next size up, turning around to see Wren completely infatuated, stroking her finger along the shiny blue and purple character.

"M-My Mom and I would watch Monsters Inc. She told me that I was Boo for three Halloweens. I wanted to be Sulley the year... the year that she d-died." Wren whispered, still holding onto the shirt, tracing over Sulley like he would disappear if she looked away.

Taylor frowned, not know what she could possibly say to make Wren feel better. There was no feeling better after everything she'd been through, just going through the motions until it didn't hurt so much anymore, but anytime Wren got that chance, the rug was ripped from beneath her feet and she was forced to start over. She's only eight years old. Eight years old and she lost both of her parents, only to be thrown into a system that failed time and time again. Taylor's own thoughts circled back to Andrea. Her blonde haired, blue eyed, loving mother that she'd been lucky enough to have in her life for thirty short years. Her mother that was facing a potentially terminal illness.

"You, are so incredibly strong, Wren. Do you hear me? You are so so strong. I can't replace your Mom, and I never ever want to do that, but I know she's so proud of the little girl you've become." Taylor whispers, leaning in close, searching for Wren's eyes. When she found them, she smiled softly, pulling the little girl into a hug that she eagerly reciprocated.

Taylor stayed in that embrace until Wren pulled away, wiping at her eyes with tear tracks down her cheeks. Softly, Taylor wiped them away, kissing the crown of Wren's head before she looked toward the front of the store.

"How about we check out and get some food in that belly? Does that sound like a good plan?" Taylor asks softly, caressing Wren's face. The little girl doesn't lean into it, every muscle in her body rigid, but Taylor takes no offense. Above them, Lover begins to play, reminding Taylor of the moment they'd shared before. They'd been through the ringer today, each of them with one foot down a new path of life.

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The car smells strongly of McDonalds, an empty paper bag and abandoned Happy Meal box sitting on the passenger seat emptied and crumpled, two sweet teas sit in different cup holders as Taylor and Wren inch down the lit up street, sweating down the side as beads of condensation form. The heat is blasting to fight off the cold that tries to break through the doors and windows the longer they roll down the street, hot breath fogging up the windows in the backseat as Wren watches fascinated, nose pressed to the glass. The pastel giraffe sits in her lap, providing warmth to small areas of her body.

Taylor had switched the radio channel an hour ago, and the car had suffered a painful loop of the same few Christmas songs since. Taylor mumbled the words to a few, before she succumbed to the comfortable silence that fell on top of her and Wren like a warm blanket. Every few minutes she looked back at Wren, an incessant worry festering in her chest to make sure she's still alright back there. A soft smile pulls at her lips each time she saw Wren watching the displays in wonder, completely content with the moment.

As they reach the end of the street, Taylor realizes at the next turn that she's taken them to her mothers house. A soft smile pulls at her heart, a warm feeling spreading through her belly at the sight. The silhouette of her mother in the kitchen window is far away, but still visible, and Taylor smiles widely. Putting the car in park, Taylor texts her mother, telling her they were outside, but wouldn't be coming in.

"Hey, buddy." Taylor says softly, turning back to look at Wren. Her eyes are sleepy, head lulling to the side as she tried to stay awake to keep looking at the lights. The car screen reads eleven o'clock, a long day having been lived since this morning.

"Mmhm?" Wren yawns, hugging the giraffe closer to her chest by the neck. Taylor coos, wishing she could snap a picture to cement this moment in time, though she knows it's one that she'll never forget.

"This is my house, buddy. Do you see that person in the window? All the way back there?" Taylor points toward the kitchen, where her mother is waving enthusiastically. "That's my Mom. Her name is Andrea. And she should be asleep, but I bet she's probably making a cup of tea." Taylor laughs, texting her mother to go to bed before twisting back to look at Wren.

"I like her snowmen." Wren looks out the window, eyes reflecting the bright white lights of the decorative snowman, one with a fancy red scarf and the other with three black coals down his belly.

"I'm sure she'd love to hear that. You ready to go home? I think it's time for somebody to get some sleep." Taylor smiles, putting the car in drive and pulling away from her house, making the drive back to her apartment without another word.

The world is quiet, midnight echoing around the town with only lamppost and Christmas lights brightening the streets. It's still, the morning storm having rolled over, leaving nothing but tranquil ending in its wake. The mornings approaching in some countries, but nightfall as only just began in Nashville.

On the last turn toward the apartment, hands going numb from holding the wheel so long, and for the second time that day, Taylor hears the familiar guitar strums start to sink into the car from the speakers, and a smile breaches her lips, disrupting the stillness of the moment that surrounds her and Wren.

'we can leave the christmas light up til january, this is our place, we make the rules'

Taylor pulls into the parking garage, turning the car off, an immediate rush of cold sinking into the black leather interior. She shivers involuntarily, turning around to corral Wren out of the car, she smiles softly seeing the little girl asleep against the window, giraffe clutched in her hands tightly. Unbuckling, Taylor pockets her phone and her keys, going around the back of the car and slowly opening Wrens door. The little girl doesn't stir, entirely worn thin from the high emotions day she'd been through. Taylor reaches over to unbuckle her, feeling her body rush with heat as Wren wiggles into her arm, still fast asleep, trust enough that she hasn't bolted awake.

Careful not to bump the little girls head on the car, Taylor easily slips Wren from the booster seat and into her arms, feeling like this is the only place she was ever truly supposed to be.

DECEMBER 6th, 2019

The morning was eerily still when Taylor woke, alone in her bed with a smile on her lips, mismatched Christmas pajamas on her body, remembering everything that had occurred yesterday, and how her life had literally changed overnight. Sliding out of bed, she doesn't even bother checking the phone for the time. Pulling her unruly curls back into a ponytail, Taylor gives Dibbles a scratch behind the ears on her way downstairs.

She'd slept with her bedroom door open last night, in case Wren needed to find her, and so she could hear her if anything happened. Thankfully, she'd slept peacefully, and there hadn't been any disturbances. However, she still felt the need to check. Creeping down the hallway to the bedroom adjacent to hers, Taylor slowly peaks her head inside, the doorknob cold beneath her fingertips that are still warm from sleep. She smiles seeing Wren awake in her bed, sitting up against the wall and fiddling with her fingers.

"Hey, buddy. Good morning." Taylor smiles, staying in the doorway, not wanting to impede on the girls space so early in the morning. "I moved you up here last night, you fell asleep in the car. I hope you slept okay." She smiles, looking down after feeling the fuzzy sensation creeping up her shins as Benji rubbed his sides against her legs, meowing loudly. "Morning, Benji." She laughs, bending down to collect him in her arms and scratching beneath his chin. "I was going to start on breakfast. Do scrambled eggs and waffles sound okay?"

Wren nods silently, and Taylor beams. "Do you wanna help me? It's okay if you want to hang out in here until it's ready, we had a late night."

Wren doesn't move from her bed, doesn't say anything, just looks at Taylor with a startled expression similar to a deer in headlights. Taylor backs away, with Benji still in her arms, and sets off toward the kitchen. She knows this is normal, that Wren's not doing anything out of character and it's not intended to hurt her, but her heart still aches in her chest. She might be infatuated with that brown haired little girl, but she had been the one to sign up for this. That little girl was battered and broken down and thrown into an entirely new life in a matter of hours. She needed time to process.

She grabs the egg carton from the fridge, somehow juggling the gallon of milk and stick of butter in her hands as well. Preparing the eggs before she starts on the waffle batter, she sets the ingredients on the counter before grabbing a pan and a bowl. Cracking four eggs into the white ceramic bowl with Merediths face on the bottom, Taylor adds in some salt and milk, whisking them together like her Mom always did as a kid. She sets it aside after that, working on the batter and grabbing the deep blue waffle maker. She spoons the batter into the maker, closing the lid and turning back to the eggs. She butters the pan, the burner on high, and begins to pour in the yellow soupy yolks when the floorboards creek in the living room, giving away her company.

Taylor smiles, turning away from the eggs for a second to look at Wren, still dressed in her clothes from yesterday, hair somewhat tamed but still unruly and in her eyes. "Hey, buddy."

Wren manages a wave, shyly stepping toward Taylor to see what shes doing. In the daylight, with her long sleeves wrinkled and out of place from the night seat, she can see the deep ligature marks on her wrists, remembering how Emily had mentioned her being restrained when the police arrived.

"Do those hurt, honey? I can get you some medicine." Taylor asked softly, turning back to scramble the eggs before they burn. She scrapes them into a bowl, looking at Wren who has her sleeves pulled over her hands now. Taylor sighs, taking the waffle out of the maker and pouring in new batter before she walks toward Wren. "Wren, can you look at me. Hi, there are those pretty eyes. I'm not going to get mad at you, nothing that happened was your fault. My only goals are to make sure that you're happy, healthy, and safe. I saw the marks on your wrists, if they hurt, I can give you some medicine so it doesn't hurt."

"Please." Her voice cracks, eyes practically bleeding with pain she'd tried to hide. Taylor nods, remembering the last place she'd had the ibuprofen was in the upstairs bathroom.

"Okay, does anything else hurt?" She assessed, making a mental note to buy another bottle of pain meds to keep downstairs somewhere.

"M-My side." Wren shrinks into herself, biting down on her lip so harshly Taylor worries she'll draw blood.

"Can I see, baby? I won't touch it, I promise. I just want to make sure it looks okay." Taylor pleads, shoulders relaxing when Wren slowly pulls up the side of her shirt, revealing an ugly yellowish bruise. It's not fresh, definitely not from yesterday, too yellow to have been from anytime this week at all, and the thought of prolonged abuse still having its physical repercussions in a space where she wants her to feel safe makes Taylor feel sick. Coming to her own conclusions about Wren's past is the last thing she wants to do, but she can't help but wonder how many bruises had already healed? How many nights did Wren lay awake, restrained to a bed, in pain? "Can you watch over the waffle for me please, buddy. I'm gonna go grab a tank top for you and some medicine."

Wren nods slowly, taking a deep breath to steady herself like Taylor had talked her through last night, rising panic in her chest, but deep green eyes and freckle dusted cheeks still watched Taylor leave, like Wren was clinging to the memory of the blondes company in case she never came back, in case this was all that she ever got.

Upon entering Wrens bedroom, the floorboards we cold beneath her bare feet, and the first thing Taylor noticed was how neatly her bed was made. The comforter was meticulously folded at the corners, and pulled taught against the mattress like it had been made by a profession, while the giraffe stuffed animal sat in the middle of the pillows, looking like he'd never been hugged. The entire room looked as if nobody had been there the night before, the teddy bear Taylor saw in bed with Wren early when she opened the door, now sitting in the same sad place on the desk like it was yesterday. A frown pulled at Taylor's lips, her heart sinking, but she doesn't take the time to speculate whatever Wren's reasonings were, simply moving toward the dresser to find a specific tank-top her Mom had picked up yesterday.

Once it was in her hands, along with a pair of snowmen pajama shorts and a fresh pair of underwear, Taylor retreated to her bathroom in search for the medication. She pulled the extra-strength bottle of ibuprofen out of her cabinet, and then shuffled around her vanity drawers for the topical pain relief cream. Once she'd found what she was looking for, Taylor rushed back down the stairs taking two at a time, finding Wren on the floor with Benjamin, her clothes covered in cat hair from how he rubbed against her. Snapping another picture, Taylor approached slowly.

"I brought down some clothes for you, honey. There's a bathroom around the corner, you go change and I'll work on breakfast. When you come back we'll sort you out, okay?" Taylor directed softly, making herself smaller in front of Wren.

"Okay." The little girl whispered, Taylor the clothes Taylor was offering and slowly walking out of the kitchen, down the hallway toward the bathroom that she remembered passing a couple of times yesterday.

The waffle-maker clicked the second Wren was out of earshot, and Taylor finally let herself cry as she plopped the waffle onto a plate and lathered it with butter, leaving the other for Wren to decide what she wanted on top. The sensation of tears falling down her cheeks while she worked was overstimulating as her mind was already working overtime trying to understand everything that was happening around her. Wren wouldn't let go of her last night when she tried to transfer her into bed, she had to pry tiny arms away from her neck, but now, she wouldn't even share a sentence, even more reserved then she'd been when she first arrived.

Taylor wiped her cheeks when she heard the bathroom door click, and tiny footsteps pattering down the hall and toward the kitchen. Sniffling, the woman turned to face the doorway with a smile, a handful of eggs sitting on the outskirts of two ceramic white plates.

"I didn't know how you wanted your waffle." Taylor admitted softly, setting both plates down on the kitchen island. "We have butter, nutella, and peanut butter. I was just about to grab the syrup from the pantry." Upon seeing Wrens confused face and her clothes folded in her arms, Taylor smiles. "Right, I'll set these aside for right now. I suppose we should go out later and get you a hamper. I completely forgot."

Taylor tried her best to ignore the dark patches of healing bruises down her arms and legs and how sickly she looked with her protruding collarbone and bony kneecaps, deep lacerations stuck out from her knees in angry red lines, like she'd been forced to kneel on a wire for some time.

Taking the clothes off of Wren, Taylor set them down on the edge of the island, walking around the pantry until she found the syrup lying next to a bad of mini chocolate chips.

"I found the best thing, Wren!" Taylor exclaimed happily, waking back into the kitchen to find Wren sitting on the barstool, her legs bent beneath her body again. "Chocolate chips!"

Wrens eyes light up, watching Taylor closely as she sets the bag of sweets down on the island along with the bottle of syrup, the red cap slightly scraped up from an infamous number of times being dropped. Unlike before, when she'd plated Wren a naked waffle, theres butter smeared on it now, and she can't help but smile softly knowing Wren was comfortable enough to make that choice for herself.

Taylor pried the bag of chocolate chips open, sprinkling some on her own waffle before pushing the bag toward Wren, reaching for the syrup next. All while plotting out a plan for their day. "I thought we could run some errands after breakfast. We need to get paint for your door, and I completely forgot about how you'd need a hamper too. After that, maybe we can watch a movie?"

Wren nods easily, hand in the bag of chocolates before she sprinkles them on top of her waffle, copying Taylor when she reaches for the syrup. Taylor spears eggs on her fork, watching Wren with soft adoration in her eyes.

"Do you have a favorite Christmas movie?" Taylor asks, cutting jokes her waffle down the groves. She'd made sure there was at least one chocolate chip in every pocket, a trade from childhood she never broke.

"Um, the W-Winnie The Pooh one." Wren mumbles, cutting her waffle messily, smearing chocolate around the plate as she had no pattern.

"We can watch that later. I don't think I've ever seen it." Taylor grins, letting the warm chocolate melt onto her tongue as she takes a bit, flashing back to her Pennsylvania home for a few seconds as she thinks of her Mom working in the kitchen for hours, always outdoing herself with breakfast, lunch, and dinners. Remembering last night, Taylor adds, "We also have to grab the shopping bags out of the trunk."

"Sorry I fell asleep." Wren apologizes softly, eyes studying the ceramic plate as she shovels pieces of waffle and eggs into her mouth, avoiding Taylor's eye.

"That's alright, it was late and we had a long day. That's not something I'm going to get mad at you for. When I was little, Austin and I would pretend to be asleep in the backseat so Mom and Dad had to carry us inside. They always knew we were faking, but they never said anything, just laughed about it the next morning when we rolled out of bed. Even if you're pretending, I'm always going to carry you inside." Taylor says softly, Wren's eyes slowly looking up from the plate to search Taylor for her honesty.

"My Mom used to carry me inside. Even if I wasn't asleep." Wren slowly opens up again, showing Taylor a glimpse of the girl she'd gotten to know last night, a glimpse of the girl she wanted to cherish and protect and never let go.

"She sounds like she's a lovely woman." Taylor smiles kindly, hanging onto every word Wren says that relates to the life she used to live. In her head, she could imagine a woman with the same brown hair and green eyes, a kind smile and nothing but love for her daughter and their little family. She didn't have the same respect for her father, not when he'd abandoned her without any parents. She might've never met Wren if he stayed in the picture, but that little girl would've never gone through hell either.

Wren perks up, her eyes becoming tearful as she looks at Taylor with a bleeding heart. "Y-You're the only one who talks about her like she's still... alive."

"She's always going to be alive in your head and you're heart, Wren. I'm never going to be the one to take away that living memory of her. She's your Mom, you deserve to remember her in the best ways." Outside, where the ground is below freezing and the air is filled with agonizing cold, snowflakes form in the clouds, floating down to the ground so softly, they don't even make a sound, but in minutes, the discolored grass is painted white.

The two women, one twenty-one years younger than the other, sit in comfortable silence that feels like the start of a new season, as they finish their homemade breakfast, only sparing small glances and fleeting smiles every few minutes as the sound that fills the kitchen is left up to the cutlery that clanks on the plates. When bellies are full, and plates are empty, only then do either of them break out of the bubble of peace they created. Taylor collects their plates, moving toward the sink with soft mindfulness in her movements. She's the first to notice the snow, and a warmth bubbles in her belly as she thinks of all the ways they can spend this day after they run their errands.

When the plates are washed, and the cutlery is dried, Taylor turns back to look at Wren who's been watching her with gentle eyes the entire time, a far contrasted to the guarded gazes they'd shared just an hour earlier. Everything is falling into place again, temporarily displaced by an unknown entity that one girl doesn't want to share, and the other is subsequently left in the dark about. It doesn't matter, all tension forgotten by this point, as they begin again with fresh slates.

Taylor grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, cracking it open and setting it next to Wren on the island. She twists the child-lock cap off the medication, finishing out a single white pill before handing it over. Next is the cream, a process that's entirely more vulnerable, and leaves both of them with their heart on their sleeve.

"Will you lift your shift for me, buddy? This should make the bruising feel a little bit better. Do your arms hurt too?" Taylor runs through her internal checklist, twisting off the cap and collecting a small amount on her fingertips, gently brushing it over the bruising on Wren's side. The brunette jerks away at first, but surrenders to the painful prodding at her second most tender spot.

"No." She whispers into the silence, unable to notice how her voice echoes in the otherwise quiet and empty kitchen. "My back hurts."

"Okay, we can fix that. I need to grab something else from my room, I can't use this cream on your back." Taylor wipes her fingers down her pajama shirt, not bothered by the residue that appears white on her clothes. She caps the tube and bottle again, leaving them on the island for a later date. "Leave your shirt tucked up like that until the cream dries. Come up with me." Taylor easily lifts her off the stool, laughing when Wrens cheeks flushed bright red.

Taking Taylor's hand, Wren followed her through the apartment, taking note to all the pictures that are hanging on the walls from her childhood, and a few that's seen so outdated. There's one of her and a man, wrapped up in each others arms, a blanket of snow on the ground but their bodies wrapped up in warm flannels and winter coats.

"That's my partner, Joe." Taylor smiles softly, stopping to admire the picture that Wren is analyzing. "He's in London with his family, right now. My Mom took that when he surprised me in New York on New Years."

"You look happy." Wren softly states, trying to memorize the genuine smile that twists Taylor's lips. Most of her face is hidden in his, Joe's, shoulder, but the smile is obvious, lighting up her cheeks better then the cold could. Although it's in black and white, her blush is apparent.

"I was. I was having a bad week. He wasn't supposed to be back from LA for another two weeks. He can't wait to meet you, ya know. I talked to him last night after I put you to bed. He wanted to hear all about your first day." Taylor brushes a strand of hair out of Wren's eyes and tucks it behind her ear, revealing more of her freckle coated face.

"Really?" Wren breaks away from the picture, meeting Taylor's eye as they stand still at the top of the staircase.

"Really." Taylor squeezes Wren's hand, smiling with more then just her eyes as her entire body seems to relax. "My family can't wait to meet you. My Mom was so excited when I called her about you yesterday. We're taking this at your pace, though. They understand how hard this is, they just want you to be comfortable and happy. Whenever you're ready, and not a minute sooner." Taylor promises, and Wren nods, looking relieved that she's not going to be forced into anything she's not ready for, although adults have a habit of breaking promises with her.

In seconds, the happy atmosphere that Taylor established dismantles, interrupted by storm clouds in Wren's eyes as she lets out a sob, knees buckling beneath her, and she crumbles onto the stairs. Taylor was right before her, immediately collecting the weeping child in her arms with as light as touch as she could muster.

"Hey, hey, shhh. You're okay. Let it out, baby." She's careful of the girls back, her hand high between Wren's shoulder blades, rubbing gentle circles into her flush skin. She keeps Wren's face in her neck, blocking out the overstimulating light from the hallway and kitchen, feeling her cries vibrate against her skin. Is this the second shoe that she'd been waiting on since Emily left yesterday morning? "It's okay. You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt you here. Shhhh."

Wren didn't calm down. As the snowstorm outside turned the world into a wonderland, her cries only grew as she stayed trapped in whatever was happening in her mind. Taylor felt completely helpless. She'd had Wren in her care for only twenty-four hours, knowing just enough about her past to say that it was traumatic, and yet she's upholding a legal obligation to care for her, show her comfort and warmth, and help her through the aftermath of a mystery. Any mother would know how to comfort their child, and yet Taylor was stranded in a choppy sea with nothing to grab onto, feeling more than isolated and unfit. Her panic only increased when Wren began to claw at the neckline of her blue tank top, gasping for breath as her trimmer nails left red impressions on her skin. The sweet girl was at war with herself, and Taylor had no way of guiding her through it until Wren calmed down enough to explain. Pulling the little girls hands away from her chest was the only thing she was sure of in the moment, and so she did exactly that, kept them pinned to her own chest, letting Wren grab onto the neckline of her pajama top without complaint or hesitation that it could potentially be ruined. That didn't matter now, only Wren did. Her other hand stayed tight around the girls middle — grounding both of them, a physical reminder that whatever Wren was mentally, wasn't her reality.

"Shhh, you're okay." Taylor somehow managed to get Wren into her lap, wrapping both arms around her quivering body when Wren's arms looped around her neck like an involuntary action in a tight hug, her sobs slowly becoming quiet. Doing the only thing that had ever come natural to Taylor, she began to sing softly beneath her breathe, rocking both her and Wren to the melody of the song she knew by heart. A song she'd stayed up late writing, dreaming about this very moment when she had her own kids to protect. "I remember tears streaming down your face when I said 'I'll never let you go', when all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said 'Don't leave me here, alone'. But all that's dead, and gone, and passed tonight. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound."

Taylor hadn't realized her eyes had closed, but when she opened them, found herself on the stairs and no longer in a haze of chord progressions and lyrics, it was like the sun shining after a storm, and Wren's bright eyes were the first thing she saw. The sobs had ended, the trembling had stilled, and it was just her and her foster-daughter alone in a snowglobe, snow falling all around the outside like somebody had shaken the world.

"There are those pretty eyes." Taylor traced a finger down Wren's check, so softly it was barely there, but any harder and she feared Wren would turn to ash in her arms. "What's going on up here, angel?" Taylor softly taps the side of Wren's head, smoothing her unruly hair back from her face.

"Y-You're being so nice to me." Wren blubbered, dropping her face back into Taylor's chest when she felt the waterworks start to creep up on her again.

"Hey, hey. Shh, it's alright. No need to cry." Taylor rocked them back and forth again, dropping her chin to the crown of Wren's head and just sitting in the moment, letting it wash over her completely something she's notoriously terrible at letting herself do. "I'm being nice to you because you deserve it, Wren. You deserve to be cared for."

"I-I know, b-but Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adrianna didn't! So, so why are you! Why are you being nice!" Wren sobbed, though there was a handle on her cries now, not sounding so painful and harsh like the ones before.

"This is all I've ever wanted, Wren. All I've ever wanted is to look out for people who wasn't so lucky before. I'm the lucky one that I get to do it now. That I get to do this for you. I wanted to take you in, and give you a home, and love, and a family. It's not fair how you ended up here, and if I could bring your Mom back for you, I would honey. But this is the best I can do for you, and I'm going to try my hardest to make sure you feel like you belong, because you do. You belong here, Wren." Taylor pressed kisses into the girls head, closing her own eyes to block out the world for a little while longer, rocking the both of them until Wren sat up straight.

"I-I had a nightmare." She admitted, voice low as she searched Taylor's eyes, finding nothing but genuine love and affection as she truly listening to what Wren was saying. The only person who had ever done that for her before was her Mom. Her dead mom. "I didn't know where I was when I w-woke up. I thought I was in trouble when you came in before. S-So I hid in the room! And-And-And—"

"Take a breath. Just like that. Good job." Taylor praised, keeping them both rocking side to side, thankful to see that it was helping Wren to some extent. "You had a nightmare, and when I came into your bedroom you thought you were in trouble, what else? Keep going." Taylor encouraged, keeping any display of pain out of her eyes, trying to put on a brave face for Wren.

"Mr.Timothy and Mrs.Adrianna yelled at me when I came out of my room. S-So I thought you were tricking me. But, then I remembered you said you wouldn't do that. I'm sorry!" Wren rushed to explain, and Taylor's face crumbled, feeling like she'd been stabbed in the chest as she cradles the back of Wren's head and brings her close.

"Good job at remembering, honey. You were so brave to come downstairs, I bet that was scary. But you know what, you can come out of your room whatever you want. If you need me in the middle of the night or you want a snack, if you wake up before me and you want to watch TV downstairs. You're never going to be confined to your room. This is your house too. You live here. You can go wherever you want." Taylor plays with the soft ends of Wren's silky hair, forcing herself to really feel Wren beneath her fingers, a means to ground herself as the violent storm of sadness washes over her. "Do you feel a little bit better now?"

Wren nods, shyly twisting Taylor's hair around her nimble fingers, laughing softly when Taylor peppers her cheeks with kisses. "Good, I'm glad. Now, let's see about getting some cream for your back."

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The crisp air of winter was biting and brutal as Taylor and Wren slumped through the lower level of the apartments parking garage. With tinted red cheeks and runny noses, their glove covered were full of bags, both from last night and their mid-morning excreción to the hardware store. They'd found the perfect three color to paint the exterior of Wren's bedroom door, and had eagerly decided to tackle that project first upon arriving back home.

"Do you like hearing yourself on the radio?" Wren asked, still going over the lyrics to Lover in her head while Taylor shifting the shopping bags in her hand to press the top button for the elevator, waiting for it to arrive at the bottom level before they could pile inside and get warm.

"Yeah. When I first started out, it was probably one of the most exciting things that happened after I released an album. It got a little annoying for a while though. I was always grateful, but for a couple years people didn't have great opinions of me, so it hurt to hear them talk about me before they played a song and say a lot of things that aren't true, and have never been true. Now, I feel the same way I did when I was fifteen." Taylor smiled down at her, marveling at the sight of her pink hat sitting on top of Wrens neatly braided hair.

"Why would they say things that aren't true?" Wren frowned, eyebrows scrunching together. Since her meltdown on the stairs, they'd made leaps and bounds of progress, almost like a weight had fallen off of both of their shoulders now that most things were out in the open. Taylor was still on edge of stepping wrong and being at fault for Wren's panic, but the little girl hadn't noticed, just glad to be spending her day with Taylor.

Taylor sighs, stepping into the elevator when the doors ding and a hot breeze comes rushing out, pressing the button for the top floor before she begins to formulate her answer. "When you have a job like I do, a lot of people think that they're automatically entitled to know every detail about your personal life. Sometimes, people get jealous and say mean things about you to make themselves look better. I'll explain the full situation when you're older, but for right now, I just need you to promise me that you'll never judge somebody based on a rumor you hear."

"I promise." Wren nods, stepping closer to Taylor's side, struggling to hold the three bags in her hand the longer they stay standing. "Did it make you sad when they were saying not true things?"

"It did. It made me really sad, actually. I went away for a while and I only hung out with my family and friends that I knew I could trust. I think most people have either forgotten about it or gotten over it by now, but I still worry that the rumors will start again." The elevator dinged again, opening the doors to Taylor's apartment. The front door was locked with a padlock and a keyhole, so after she punched in the numbers, and fished out her key, she tried to formulate her next sentence in a way that an eight year old could understand. "Just because you don't know somebody, doesn't mean that your words won't hurt them. And, can you take back mean words after you say them?"

"No." Wren shakes her head, following Taylor into the apartment and walking straight into the living room, setting down the shopping bags that would've left red impressions on her palms had it not been barricaded by the padding in her gloves. "Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adrianna would apologize after they said mean things when I first started to live with them. It never made me feel any better, cause they still thought those things when they said them."

"Right, so can you promise me you'll try your best to think before you speak when you're angry or frustrated. You can't take back mean words, and forgiveness isn't an easy thing to get back after you lose it." Taylor kissed Wrens head before she pulled the pink hat off her head, laughing at the flyaways that poke out in all directions, her own shopping bags discarded next to Wren's on the couch.

"I promise. I don't wanna be like Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adrianna." Wren shook her head with a scrunched up face, pulling her red gloves away from her hands and shivering when the rush of heat made her fingers burn.

"You could never be like them." Taylor assured her, sitting down on the floor and pulling her winter coat off. Wren was still wearing one of hers, but the new one she ordered last night should hopefully be coming with the rest of the clothes in the mail tomorrow. "Okay, sort everything that's yours and I'll sort everything that's mine. After we get everything out away, we can start on your door."

Chapter Text

but i know i'm laughing, on the car ride home with you. don't know how long it's gonna take to feel okay, but i know i had the best day with you, today

DECEMBER 10th, 2019

Mornings had risen and nightfalls had passed since the first day Wren and Taylor spent together, and the snow that coated the streets of Tennessee had significantly increased since, all signs currently pointing to having a white Christmas. They had decorated the apartment two days prior, a ten-foot Christmas tree decorated with mismatched ornaments now sat in the corner of the living room, complete with six strands of rainbow LED lights and a gold tree skirt. All things considered, Wren was settling in as well as to be expected, though they still had their ups and downs like any parent and child did. She wouldn't come to Taylor after a nightmare, even if the tears tracks were evident on her cheeks come the morning light, she still didn't trust that she could leave her room until Taylor came to get her, and they had definitely their fair share of tears shed, but all things considered, life was going smoothly.

Today, Taylor had planned to take Wren over to her Mothers to build snowmen in the backyard, leaving the apartment empty aside from Chad, the security guard, and the movers that were set to be coming at ten to assemble Wren's new furniture. That had still been the plan when Taylor woke up and made them both breakfast, until she'd gotten the call that her Andreas chemo appointment had been rescheduled. Biting her bottom lip, Wren was upstairs getting dressed into her new snowsuit, all of her clothes and knick knacks temporarily re-located in the guest bedroom down the hall.

"I'm ready!" Wren beamed, waddling down the hallway in thick baby blue padding. The pink hat was on top of her head, despite Taylor buying her a beanie that matched the color of her snowsuit. She looked adorable, and Taylor demanded she pose for a picture really quick before she told her the bad news.

"I've gotta tell you something, Roo." The nickname had come about after the third time they'd sat on the downstairs sofa and watched the Winnie The Pooh Christmas movie, festive experience complete with hot chocolate and homemade cookies that had given Wren so much energy, she bounced all over the living room until Taylor trapped her in her arms and showered her with kisses.

"A-Am I in trouble?" Wren panicked, taking a step away from Taylor out of habit, eyes peeling for the nearest exit in case she had to run. "I promise I didn't mean to be bad!"

"No! No, of course not! You could never be bad!" Taylor shook her head immediately, frowning at the sheer terror in Wren's green eyes. "It's about Mom. Her doctors appointment got rescheduled, she won't be out of the house like I thought. I'm sorry, buddy, I really thought we'd be able to go."

Wren nodded her head, waddling closer to Taylor now that she knew she wasn't in trouble, her eyes softening as she took in the apologetic gleam in the singers eyes. "We can still go?"

"If you want that, we can. I'm sure Mom wouldn't mind watching a few movies in her room while we're over." Taylor nodded, reaching for Wrens hands. The little girl stepped closer, letting her gloved hands sit on top of Taylor's.

"She d-doesn't have to." Wren shook her head, hoping that Taylor understood what she was getting at. She'd spoken to Andrea over the phone a few nights ago, having a conversation about baking cookies whenever they got the chance to meet. She sounded nice, and Taylor trusted her, so that had to mean something.

"Really?" Taylor perked up, her blue eyes bright as she searches Wren's face for any sign of hesitation. "You wanna meet Mom?" The little girl nods shyly, and Taylor beams. "We can leave anytime you want, or if you need a minute, you tell me and we'll go somewhere else, okay?"

"I trust you." Wren whispers shyly, shrieking in laughter when Taylor pulls her into her lap and peppers kisses all over her face, not leaving out the top of her nose that's turning pink from the heat of the apartment.

"I'll never do anything to break that." Taylor promises when she relents in her attack, letting Wren stand on her own two feet again. "Let me text her."

'We'll be over in 20. Roo wants to meet you.'

Once she'd sent the text, and she made sure that it delivered, because for how much she pays for WiFi it liked to act up, Taylor stands up, reaching for the duffle of spare clothes that she had packed earlier that morning, and then shuffling to grab her winter coat off the hook in the entryway, texting Chad that they'd be leaving and the code hadn't changed since the last time he overlooked a project.

"I've told you about Kitty, right?" Taylor double-checks, locking the front door behind them before she races Wren to the elevator, a habit they'd somehow formed over the last five days. Wren gets there first, definitely not because Taylor let her win, and presses the downstairs button — the only button on the panel seeing as Taylor lived on the top, most secluded, floor.

"Yeah! That she's big but she's nice!" Wren bobbed her head, pressing the button on the inner panel to take them down to the lower level of the parking garage. It was the rules, whoever got to the elevator first got to press all the buttons. Wren hadn't caught on yet that she always won.

"Yeah! She'll try and jump on you, but she won't bite you. She's a big baby like Dibbles." Taylor laughed, shoving her fingers into her black gloves that she always stored in the pocket of her coat for conviene. She had spent too many years searching for matching gloves, or any gloves at all.

"Dibbles tried to eat my sock this morning!" Wren laughed, remembering how she'd woken up to the white cat biting at a pink sock she left on the floor after changing last night. When Taylor had gone in to check on her just after midnight, because yes she still needed to make sure Wren was okay, it was the first thing she had noticed. It was the first sign that Wren was accepting this apartment and Taylor as her home, even if to anybody else it would've just been a kid leaving her clothes on the floor.

Taylor smiled widely, "Watch out for Benji. One day you'll wake up with him standing on your forehead."

They rushed to the car, only seconds in the unusual cold already turning their cheeks pink and chilling their bones. Tennessee rarely saw the darker days of Winter like this, but Taylor was falling deeper into the nostalgia of her childhood in Pennsylvania the longer it stretched through the week, though the hope was for the cold to last through Christmas, there was a chance of low fifties next week. Wren was just enjoying the Christmas Card reality of it all, having only ever experienced a handful of light dustings through her almost nine years of living in Nashville.

Wren opened the back door of Taylor's sleek black car, sliding into her booster seat and buckling herself in. Taylor did the same, turning on the engine and listening to the car purr to life, Lover coming on over the radio making her laugh.

"What do you say we listen to my Spotify?" She looked at Wren through the rearview mirror, and although she's proud of the song, and adores that other people love it, she's not sure how many more times she can listen to her same song in just one week.

"Can we listen to Fearless?" Wren beams, leaning in close to the front row, her smile contagious as Taylor eagerly agrees. Scrolling through her iTunes, because she's not about to play her songs through a streaming platform in her current situation, she shuffles the album, a grin growing on her lips when the opening chords to Hey Stephen blares through the speakers. "Taylor?" Wren asks, nodding to the music that's she's familiar with.

"Yeah, buddy?" Taylor pulls onto the road, checking her mirrors as she makes a left.

"You have friends, right?" Wren checks, and Taylor can't stop the full belly laugh that shakes her chest with joy.

"Yeah, I have friends, buddy. Are you gonna ask for their names to double check?" Still laughing, she makes a right hand turn, admiring the inches of snow that have piled on street corners, the once clear roads now white from laid salt.

"No." Wren shakes her head, giggling as she leans back in the booster seat and looks out the window, noticing that some decorations have been completely covered. "I was gonna ask if you still have sleepovers."

"Sometimes, buddy." Taylor shakes her head, her lips pulled into a wide grin as she stops the car at a red light. "I'll stay over my friend Selena's sometimes."

"Oh." Wren wrinkled her brow, tilting her head to the side as she studies Taylor's posture in the drivers seat, "I thought you were too old for sleepovers."

Taylor playfully gasps, craning her neck to stick her tongue out at Wren. "I'm not old!"

"You're a grown up!" Wren defends, and Taylor can't argue with her logic, shoulders shaking with gleeful laughter she wouldn't have found without her presence.

"A very young grown up." Taylor nods, "You can have sleepovers forever and ever. You're never too old for them. In fact, sometimes my Mom has sleepovers."

"Really?" Wren gasps, "Mr. Timothy said I was too old for sleepovers!" Taylor forces herself to remain calm, to remind herself that Wren isn't capable of understanding the cycle of abuse that so many abusers implement, and that she, herself, was victim to. She doesn't realize that it starts with fake apologies, that it spirals into isolation, and eventually becomes so consuming that the victim is convinced what's happening to them is their fault and it's deserved and justified. Wren was five when it started, all she knew was that Timothy and Adrianna were mean, and somehow, that was her fault. She had no reason to not trust them, but now, she doesn't trust anyone so easily.

"Would you like to have a sleepover?" Taylor switches the approach of the conversation, only now beginning to realize that in all of their conversations, Wren hasn't brought up any friends that she made at school or during the two years she spent doing ballet with her birth parents.

"I don't know. I don't have anyone to have a sleepover with." Wren shrugs, watching some of the houses that looked familiar from their drive a few nights ago. They don't look as magical in daylight, but the decorations that are visible are still pretty.

"What about friends from school?" Taylor frowns.

"I don't have any." Wren admits sadly, her voice no louder than a whisper as she bites her nails. "They made fun of me, and I didn't like that it was loud there. Taylor, do I have to go to school now that I live with you?"

"You do, buddy. But, I talked to Emily about getting you into an online program so that you won't miss anything when you come to work with me." Taylor had felt so guilty about Wren's schooling since the conversation with Emily, knowing that it wasn't ideal to pull an eight-year-old out of public school so she could travel freely, but hearing how Wren describes her experience settles her a bit.

"I won't have to see Katie and Ellie anymore? They told everyone that I smell so nobody else would talk to me. And when I told Mrs. Zander, they called me a tattletale and a cry-baby." Wren disclosed, shoulders sinking downward as she makes herself small, remembering the torment she hadn't opened up about since Timothy told her it wasn't important to him.

"You never have to see Katie and Ellie again. What they said wasn't nice, they should've never said those things. When people are mean, it says a lot about them. Maybe Katie and Ellie learned to say those things because somebody said it to them." Taylor tries to comfort her daughter, but there's only so much she can do while driving. She has a whole new appreciation for her Mom now, seeing the conversation that she had gone through so many times over from a different perspective.

"But, if somebody said those things to them and it made them sad, why would they say it to me? I just tried to be nice to them. I let them take my turn in recess so they didn't have to go to the back of the line!" Wren frowned.

"I'm sure you did your best to be nice to them, Roo. But, sometimes when people's feelings get hurt, they want to make somebody else feel the same way."

"I never wanna make somebody feel sad inside." Wren pouted, meeting Taylor's eye in the rearview mirror, seeing the faint trail of freckles that span across the bridge of her nose.

"I know. You're a good girl, Wrenny." Taylor smiles proudly, her heart swelling at Wrens admission. She pulls up to Andrea's gated driveway, opening her widow wide enough to get her arm outside and punch the code she knows by heart into the white keypad, seeing the light flash green before the tall black parted down the middle, allowing her to drive up the path and toward the house.

"Taylor?" Wren called for the blonde, her voice quivering with nervousness as she fiddled with her fingers. "What do I call your Mom?"

"Whatever you want. Andrea is fine, but a lot of people call her Mama Swift. She won't mind, even if you only call her The Easter Bunny." Taylor jokes, looking back at Wren when she puts the car in park and turns the engine off, cold rushing in through the vents in seconds. "You ready to go? We can go straight to the back, we don't have to see her until you're ready."

"She won't be mad?" Wren bites on her bottom lip, teeth marks indented in the flesh semi-permanently now from how quickly she was making it a habit.

"Not at all. She's nervous too. She wants to make sure that you're comfortable." Taylor smiles, opening her car door, haunting the conversations for a moment, before she's coming around Wren's side and bending down so they're eye level.

"Grown Ups get nervous?" Wren questions, reaching for Taylor with puffy arms and gloved hands. She wraps her body around Taylor, making the blonde laugh as she easily lifts her out of the car.

Taylor thinks back to all the times she put on a brave face for Wren, wondering if that was the right decision. She'd mistakenly engraved this thought into Wren's head, although she was that the thought had been cemented there by Timothy and Adrianna Tilghman with or without her actions. "Everyone gets nervous, everyone gets scared."

"Even you?" Wren gasps, examining every feature on Taylor's face, checking to see if she was being truthful. She found no hints of deception.

"Even me. When you feel upset, I get scared, but I make sure that you can't see me being scared, it helps me focus on you, and making sure that you're okay. When you're a grown up like me, you'll have other people to worry about other than yourself. But, even though I don't show it all the time, I have the same feelings that you do." Taylor kissed Wren's cheek, leaving the duffle in the car until they needed it later, and walking around to the side of the house where she unlocked the gate.

"Do you get nightmares like me?" Wren whispers, understanding what Taylor said to the fullest extent that she could.

"Sometimes. You know that if you have a nightmare, you can come get me, right? You don't have to be alone." Taylor shifts Wren higher in her arms, the puffy snowsuit making it harder to keep a grip on her.

Wren nods, playing with the ends of Taylor's hair as she takes in the backyard, and the stretches of snow covered land that lead to a sloped hill, a white picket fence keeping the property enclosed. Her eyes widen when she notices that on top of a sled wooden sled with red metal skates, is a plastic red shovel and a collection of carrots and scarves.

"Look!" Wren gasps, wiggling down from Taylor's arms and bolting toward the shovel, the only sound her footsteps make is snow crunching beneath her feet. Taylor smiles softly, remembering the days back in Pennsylvania when she'd come home to this exact sight. Andrea would lay out her oldest scarves, a few carrots she could spare from that weeks grocery trip, and two shovels, one red and one yellow. Tilting her head up to look through the kitchen window, the spot her mother had always taken up — no matter the state. She's not surprised to find Andrea with a mug of tea in her hands and a smile on her lips. Mouthing a 'thank you', Taylor sprints to catch up with Wren, bending down in the snow so she could grab one of the carrots.

"What first, boss? Snowmen or sledding?" Taylor asks, pressing her gloved hand down into the snow, watching her bully handprint appear when she pulled her fingers away.

"Snowman!" Wren beams, handing Taylor the shovel with a bashful smile, her cheeks flush. "Will you start one?"

Taylor nods. Wren had lived in Tennessee her entire life, and spent the first six years toward the South end before Timothy and Adrianna moved. She'd only taken a handful of trips out of state, and even if they did happen in the Winter months, Taylor doubts the plans ever included building a snowman. Clearly embarrassed about not knowing how to build one, Taylor gets to work with demonstrating. The snow is perfect as it crunches together beneath her gloved fingers, a fist sized snowball her first step. She's working slowly, making sure that Wren is watching.

As she rolls the snowball through the snow, letting it get bigger until it's a decent size, she leaves it alone to repeat the process and makes a slightly smaller ball. She lifts it carefully, setting it down on top of the first before she starts the process again. Wren watches the entire thing, grinning from ear to ear, as one small snowball turns into a snowman a little taller then half of Taylor's height.

"Which carrot do you think?" Taylor ponders their options, laying all five carrots out in a line for Wren to decide between.

She ends up going with the smallest one, wrapping a yellow knot scarf around his neck and deciding that they should call him Snowy.

The morning passes them by in what feels like seconds, but is really a string of hours that leave their cheeks and noses raw and tinged red from the cold. Five snowmen have been built, eleven snow angels all in a meticulous line down the side of the yard complete, and a few hundred sled tracks map out the course of their adventure when Taylor and Wren finally surrender to the cold, teeth clattering and shoulders trembling as goosebumps form beneath their winter coats. The base layer that Taylor insisted Wren put on beneath her blue snowsuit and matching coat is soaked from the hours she spent dodging flying snowballs and laying on her back in the snow, determined to make the perfect snow angel. Her grey thermal pants and long sleeved white turtle neck had become damp at some point, and it's uncomfortably apparent to her as she waddles up the back porch stairs with Taylor, abandoning their creatures for the sake of becoming warm again.

Andrea had watched from the window the entire time, snapping a few pictures like any mother does when neither of the girls had been paying attention, completely absorbed by each other and the snow. Her favorite was the image of Taylor bending down to fix Wren's scarf and hat, their bodies turned in toward the kitchen window just enough so that both of their contagious smiles and flushed cheeks could easily spotted at the first glance. She realized only afterward that it was a live photo, and when she pressed down on the image, it ended just after Taylor had kissed Wrens forehead.

She had turned the tea kettle on only a handful of minutes ago, smiling to herself at the timing. Even twenties years later, she still held onto her mothers intuition. The kettle began to whistle just as Taylor and Wren stepped foot inside, both releasing a heavy sigh as the warm air surrounded them and further accentuated their blush. She lifted the kettle off the stove, pouring the hot water into two festive mugs that already had the powder packets and mini freeze dried marshmallows distributed.

"You guys have fun out there?" Andrea asked, mixing together the chocolate powder and water before she went over to the fridge, pulling out a gallon of milk and peppermint creamer. Even at thirty, Taylor was still predictable when it came to the cozy winter treat. A splash of milk in Wrens and a splash of peppermint creamer in Taylor's, she set the mugs aside until they cooled down a tad.

"You've got the start of a snowman village out there." Taylor smiled, helping Wren out of her bulky snowsuit and jacket, laughing at the water stains on her daughters base layers.

"I grabbed your bag of clothes out of the car." Andrea informed, nodding toward the dinning room table where the duffel bag sat. Taylor had mentioned it in text when she had first cleared the plans, and having not seen her enter the backyard with it, Andrea figured she could use a hand. "Go get changed, your hot chocolate should be cooled by time you're done." She shooed them both away, trying her best not to dwell on Wren's presence and make the girl anymore nervous than she already was.

"Thanks, Mama." Taylor smiled fleetingly, grabbing Wren's hand and leading her into the dinning room to grab the duffel, before they made their way upstairs to the bedrooms.

Wren was shivering violently by time they made it into Taylor's room, her cheeks and nose burning up from the sudden change in temperature.

"This is Austin's room." Taylor pointed out as they walked down the hallway, the walls decorated in pictures that told the progression of hers and Austin's life without a single word. "We fought over who would get that one when we first moved in. He won, obviously, but I ended up with the better option anyways. This one was further away from Mom and Dad, so my friend Abigail and I could be as loud as we wanted on a school night."

"Did he try to get you to switch?" Wren giggled, watching Taylor push open another bedroom door that was more intricately decorated inside once they stepped in. There was a single six string guitar in the corner, and an entire collection of music books on the shelves above the desk, pictures and knickknacks on every empty surface available, and a soft yellow bedspread neatly made against the wall.

"Only every day of high school." Taylor chuckled, setting the duffle down on her bed, unzipping it and rummaging through the clothes she packed until she found the spare outfit of Wren's she threw in that morning. The outfit consisted of black leggings, and a long sleeve white shirt with Rudolf on the front, his nose a glittery red circle. Maybe it was directly on the nose for this time of year, but Taylor was just excited to finally have a little girl to dress up that she didn't care. She'd thrown in an extra pair of gloves and a hat too, Wren's favorite sneakers somewhere at the bottom of the bag as well, but she was eyeing Taylor's Reputation sweatshirt that had lived at the bottom of the duffle for as long as the blonde could remember, hardly paying attention to Taylor setting her clothes out. "You want this?" Taylor giggled, fishing out the Reputation hoodie and holding it up for Wren.

"I can wear it?" Wren beamed, bouncing on her toes as she gently took it from Taylor's hands.

"You can keep it." The blonde giggled, fishing out her own change of clothes from the bottom of the bag. "I have another in my closet. And Mom probably has ten down the hall."

"Thank you." Wren whispered, hugging it to her chest like it might disappear from between her fingers if she hand it any looser. Taylor was almost certain that Wren had never listened to Reputation, at least not with her, so her infatuation with the hoodie only made sense if she considered the possibility that the little girl only wanted it because it was hers. Her heart grew three sizes just thinking about it.

Without the hat, Taylor could easily smooth Wrens damp hair down and away from her face, kissing her forehead before she ushered the girl to go get changed. "We can raid Moms closet after we get changed. Why don't you go into the bathroom and I'll come in to fix your hair when I'm done."

Wren nodded, grabbing her clothes that Taylor set down on the bed, and making her way toward the bathroom with her arms full. She got changed as quickly as she could with her thermals sticking to her skin, and folded them neatly on the counter like her Mom had taught her. Sarah James was a beautiful woman inside and out, and from the second Wren was old enough to understand, she'd taught her the importance of cleaning up after herself in another persons home.

Peaking out of the bathroom door to see if Taylor was ready, Wren watched her fit her head inside of a grey crewneck, fixing the arms before she pulled her damp blonde hair out of the neckline. Wren had put the Reputation hoodie on overtop of her clothes, giggling at how long it fit on her body. It was almost down to her ankles, the sleeves hanging over her hands and coming down just above her knees when she left her arms hang by her sides.

"Hi, baby." Taylor giggled when she turned around and caught Wren's eye, her dark green stare a stark and lively contrast to the dark oak bathroom door she was hiding behind. Taylor had packed a brush in the duffle as well, and grabbed it before she came over, cooing at how sweet Wren looked in her too-big black hoodie as she stepped away from the door and let a Taylor inside. "How do you want your hair?"

Taylor brushed through the knots in Wren's hair as gently as she could manage, falling into a memory from years ago when she and Andrea had been in this position, only it was her at the counter back then, and it was her Mom affectionately crafting any hairstyle she requested, even if they didn't all look the best.

"Like you had yours last night." Wren decides, remembering Taylor's messy bun with wild curls sticking out of place. She didn't wear her hair up high that often, but when she did, Wren adored it. She had yet to see Taylor with straight hair, but she knew that her curls would always be her favorite. "Taylor?"

"Yeah, buddy." Taylor hummed, looking at Wren through the mirror. Her cheeks were still flush from the cold, and nose as red as Rudolph's beneath the hoodie, but she still looked adorable.

Wren giggled at the face Taylor pulled, keeping her head still as Taylor worked to brush out all the kinks and knots. "Why do you straighten your hair?"

"I like how it looks, Roo. And, when I'm traveling for work, it's easier to manage when I'm in a hurry, or need to have multiple different hairstyles in a day when I'm doing interviews. I still love my natural hair, and a part of me wishes I hadn't used so much heat on it when I was a kid, because my curls aren't what they used to be." Taylor kissed the side of Wren's head, brushing her hair up into a bun. She wrapped the pieces around each other, but left out a few shorter ends when she tied it off. "All done!"

"I like your hair like this." Wren commented, spinning around so she could really see Taylor's face.

"Thank you, Roo." Taylor laughed. "But, it's also okay for you to not like someone else's hair. If they like it, all you can do is be supportive."

"I know! I didn't like Mrs. Adrianna's hair, but I still told her it looked pretty cause I know she spent lots of time doing it in the bathroom." Wren wrinkles her nose, and Taylor pokes it, laughing as she flips the nights off and grabs Wren's damp pile.

She sets them down on the dresser by her own pile, tying her hair up into a ponytail for it to dry, leading the girl down the hall and toward the spare room that housed almost all of Taylor's original merch designs and the prototypes of everything that existed. Her parents had always been her biggest supporters, and a time or two, she'd caught Austin sneaking out a hoodie for himself. She couldn't have asked for a better support system.

Wren gasped at the amount of clothes that were hung all around the room. Clothing racks, dresser drawers, and an entire walk in closet had been dedicated to each and every one of Taylor's albums, and all of her merch designs. There had to be hundreds of things in this room, and not all of it was clothes. There were bracelets and perfume bottles, and a bin of tote bags that she'd never actually seen Taylor use around the house. Her eyes trailed over the single rack that consisted primarily of yellow, strikingly similar to the color of Fearless.

"Mom has them all organized by album. That ones Fearless." Taylor led Wren over to the rack of yellow, watching her foster-daughter sort through all of the hoodies and t-shirts until she came across one that has Taylor's face plastered right on the front. "That one's from my first headlining tour. And, look at that. We have your size. You won't be swimming in this one." Taylor giggled, pulling the child size small off the hanger and draping it over her shoulder.

Wren giggled, continuing to look around the room until she got to the display of bracelets. Taylor had grabbed a pair of prototype Speak Now sweatpants for Wren when she hadn't been looking, keeping them underneath the Fearless shirt, hoping she could get away with the surprise until her birthday. Since writing her letter to Santa, Taylor had come to realize, that Wren knew almost every word to Speak Now, and might be more in love with it then she was with her junior album.

"I used to make a lot of bracelets. I made all of these." Taylor pointed out, looking fondly at the stacks of beaded bracelets she'd spent countless hours making with Abigail in high school. "Here." Taylor slips a pink beaded bracelet off the display, putting it around Wren's wrist. "I made that one with my friend Abigail. She was going on and on about how one day we'd have kids together, and she wanted them to have friendship bracelets."

"But-" Wren begins to protest, eyeing the bracelet with so many conflicting emotions it made Taylor's heart hurt for the little girl who felt like she didn't belong anywhere.

"No buts, Roo. You're my kid, you'll just have to wait a few more years until Abigail gives you a tiny bestie." Wren wraps her arms around Taylor, squeezing her in a tight hug that fits all the broken pieces of Taylor's heart back together. "I love you, Wren."

"I love you." Wren mumbles into Taylor's belly, peering up at the woman with big green eyes.

"You ready to go see Mom?" Taylor caresses Wren's face, holding her cheeks so softly that it feels like a few hundred fairies are dancing along her skin. Wren nods, grabbing onto Taylor's hands, having completely forgotten about the hot chocolate that's waiting for them downstairs.

𓇢𓆸

Too many mugs of peppermint hot chocolate had been consumed by the little girl with green eyes and brown hair, her tiny body bouncing in place as she and Andrea looked over Austin and Taylor's baby pictures, laughing at the many predicaments that they'd gotten themselves into as children. A batch of chocolate chip cookies was in the oven, the entire house smelling like warm vanilla extract and chocolate as a result. The blonde woman hadn't fought her mother in any of the sugar, even if she knew it would be a struggle to get Wren to sleep that night, but had just enjoyed the time with her Mom and daughter as they got to know each other. Ten minutes ago, she had excused herself from the kitchen to deal with a phone call from Chad, and she'd been flush with pride when Wren decided to stay with Andrea in the kitchen instead of accompanying her upstairs.

Despite Wren's initial nerves over the woman, and how she clung go Taylor for the first hour upon going downstairs to meet her, she had warmed up significantly, her shell slowly falling away the longer they talked. The woman was just as kind as Taylor, and her hot chocolate was delicious, finishing off her forth mug with a mustache of whipped cream to show for it.

Andrea had pulled out the photo album after Taylor went upstairs, flipping through the hundreds of pictures that showed the evolution of Taylor and Austin's life up until this point. They were currently looking at pictures from 1996, and Wren was giggling over a picture of Taylor sitting in a laundry basket with Austin at her side. The little girl was licking the end of a candy cane Andrea had slipped her, her tongue tinted red as she talked.

"They were always getting into trouble." Andrea remarked when they heard the timer beep, both instantly turning toward the oven to see that the cookies looked done. The glass door giving an easy view of the baked treat. Andrea got up from the table, leaving Wren with the photo album to flip through at her own pace. Taylor bounded down there stairs, a radiant glow on her face.

"Your rooms all finished, buddy!" Taylor beamed, thankful for her security team who had come over after the movers left to set up the little girls bed and wardrobe. It was going on seven o'clock, and the sky was painted with blackness as night fell around them. "Mom!" Taylor groaned seeing the photo album out on the table, and Wren looking at a picture of her at a bench with a six string guitar in her lap.

"You knew it would happen." Andrea laughed, coming back over with a plate of cookies and another mug of hot chocolate for Wren, the excuse of keeping the girl warm already on her tongue.

"How many hot chocolates have you had?" Taylor playfully narrowed her eyes, watching Wren eagerly accept the hot drink and lick the mountain of whipped cream that was sitting on top.

"Five?" Wren giggled, sipping on the warm drink that Andrea had set out to cool a few minutes ago.

"That's your last one or I'm never getting you to sleep!" Taylor gasped, looking at her mother with bewilderment in her eyes. "Mom, she's never gonna sleep tonight!"

"It's my job to make sure you have your hands full when you go home." Andrea laughed, "Don't ask how many candy canes she's had, either."

"Maybe we should walk home." Taylor teased, sitting down beside Wren at the table, Kitty barreling into her legs. The spotted dog panted happily as Taylor pet him, preciously locked away in a guest bedroom until Wren was comfortable. "We'll get going after the dryer finishes. Alright, buddy?"

"Okay." Wren nodded, looking at the last few pictures in the photo album before she closed it. Taylor leaned forward, wiping a smear of whipped cream off of Wren's nose.

"Did you have fun?" Andrea asked dotingly, her smile contagious as Taylor and Wren smiled back.

"Yeah! I never want Snowy, and Mr. Ball, and Frosty, and Pooh, or Snowman Ariel to melt." She goes through the list of names she'd given to the five snowmen out back, hardly able to see them anymore as darkness fell over the backyard.

"They shoukd still be there for a couple of days." Taylor laughed, pulling the sleeves of her crewneck up to her elbows, the heat from the oven significantly warming up the interior of the house.

"They should be there forever. Can we keep a baby snowman in the freezer?" Wren asked, both women laughing adoringly.

"I don't think it'll survive, honey. But, I've been meaning to talk to you about going to London. We might catch some snow there." Taylor smiles, approaching the topic softly, having discussed with with her mother time and time again. By no means was Wren ready to go to London now, but Taylor had hope that she'd be better off by time New Years rolled around.

"To see your boyfriend?" Wren asked, Taylor snickering as she nodded. Wren had yet to talk to Joe on the phone, almost always asleep by time he called in the morning, but Taylor had told her a lot about him. She was still nervous, shy whenever he came up, but always found a way to remind Taylor that he was her boyfriend, like she thought the word was silly. And, she probably did, she was only eight.

"Yes, to see Joe." Taylor chuckled. "We don't have to, it's completely up to how you're feeling, but I was thinking we could go and see him for New Years."

"So you can kiss him at midnight?" Wren giggled, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie that Andrea offered, now that they had cooled down.

"You've had way too much sugar." Taylor laughed, stealing the mug of hot chocolate away from her and taking a sip for herself.

"I don't know." Wren had gotten better at addressing her boundaries, and Taylor always respected them, but the blonde knew that her response was most likely an easy way of saying no. This was still new, and just because she'd trusted Taylor enough to visit Andrea, didn't mean she was comfortable with flying across the world to meet her boyfriend. Taylor had been clued into the fact that Wren was wary around men the first time Chad came over.

"That's alright. You have time to think about it." Taylor assured, proud that they were making progress. She knew the dryer cycle was probably done now, and that their snow clothes and under layers were dry and warm to be packed up, so she stood up again, kissing Wren's head on her way down the hall to the laundry room.

When she returned, holding the duffle-bag of warm clothes over her shoulder, their shoes in hand, socks tucked into them, Andrea was just finishing packing up the chocolate chip cookies in a glass container, snowmen deigns along the edges as they waved their happy little stick hands all wearing red scarves and top hats.

"Okay, shoes and socks on please." Taylor sets the baby blue converse down beside Wren's chair, sliding her own running sneakers onto her feet, covering up the rainbow polka dot socks she wore. She and Wren had matching ones, though Wren's came up the slightest bit higher with frilly ends, sticking out of the top of the converse adorably. It was a purchase she made the second she saw them, already falling into the role of matching outfits and accessories.

"Mom, we have candy canes." Taylor laughed, watching her mother pull three from her overflowing jar and lay them on top of the container. "And you, little miss, don't need anymore sugar tonight."

"You can never have too many." Andrea laughs, setting the container on the kitchen table beside the black leather photo album. Swift is engraved on the bottom of the bound book in gold cursive, a gift from Scott last Christmas.

Wren finished tying her shoes completely on her own, smiling widely at Taylor with glee in her eyes. The laces were tight, the knots perfect, and she hadn't even had any help. They'd been working on typing shoes for the last three days after Taylor noticed that although Wren fixed the laces on her shoes on her own before they left the apartment, she always ended up re-tying them only a few minutes later when they came undone.

"Good job, Roo!" Taylor beamed, standing up from the kitchen chair and reaching for their jackets. She helps Wren into the puffy blue coat, pulling the hood of the Reputation hoodie out from the back and over Wren's head. "Thank you for today, Mom." Taylor rounded the table to hug her mother, squeezing her tightly, holding onto the feeling of a reciprocated hug, not knowing how many more she had left.

"Thank you." Wren whispers, shuffling closer to Andrea, giving her a short hug that makes the older woman's heart flutter.

"You're welcome, honey. You both take care." Andrea laughs when Kitty comes up to them both, her tail wagging as she tries to get into the middle of the embrace. "And Taylor, Austin says he expects another chocolate bar for Christmas."

A running joke through their childhood from the first year they spent in Nashville that still hadn't died. Taylor bought him a chocolate bar from a local convenient store, thinking that he would like it, but it was stale, and every year after it had been stale and discolored.

"Of course he does." Taylor laughs, shaking her head as she threw her arm around Wren's shoulder. Drawing the little girl in close, kissing her head earnestly. "We'll see you soon, Mom."

"Bye, baby. You take care of yourselves." Andrea waved, watching them collect the cookies and the duffle bag with a prideful smile. This is all she's ever wanted for Taylor; happiness. Pursing a career had given her that to an extent, but nothing had ever made her this happy. As a mother, this was the best Christmas gift she could ask for.

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The apartment was as empty as they'd left it that morning by time Wren and Taylor returned just after eight o'clock, shivering from the cold that bit at their exposed fingers and cheeks, gloves forgotten about. The lights in the hallway were dim, no doubt a courtesy of Chad, but besides the lighting, there was no indication that anybody had even stepped foot in the space since they'd been gone. Taylor sighed easily, peeling her black coat off, and then helping Wren with hers, hanging both of them up on the wall in the foyer, beside a picture of herself and Abigail from only a few years back.

"Let me make sure everything is where it's supposed to be." Taylor kissed Wren's head, wanting the room to be perfect before she allowed her foster-daughter to see the finished result. The duffle was discarded at the landing of the stairs, her footsteps echoing through the apartment as Wren let her go.

She looked around the apartment, at the deep red velvet couch, and the whimsical decorations that all had a faint nudge to the classic story of Alice and Wonderland. Taylor had shown Wren the song she'd written called Wonderland yesterday afternoon as they lounged on the couch watching reruns of sitcoms, and Wren couldn't help but go over it in her head.

She sat down on the couch beside a sleeping Meredith, reaching for her sketchbook that had been abandoned yesterday night. She had started a sketch before Taylor ushered her into bed, and she'd forgotten to carry her sketchbook back upstairs with her. Still afraid to leave her room without permission, the idea had been itching at Wren's imagination all day. When she lived with Adrianna and Timothy, sketching was the only thing they allowed her to do after school. Eventually she ran out of paper, and they'd never agreed to buy her another book, so she reworked her old ideas over and over again until they were perfect and the pages were so full, that the indentation marks from her pencils had imprinted on other pages. It felt nice to have her outlet back, the world falling away from her as she shaded in corners and perfected her calligraphy, so much so that she didn't notice Taylor excitedly calling her name, or even coming down the stairs until the couch sank beneath the weight of her body.

"That's beautiful, Wren." Taylor gasped, looking over the pad of paper with amazement sparkling in her eyes. She'd been meaning to find out more of Wren's interests, but somehow the topic always escaped her mind when they were talking, their conversations often chaotic and all over the place like any child tended to be, but her talent was impecable, giving Taylor another idea for a birthday present.

Wren looked to Taylor shyly, her cheeks on fire. "Really?" Her eyes were wide with innocence and disbelief. The only people who had ever seen her work were Timothy and Adrianna, and they'd laughed in her face when they found the sketches.

"Honey, it's so good. Do you like drawing?" Taylor couldn't take her eye off the page, analyzing every detail that sat in front of her. It perfectly encapsulated the essence of her home, but somehow didn't feature a single tangible item she owned, completely original.

"Yeah." Wren nodded, setting down the pink and gold pencil that they're had bought almost a week prior. "I have another sketch book at Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adrianna's. I didn't have time to grab it when Emily came to pick me up."

Taylor wondered what else had been left behind, keeping a note in her mind to talk to Emily about swinging by the house to collect whatever items remained of Wrens.

"I know some people don't like tearing pages out of their books, but I would love to put that on the fridge if you'd let me." Taylor smiled.

"The fridge?" Wren beamed, already creasing along the edge of the page and gently tearing it from her sketch book. She didn't really care about tearing pages out, she'd just never done it because Adrianna hated a mess, and she didn't want to misplace any of her work for them to destroy.

"Let's go do it." Taylor figured showing Wren she was serious would go farther than just telling her, so she took the little girls hand and led her to the kitchen, grabbing a magnet from the side of the fridge and displaying it on the front. "Now, are you ready to see your room?"

Wren nods excitedly, following behind Taylor as they took the stairs two at a time, or Wren took the stairs two at a time trying to keep up with Taylor's excited pace. Benji's asleep on the top stairs, just like Meredith, though Olivia is no where to be found. Taylor had closed the bedroom door, though an illuminating yellow light came from beneath the door.

"Ready?" Taylor braced her hand on the gold door handle, looking back at Wren with a fondness in her eyes. Wren nodded excitedly, gasping when Taylor opened the door and revealed a display of pink, greens and creamy white with hints of brown.

Wren rushed inside, gasping at the sight of a completely transited bedroom, if she didn't know what the room looked like earlier that morning, she would've assumed nothing had changed at all. Floral wallpaper lined the walls, the petals of the flowers the same shade of pink as the blanket she wanted in Target. The glass chandelier had been replaced with a large soft pink flower lamp. Her bed had two ends, one with a cutout for books, some already displayed on the shelf, while the other had a ladder leading up to a little hideaway, blankets thrown up there. There was a proper hideaway beneath it, the wood carved out into a large opening, a small desk inside that held her snow globe and mini Statue of Liberty. There was a full length white trim mirror hanging on the wall, and an even larger desk placed beneath a white storage shelf, a few pink storage boxes already placed up there for anything Wren collected with Taylor. The back of the door was painted the same sage color green as the base of the bed, a knitted bunny stuffed animal sitting next to her pillows.

"I love it!" Wren gushed, hugging Taylor around her middle tearfully, face buried in the older woman's crewneck that smelt so faintly of violets and vanilla. Her shoulders shook as she divulged into tears, only able to think about how nobody else had ever made her feel so wanted and accepted before. Nobody besides her Mom. Timothy and Adrianna wanted nothing to do with her from the first time she'd stepped into their house, and her old social worker was nice enough, but even then she never made as much of an effort as Taylor did. After her Mom passed away, it was like the world had turned upside down, and even her Dad had looked at her differently. His eyes had turned cold, and the longer the days went on without Sarah, the less she saw of him at all. Up until this week, she hadn't felt like she belonged anywhere, but slowly, Taylor was changing that. Taylor was making a place for her in her own life. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, buddy." Taylor reciprocated the hug, bending down low enough to drop her head onto the crown of Wren's, careful of the lacerations on her back that were still healing. "I'm so glad you like it." Taylor let her fingers tickle the undersides of Wren's chin, tilting her head toward the sky to get a good look at her glimmering green eyes and snotty nose. She wiped the tears away from her cheeks softly, using the sleeve of her crewneck to wipe beneath Wren's nose, motherhood her favorite outfit to wear, even at the expensive of her tangible clothing.

"Thank you." Wren hiccuped, leaning into Taylor's soft embrace, batting her wet eyelashes as she tried to clear her vision. Taylor kissed the tip of her freckle kissed nose, smiling fondly.

"You don't have to say thank you." Taylor assured like she'd done a million times since December fifth, but Wren always did, she always showed Taylor that she was appreciative and did her best to respect everything she was given. She was too precious for this world and all the cruelness she'd been showed. "Looks like you already have a visitor." Taylor nodded her head toward Meredith, who was curled up beneath the desk chair, fast asleep with her head on her front paws.

"Thank you for doing this for me." Wren said again, taking in the sight of the room and all the things she hadn't had a week ago.

"I would do it a million times over. And with all the houses I have, I might have to." Taylor joked, and Wren flushed thinking about receiving such doting affection time and time again. "You deserve it, honey. Let yourself enjoy this."

Chapter Text

it's been a long time coming, but, it's you and me, that's my whole world

DECEMBER 12th, 2019

Taylor couldn't sleep, even though the rest of Nashville was still beneath a blanket of midnight, and Wren was safe and cuddled up in her bed with Benji, she just couldn't get her thoughts to stop racing as she laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. She'd gone over the events of her day on the phone with Joe for hours, telling him every minuscule detail while he got ready for an event in Manchester. He'd asked her to sleep after he parted ways, but instead, she'd taken to online shopping, spending a full hour ordering last minute birthday presents for Wren, and paying far too many fees for expedited same day shipping to assure that it all got in by the early afternoon tomorrow, and even then, she still couldn't keep her body still for long enough to let sleep consume her.

It was somewhere in between three and four in the morning when she'd had enough of the rustling sheets, and decided to abandon her bedroom in favor of playing out a new melody she couldn't shake. She'd checked on Wren as she walked down the hallway, glad to see that she was still asleep with her new blanket over her face and Benji curled up above her head. The sun had only just began to peak through the windows when the floorboards creaked outside of the room, and seconds later, a tearful little face peered in.

Wren was dressed in her new Christmas pajamas, her braided hair slightly frizzy from rolling around in her bed, but what stood out the most was the tear tracks present on her cheeks, and the fact that she'd chosen tonight to be the first night she sought Taylor out after a nightmare. Not being able to sleep made sense now. Had she been asleep, Wren definitely wouldn't have woken her, and even if she was tired by morning when the eight year old had an abundant amount of energy, it would well be worth it.

Abruptly stopping her playing, Taylor waved Wren into the room, smiling sadly. "What are you doing awake, monkey?" Taylor knew, it was obvious, but she'd give the girl a handful of cards to deal anyways. Even if she didn't want to talk, this was progress.

"I had a nightmare." Wren admitted shyly, sitting down on a white beanbag chair that Taylor had in the corner of the room near the bookshelf of notebooks that had all of her original lyrics and music plans. The collection only grew every year, but from time to time she pulled out the older ones, and admired how much she's grown as an artist since being eleven years old knocking on doors and begging for a record deal.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Taylor asked softly, her blue eyes shining brightly in the otherwise dim room, the sunlight bringing in only a sliver of light through the closed blinds.

Wren shook her head, still ridden with exhaustion as she admired Taylor and the generic six-strong in her lap, leaning back into the soft beanbag with cautious movement, like she was still being haunted by whatever she saw in her sleep. "Will you keep playing?"

"Of course, angel." Taylor nodded, abandoning the chord progression she'd been working out in favor of a song she knew Wren adored. One that had gotten them through her first breakdown on the stairs. "I remember tears streaming down your face when I said 'I'll never let you go', when all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said 'Don't leave me here, alone'. But all that's dead, and gone, and passed tonight. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound."

Wren marveled at Taylor while she strummed the song and softly sang the words she knew by heart, unable to keep her eyes off of the guitar and the beautifully strong by delicate sound the instrument made every time Taylor struck the chords. She'd never seen Taylor in this element before, never seen the intricacies of making music with just your hands and your voice.

"Don't you dare look out your window. Darling, everything's on fire, the war outside our doors keeps raging on, hold onto this lullaby, even when the musics gone, gone. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound." Taylor looked up from the neck of the guitar, watching with easy fondness as Wren analyzed the motions of her fingers and the way she tapped her foot to keep herself on beat.

By time Taylor had gotten through the song, Wren was sound asleep on the beanbag, curled up into a ball, looking peaceful as she slept with fluttering eyes, hopefully dreaming something sweet this time. Taylor set her guitar back onto the stand, abandoning her music for the night in favor of getting Wren back into bed. Gently picking the little girl up, Taylor shh'd her as she stirred, singing beneath her breathe as she nudged Wren's bedroom door open with her hip.

The sun was brighter now, illuminating the room with an ethereal orange hue, making the soft pink and cream accents feel like something out of a fairytale. Benji wasn't in the bed anymore, curled up on Wren's desk chair on top of the Reputation hoodie, probably pissed off that he'd lost his cuddle buddy, but Meredith and Olivia had come in to keep him company, each in their own respective spots on the floor. Selfishly, Taylor stood swaying Wren in her arms for a few minutes, holding onto the innocence the girl projected in her most vulnerable state. Her arms ended up looped around Taylor's neck, holding onto her like a baby koala holds onto its mother. She must've stood in the middle of the room, just listening to the silence of dawn and feeling Wren breath for half an hour before she tried to ease the girl back into her, but Wren wasn't letting go, her fingers holding on tightly to Taylor. Deciding to lay down in the bed until she could get Wren to let go, Taylor got themselves situated, but in seconds, she was asleep as well.

𓇢𓆸

When the bright eyes of a twenty-nine-year-old woman opened to see blinding sunlight and peaceful flowers, an immediate sense of panic set in over her body, momentarily forgetting what the previous night had brought to her. A dense weight on her chest felt suffocating, but the second she realized it was just Meredith, and the flowers belonged to the wallpaper in her daughters room, a tranquil sense of completion relapsed the frenzy of anxiety she felt in her belly.

Scooping Meredith into her arms, and sitting up to rest her back against the bookshelf, she saw Wren sitting at her desk with her sketchbook open. The girl was still in her pajamas, but without the sun casting shadows on the floor, she figured it was significantly later in the day then what their usual wake-up routine had consisted of.

"Good Morning." Taylor greeted softly, feeling the knot in her back from the position she'd fallen asleep in. Wren's bed was comfortable, maybe more then her own, but having the arms of an eight year old beneath her head for an uncertain amount of hours could only be so comfortable come morning time.

"Morning." Wren beamed, turning around to look at Taylor with bright eyes, any traces of last nights nightmare long gone. "I tried to get Meredith off of you, but she swatted at me."

Taylor laughs, scratching beneath the cats chin as she let the serenity of the morning speak for itself. "That's alright, honey. Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmhm." Wren nodded softly, her smile contagious and bright. "I woke up a little while ago. Mere stepped on my head trying to get comfortable on you."

Taylor scoffed, setting the cat down on the ground and letting her scamper off, probably to find Benji and start trouble. "What are you working on?"

"You." Wren answered easily, grinning bashfully from ear to ear as she turned back to her sketch, shading in the corners of the blanket she had been fixating on for the last ten minutes. So, maybe she stretched the truth when she said Meredith had woken her up a little bit ago, the digital clock on her desk had passed two full hours since she started counting, but she didn't mind much.

"Me?" Taylor frowned in confusion, standing up from the bed and feeling her bones and joints crack as she stretched. She walked the short distance to Wren, peering over her shoulder to see the drawing she was completing. It didn't matter how many times she watched Wren do what she loved, she was amazed every time.

"I thought you looked pretty." Wren admitted shyly, her cheeks ringing pink as she looked up to meet Taylor's eye. She'd drawn her asleep in bed, the faintest trace of a smile on her lips as Meredith laid in a loaf on her chest. Her t-shirt had ridden up just high enough for her belly button to be exposed, the comforter tousled around her feet, and Wren had illustrated it perfectly, like it was a film captured black and white image. "I don't have anything to give you for Christmas. I was gonna make this for you."

Taylor gushed, kissing the little girls head wistfully. She hadn't even begun to consider about how Wren must feel about all of this, receiving all of these toys and clothes and things that she hadn't had in so long, or ever, and not having anything to give back. Taylor knew it wasn't needed, but Wren didn't.

"It's perfect, Roo." Taylor promised, "I'll act surprised on Christmas. Consider it forgotten until then." She continued watching for a while, astonished that a picture that already looked completed could only grow to look more realistic the more Wren shaded and adjusted her already existing lines. "You didn't need to get me anything, though. Having you here is enough for me."

Wren set her pencil down, content with the finished product of her present, and closed the sketchbook. Multiple pages had already been filled since yesterday, and even more had been ripped out, taped and hung on multiple surfaces around the house. Yesterday, she'd drawn Meredith and Olivia cuddled up on the couch together, a rare moment for the cats that were always biting each others faces and tails. Taylor hung that one up in her bedroom with no hesitation other then to ask Wren if it was okay if she ripped it out.

"Wrenny." Taylor inquired softly, getting down on her knees beside the desk so she could peer into the little girls eyes genuinely, without such a stark height difference. When Wren hums, giving Taylor her focus, the blonde continues. "What do you think about drawing something super special for me?"

Wren brightened, her soft green eyes bright as she nodded eagerly. "Well, it's top secret. So, can I trust you to keep it locked away for a long time?"

Wren nodded, her eyes practically begging for Taylor to come out with it already. The blonde laughed, carrying on. "I'm planning a tour for my new album. I would really like it if you could help me out in planning what the stage and visuals look like."

"Y-You want me to help you? Me?" Wren scrambled for the words to say. She didn't quite grasp the weight of what Taylor was implicating in her proposition, but she understood that it must be a big deal if Taylor was swearing her to secrecy, something she hadn't done yet.

"Yeah, buddy. Are you in? It's okay if you're not." Taylor reassured, not wanting to pressure Wren into anything she didn't absolutely want to do, and the guilt of being the reason art became more of a chore than a hobby weighed heavily on her shoulders. But, she figured it would be a nice bonding experience, to share something that they both equally passionate about and love loved in a gentle environment with little pressure. Taylor had a team of people to design a stage and visuals with, she'd never dream of putting that kind of responsibility on Wrens shoulders if she didn't truly want it.

"I wanna!" Wren beamed, throwing her arms around Taylor's neck, forcing her into a hug that she happily reciprocated.

Taylor grinned, squeezing the girl back with the same enthusiasm. Her back was healing nicely, no longer open wounds but fresh scabs that should hopefully heal nicely. "Why don't we head downstairs for some break- well, lunch I guess." Taylor flushes slightly, seeing that the digital clock on Wren's desk reads '12:35' in blocky fucsia letters. "I'll show you Journey to Fearless and the Reputation stadium tour, so you can get an idea of these stage designs and visuals that I've used before. What do you think about that?" Taylor hummed, smiling softly at Wren.

"Can we have waffles?" Wren beamed, her eyes bright and youthful as she looked at Taylor with hope. Taylor would never get tired of seeing that look. Yesterday, she had requested scrambled eggs for breakfast, and when darkness fell around them, she had told Taylor she didn't like meatloaf when the blonde suggested it for dinner. They were making progress, developing trust. Taylor couldn't have been more thrilled.

"With chocolate chips and whipped cream?" Taylor smirked knowingly, laughing when Wren bobbed her head eagerly, her feet swinging back and forth above the ground. "Let's go, Freddy."

"My names not Freddy." Wren frowned, her nose and brows creased inward and upward, complete confusion filling her green eyes.

"It's an expression, baby." Taylor giggles, ruffling Wren's already unruly hair, laughing harder when her hands are batted away with a huff. "Have you heard anybody say Ready Freddy."

"Oh." Wrens checks flush, and she nods understandingly. She stands up on the desk chair, smirking widely at Taylor. The blonde shakes her head in laughter, turning around to let Wren jump onto her back, arms around her neck and legs around her waist.

Taylor doesn't think she's ever been this happy or felt so content. Her career had been the shinning moment in her life for seventeen years, and so many small moments had felt like big milestones when they first happened. Even Joe had felt like her peak of happiness, and he'd continued to be her rock since she was twenty-six years-old, to this day the only voice she seeks out in a room full of people. But none of those things or those people had ever felt like sunshine on a rainy day, or a new beginning after something horrible. Wren did. Wren felt like comfortable silence, and midnight rain that you spontaneously run outside to dance in. She felt like silence, like darkness, like a long drive home. She felt like a lifelong missing puzzle piece.

"Taylor?" Wren questioned, laying her head down on the blondes shoulder, feeling her body jolt every time Taylor took a step. She could see the apartment from a different perspective up here, noticing a few picture frames that were otherwise out of view when she was on her own two feet.

"What's up, buddy?" Taylor hummed, flicking on the overhead kitchen light on, adding only the slightest bit of difference, although it still felt like a necessity even if the sun was blinding through the windows.

"When's your birthday?" It only dawned on Taylor then that she'd been so preoccupied with Wren getting settled and finding her voice, that she'd completely overlooked simple conversations like her birthday. Letting Wren down to set her on the kitchen counter, she trapped the girl between her body and her arms, smiling fondly. She'd been smiling a lot recently.

"Tomorrow." She informed, counting down in her head until Wren realized they shared the same birthday. It was at exactly four seconds when Wren's eyes widened and she smiled excitedly.

"Thats my birthday!" She babbled happily, wrapping her arms around Taylor's neck in a tight squeeze.

"I know! Which means, we've gotta make you a cake at some point today." Taylor beamed. She'd placed a grocery order a few days ago, and had been hiding her baking ingredients away. She was going to surprise Wren with a cake, but spending the quality time together felt more appropriate.

"Can it be your cake too?" Wren asked shyly, her cheeks becoming pink again. "I don't have anything else to give you." She admitted bashfully, although the thought of receiving a present from Wren had been the last thing on her mind.

"What did I tell you earlier?" Taylor hummed, brushing soft blonde flyaways out of Wren's eyes and behind her ears. The front pieces were lighter then the rest of her head, but beneath the kitchen lighting, she looked like a dirty blonde. Her girl was a kaleidoscope of colors between her deep green eyes and perspective changing brown-blonde hair.

"That me being here was enough." Wren answered glumly, her shoulders sinking. "It's still nice to get presents on your birthday. Mr. Timothy and Mrs. Adrianna didn't believe in birthdays, or holidays. Said they were a waste of money and time."

It all started to click now. Why Wren was so adamant about getting Taylor a present. It didn't hurt Taylor's heart any less to think about the guilt Wren was forcing herself to feel, comparing Taylor to the feeling she'd been forced to wallow in for the last three years, every time she was ignored and discarded on days that were supposed to be special. That were supposed to mean something more.

"What if I call my Mom and ask if she'll take you out shopping?" Taylor soothed, rubbing patterns into Wren's back. They'd applied more cream to her wounds last night, and Taylor was content with how they looked. Wren said they didn't hurt anymore, and if she was being honest — which Taylor couldn't be sure she was — she was grateful.

"I don't have any money." Wren frowned, her eyes becoming damp with tears as she felt the guilt begin to eat her up inside.

"You don't have to worry about that, honey. I'll give you money." Taylor felt her heart breaking as she tried to patch together the broken pieces of Wren's heart.

"It's not a present if you buy it!" Wren gasps like that was the most obvious thing. Taylor didn't know how Wren had kept her heart and her morals after three years of living in hell, but her girl was as pure as an authentic diamond, and Taylor vowed to treasure her forevermore.

"What if you make me something?" Taylor decided, slipping her hand beneath Wren's shirt and softly caressing the warm skin that laid beneath. She'd wanted kids for so long. She couldn't believe that Wren was real and sitting right in front of her. "It'd really like a card."

Three knocks on the front door startled both girls in the kitchen. Taylor tried to mask her panic, but her hands began to shake as she was thrown into memories of stalkers and men wielding weapons at her front door. Wrens green eyes were panicked, scrambling to grab onto Taylor as neither of them had been expecting any company, and Andrea would've texted if she was coming over. Taylor lifted Wren off the counter, setting her on her own two feet on the floor to whisper instructions.

"I want you to go up into my music room, okay?Once you're in, lock the door behind you, and don't come out until I come get you. I'll knock on the door twice. If you don't hear two knocks, don't open the door." Taylor kissed her head, trying to calm the storm of panic that was causing her entire body to shake. Her location hadn't been leaked, she would've gotten a text from Tree, and if it had been, security in the lobby knew not to let anyone upstairs without the password. They were silly preventative measures to anyone that didn't understand her lifestyle, ones that would've made even seventeen years old Taylor laugh, but now, at twenty-nine and with a daughter, they were the only things that helped her get some sleep at night. "Take my phone. If you hear anything downstairs, call my Mom. She'll know what to do." Taylor tried to keep her voice even, tried to not let her panic show for Wren's sake, but her little girl wasn't blind. She nodded obediently, scurrying up the stairs two at a time.

Taylor waited until she heard the door close before she slowly approached the front door, thankful for the mace that her mom insisted she leave in a basket by the entrance. Grabbing the black can, she peaked through the peephole, sighing in relief as she saw Emily's face.

Unlocking the door and pulling it open, she'd completely forgotten that surprise visits were apart of this whole process.

"I hope this isn't a bad time." Emily excused herself, smiling thankfully when Taylor welcomed her into the apartment. "This should be a quick visit. I just need to take a look around and speak to Wren. Are you... okay?" Emily took in Taylor's frazzled state, and the way her chest heaved up and down in fast motions as she looked pale in the face.

"Sorry, yeah. Nows a great time. Wren and I had a late night with nightmares so I was just making us some brunch. I completely forgot you said you'd be back in a week, and I've got some... trauma... for lack of a better word with unexpected visitors. It totally slipped my mind that I gave you full-access clearance." Taylor rambled, swiping her palms down her legs to rid her clammy skin of the sweat that has accumulated.

"I understand." Emily smiled sympathetically, "I can text you a reminder on visitation days. I can't disclose the time, of course, but would it help to know that I'm swinging by?"

Taylor breathed out a relieved sigh, nodding her head. "Yes, yes that helps a lot. Thank you, really. I actually need to go grab Wren, I asked her to wait upstairs until I was sure it was okay for her to be around. I can show you her bedroom? I know it wasn't much last time we met."

Emily nodded, scribbling something down in her notepad. Taylor really hoped it wasn't something bad, she couldn't bare to lose Wren. "That's perfect. I'll follow you."

"We remodeled it two days ago, actually. I wanted her to have a space that she felt was meant for her. Not just a room she was given. It's a surprise for her, but I actually have people renovating a space for her in both my New York residence and Rhode Island residence this week." Taylor beamed. She'd been in cahoots with two different agencies all week sorting out the specifics of those projects, and had spent an unhealthy amount of hours selecting paint colors and furniture pieces that reminded her of Wren, and that didn't feel overly childish. Her hope was that Wren could grow with the rooms, and they'd just have to change out small decor pieces along the years.

Emily smiled at her words. "I wasn't assigned to her case when she was with the Tilghmans, but this level of affection was never noted in her file." There was so much left unsaid in Emilys statement, feeling like a punch in the gut as Taylor tried to pick apart the vagueness. Was she doing a good job? Or was this Emily's way of trying to let her down easy when she inevitably took Wren away because of her social situations?

"She's become my whole world since you've last been here. I think we're making progress too." Taylor hums, rounding the corner to her music room and knocking twice, waiting for Wren to open the door. "Wrenny, it's me. I have Emily with me."

Wren pulled open the door, peaking out slowly. Taylor's phone looked too big in her tiny hands as the contact image of her mother was on full display, but other then that, she didn't look entirely phased. "You did so good." Taylor praised, wrapping her up in a hug which Wren easily reciprocated.

Wren looked healthier now, stepping out into the mid-day glow for Emily to analyze. She was slowly gaining back a radiant glow to her cheeks, and the bruises on her arms had cleared up significantly, but what Emily was most taken aback by was how easily she sank into Taylor's arms. That was a stark contrast to the little girl she had met a week ago, who flinched away at even a sound being too loud.

"Taylor was going to show me your new bedroom. Do you wanna do the honors?" Emily smiled softly, not missing how Wren still seemed wary of her and stuck closely to Taylor's side, keeping her distance. Another note got jotted down in her notebook.

Wren nodded shyly, knowing she didn't have a choice either way, so she linked her fingers with Taylor and led Emily toward her bedroom. The bed was still unmade in the center of the room, the afternoon sun tinting the room yellow, and Benji was still taking a rest on her desk chair curled on top of the Reputation hoodie, but Meredith and Olivia had since moved on to find a new hiding spot.

"Do you like your room, Wren?" Emily asked, hugging her notebook to her chest as she analyzed the room in all of its lived-in glory. In typical eight year-old fashion, she anticipated finding random toys and knickknacks thrown about, but aside from the hoodie and the wrinkled comforter, the room was well kept.

"Yes." She nodded shyly. "W-We painted my door. It's Boo." She pointed out a detail Emily hadn't even noticed, but adored, and scribbled yet another thing onto her notepad.

"It looks wonderful. I need to talk to you, is it okay if Taylor goes downstairs and finishes breakfast?" Wren wanted to protest, she wanted to tell Emily that she was Taylor's sous chef, and making breakfast together was her favorite part of the day, but she didn't want to be taken away, so she nodded.

"I'll be right downstairs." Taylor kissed her head before she disappeared down the hallway, taking the steps two at a time to hopefully get this afternoon over with. She had no hard feelings against Emily, but she couldn't help but feel judged in her presence. That was the point of her job though, Taylor supposed.

In Wren's bedroom, the brunette girl fiddled with her fingers, shifting anxiously on her feet now that Taylor was gone. Emily smiled, trying to relieve the girls anxiety, but to no avail.

"How do you like it here?" Emily asked softly, setting her notepad down on Wrens desk to give the girl her full attention.

Wren didn't want to speak, but she knew she had too. She knew how this whole thing worked by now. She never used to have trouble speaking when her first social worker came into the picture, but Timothy and Adrianna had obliterated that.

"I l-love it. T-Taylor's Mom made me cookies." She noted, looking at all of the flowers on the wall instead of Emily. The social worker took no offense, nodding encouragingly even if her expression was being overlooked.

"What kind?"

Wren gulped, wringing her hands together. "Chocolate c-chip. We played in the snow in her backyard."

"Oh, those are my favorite! Did you get to help?" She walked around the room, peeking into the little hideaway on the side of the bed, noticing the workspace with some cat toys littered around the floor.

"Yeah." Wren shrugged off any detail. She might've been forced to have this conversation, but nothing could make her feel comfortable with Emily. Not after her first social worker completely ignored her when she'd said Timothy hurt her.

"Did you feel safe?"

"Yes. T-Taylor makes me feel safe. I trust her." She didn't look so tired anymore. The dark circles beneath her eyes that painted her milky skin black and purple had cleared up in the week that Emily had been away.

"You do? I'm glad to hear that. What does Taylor do to make you feel safe?"

"S-She doesn't yell. She tells me w-what we're doing before we do it, and if I don't want to she d-doesn't make me. She slept with me last night when I had a n-nightmare. And she gives me hugs and tells me that she's g-glad I'm here." Wren admits bashfully, feeling like she's betraying her and Taylor's privacy by divulging their must private and intimate moments to a stranger who doesn't know either of them.

"It sounds like she really likes having you here, Wren." Emily smiles brightly, picking up her notepad again. She takes a minute to scribble things down, before she looks back at Wren and nods toward the stairs. "Should we go and see her now? I'm sure you're hungry."

Wren took the stairs too at a time, sprinting into Taylor in a crushing hug. The blonde barely managed to hold onto the plate of waffles as the force of Wren has shocked her, but she reciprocated it to the best of her abilities nonetheless.

"Emily, would you like to join us for some waffles? Wren requested chocolate chip." Taylor smiled easily, "I put the syrup on the table for you, buddy. It's already buttered."

"Can we have chocolate milk too?" She questioned with big eyes, Emily immediately taking note on how her speech wasn't stuttered as she hugged around Taylor's waist.

"Chocolate milk too? Seems you're taking advantage of it being birthday eve." Taylor teased, but nodded her head easily, settling Wren with her food before she walked toward the fridge and pulled out a gallon of milk that was nearing the end. She had another one, so she didn't bother sparing any. "Do you want a fancy glass?"

"Yes, please!" Wren beamed, spilling maple syrup over her pancakes until she was satisfied. She nervously glanced at Emily, clamming up and anxiously looking back down at her plate.

Deciding it probably wasn't appropriate to be pouring an eight year-old chocolate milk into a wine glass at one in the afternoon in front of her social worker, she opted for a tall elegant glass carved with deep ridges all around and the bottom dipped in gold paint instead. Adding the chocolate powder, she served the little girl her drink of choice, looking expectantly at Emily who still hadn't answered.

"No, it's okay. It really was just a quick visit today. Your six month visit should be longer, count on me for breakfast then." Emily smiled warmly, closing her notebook and clicking her pen. "I have everything I need, so I'll be getting out of your hair. I'll let you know when our next meeting will be based on your schedule."

"Let me walk you out. Wrenny, keep an eye on the waffle for me please." Taylor kissed the girls head as she walked past, escorting Emily back toward the front door. "I know you can't tell me, but, I would really be assured to know that you're not thinking about taking her. I know my life isn't conventional but-"

"Taylor," Emily smiled that same sympathetic smile, her eyes kind and warm and reassuring. "That's not a single thought in my head. We knew your life wasn't conventional when you were approved as a foster parent. That little girl adores you, I meant it when I said I was hoping for this to be a permanent setting for her."

"Okay." Taylor released a heavy sigh, glad to know that even if she'd been judged for how she answered the door, it wasn't counting against her. "I really do adore her. Actually, I was meaning to ask you about a few of her belongings she said she left at the Tilghman's."

"They're awaiting sentencing without bail, currently. If the fourteenth works for you, I can speak with the precinct in their jurisdiction and arrange a time for her to go back and collect anything she forgot." Taylor nodded thankfully, and Emily smiled, reminding her that it was just her job she was doing.

"Taylor! Your waffles done!" Wrens voice separated them, and Emily took it as her sign to get going, waving goodbye to Taylor a last time before she disappeared into elevator.

Taylor locked the front door behind her, returning to the kitchen with a reassuring smile on her lips.

"Is she gonna take me away?" Wren asked in a panic, her chocolate chip waffles hardly touched as she toys with her fork instead, having clearly been worrying herself to sickness in Taylor's absence, sitting at the island now with heavy, panic filled eyes.

"No! No, absolutely not." Taylor rushed over to Wren, caressing the girls face in her heads as she tried to get ahead of the brewing storm before it hit shore. She searched her frazzled green eyes, seeing her fall apart from the inside out. "She wants you to stay here. You're not going anywhere."

"Promise?" Wrens bottom lip trembles despite hearing Taylor's words, feeling like the rug was being snatched from beneath her cheek. Her chest heaved as she tried to take deep breaths, losing the battle as all she saw was blinding blue.

"I pinky promise." Taylor holds her pinky out to Wren, feeling a weight settle on her chest at the feeling of Wren reciprocating the action, linking her clammy finger with Taylor's loosely. "Now let's work on that breathing." Taylor hummed, "Remember what we do? Breathe in."

Wren knows the motions, and she does them without Taylor's prompts, not letting go of the woman's pinky until she had gotten her breathing under control. "There we go, pretty girl. You're okay."

"I don't wanna leave you." Wren chokes on her words, digging her face into Taylor's neck when the woman steps close enough to hug. Taylor reciprocates the embrace, stroking the back of Wren's head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo that smells sweetly of strawberries and vanilla.

"I'm never gonna let that happen. It's you and me until the end, buddy. You're my whole world."

𓇢𓆸

As the scent of warm vanilla settles into the apartment, mixing with Taylor's three-wick pine scented candles, Taylor and Wren sat together on the deep colored red velvet couch, festive mugs of steaming peppermint hot chocolate in hands. The drink had become apart of their nightly routine since that day at Andrea's, usually partnered with Friends reruns or a Disney movie. Tonight, they'd changed the rules though, halfway through the Reputation Stadium tour planning on watching Journey to Fearless next, cuddled up together beneath a red and white throw blanket, with the reflection of the rainbow Christmas tree lights in their eyes.

Every other light in the house had been turned off, concealing this moment in time to be something intimate and sacred. Taylor doesn't remember the last time she was ever truly alone. She hopes they get to do this every year, sit on the couch, illuminated by a Christmas tree, bellies warm from sweet hot chocolate. She hopes that she's fortunate enough to have the time and stability to spend her nights like this forever, Wren by her side in all of her wildest fantasies.

"You look happy." Wren doesn't know about the nightmares that had haunted Taylor during that period of her life, and she'll stay unaware for as long as Taylor can manage to keep the truth hidden. She smiles down at her daughter, twisting her freshly conditioned hair around her finger, feeling the weight of her head against her sternum; though a twinge of sadness strikes her heart, darkening her eyes so slightly, but concealed by the darkness that falls around them like a blanket. Everyone had thought she was happy. She had fooled everyone. They didn't know that she went home and cried every night, didn't know she was so weak during performances that her knees buckled on stage and she had to force herself to stay upright, and they had absolutely no idea that she criticized her own body so harshly, that at times, only the thought of it made her sick.

"I love preforming. It's all I've ever wanted to do." Taylor recalls the days in Pennsylvania years ago, when she'd beg for hours, relentless in trying to persuade her parents to pick up everything they had built for themselves and their name, and move to Nashville. Before she had Wren, she had commended them for being so selfless when they finally caved, but now, now she knew that they were just being parents. Now she understood. She would move the wind and fire just to try and make Wren's dreams come true. "You know what I always wanted more then performing, though?"

"A kitty?" Wren guessed, craning her neck to look at Taylor, careful not to spill her hot chocolate on their twisted together bodies or the blanket.

Taylor chortled, but shook her head. "You. I've always wanted to have kids. I almost had a baby once. She lived inside my belly for thirteen weeks until she went to heaven."

"What was her name?" Wren asked softly, having never heard this story before. She wanted to know when it happened, wanted to know how Taylor felt, but it seemed inappropriate to ask. Taylor would tell her if she wanted to, she was telling her enough already. She doesn't like when people try and push her to explain her past, so she wasn't going to push Taylor.

"I knew she was going to be a girl when I found out. I just had a feeling. Her name would've been Betty. I think she would've had my eyes. I was due in October. She would've been my little halloween girl." Taylor stroked the side of Wren's cheek, smiling despite the tears in her eyes. "M-My friend Blake, she just had another baby girl. Her name is Betty. I like to think my Betty greeted her in heaven before she came into the world."

"Does it make you sad? Seeing Blake's Betty?" Wren asked carefully, not wanting to pry too much, but Taylor seemed like she wanted to share, just didn't know what to say. Wren snuggled deeper into the blonde's warmth, thinking she could use a hug but with both of their hands full, this was the best she could manage.

"No." Taylor smiled with tears in her eyes, somehow so happy and entirely devastated at the same time. Betty had always been complicated. "She asked me if she could name her Betty. Now, I'm just happy that someone I love gets to grow up with the name. For a while, after my Betty went to heaven, I'd dream up these scenarios I wasn't going to get to have with her. About if she would have liked to dance around the kitchen with me, or if she would've begged to get a dog. I wondered if she would have snuck out to some high school party I told her not to go to, crying about a boy who broke her heart. I still think about her, but you know who I think about more?"

Wren made a soft sound in her throat, hanging onto every word that Taylor said, "You. I think about you in the middle of the night. In the mornings, when I can hear that you're awake in your bedroom but you haven't come out yet. I think about your future, and what you're going to do with your life when you're old enough. If I didn't lose Betty, I would've never found you. And you're my entire world."

"Taylor?" Wren questioned, laying her hand on the blonde woman's cheek, her skin warm and red from the heat of the mug. "You're my favorite grownup."

Taylor chuckled wetly, kissing the top of Wren's head. "You're my favorite kid."

They turned their attention back to the movie, watching the younger version of Taylor frolic around the stage in a sequined black body suit. Wren clung onto every word younger Taylor sang, her little head bobbing to the music unconsciously, although Taylor noticed, and smiled endearingly. The little girl hadn't heard these songs before, nor had she seen Taylor perform, but she liked them just as much as she liked Fearless, and she couldn't wait until the day she got to see Taylor do what she loved in person.

They took an intermission from their movie night when the timer went off on Taylor's phone, signaling that the cake was finished baking in the oven. Deciding to save Journey to Fearless for another time as the hours of the day escaped them. Taylor had plopped the cake out of the pan before she retreated to the pantry, letting the baked good cool as she pulled out a jar of chocolate icing, along with a much slimmer and shorter tube of blue gel icing. She had a barrel of blue sprinkles tucked beneath her arm, smiling encouragingly as Wren bounced on her feet.

"Alright, have you iced a cake before?" Taylor asked, deciding the cake was cool enough for them to begin the process. Even if it was still slightly warm to the touch, and the chocolate icing may slip around a bit, it was rapidly approaching midnight and she needed to get Wren to sleep if she had any hope of avoiding another late start tomorrow.

Wren shook her head. She could only recall her fifth birthday, and even then, the memory was becoming vague and scattered like most of the memories she had with her parents, but what she could recall, considered of a beautifully iced vanilla cake, one that had her name scripted on top in pink icing and blue swirls around the edges. "Mom always iced them when I was asleep."

Taylor smiled fondly at the information, glad that Wren felt safe enough to share those few details with her. "You're going to grab some icing on your knife, and drag it around the cake in a circle." Taylor had a rotating tray laying around from the last time Selena came over, and had set the cake down in the middle of it, knowing that her friend had sworn up and down it made the whole process easier. "Like this."

Taylor peeled open the icing can, discarding the red lid onto the countertop, and scooping chocolate icing on the edge of her butter knife, dragging it along the bottom of the cake as she rotated the purple board. She had to admit, it was easier, but she'd given Selena enough grief to keep that thought to herself. Wren watched Taylor work intensely, smiling from ear to ear as she eagerly grabbed a knife and did the same.

"Can we listen to music?" Wren beamed, spinning the cake board around, leaving a smear of chocolate around the edges. She worked efficiently, Taylor allowing her to take over the job as she was content to simply stand back and watch.

"'Course, birthday girl. What are we feeling tonight?" Taylor tickles Wren's sides, smirking to herself as the little person shrieked in surprise, and subsequently tried to wiggle away, her laughter echoing around the quiet apartment.

"Stop, Tay!" Wren pants, managing to turn around and grab onto Taylor's hands, pinning her back against the countertop, hair only centimeters away from landing in the cake. The chocolate coated knife laid on the table, discarded by her blinding glee. Taylor laughed, stilling her fingers, never wanting to be another person who didn't listen to Wren's boundaries. She watched Wren try and catch her breath, her cheeks tickled pink. With Wren distracted, she sticks her finger into the jar of icing, smearing it down Wren's nose. "Taylor!"

"It's birthday tradition in the Swift house!" Taylor beams joyfully, pulling Wren into her arms in a tight embrace. The little girl reciprocates it, sinking into Taylor's arms. She would never get tired of being hugged, having went without one for so long.

Taylor released her in favor of turning on the speaker, shuffling Lover through her spotify account and beaming a bright and prideful when The Man started to play. She hasn't shared the full album with Wren yet, not making it a priority as they spent this first week just getting to know each other, but she couldn't deny that it felt like a full circle moment as she stood in her pajamas at midnight, listening to her seventh studio album, the first one she own the masters to, with her daughter on the early morning of their birthdays.

Wren was back to icing the cake, nearly finished by time Taylor had snapped out of her haze. The layer of icing was even, smooth and precise around the corners, smooth and shiny as the overhead lights reflected off of it. She couldn't even begin to comprehend how everything Wren touched turned to art, but it did, and she was mesmerized. She wondered if her own mother felt this way about her songs and her projects. It was an overwhelming feeling of complete adoration.

"Will you write our names?" Wren glanced back, smiling widely at Taylor.

The blonde nodded, taking Wrens place in front of the cake so she could be center with the top. She cut off the end of the blue icing tub, take a moment to line it up with the center of the cake. She wrote Wren's name first, remembering a few days ago when her daughter had complimented her swoopy handwriting, and not wanting to disappoint, she made the tail of the N exaggerated and elegant. Her name stared back at Taylor, something new but something significant. She completely adored what her life had become. She sketched the and symbol beneath her name, meticulously making sure it was in the center of the cake beneath Wren, before scripting her own name. Tears pricked her blue eyes as she looked down at her own swoopy name beside Wren's on the birthday cake. She had signed her fair share of birthday cards since releasing her first album, for friends and family, and occasionally significant others, but this was the first time in months that nothing was attached to her name. No monetary value, no strong beliefs that she was expected to conform with. She didn't have to think about if somebody would sell her name to make a dollar, or if it would be displayed on the wall of some teenagers bedroom, all to say 'Taylor Swift signed this' when friends came over. Wren wanted her name on the cake to make her feel included, not because of who she was. It was the first time in fifteen years that anybody had ever seen her as Taylor, just Taylor.

"It's perfect." Wren gushed, peering over at the cake from Taylor's side. Her eyes sparkled with amazement as she took in the creation. "Can we put the sprinkles on?"

"Of course, what's a birthday cake without sprinkles?" Taylor helped Wren lay the sprinkles all around the sides of the cake and on the top corners, smiling widely at the masterpiece they created together. She couldn't wait for more moments like this, already knowing they'd be some of her favorite memories.

Taylor snapped the clear glass lid onto the cake stand after they were done, blue sprinkles and chocolate icing cleaned off the counters like it had never been there in the first place, but both girls knew that it had been. After Wren's face was cleaned with a wet paper towel, Taylor ushered her up to bed, smiling widely as she tucked Wren in beside her stuffed animals and Dibbles.

"Happy birthday, buddy. I'll see you in the morning." Taylor sat on the side of the bed, smiling soft at Wren's freckle coated cheeks and fluttering eyes as she fought to stay awake a couple more minutes.

"Happy birthday, Taylor. I'll see you in the morning." Wren yawned widely, curling into a ball on her side, asleep only seconds later. Taylor sat and watched for sleep for a few minutes, mesmerized by the pattern of her rising and falling chest, before she pulled herself away.

She had presents to wrap.

Chapter Text

in this one horse town, i wanna stay right here. in this passenger seat, you put your arm around me. in this moment now, capture it remember it

DECEMBER 13th, 2019

The sun was bright as it sat overtop of Nashville, bringing warmth to the cold and brittle ground. The sky was bright and clear, the first indication of warmth that seeped into Taylor's bones when she woke to an incoming call just after six. Puddles of snow were becoming streams down the streets, and the lawns that had bore mountains of snow and festive snowmen the night before had become muddy from the amount of water that melted. The roads were slick, slushy messes, as salt and snow melted together beneath the warmth of Tennessee.

She smiled softly, still sleepy as she'd been up until two in the morning wrapping presents and setting up a surprise for Wren downstairs, but she still swiped her finger across the touchscreen, blushing a deep shade of pink when Joe's voice sang to her seconds later. Today was one of her favorite days. Ever since she started working, she tried her best to make sure that December stayed a slow month, cherishing the time she got to spend back home with her friends and her family. Nothing had changed this year, but everything had changed at the same time.

"Happy birthday, baby." Joe greeted her after his song had finished. He sounded good, energized even. She knew that he had left for London feeling burnt out, and she couldn't help but feel like that was her fault. It was nice to hear him sounding like himself again.

"Thank you." She grinned, rolling out of bed in favor of getting ready for the day. Although she and Wren planned to have a slow morning with scrambled eggs and chocolate chip pancakes and french toast (because you couldn't have too many options on your birthday), and an even slower afternoon up in the theater with all of their favorite movies (Monsters Inc. at the front yard f the line up), she still wanted to look as good as she felt. It wasn't every year you got to celebrate your birthday as a Mom for the first time.

"The little one still asleep?" Joe asked fondly. Taylor had told him every minuscule detail about Wren, unable to stop herself from gushing about her sweet girl anytime she got on the phone. She was glad to know that he reciprocated those feelings without even meeting her, it gave her hope that things would be okay when they did meet.

Taylor smiled fondly as she let her hair fall out of the ponytail she confined it to last night. Running her fingers through the tousled girls, she hummed. "Probably. We had a late night. Cake baking is serious business, Joe."

"I bet it is for you." The London born actor laughed, and Taylor could imagine that he was shaking his head at her. Joe always thought her birthday traditions were silly, but he went along with them anyways, wanting to put a smile on her lips even if it meant sacrificing his nose to a few dollops of icing. "Mums been asking about you."

Taylor felt her heart clench in guilt. She knew that Joe's family wanted to see her, but she couldn't abandon everything that was here. She wouldn't. "I talked to Wren a few nights ago. I think she's opening up to the idea of coming to see you, but she still gets nervous about my Mom, and I'm not going to put her in a situation where she feels like she has to choose between me or herself. I'm enjoying things how they are right now. I think this is the longest I've been able to go since Reputation without my location being leaked, and things just feel... normal. I feel normal. Like I can be just Taylor around her."

Joe sighed, and Taylor could image that he was dragging his palm down his face and scratching at his facial hair. He only ever shaved when he was with her. "I know, love. Just saying we miss you is all. I'm glad you're both settling in well."

Taylor couldn't help but feel that there was something deeper behind his words, but for the sake of  keeping her peace on her birthday, she left well enough to be. "Me too. I'm gonna go wake her up. I love you."

"Love you, too." Joe's line disconnected from the call in seconds, not giving Taylor the chance to say anything else. Taylor had to remind herself she'd been the one to get distant, not him. He was just throwing her actions back at her, even if it stung.

Sighing, Taylor tried to forget about it. She wouldn't let it ruin her day with Wren. She pulled her blonde curls to the front of her chest, staring at herself in the mirror. Nothing had changed since yesterday, she still had the same blue eyes, the same blonde hair, the same smile, but everything was different. She was thirty today, at the beginning of a new decade of life. She could feel the start of something new growing underneath her fingertips, something bright and warm and golden. She was at the start of a new era, with a new title, and a new importance on her shoulders. She was needed now, and that felt good.

She heard the sound of little footsteps before she saw Wren in the doorway, still in her Christmas pajamas with her stuffed giraffe beneath her arm, the morning sunlight creating a glow around her slim frame. Her lips coiled into a genuine grin, her blue eyes a soft shade of daylight in the presence of her daughter; her freshly nine year-old daughter. She looked the same yesterday, but everything was different now. Taylor couldn't begin to comprehend how everything was changing so fast, but she wasn't opposed to it.

"Hey, baby." Taylor greeted the small girl softly, before she grabbed her chapstick from the dark marble countertop, slathering a thick layer of peppermint moisturizer across her cracked and dry lips. The fluctuating temperatures was always the same part of traveling, her skin couldn't keep up with the changing climates. Having been in LA before she came back to Nashville, the lack of dry heat in exchange for the presence of moist cold had all but drained the moisture from her lips, and she couldn't stand the feeling. Wren stumbled farther into the bathroom, raising her arms in a silent plea for Taylor to lift her onto the counter space. "Did you have a good sleep?"

"Yeah." Wren nodded, fiddling with the ear of her giraffe as she watched Taylor go about her morning routine peacefully. "I didn't have a nightmare."

Taylor grinned from ear to ear at the revelation, "That's awesome, honey. Did you have any special visitors this morning?"

"Benji's in my bookshelf again." Wren enlightened, her little feet swinging back and forth. "I don't know how he thinks that's comfortable."

Taylor shook her head laughing, she couldn't explain that cats off sleeping habits even if she tried, and she did. "What do we think about makeup today?" Taylor pulled out her sleek black beauty case, the gold zipper being pulled to reveal a selection of high end products that she had acquired through the years.

Wren inspected her choices thoroughly, and Taylor had to stifle her giggles as the little girls tongue poked out from between her lips like it often did when she was concentrating. The singer typically kept a clean face when they were just hanging around the house, and she really only flicked a wing onto her eye when they ventured out to the store, but today was special, today was their day. Wren eventually decided on a baby blue glitter, holding it up to Taylor with pride.

Taylor loosened the cap, dipping the tip of her pointer finger into the well-loved product, smearing it along her lid. She didn't bother using a brush with these kinds of product, having a harder time controlling the placement and pigment with fluffy bristles to control. Wren watched her utterly fascinated, something that didn't go unnoticed by Taylor. "Do you want some too? I think a ninth birthday is a very special occasion that could use some glitter."

"I can have some?" Wren beamed, smiling so brightly at Taylor, her cheeks had turned a shade of pink.

"How are we gonna have a celebration without glitter?" Taylor rebuttals, feigning a hurt expression at Wren's question. The brunette giggles, hugging the neck of her giraffe tighter to her chest. Taylor instructed the brunette to close her eyes, and she gently drags her fingertip along her tiny eyelids, leaving shimmery blue glitter in her wake. "Do you want lipgloss too?"

"Yeah!" Wren points to the tube of clear lipgloss with pieces of glitter floating in the tube. She'd been eyeing that tube of glitter since she'd seen Taylor do her makeup the first time.

"I don't know if you'll like that one, buddy. It burns." Taylor laughed, holding the tube up to Wren's eyes, pointing to the silver printed words that read 'plumping'. "You can try it, it's okay if you don't like it."

"Its pretty!" Was Wren's argument, so against her better judgment, Taylor instructed her daughter to part her lips, and glided the coated applicator along her cherry red lips. Wren needed to learn how to make her own choices, needed to find her own voice and trust in her own decisions, she needed to know the natural consequences, not the forcefully implemented ones.  Taylor wasn't going to stand in her way, not when it was just a plumping gloss they were at odds about. Enough people had done that already, had made her feel small, Taylor would never further contribute to that. But, she couldn't help but feel a lick of righteousness when Wren's eyes became panicked and she wiped at her lips feverishly until the sticky substance was gone.

"Do you wanna choose a different one?" Taylor asked softly, resealing the tube of clear gloss, and offering a soft pink one to Wren instead. Her face shimmered with the layer of gloss and glitter added, but there was a natural radiance to her complexion that spoke for itself. Wren was happy. Taylor made her happy. "You know, I think their might be a few presents and a surprise waiting for us downstairs."

"Presents?" Wren leaned in close, whispering the word like saying it any louder would mean it's not true. Taylor mimicked her action, their noses brushes together softly.

"Lots of presents." She laughed, "Should we go take a look?" Wren nodded eagerly, ready to jump off the counter and race down the hallway, but Taylor had beaten her to it. The blonde grabbed her gently, settling the child on her hip with ease. Wren wasn't heavy, but Taylor worked out enough to support her weight. She would become a bodybuilder if it meant a few more years of getting to hold Wren like this. "What do you think it's gonna be?"

Wren thought for a minute, her face contorting into shame, as if her words would make Taylor feel like she'd failed. She was grateful for anything that she got, it didn't matter what it was. "I don't know." Wren decided that was the safest option, and Taylor let her have her way.

"You won't get in trouble or hurt my feelings, Wrenny." Taylor squashed her fears before they could fester into something more, taking the stairs slowly as to savor the suspense of the moment. "But, why don't we just take a look. My presents are wrapped in the blue paper. You've got a couple extra down there too."

"Extra?" Wren frowned, but her confusion was forgotten the second she saw the gold tassels that had been taped to the kitchen entrance, hanging all the way down to the floor and concealing her view of anything behind them. Taylor let Wren down on her own feet, wondering if the girl had gotten taller since a week ago. She was still little, still just her little shadow, but Taylor didn't have to tilt her head so far down to look at her face anymore. How hasn't she noticed that?

"Mmhm. Blake and Selena sent you some presents." Taylor hummed gently, smiling fondly at the thought of her two closest friends extending their love and support to a child they hadn't even met yet. Wren was so loved beyond the walls of their apartment and she had no idea.

"Balloons!" Wren gasped in delight upon entering the kitchen and seeing the beautifully created atmosphere that Taylor created for her. "Look Taylor! It's balloons!"

"I see!" Taylor stood with her phone in her hand, recording the moment, wanting to remember it forever. Capture it, remember it. She would do just that, just like her parents had done for her. She might not have the first eight years of Wren's life to cherish, but she'd make the best out of every moment she was lucky enough to have. "Go! Look at your presents!"

Wren didn't need to be told twice, happily leaping up onto the barstool and analyzing the mass of twenty or so presents that were all addressed to her. She didn't know where to begin, but she was sure she'd never been shown this amount of love, even with her Mom. Taylor propped her phone up against a vase of blue dipped flowers, coming to sit beside Wren at the kitchen island. She pushed Selena's present toward the child, sending her hesitation.

"This one's from Selena." Taylor noted, hardly missing her friends subtle nudge at her sophomore album. The gold gift bag was the perfect embodiment of her aesthetic at the time, both a nudge to Wren's infatuation, and a heart wrenching reminder of how much Taylor and her had been through together.

Wren opened it slowly, careful not to tear the tissue, and setting it off to the side with cation. Taylor just grinned, knowing most nine-year-olds would've dove in head first and left a path of destruction in their wake.

Wren gasped feeling the softness of a blanket beneath her fingers, pulling it out of the bag to inspect the intricate designs of deep yellow and gold fabric. Along side the blanket, was an even softer stuffed bear wearing a mini Fearless shirt that fit him perfectly, eighteen-year-old Taylor smiling back at Wren.

"Look, Taylor!" Wren gushed, abandoning the giraffe in the island in favor of wrapping her new bear up in a tight hug, one hand still clutching the blanket.

"I see! You know, Selena made that blanket. She likes to crochet." Taylor brushed a strand of hair out of Wren's eyes affectionately, moving the empty gift bag and tissue paper out of the way for Wren to open another present, although her girl looked perfectly content to stay with just this one.

"Will you tell her thank you?" Wren asked gently, hardly noticing that Taylor was setting a larger box in front of her, the rainbow gift wrapping an obnoxious but fond compilation of neons.

"Of course I will." Taylor kissed Wren's head, "This one is from Blake and her husband Ryan, and their little girls James, Inez, and Betty."

Just like Selena's, Wren carefully unwrapped the box, being careful not to tear the paper that was taped down. Taylor didn't say anything, just watched Wren as she worked, looking endearingly at her little girl who was so compassionately considerate.

"Look, there's a letter!" Wren held up the piece of loose-leaf paper. She knew Blake's handwriting like the back of her hand, recognizing it in seconds. Wren didn't even spare a second glance to what else was inside the box, completely absorbed by Blake's note.

"Will you read it?" Wren asked, but Taylor prompted her to try her best, knowing the little girl was more then capable of reading it herself. "Happy birthday, Wren. Taylor has told us so much about you. We thought you might like a few things our girls have loved, and some things that are uniquely you. So much love, Ryan, Blake, James, Inez, and Betty. PS we're down for a playdate, tell Taylor I bought her favorite wine."

Taylor laughed loudly, shaking her head at Blake's desperate attempt to get her to come over. She hadn't seen little Betty since she was only a couple of days old, and she desperately missed her friends and their kids, but life had gotten busy since October, but, with the promise of wine and the kids all together, she'd be sure to cash in on that playdate offer when they arrived back in New York after New Years. "James is a couple of years younger then you." Taylor explained softly, "She's turning five in a couple of days. Inez is three, and Betty is two months old."

Wren looked inside the box, gasping at everything she saw. There were puzzles, coloring books, a soft stuffed animal that had a tiny blue blanket attached to the bottom, but what caught her eye was the the black leather sketchbook and matching pencil set, her named engraved on each individual on and at the bottom of the book. When she picked it up to show Taylor, her eyes glistening in amazement, she found the hidden treasure. A rain jacket with Sulley's unmistakeable purple spotted pattern was folded up neatly at the bottom of the box, and the hood bore two of the same rubbery material in the shape of two purple horns.

"Look, Taylor! Look!" Wren beamed, trying to hold all of the gifts in her small little hands, barely managing to grab onto the set of pencils as she shrieked. "Pencils! And a book! And Sulley! Now I can wear my Sulley shirt with my Sulley jacket!"

"I see that! That was so nice of Ryan and Blake!" Taylor giggled into her hand, but reached to grab some of the gifts after noticing how Wren was struggling to hold them all. She set them down on the counter before they couldn't crashing to the ground, making a mental note to really thank Blake afterward.

Taylor grabbed a blue gift bag next, having a slight indication of what laid inside of the bulky bag. She couldn't put into words how lucky she felt to have so many friends and close connections with genuine kind-hearts. That wasn't something you found everyday, especially not in her industry. Nobody had felt obligated to send Wren, or herself, presents, but they still exceeded her expectations every year. She couldn't even think of a way to express how thankful she was to each and every one of them for having a hand in making her girls first birthday in her care so memorable and special.  "This one is from Tree. She's my publicist."

Just like Selena's present, Wren carefully removed the tissue paper, laying it down on the counter and smoothing out the crinkles. She worked slowly, admiring every detail about the bags and boxes the way that they were presented. Somebody had taken the time to put it these packages together for her specifically, she wanted it to be worth more then a few seconds of anticipation.

Wren gently pulled the tightly folded black piece of clothing out of the bag, fiddling with the ends of a baby blue string that was tied in two ways around it. Without releasing the bow, she could still make out the words that it said in blocky white letters, but that wasn't what made her emotional. What provoked a trembling bottom lip and a tearful smile was what it said beneath those blocky capital letters. Her green eyes snapped to Taylor, like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was a word she hadn't heard to describe herself in four years.

On the left side of the crewneck, off-center from being directly over the center, the large white letters read two things, 'TAYLOR NATION' which was in all capitals, the first thing Wren had noticed when she pulled it out of the bag, but in the same font, in all lower case letters, the crewneck said 'daughter'.

"That's what you are." Taylor hummed, her own eyes tearing up as she analyzed the crewneck in Wren's hand, reaching out to trace her finger over the heat printed letters. She needed to call Tree later, she never would've thought to get Wren her own crewneck, but it was perfect, it was just perfect. "You're my daughter."

Wren launched herself at Taylor, arms squeezing around the blonde woman's waist, dissolving into tears as both of them forgot that they were recording this moment. Taylor reciprocated the embrace, rubbing Wren's back softly as a fear fell down her face. "I love it!" Wren wept, shoulders shaking.

"I'm glad." Taylor smiles peacefully, like nothing could ever touch this perfect moment of hers.

𓇢𓆸

After they'd finished opening presents and eating breakfast, they tidied up the kitchen space into an organized disaster, before deciding it was as good as it was going to get until they found a home for all of Wren's new things. She'd found herself with a collection of sketch books, an assortment of professional grade pencils in every color she could dream of, and an unhealthy amount of stuffed animals. Taylor feared they'd take over Wrens bed and leave no place for her to sleep, but the nine-year-old was so excited, it didn't matter to her. All that mattered was Wren finally found a place that accepted her for who she was and the traumas that she bore on her sleeve. With full bellies and sluggish bodies, they retired up to the movie room. Taylor was holding an armful of snacks, while Wren carried her collection of new blankets and stuffed animals in her arms, having to stop her travel every few seconds when a different one tumbled to the floor.

"I don't know if all of them needed to come with us, Wrenny." Taylor laughed, stuffing Wren's giraffe beneath her bicep when he fell to the floor for a third time. She somehow balanced an assortment of candy — sour patch kids, m&ms, skittles, candy canes, and chocolate bars —, a bucket of popcorn, and the giraffe in her arms, letting it all fall into a red leather reclining seat when they got into the movie room. If she didn't believe in material strength and abilities, she would've passed it off as sheer luck, but she did, and this moment felt like everything she was ever made for.

"They had too! They've never seen Monsters Inc." Wren adamantly waved her hands around after she dropped them down onto the chair as well, organizing them so that all of their little eyes could see the movie screen. She kept the soft baby blue blanket in her hands though, frowning when she felt a crinkle of paper beneath her fingers. She flipped one side of the blanket over, finding a note stuck to the stitching of his stuffed animal head.

'When our bigger friends are too much to travel with, Bluey, as named by Inez, makes the perfect companion.'

"What do you have, Roo?" Taylor peered over her daughters shoulder, a smile pulling at her lips as she recognizes Blake's handwriting on the creased post-it note, and took the sentiment of the gift to heart.

"Do you think there's notes on all of them?" Wren asked, hardly believing that she hadn't noticed that beforehand. She'd spent so much time looking everything over, memorizing every detail, and yet it still slipped her attention. She felt like that was almost the point though.

"Probably, but I think Blake wants you to find them when you need them. She's spent too much time with me, she likes a scavenger hunt." Taylor teased, ruffling Wren's hair. The first rule of their day was that comfort was key, and both of them had stuck to it, still dressed in their pajamas, Wren hadn't even fixed her hair, messy strands from the night before sticking out in every direction, only further tousled by Taylor's teasing strokes. She pulled the brunette into her lap, claiming the red leather chair closest to the wall.

Taylor smiled as Wren curled up to her, controlling the projections with her phone, going straight to Disney+ and choosing Monsters Inc, the first film of the afternoon. One arm wrapped around the little girl keeping her close while her other hand slipped beneath Wren's top to trace the scars on her warm back. Unlike the first night, Wren didn't flinch away, she didn't tense or look around in a panic as she expected to be hit, she just leaned further into Taylor's warmth, and met her head rest on the woman's breast bone, feeling each contraction of her breath.

"Taylor?" Wren asks, finding a sudden interest in the silver chain around the woman's neck, fiddling with the heart shaped pendant that lay in the dip of her clavicle.

"What's up, buddy?" Taylor gave her girl her full attention. She could spare watching Monsters Inc for the hundredth time, she'd rather watch Wren.

"Why did you decide to get your foster license? Ivana told me that's what you needed to be able to take kids in." Taylor assumed Ivana was Wren's old case worker, a woman she had heard little about, but would love to spend five minutes alone with. She couldn't promise they'd both come out alive. There was no ethical explanation that excused or justified her negligence to interviene. The abuse Wren suffered beneath wasn't discreet, nor was it explainable. Kids were clumsy, but Wren had come to her with evident malnourishment, sleep deprived eyes, and a crippling fear of physical touch, not even to mention the bruises on exposed skin that even a long sleeve shirt couldn't conceal.

"I got my license when I was twenty-two. I have a friend named Maya, and she has a beautiful little boy named Ronan. He, um, he lost his life to cancer." Wren could tell that Taylor was getting choked up, her blue eyes becoming unfocused as she stared directly through Wren, like she couldn't really see anything at all. Her thoughts were flooded with memories of all the nights she'd spent curled up in bed, reading Maya's blog and praying for Ronan, and the Thompson family. She'd forever be indebted to Maya for having the courage and the heart to share her story, and continue to share Ronan's even after his death.

"I never got to meet Ronan." Taylor traced her finger down the side of Wren's face, imagining what sweet little Ronan might look like if he'd gotten to live to nine-years-old, if he hadn't passed away three days before his fourth birthday. She wondered what her own little Betty would look like if she'd gotten to live at all. "After I heard Ronan's story, I knew that I wanted to help in whatever way that I could. Mom and I would block out entire days, and we'd visit local children's hospitals in whatever city we were in and we would pray with families, just hoping that another story like Ronan's wouldn't happen. You can only pray so hard with cancer."

"One time, it was early November, and I was back in Nashville. Mom and I went up to the children's hospital, and we played games, and read stories, and I sang whatever songs they wanted me to sing, just to make their day a little bright. And, when I was going around the room saying goodbye, there was a little girl all alone in the corner playing with the blocks. She had the same type of cancer as Ronan, and she'd lost all of her hair, but she never lost her heart. Her name was Leah. And she had the deepest brown eyes, and she told me she used to have brown hair, but it had all gone away because God made her sick. She didn't have anyone with her, so Mom and I stayed with her all day. We ordered Italian Ice, because she couldn't have dairy, and when it was time for her to go to bed, I tucked her in real tight, just like how I tuck you in, and I read her 'Goodnight Moon'. The next time I visited, Leah was gone."

Wren felt her heart stutter in her chest, sinking all the way down to her belly as a deep feeling climbed up her spine, one that she couldn't understand, but made her insides feel all yucky and twisted together. With innocent eyes, she peered up at Taylor, conveying a million words in her stare. "She was all alone?"

"Yeah, buddy. Her Mommy and Daddy had to go away so they could get help from special doctors. They were sick too, and they couldn't take care of Leah anymore. She and Ronan were the reason I got my license, because I didn't want another kid to be alone when they didn't have to be." Taylor brushed a tear away from Wren's face, watching her happy and healthy little girl mourn the lives of kids that should've been older then her, should've had friends, and hobbies, and favorite singers, but instead we're forever three and five.

"D-Do you still go?" Wren grabs onto Taylor's pajama top, keeping the blonde woman close to her, as if Taylor would ever let her go.

Tearfully, Taylor shakes her head. "No, baby. You know how I always ask my Mommy if she's feeling okay?"  Taylor asked patiently, painfully aware of how heavy the topic was, but Wren could handle it. This was a part of her life that she strongly and fearlessly advocated for, and she wouldn't shield her own child from it, even if it hurt to discuss. "Well, she got sick too. The doctors told her that the cancer we thought was all gone, came back. It's called a relapse." Taylor strokes Wren's soft brown hair, forcing herself to feel the way it slips between her fingers and gets tangled around her knuckles. She forces herself to recognize that it's real, that Wren is real, and right now, she's as healthy as she can be.

"It's hard for me to be in a hospital at all anymore, but I go if she asks me, to be there for her, so she's not alone like Leah was. Maybe someday I'll be able to go see kids like Ronan again, but for right now, it's too much. Can you understand that?" Taylor is fully aware that this might not make sense to Wren right now, but she doesn't dilute her words, doesn't disuade her from telling her little girl about how strong Ronan, and Leah, and Andrea have had to be.

"Yes." Wren nods, sniffling as she nuzzled closer to Taylor, hardly realizing that the credits of Monsters Inc were rolling behind them, and they hadn't paid attention to a single scene. "When my Mommy got into the a-accident, I didn't like cars after. I got scared lots, and Ivana got mad cause I would cry. I didn't like cars like you don't like hospitals, but I don't think anyone's mad at you. I'm not mad at you."

"Thank you, baby." Taylor smiled softly, wondering how her girl got managed to be so kind and stay so strong. She'd been dealt the worst hand, but she persevered with grace. "Are you still scared of cars?" She hadn't even thought to check, but she felt like such an asshole now.

Wren nodded bashfully. "W-When I was in trouble with Timothy, he would put me in the car and drive crazy. One time he pretended to hit a tree. H-He'd make fun of me for crying, and then he'd go faster. Ivana told him I had, um, PSD?"

Anger flashed through Taylor's eyes, her nostrils flaring as she looked down at her beautiful little girl. She had survived so much, she was stronger then Taylor could ever be. "PTSD, honey. It just means that your brain is still scared, and sometimes, do you feel like you're back in the car on the night of the accident?"

Wren nods, feeling guilty. "I try not to, but I can't help it. 'S'not that bad anymore." Fiddling with the soft silk edges of her neck blanket, Wren bustles it close to her face, hiding behind it and Taylor's warmth.

"If you feel scared, I need you to tell, baby. Can you do that? Can you be my brave girl and tell me?" Taylor shifted her trembling body closer, maneuvering Wren so that her quivering legs were thrown over Taylor's thighs, and her face was buried in her neck, blocking out the light from the projector screen, and letting this moment be just them.

"Okay." Wren mumbles, clutching the neckline of Taylor's pajama shirt in her fist. "Taylor?"

"Yeah, baby? What's on your mind?" The blonde patted a soft rhythm against Wren's back, humming the tune of a developing song that had been stuck in her head for day.

"This is the best birthday I've ever had."

The expression of tenderness that claims Taylor's features is soft, gentle as she harbors nothing but love in her eyes, "This is the best birthday I've ever had. Thank you for spending it with me."

𓇢𓆸

The afternoon sun had slowly fallen behind the moon until it was out of sight and left the sky inky and dark, rising on the other side of the world now while Taylor sat in her expensive home theater, holding her daughter close to her chest. Wren had fallen asleep shortly after her admission, looking eternally peaceful and equally untouchable from all bad things as her eyelids fluttered with dreams, innocence projected across her features.

She had spent an entire hour sitting serenely in a reverie, staring down at her beautiful baby that was so unbelievably benevolent and true, before she'd gotten a notification. A text from Selena brought her back to reality, pulling her mind away from all the dark corners it had drifted to. Her best friend was sweet enough to check-in and ask how the day was going, scripting a lovely three paragraph message that provoked a weakness in Taylor's knees and a fluttering in her belly. Having only one free hand to reply, Taylor took her time constructing her response, attaching the cropped video of Wren opening her present that morning at the island.

She spent the next ten minutes sending variations of the video to her friends that had gone out of their way to make Wren feel accepted, sending paragraphs of thanks that could only just brush the surface of the emotions she felt.

The smiling face of Tree's contact picture stared back at Taylor, reminding her of a conversation they'd had days prior, on one of the first nights Wren had spent. Nobody outside of Taylor's personal life knew that she had her foster license, and ideally, Taylor would've keep it that way, but there was only so much she could keep hidden beneath continuous scrutiny and camera lenses. It was naive to hope she'd be able to keep this under-wraps for much longer, even if both women were surprised with how long they've managed to fly under the radar. Tree had advised her to get out ahead of the rumors, to make her own statement with her own narrative attached, and Taylor didn't want to hide Wren anymore. She was so proud of her daughter, she didn't want to wait for someone else to take this power out of her hands.

In a two picture slide carousel, Taylor soft-launched the news. All those moments she spent in the last week, trying to convince herself that Wren was real, suddenly felt so small. She felt so silly now, looking down at the physical existence of her daughter and the carefully curated social media announcement. Feeling her breath, feeling her wiggle closer seeking out warmth, feeling smooth knuckles against her chest — this was real.

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taylorswift: I'll spend every night tucking you in, and every morning picking up the stuffed animals you leave lying around the house. You're my best accomplishment, and my happiest moments. Nine years around the sun and you're the sweetest, goofiest, most loving person I know. Never change. And, please never grow up.

Ignoring the incoming texts from Tree, Taylor let herself sink into this moment, and feel every emotion that came with it. She was painfully aware of how fleeting time could be, and how Wren would never be this little again. She was so incredibly and undeniably excited to see what the next nine years became for her and her little shadow, but she couldn't help but mourn the innocence of this period of life at the same time. Santa Claus, stuffed animals on kitchen counters and bedroom floors, peppermint hot chocolate on the couch in festive pajamas, lazy movie dates; they were only temporary. She'd only have them for a short period of time, maybe only for this year, but no matter how long they lasted, or how quickly they changed like they were never really there at all, she would treasure it all like it was the last time. She would live fearlessly. She would live for her daughter who deserved to have a strong female role model. Everything she did next would be for Wren, she promised herself that.

Wren stirred an hour later, her tiny fist releasing its tight grip on the neckline of Taylor's top in favor of laying flat against her chest, feeling every contraction of her inhales and the beat of her heart. Before she'd even opened her eyes, her belly grumbling in hunger, the breakfast they'd eaten hours ago giving out on her. Taylor laughed softly at the sound, rubbing her belly over top of her soft pajama top.

"I'm hungry." Wren mumbled against Taylor's skin, pulling away from the woman's warmth to sit upright in her lap, twirling strands of blonde hair around her fingers. The blue glitter they'd applied to their eyes earlier was still bright against their similarly milky skin, however Wren's face was covered in it from how she'd fallen asleep.

Taylor laughed fondly at her girl, letting her fingertips dance along the soft silk trim of the blue blanket that sat between their chests. She would've never thought to get one for Wren, but seeing the growing infatuation in her baby's eyes, she knew she'd buy another couple hundred as a backup incase anything happened to the original.

"Mom wants to know if we wanna come over for dinner." Taylor informs gently, stars hanging in her eyes at the sight of Wren so at ease. They'd put in so much work and so many sleepless nights to get her to this point, Taylor hoped that it stuck. "Austin will be there."

"Can we make cookies?" Was Wren's only concern, and Taylor couldn't have been more proud. They'd come a long way from her episodes of panic at the mention of anyone new.

Taylor nodded, knowing that her Mom wouldn't have any complaints over spending a few hours in the kitchen with her mixer and oven. "I'm sure she'd love to make cookies with you."

"You can help." Wren informed, laying her hands on Taylor's chest, still fiddling with the chain of her necklace. It had an 'L' engraved in the center, with nearly microscopic pink gems filling in the gap.  Wren could only assume that it stood for Lover.

"Oh, I'm allowed to help this time?" Taylor couldn't fight the smirk of amusement that pulled at her lips, a wave of serenity crashing onto her chaotic shore. This was what she lived for, these little in-between moments.

Wren nodded innocently, matching Taylor's smirk even if she didn't know what was so funny. If Taylor was smiling, she'd smile too.  "Can I wear my new dress?" She mentioned the deep royal blue silk dress she'd received from Taylor earlier that morning. The top was covered in elegant silver jewels, reminding her of the sky and the stars just after midnight, when the moon was bright and the rain was pouring.

"As long as you put the tights on too. It's still cold outside." Taylor had gotten her a three-pack of tights to wear beneath her new dresses and skirts, one of those pairs having sequins stitched into the fabric. Simultaneously, she poked the tip of Wren's freckled nose, laughing to herself when the nine-year-old went cross-eyed trying to look at her finger.

"The sparkly ones?" Wren beamed, leaning in closer to Taylor's face, her excitement one of Taylor's favorite things in the world, even if she always seemed to forget what personal space meant.

"What kind of birthday would it be without sparkly tights?" Taylor rebuttals, the same excuse at the top of her tongue that she had shared that morning, though now it felt so much farther away.

Wren giggled, leaning back in Taylor's arms, trusting the blonde woman to not let her fall. "A boring one!"

"That's right!" Taylor laughed, one hand supporting Wren's head as she leaned farther back, testing the limits now. "Alright, silly girl. Let's go find that dress."

Wren wiggled out of Taylor's lap, grabbing onto her new lovie, and waiting for the blonde to grab her hand. They'd only made it to the doorway of the home theater Wren suddenly remembered something she'd forgotten.  "Wait! I didn't give you the card!"

Taylor laughed, easily going along with Wren as the little girl dragged her toward her bedroom. Her bed was unmade, a single stuffed animal laying on the floor, but other then that everything was where it was supposed to go. Taylor watched Wren scramble over to her desk, looking bashful as she clutched a folded stock of paper to her chest.

"I, um, I heard you singing the other night. And I didn't know what to put on the front, so I just... I just made this." Wren handed over the card, her green eyes bright with the hope that Taylor would like it, and wouldn't feel like her moment alone had been intruded upon. She really didn't mean to listen in, but it had sounded so pretty, and she'd been talking into her phone about mirrorballs and sparkly things. The blondes eyes watered as she looked at the front, a collection of disco balls hanging from threads, the lyrics she'd been repeating with uncertainty scribbled overtop of them in neat ink. She had no doubts about the lyrics anymore, she'd keep them exactly the same, just for Wren. Just for the significance of this moment coming back to her every time she sang it.

"Baby, I love it." Taylor gushed, pulling Wren into a tight embrace, resting her chin on the crown of the girls head.

"I didn't mean to listen." Wren worried, her hands fisting around Taylor's pajama top, keeping the blonde in the embrace. She didn't want to know what happened when she pulled away, if she'd be in trouble for eavesdropping. Right now, she was safe.

"You're allowed to listen, honey." Taylor forced Wren away from her, squeezing her hands before she moved to caress the girls cheeks. "I trust you to not tell anyone, Roo. My door is always open for a reason."

"I'm not in trouble?" Wren bit at her bottom lip, her body rigid, searching Taylors eyes for any indication that there was a lie in her words. Taylor had never lied to her, but everyone else did.

"You're not in trouble, sweet girl. I'll play you what I have later, how does that sound? You'll be the first one to hear it." Taylor's hands are warm, soft against Wren's skin, gentle as if she's not really there at all, but she is.

"Okay." Wren nodded, grabbing at Taylor's wrists, keeping her hands on her cheeks. Her shoulders loosened, all stress falling away from her small body. "It sounded pretty."

Taylor laughed light-heatedly, kissing Wren's head softly. "Thank you, baby. Should we go find that dress now?"

"You didn't look inside." Wren pointed out, giggling at how Taylor hardly even realized the paper had words etched on the inside. All thoughts of being in trouble had vanished, replaced with that same feeling of glee she'd felt all morning.

'Thank you for saving me, and giving me hugs. I love you and the kities.'

Taylor laughed fondly at the neatly printed words and spelling errors, shaking her head in disbelief as she read over the black ink until she was sure the words were committed to memory, burned onto the back of her eyelids. The world had stolen so much of Wrens childhood, taken so much of her innocence and taught her that you had to be over-observant and invisible or you got hurt, but beneath all of the scares she bore, she was still just a little girl, and Taylor would draw stars around every wound until she felt like she mattered, like she was special.

"I love you, buddy." Taylor kissed Wren's head, ruffling the girls hair. "Now, let's go see about finding that dress."

𓇢𓆸

Taylor had always had a seemingly well-tuned internal clock. She was punctual, organized, and always over prepared — almost annoyingly so. She was the first person to arrive, and the last one to leave, always offering a hand with setting up or packing away, and not much has changed since she was a teenager. Her morals were deeply embedded in who she was, and who she wanted to be for others, but, there was one thing that had changed since December 5th, and that was her ability to recognize passing time. Finishing up on Wren's requested ponytail, Taylor clipped a snowflake barrette in front of the black elastic, another request by Wren.

An hour after they set out to find the dress and tights, the nine-year-old was finally dressed with her new shoes on and her hair done, and by some grace of god, Taylor was just the same. Sporting a red and black flannel, black leggings, and an arguably destroyed pair of Chucks, the mother-daughter duo was finally ready to head over to Andrea's. She'd gotten six texts from Austin already, hounding her for being late, and all of them had went unanswered as she tried to corral her eager kid around the house.

"Wrenny! Jacket!" Taylor called from around the corner, checking to make sure she had her keys in her purse for the third time. She couldn't remember ever feeling so stressed about seeing Mom, but that's exactly the predicament she found herself in now.

"Can I wear my new crewneck from Tree?" Wren pleaded, already holding it in her hands. The blue ribbon was still holding the crewneck together, but Taylor didn't feel the need to argue about getting something different when they were already late.

"Of course, buddy. Let me open it. Do you have Bluey?" The little girl had mentioned bringing it along, but as Taylor looked at her daughter in the illuminating light of the entryway, she noticed it's obvious lack of a presence.

"Um," Wren kicked at the ground, looking bashful as she fiddled with her fingers. Taylor had a sneaking suspicion on what that was about, and her heart sank. "Are you nervous about bringing it?"

"I know it's for babies." She whispered, gnawing at her lip, and avoiding Taylor's icy stare like her life depended on it.

"Is it going to make you feel more comfortable meeting Austin?" Taylor asked softly, already knowing that the answer was a definite yes. Over the last week, she'd noticed that Wren did exceptionally better at adjusting when she had something to distract herself with, and as well as she was putting on a brave face, only so many insecurities could be healed overnight.

Wren shrugged her shoulders, feeling like the worst person ever for being so emotional on Taylor's special day. "I'm sorry."

"For what, honey?" Taylor dropped down onto her knees, letting the crewneck and her purse find a temporary home on the hardwood for the time being. She couldn't find a reason in her own head for Wren's soft apology, and she worried what her little girl was forcing herself to confront.

"It's your birthday. And-And, I keep being bad." Wren explained reluctantly, fearing that Taylor would agree with her, would tell her that she's a problem and that they weren't going to Andrea's anymore.

"You're not bad. You could never be bad. Sometimes we just get in our head. Do you know what that means? To be self-critical?" Taylor asked softly, treading lightly as she knew there was a bigger storm beneath the rain cloud over Wren's head.

"No." The little girl admitted, her eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

Taylor guided Wren onto the hardwood floor beside her, eventually managing to situate themselves against the wall with Wren sitting on Taylor's thighs. "It means that we get mad at ourselves for little things that nobody else minds. Do you think that's how you feel?"

Slowly, Wren nods. "Adrianna didn't like seeing me on her birthday, so I had to spend all day in my room even when I was hungry. I gave you lotsa reasons to send me to my room today."

"I don't think you did. Can you tell me why you think that?" The blonde woman kept her expression neutral, but her eyes full of warmth, linking her fingers behind Wren's back, keeping her trapped in the embrace.

"I got scared cause I thought I was in trouble. And, cause now I'm being a problem about Bluey." Wren asked honestly, her lips turning downward into a deep pout.

"Today is scary, isn't it? It's different then how you spent birthdays with Timothy and Adrianna."

Wren nodded, "I wasn't allowed to be around."

"I think considering the fact that it's your very first birthday here, you're doing so well. I couldn't be prouder of you." Taylor kissed Wren's head, letting the girl melt against her chest as she relaxed. "I could never be mad at you for needing time to adjust. I don't expect you to be perfect, I just want you to try. A week ago we wouldn't have been having this conversation, you didn't trust me to keep you safe. But, look how well you're doing right now. You're telling me how you feel, and are you in trouble?" Wren shook her head, slowly starting to accept that Taylor wasn't going to take away Andrea's, or yell at her for being too much work. "You're not, that's right. Do you feel a little bit better now?"

"Yes." Wren nodded, softly kissing Taylor's cheek like the woman did to her a million times a day. "Can I go grab Bluey?"

"Go grab Bluey." Taylor laughed, sending her back up the stairs to grab the lovie that she knew was sitting on her vanity. "He's on my vanity!"

Wren giggles echo down the hallway, Taylor just able to see her little body make a sharp turn into the master bedroom, her little footsteps growing farther and farther away as she goes out of view. Taylor listens to them fondly, closing her eyes for a moment when another text notification dings.

Austin
teffy! are you even alive?

She shakes her head in amusement, a joyful smile pulls at her lips, and she sends him a cryptic response back, knowing it'll only further agitate him. She works on untying the blue ribbon around the crewneck while she waits for Wren. She throws it over her forearm and grabs her purse, poking her tongue out at Wren as she reappears on the stairs.

"We've got everything?" Taylor asked, racking her mind for anything she could've forgotten. She had Wren, which was the obvious, they both had shoes and jackets, she had her keys, her license and her phone, Wren had Bluey, but she knew there was something she was forgetting. "The cake!"

Wren giggled watching Taylor sprint back to the kitchen, tossing her blonde curls all around as she shook her head in exasperation. Wren didn't know how the day had become so messy, but it was funny, and she wasn't anything but amused as she and Taylor finally made it out of the house two hours later, hopefully with everything they needed.

"What are we listening to today?" Taylor asked once the car was started and Wren was buckled up, her little body being swallowed whole by the three sizes too big crewneck.

"Um, I don't know." Wren shrugged, not sure what she was in the mood for. Taylor handed her phone back, already open to her spotify profile knowing that the little girl was trying her best to learn all her songs. It was endearing, something Taylor hadn't even thought her life would coming too, but now she couldn't imagine car rides without Fearless playing in the background. "This one!"

It was seconds later that Christmas Tree Farm was playing softly through her speakers, and she laughed amusedly. Being so close to Christmas, she couldn't help but think back to the years she'd spent in Wyomissing, the white snow, the stale leaves, the fresh air. She'd give anything to relive those days if innocence at least once. "I'll have to take you to Pennsylvania sometime. You'd love to see the farm."

"Do you miss it? Pennsylvania?" Wren asked softly, pulling the seatbelt away from her neck when the harsh material dug in harshly.

"I do. That's where all of this started for me, it was bittersweet to let it go. Do you miss your hometown?" Taylor begged the question that's been on her mind for days, wondering if her daughter spent hours awake at night stuck in a spiral of memories from old familiar highways and secret spots she'd go to for a family breakfast.

"I don't really remember it." Wren shrugged trying to mask the disappointment in her voice, but Taylor knew her too well for it to go unnoticed. "I don't remember a lot of things anymore. Like how my Mom sounded."

"When I was a little bit older then you, my grandma Marjorie passed away. I beat myself up a lot, even now, for not asking her more questions when I had the chance, but what I do remember about her, is that she was beautiful. She used to pull me and Austin into her arms, and she would tell us 'Never be so kind, you forget to be clever. Never be so clever, you forget to be kind. Never be so polite, you forget your power. Never wield such power, you forget to be polite'. I didn't know what she meant at the time, and I let those words sit in my head without using them for so long. I don't remember what she sounded like when she said them, but I like to think it's more about remembering how they impacted you, rather then how they lived beside you." Taylor smiled weakly, her thoughts now a looping circle of all the times she should've listened closely, should've enjoyed the time spent together instead of complaining about cold water and long car rides.

Wrens voice dips below a quiet whisper as she remembers what her Mom told her every time she got upset, one of the only things she could remember clearly anymore. "My Mom used to tell me that I made every room I was in shimmer, and letting someone else ruin that wasn't going to make anything better. So I had to keep my head up, even if I was sad, because somebody else would always be trying to steal my diamonds, but they'd always be mine to start with."

"Your Mom was smart." Taylor hummed, smiling encouragingly at Wren through the rearview mirror, feeling a piece of her heart grow the slightest bit lighter knowing that not all of Wren's life had been unfortunate, once upon a time somebody did truly love her. "You make every room you're in light up."

"I don't have diamonds in my eyes though. I just... have eyes!" The little girl bellowed, finding her voice again as she looked at Taylor with bewilderment.

"You'll get it when you're older. And, I'll do my best to make sure you never forget it." Taylor laughed softly, shaking her head as their conversation died out just as they got to Andrea's. Like clockwork, Taylor punched in the code to the gate, and drove up the driveway, collecting Wren and all of their things before they walked toward the door. With both of her hands occupied by the cake stand, Wren had opted to grab onto the sleeve of Taylor's flannel, her face pressed against the blonde woman's side as she spotted the silhouette of a stranger through the living room window, his lanky frame illuminated by the light of the fireplace and Christmas tree. "You'll be okay. I wouldn't bring you over if I didn't think you could do it." Taylor reassured, "Can you do me a favor and open the door, baby love?"

Wren did as she was asked, despite how heavy the door was on its hinges, she managed to get it open enough for Taylor to do the rest with her hip, an involuntary smile tugged widely at her lips as the smell of her Mom's pasta hit her like a brick, bringing her back to easier days when this was all she dreamed of.

"Teffy! Finally." Austin exclaimed, throwing his hands out as he stood in front of the Christmas Tree. Wren pushed her face further into Taylor, her little hands clutching Bluey and the blondes flannel desperately.

Taylor rolled her eyes endearingly, holding the cake tray out toward her brother who was already on his way over to help, but somethings never die from childhood, and their incessant banter was one of them. "Take the cake."

Austin rolled his eyes, but ruffled Taylor's hair softly and leaned into the side that Wren wasn't occupying to give her a hug. He smiled warmly at Wren, chuckling to himself when she just managed a timid wave and hid her face in Taylor's side. Men were definitely a trigger, Taylor noted.

"Mom! Teff's here with her shadow!" Austin yelled, and Andreas laugh echoes from the kitchen. Austin disappears down the hall with the cake, and Taylor takes that as her opportunity to check in with her daughter.

"How are you doing? Austin's pretty silly, huh?" Taylor softly caresses her cheeks, forcing Wren to focus on her eyes and her eyes only, stilling the racing water that pooled beneath the surface.

Wren nodded shyly, "He kinda looks like you."

Taylor scoffed, shaking her head in amusement. The panic in Wren's she's was slowly simmering, her eyes focused only on Taylor. Her anchor. "We do, it's hard to see sometimes, but he stole my eyes." Taylor teased and Wren giggled. "Do you wanna go see Mom and Kitty?"

Wren nodded silently, missing the older woman's kind eyes since their last visit. She linked her hand with Taylor's, letting the blonde lead the way toward the kitchen, still unfamiliar with the layout. She eye'd the baby pictures on the side table by the stairs, dozens of pictures with Taylor's curly hair wild in the sunshine, Austin's blue eyes piercing even as a toddler, and she eye'd the updated family portraits on the wall, neatly brushed hair, but the same vibrant eyes. She couldn't remember having a home with her pictures on the wall, even with her Mom.

Voices carried down the hall as Austin and Andrea shared soft conversation, paired with the gentle scratching of a record spinning as it hadn't been flipped yet, just circling around and around waiting for the needle to be replaced. Taylor smiled softly at the sight, a pot of water boiling on the stove alongside one of homemade spaghetti sauce. It was her favorite as a kid, it was still her favorite now.

Her mother looked over at the sound of footsteps approaching, smiling warmly. This was all her mother wanted. Her kids under the same roof again. "Sorry we're late, Mama." Taylor apologized, despite knowing her mother didn't mind at all, just glad that they had found their way, her words were more to spite Austin, her lips coiling into a smirk as her brother shook his head.

"An hour late Teff! I'm starving!" He grumbled with an evident lack of seriousness in his voice, his laughter decorated the walls of the kitchen as Andrea playfully rolled her eyes, shaking her head at her grown children.

"You two can't go three minutes, can you?" Andrea wiped her hands clean on a dishrag, smears of sauce staining the white rag with a gingerbread man embroidered on the bottom center. She approached the birthday girls slowly, holding a silent conversation with Taylor as their eyes locked, and the blonde subtly shifted her eyes toward Wren.

"You look beautiful, Ms. Wren." Andrea comments sweetly, her tone laced with the same gentle edge of maternal affection that Taylor and Austin had grown up with. Wren peaked out from Taylor's side, smiling shyly with flushed cheeks.

"Thank you for saying that." Wren's voice was so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the record whirling, but both Andrea and Taylor heard her clearly. Wren was completely in awe at receiving the complement, she'd gotten so many of them recently, she never expected it to come from Andrea. Both blonde women smiled softly at the little girl, but bright brought it to attention.

"You know Wren, I think there might be some hot chocolate waiting for you on the counter." Andrea smiled. She'd heard the front door open and the footsteps that followed, warm voices filling the house, but she'd let Wren and Taylor make their way toward the kitchen at their own pace.

"Peppermint?" Wren perked up, all thought of Austin's presence abandoned as she peered around Andrea to look at a steaming mug of hot chocolate sitting on the counter in a mug shaped like a snowman, a mountain of whipped cream sitting on top, slowly melting away.

Andrea smirked at the little girl, nodding towards the mug she set out only a handful of mouths ago. "Why don't you figure it out?"

"Go ahead, unlimited hot chocolate and candy canes today." Taylor gave the girl a gently nudge, nodding encouragingly when Wren glanced up at her with nervous eyes. The freshly nine-year-old anxiously began to make small steps toward the counter, sparking a single quick glance at Austin before she kept her eyes trained on the floor.

With Wren temporarily distracted, Taylor didn't take her eyes off the girl, but she leaned down to whisper the events of her day to her Mother in short. "She's scared I'm going to take something away. We had to have a talk about communicating her feelings and not being in trouble for that."

Andrea frowned at the information, but knew to save the conversation for another time. Little ears heard everything, and the last thing either of them wanted was to further upset her.

Austin's eyes lingered on the frame of the small girl from the corner of the kitchen, actively making himself small to avoid startling her even more. As he watched, blue eyes analyzing her brown hair and soft eyes, taking in the sight of a royal blue dress and oversized black crewneck, he could see why Taylor was so fond of her. Even without spoken words, she radiated delicacy and innocence. His own heart clenched wanted to protect her from any further harm.

"Who do you have there, Wren?" Andrea asked softly, going back toward her pots that had begun to bubble at the lack of attention. She grabbed the box of noodles from the counter, Taylor's favorite shape as a child, and poured them into the larger pot of water. She turned down the heat on the stove, grabbing the wooden spoon she'd been using earlier to stir the sauce, all while keeping her attention on Wren.

"Bluey. Blake got him for me." She whispered nervously, her eyes anxiously shifting toward Taylor. The blonde smiled reassuringly, slipping the flannel off her shoulders.

"He's awfully cute. Austin used to have one just like it."

Taylor stifled a laugh, pressing the back of her hand to her lips at the sheer gleam of shock that passes through her brothers eyes. Austin groaned, rubbing a hand down his face as he scratched at the stubble around his chin. "Mom!"

"Oh, save it, Aust. She already pulled out the photo album." Taylor laughed. Austin groaned again, though a smile was pulling at his lips as he stole a glance at his Mom. His Mom that he wasn't promised tomorrow with. Taylor could see the conflicted sadness in his eyes, and she smiled sadly.

Looking over Wren, Taylor could see the tint of pink climbing up her neck and toward her cheeks. The warmth from the hot chocolate and general heat of the kitchen getting the best of her. "Wrenny, you wanna take that off?"

Wren nodded her head diffidently, her little feet shuffling toward Taylor, longing to feel the warmth of the blondes skin on hers again. Letting the woman take the snowman mug away from her heads, listening for the thick sound of the bottom meeting the dark oak table, she let Bluey be taken next, watching her new friend take up space on the tabletop. Silently, Taylor helped Wren out of the crewneck, pulling the neckline away from her head as to not disturb her neatly done ponytail. Staring into Taylor's eyes, she felt like maybe, just maybe, tonight would go okay.

𓇢𓆸

Night had fallen over Hendersonville, Tennessee, concealing the memory of daylight to be something of the past. Laughter filled the two-story house, four voices blending together as warm bodies sat around a dark oak table, mugs of peppermint and cinnamon hot chocolate scattered around the space. In the middle of the table, snowflake shaped sugar cookies were still warm from the oven, decorated with red and green sprinkles that resembled glitter.

After dinner and three mugs of peppermint hot chocolate for Wren later, the nine-year-old and the honorary grandmother had pulled out an assortment of cookie cutters and sheet pans attempting to decide on the perfect shape for their cookies while the siblings snuck out into the living room to catch up. Austin grilled Taylor about her upcoming projects and the status of her relationship beneath the glow of white Christmas tree lights while Wren laughed freely in the kitchen. They'd only reconvened back at the oak table when Wren eagerly called for Taylor to come see the finished product, and the blonde had eagerly complied.

An hour later, candles had been blown out on the cake, and happy birthday had been sung. Their bellies were full from all the sugary treats, but nobody minded as they sat around the dark oak table, illuminated by candlelight, listening to the story Andrea was telling them about her own childhood. Wren hung onto every word the blonde woman said, her little hands softly petting Kitty's head while she listened, the great dane resting her spotted head on her sparkly tights, impatiently nudging the nine-year-olds belly every time she stopped scratching behind her ears.

As Wren yawned for the sixth time, trying to hide her watering eyes from Taylor who had been watching her closely, the blonde smirked knowingly. It was approaching midnight now, a new day dawning beneath their fingertips, leaving all birthday celebrations behind, to come again in another twelve months. With a twenty-minute drive and the promise of hearing her new song before bed, it was best they got going before Wren succumbed to sleep at the table.

"I think we better get you in bed, Wrenny." Taylor laughed softly, watching her daughter fight to keep her green eyes open, her head lulled to the side before she shot upright again. The little girl frowned, but didn't protest, just let Taylor clean up her mugs of chocolate chocolate and wipe her mouth clean of cookie crumbs with a damp paper towel that she half-heartedly fought off.  "Austin, will you get her crewneck?" Taylor nodded toward the chair at the head of the table, where her flannel and Wren's crewneck had been thrown earlier that evening.

She helped Andrea clean up the table, throwing empty hot chocolate mugs into the dishwasher, and packing away containers of leftover cake and sugar cookies as the moonlight slipped in through the kitchen window, reflecting off of Taylor's eyes. She loved these quiet moments, wishing more of them came to be during her busiest months of the year. She tried her best, but family dinners were hard things to achieve when she was in a new state or country every other week.

While Andrea and Taylor washed up dishes, Austin helped Wren into her crewneck, smiling softly at his sleepy niece who easily complied with his instructions. The fear she'd been paralyzed with earlier had slipped away into a moment in time. Somehow, he ended up with Taylor's little girl clinging to his torso like a baby koala, her head dipped into the dark space between his neck and shoulder. He didn't mind at all, swaying in the candlelight of the kitchen as he waited for Taylor to finish up.

"Wrenny..." Taylor turned around from where she'd been rinsing off silverware at sink, her hands dripping wet as she shook them out. Her world stopped spinning as her eyes found Wren and Austin, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips at the sight in front of her. Austin had one hand supporting Wren's tired little body, and his other hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her tucked into darkness, looking huge against her small body. "You okay with her, Aust? I can take her."

"We're fine." Austin waved her off, "Finish up with Mom, I'll put your things by the door." Like he'd done this a few thousand times, Austin balanced Wren with one arm while he collected their belongings in the other. Leaving Taylor's flannel on the back of the chair for her to grab herself, he piled the containers of cake and cookies into a reusable shopping bag laying Wren's blue lovie on top of the glass containers. Slinging Taylor's crossbody purse over his shoulder, his footsteps faded the farther he walked into the hallway.

"I'm glad she warmed up." Andrea smiled, starting the load in the dishwasher, the kitchen returned to the state it had been in that morning. "Austin was so excited when you said you were coming over, I know he's been waiting to meet her."

Taylor smiled upon hearing how excited her little brother was, "Thank you for accepting her, no questions asked." Taylor slinked her arms around her mothers neck, and Andrea easily reciprocated the embrace.

"It doesn't matter how she came into your life, that little girl is your daughter. The way you look at her... honey, you have no idea how proud I am of you." Andrea softly caressed her daughters cheeks, forcing her wild blue eyes to focus on hers. She and Wren were all to similar.

"I can't help but question if I'm the right fit for her. I don't want to hurt her more then she's already had to go through." Taylor sighed, biting down at her bottom lip as she let herself feel the warmth of her mothers hands on her cheeks.

"You're always going to question what you're doing, and what you're not doing. That's just how it works, but one day, you'll look at her and you'll realize she grew up overnight. You won't know how it happened, but it did, and you'll be so proud of everything that she's become. The moments when you wondered if you could do this, they won't matter anymore." Andrea tearfully shook her head. "I spent every night worrying about if we made the right decisions for you. Your Dad and I never wanted to get in the way of your dreams, but it was hard. Watching you come home so discouraged you didn't say a word to anyone, you just went up to your room and tried to hide the fact that you were crying. Look at how that turned out, look at you."

"She's terrified, Mom. They ruined that little girl." Salty tears fell from Taylor's eyes, slowly sinking down her flush cheeks. Her hands shook as she clung to her mothers warm embrace, never wanting to let go.

Andrea let her daughter cry, she let her feel the tickle of tears on her skin, knowing that was what it would take for her to hear what she was saying and come to her senses. "You knew that coming into all of this, and yet you didn't turn her away. You need to give yourself more credit, honey. I see the patience you have with her, that's what motherhood is. It's never going to be easy, but you show up every day. That's all that matters."

"What if it's not enough?" Taylor hiccuped.

"All that little girl wants is for somebody to love her. You don't need to play God, Taylor. You just need to show her that she's not alone. And you feeling these emotions, only tells me that you're doing everything right. Would you feel comfortable letting somebody else catch her when she falls?" Andrea pulled away from Taylor's hug, holding her daughters hands tightly between their bodies.

"No." Taylor frantically shook her head, "Not a chance in hell."

"Then stop telling yourself that you're not enough for her. She needs you just as much as you need her. Now, go get your baby to bed. I'll talk to you tomorrow. I love you."

Taylor smiled wetly, wiping any evidence of tears off her face. "Thank you. I love you."

Taylor found Austin and Wren on the couch near the Christmas Tree, completely absorbed in each others embrace. Wren was fast asleep clutching his shirt in her little hands, but despite her brothers eyes being closed, Taylor knew he was awake, just trying to commit this moment to memory. Austin's eyes opened upon hearing Taylor's footsteps, smiling softly at his big sister who had always been his number one inspiration.

"You feeling better now? I could see you needed to talk to Mom." Austin said kindly, laying a hand in the center of Wren's back when she stirred at the vibrations of his voice.

"All good. I just needed a reality check. Thank you for taking her." Taylor smiled while grabbing the bags Austin had set by the front door, looking between him and her sleeping daughter. "Mind carrying her out to the car?"

"Not at all. You've got a special one, Tay. Stop beating yourself up so much, she adores you." Austin shares warmly, supporting Wren's head when he stands up, keeping her body close to his. "Here, give me the bag." He extends his arm toward the shopping bag, glaring at his sister when she ignores his request and frolics out the front door, into the biting cold of winter.

Without his jacket, Austin shuddered as the cold surrounded him, but he didn't mind too much. His footsteps echoed behind Taylor's, a constant sound of contact on pavement as they made their way to the sleek black car. Taylor unlocked the car, half-way sliding into the front seat to turn it on and blast the heat.

She climbed out to help Austin open the backseat doors, smiling softly when her daughter clung to his neck. Without prompt from Taylor, Austin shh'd her softly, easing her body into the booster seat and buckling her in. Wren settled easily, her little hands fumbling around to grab onto something, and Taylor was quick to hand over Bluey.

Taylor shut the car door softly, pressing her back against it as she peered up at Austin. "You're good with her." She commented, her breath twisting into the night sky like a cloud she could touch.

"She's easy." Austin shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans, his hot breath mixing with Taylor's as the cold air surrounded them.

"She's not, and I love her for it." Taylor wouldn't change her little girl for the world, but that didn't mean she wasn't a handful at times, especially when she was overwhelmed and closing in on herself. "Have you changed your mind? About kids?"

"No." Austin shook his head, his nose becoming red at the harsh breeze that passes between them. "But, you call me and I'm there to steal the munchkin."

Taylor laughed, looking down through the window at Wren's fluttering eyes. Oh how much she adored that little girl. "You got it. Thank you for being patient with her. She's been through a lot."

"You get her home." Austin rolled his eyes, but Taylor could see the emotion that hid behind his stone expression. Always the one to hide how he was feeling when he didn't want to confront it. "I'll see you soon, Teff."

Taylor embraced him in a hug, letting his cold body fall against hers for a few seconds. She ruffled his hair, shoving him away when she couldn't stand to stay in the color for any longer.

"Go inside, I'll see you soon." Taylor smiled, rounding the car and sliding into the drivers seat, making sure Austin got inside before she pulled down the driveway and onto the street.

𓇢𓆸

"I'm a mirrorball, I'll show you every version of yourself tonight."

Beneath the blackness of an early morning, two bodies stayed glued together on a piano bench, nothing but the soothing chords of a song and a raspy voice that stumbled over lyrics surrounding them. Wren's exhausted body laid flush against Taylor's chest, decorated in soft pink pajamas with white stars down the sleeves and pants, keeping her tiny body warm as the cold threatened to penetrate the apartment through the windowpanes. Taylor was in her own pajamas, but like she promised, they slipped away toward her music room.

Her lyrics were unfinished, more then a handful of lines filled with random sound affects that Wren giggled at. Taylor had never shared a song in this position, never with a little girl she loved beyond words in her lap, never with the lights so dim she could barely see the keys. But now, she wouldn't want this moment any other way.

"You ready for bed now, sleepyhead?" Taylor rubbed Wren's back over top of her soft pajama shirt, standing up from the piano bench and pacing around the room, keeping her eye on the moonlight that pierced the apartment like a spotlight.

Wren nodded sleepily against Taylor's neck, fighting off a yawn as she pulled Bluey closer to her face. "Let's get you in bed, honey. Did you have a good day?"

"The best day." Wren yawned, her eyes fluttering as Taylor laid her down and tucked her into bed, making sure Bluey was right at her side.

"I'm glad. I'll see you tomorrow, Roo. Sweet dreams."

Chapter Text

you're terrifed to look down, cause if you dare, you'll see the glare of everyone you burned just to get there, it's coming back around

DECEMBER 14th, 2019

In buddhism, Karma is defined as the sum of a person's actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences. The informal definition states that it's a destiny or fate, following as effect from cause. In simpler terms, what goes around comes around, or, you get what you give.

It wasn't even seven in the morning when Taylor Swift was startled away by the persistent ringing of her phone. Disoriented at first, her blue eyes were hardly open as she fumbled around for the source of the sound, finding her phone tousled in her bedsheets after she'd fallen asleep on FaceTime with her boyfriend the night prior. It wasn't Joe's name that filled the screen this time, rather Emily Ross's contact that appeared on the screen in bold black letters. Panic flushed her body in seconds, and she scrambled to answer the call, now more awake then ever.

"Emily? What's going on? Is everything okay?" Her words were rushed, slurred together with remnants of a deep sleep that she pushed away. She shot out of bed and rushed down the hallway, intent on checking on Wren, not knowing what other reason Emily would have to call so early, or at all.

Her daughter was sound asleep in her bed, sprawled out on her belly with Benjamin resting beside her head. The pink blankets were tucked beneath her chin, fighting off the cold of fresh morning that fought to occupy the room. Sunshine filled the room despite her closed curtains, casting the most elegant shadow of light across the girls tousled hair.

"I have news regarding the Tilghmans case. I figured that you'd want to be the first to know when the verdict came in." Emily sounded like she'd been awake for hours, Taylor didn't even want to know what circumstances had led to that, reminding herself that she couldn't save every kid even if she wanted to.

"Yes, yes. What did the jury decide?" So many years devoted to Law and Order had paid off for this single moment, the blonde clinging to Emily's silence, waiting for the woman to come out with the news already. She bounded down the stairs, in search of a cup of coffee.

"Guilty on all counts. They won't see the light of day for the next six years." Emily breathed out, like a weight had been lifted off of her own shoulders. She might not have known Wren any longer then Taylor had, but she'd give her pension to make sure the Tilghmans spent every second possible behind bars. "Parole after they're released for the drug charges, and the state pulled their foster license. They'll never be able to hurt another kid again."

Taylor breathed out her own sigh of relief, resting her head in her hands as she brewed a cup of coffee, the strong smell waking her up slowly. "I can't thank you enough, Emily."

"You don't have to thank me at all. It's the least that little girl deserves. I'm not done yet, though." Taylor could hear the edge of a smile laced in Emily's voice, and her heart began to race thinking the worst. Did her Dad want her back? Could he really do that? All these years later? "The judge mandated that they help financially support Wren until she's eighteen. A thousand dollars every month, deposited into an account set up by the state. They'll pay for their negligence and abuse, even after they get out."

"T-The judge can do that?" Taylor stumbled over her words, completely gobsmacked by how much was being unloaded onto her shoulders at such an early hour.

"After what they did to her... the judge thinks it's the least of what they can do. You'll be able to access the account for any expenses you need after you approve withdraws with me, ideally for her to receive therapy related to the trauma. But, when she turns eighteen, all of that money belongs to her. They can't touch her anymore." Taylor chuckled softly, shaking her head in disbelief. Karma came around again, and her little girl was finally getting a sliver of justice. "Also, Sarah James had a life support policy naming Wren as the sole beneficiary. She'll receive the benefits when she turns eighteen, or if she has a baby before then. There'll be half a million dollars waiting for her."

Taylor felt tears prick her eyes thinking about her daughters future. So many injustices had been brought upon her already in such a short life, but she was finally getting her justice. She was finally being seen, and actions were being taken, even if it wasn't her mother living and breathing in front of her. Nobody could bring Sarah James back, but this was something.

"Can I tell her? About the verdict, that is?" Taylor bit at her nails, watching the stream of coffee start to fill her mug, steam rolling off the burning black liquid in nearly translucent white swirls.

"Yeah." Emily's voice was clear, happy as she relaid the news, hoping that it helped put Wren at ease. "Are you still free to collect her belongings. Everything's been cleared with the Knoxville county police department, a squad car can be waiting for you at the residence to let you in."

"Noon, right?" Taylor double-checked, pulling the peppermint creamer out of her fridge. She may have a slight obsession, but nothing would taste better right now.

"Yeah. I'll text you the address. It's a long commute, I do apologize for the inconvenience." Emily sounded sincere as Taylor's phone chimed by her ear, the address popping up with a three hour commute time. If they were going to make it, she needed to get Wren up now.

"It's not your fault, I'm hoping that it'll close that chapter for her. We've been making progress, but she still walks on eggshells thinking they'll come back and take her away. I just hope that seeing that house again, without them in it and knowing that they're in jail will help her sleep easier at night. I was meaning to ask you about her Dad, Colin, was it?" Taylor almost moaned at the first splash of coffee against her tongue, savoring the rich flavor that shocked her body awake fully.

"Colin James, what about him?" Emily hummed, and Taylor heard the clicking of a keyboard as if she was looking up Wren's file. The complete file she hadn't seen yet, but haunted her dreams for what it could possibly entail.

"Is he still in the picture? Do I have to worry about him taking her back? I know that's ultimately the end goal, but... just for my sanity, is he interested in taking custody back?" Taylor bit at her finger nails, anxiously trying to keep herself collected. Pacing toward the sink, she reached for the kettle on the back burner of the stove, filling it with water in the interest of making Wren a mug of hot chocolate.

"No. Colin James signed forfeited his parental custodianship of Wren the year after she was placed with the Tilghmans. There's been no trace of him since." Emily's words didn't make Taylor feel any better inside, her belly churning with disgust. Although relieved she wasn't at risk of losing her foster-daughter, she had to sit with the knowledge of a perfectly capable and healthy man abandoning his five-year-old the same year her mother was killed. In her mind, Colin was just as much at fault for Wren's trauma as Timothy and Adrianna were.

"Does Wren know?" Keeping herself busy, Taylor fed the cats, peeling open three cans of wet food that she scooped into metal bowls in the corner of the kitchen. They'd been a gift from her parents after she adopted Benjamin, a pastel design on them all that matched the aesthetic of Lover.

"I believe her former case worker told her. I can't be sure though." There it was, the sympathetic tone that Taylor was so used to hearing from Emily. The blonde would never understand how Emily could bare to do this job every day.

"Alright, I'll let you go. Thank you for calling." Taylor smiled although she knew Emily couldn't see her, keeping her voice as friendly as she could despite the frustration she felt.

"I'll let you know if I hear any updates on Colin. Take care, Taylor." The phone line went silent, Emily no longer on the other end, and for the first time since she woke up, Taylor was alone with her thoughts. She took a minute to process what had just happened, and everything that had been unloaded onto her shoulders. As she got her thoughts in order, slowly nursing her mug of coffee that had definitely scorched her tongue, a smile tugged at her lips. Wren was free. She was finally getting justice, even if it was three years too late.

Her time to think came to an end when the kettle started to whistle, and she hurriedly grabbed it off the burner before the sound could wake Wren. Grabbing an older mug out of the top cabinet, she tore open a packet of hot chocolate mix, stirring it in with a heavy splash of peppermint creamer. Even if they shared no DNA, her daughter was feign just like she was, and the similarity brought her comfort.

Leaving the mug of hot chocolate to cool, she practically bounced up the stairs to wake Wren. Since Wren had come into her life, she walked on eggshells, scared of skeletons in every closet and monsters lingering in the dark waiting for her to let her guard down, but not anymore. It was the start of a new dawn, and she finally felt reassured that things were going her way. The playing field had been evened out, the closets rid of skeletons, and maybe the dark wasn't so scary anymore either. A liberal sounding squeak came from deep in her chest, a rejuvenating peace silencing the continuous hun of static noice in her head. They were finally in the clear.

Inside the bedroom, Wren was still face down on the mattress, her arms folded beneath her head as she blocked out the permeating sunlight. Taylor sat down just beside her little head, letting her fingers dance along Wren's covered spine. "Wrenny, it's time to wake up, honey." Taylor whisperer gently, slowly rousing the girl into a state of consciousness. Typically, she woke up on her own accord, or was already awake when Taylor came to check on her, but they didn't have time to waste his morning, Knoxville was three hours away, and they only had four and a half until noon fell over them.

Wren whined softly at being woken up before her body was ready, wiggling around the bed until her head found Taylor's thighs, and she settled back down contently. "We don't have time for sleep right now, sweet girl. We've gotta get up." Taylor combed her fingers through Wren's tangled hair, wishing she would've spend more time to braid it last night. There was nothing they could do about it now, but it was made a mental note for a later date. "There's hot chocolate waiting for you downstairs, you've gotta get up to drink it."

That caught Wren's attention, and with much hesitance, her green eyes peeled open. Taylor laughed softly, still running her fingers through the little girls hair. "How'd I know that would get you going? I need you dressed before we go downstairs, alright baby? We're gonna have a quick breakfast today."

"Can I..." Wren's words were dismantled by a face contorting yawn, her little nose scrunching upward as she stretched her body out of its comfortable position. "...your clothes."

Laughing softly, Taylor caught the gist of what Wren was implying, and given what she was dragging the little girl to face, she couldn't say no. "Whatever you want, you remember what we're doing today?"

Wren nodded, sitting up in her bed and letting the comforter fall around her hips, exposing her upper extremities to the cold of the morning. "Getting my...things." Another yawn broke Wren's sentence in half, her crystal eyes watering as she tried to cover her mouth.

"That's right, and Knoxville is far away, so I need those teeth brushed, clothes on, and sock and shoes ready to go in ten minutes. Can you do that?" Taylor caressed the little girls face, smiling softly. She needed to get dressed too, but breakfast was more a priority then looking her best. Presentable was good enough for today, already knowing they were going to forced to deal with high and heavy emotions.

Wren nodded, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Taylor would usually reprimand her for being so harsh with her body, but she let her slide today, offering the girl a hand when she got her feet flat on the floor. "Can you be my helper and grab me some clothes too? And, meet me in the kitchen with the brush and the clothes when you're ready?"

Wren nodded, another yawn ripping through her tiny body. They really needed to get back to the routine Taylor had been trying to set in place, these late nights fun but completely destroying them as they fell into a habit of going to bed in the early morning and waking up mid-afternoon.  Taylor could function on only a few hours of sleep, over a decade of  adapting to timezones and red eyes forcing her into compliance, but it was wearing Wren down fast.

"Thank you, Roo. I wanna leave her in the next hour, do you want milk with your cereal?" Typically opting for a more nutrient breakfast, it was almost a treat to be having cereal for breakfast, and Wren perked up.

"Cheerios and milk?" Her green eyes sparkled, looking hopefully at Taylor, bouncing on her toes with hands clasped at her front.

"You got it. Now, go get dressed please." Taylor led the way out of the bedroom, making sure she grabbed Wren's sketchbook and new pencil set off the desk as she made it to the door. "And don't forget to brush your teeth!" Taylor called out when little footsteps raced toward her bedroom, growing distant the further away Wren got.

With the sketchbook and pencils in her hands, Taylor decided that Bluey was a good comfort item to bring along as well, so she retreated back to the messy bed and plucked the deeply adored lovie off the blush pink sheets. Really heading toward the kitchen now, she called for Benji to follow, wanting to make sure he ate some of his food before they took off.

She grabbed two matching bowls from the dishwasher, still needing to fully unload it from when she packed it full a couple of days ago, but she somehow always found another task that took up her full attention and her time. Pouring out two servings of plain Cheerios, Taylor grabbed the carton of milk from the refrigerator. She really needed to place another grocery order, but that would have to wait until tomorrow when she would be home to collect it at the door.

She moved around the kitchen with ease, grabbing two spoons from the drying rack and Wren's waiting mug of hot chocolate. Waiting for her daughter to come downstairs to pour the milk in her bowl, Taylor ate as quickly as she could, taking sips of her coffee in between. She smiled when she heard footsteps approaching, Wren rounding the corner dressed in a full outfit of her clothes, and holding all the items Taylor asked her to bring down. The blonde tried not to blush at the sight of her daughter holding a lacy black bralette in her tiny little hands, having no idea the sexual connotation that article of clothing had attached to it. Appreciating the sentiment, she kissed Wren's head when she sat down at the island. Wren swam in the sweatpants she selected and the white hoodie, looking even more adorable then she did on any typical day, but Taylor needed them to get a rush on things, so she settled for cementing the image to memory rather then snapping an actual picture.

"Eat up." Taylor poured the milk into the bowl, sliding it closer to Wren for the little girl to get a move on. "How do you want your hair? Pony or half-up?" She really didn't want the girls hair in her face during their plans, so she gave her two relatively quick options to choose from, already starting to brush the girls hair out when she released it from the messy bun they'd accomplished last night.

"Pony." Wren hummed, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Will you braid the front sections again?" Deciding they had the time, Taylor got to work, braiding two sections of Wren's thin hair back into the ponytail, satisfied with her quick work of the situation. It wasn't her best work, but it would do what it was intended to and that was all that mattered to her.

"Put some water in your cup when you're done, alright? I'm gonna go get changed." Taylor grabbed her clothes off the island, already making her way toward the downstairs bathroom when Wren nodded around a spoonful of Cheerios.

When the bathroom door closed, Taylor made quick work of changing, laughing at the selection of clothes Wren had brought down for her. A pair of pink athleisure leggings, a white crop-top with Olivia's face on the chest, and her matching set of red lingerie mixed into the pile of clothes with red and green stripped socks to top it all off. She didn't have time to grab anything else, so she slipped into the clothes, throwing her own hair up into a ponytail when she was finished. Brushing her own teeth with her spare toothbrush downstairs that was originally intended for guests, she left her pajamas on a pile in the floor to go make sure Wren was ready.

The dishes were cleared off the table, waiting for her in the sink to do at a later date, and her little girl had filled not only her own water bottle with water by time Taylor reappeared, but hers as well. A warmth spread through her chest at the sight, she was so used to taking care of everyone else, she truly didn't deserve Wren.

"Thank you, buddy. I appreciate you helping me out. You're being the best helper this morning." Taylor praised her gently, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple as the little girl beamed. "Will you grab a couple snacks from the pantry? It's a lunch ride, we'll grab lunch after we finish, okay?"

"Okay!" Wren complied easily, thankfully not seeming too distraught by what laid ahead of her. Taylor knew that sooner or later she'd catch up with everything, but for now, she enjoyed her daughters good mood. Packing Wren's sketchbook and pencils into a tote bag, she threw Bluey in on top, sliding her feet into a pair of sneakers that were waiting for her by the kitchen entry. Wren came back with arms full of snacks, and Taylor couldn't help but chuckle at the full family sized bag of goldfish she carried.

"Do we need all those goldfish?" She asked amusedly, letting the nine-year-old pack them anyways. She dumped two packages of oreo pop tarts into the bag, drowning them with fruit snacks and loose skittles packets. Taylor chuckled at the combination, admiring the innocence that still managed to peak through even beyond her scars.

"You never know!" Wren shrugged sheepishly, giggling when Taylor poked her tongue out. She returned the expression, slipping toward Taylor and wrapping her arms around her middle. "They won't be there, right?"

And there it was. Taylor's breath stolen from her diagram as she braced for Wren's impact. She held onto the back of Wren's head, keeping her close to her chest, close enough to hear the beating of her heart through her ribcage. Her other arm circled around her waist, squeezing her tightly.

"They won't. Do you wanna know something?" Taylor fiddled with the ends of Wren's hair, twisting them around her fingers as she tried to keep up the little girls spirits. She could feel Wren nod against her belly, tightening her grip on the crop-top. "They're in jail. Emily called me this morning, she told me that Timothy and Adrianna are going to jail for six years. Do you know how old you'll be then?"

"Fifteen." Wren whispered, her shoulders relaxing as she accepted Taylor's words, repeating them over and over again in her head until she forced herself to believe them. "Is the policeman gonna let us in?"

"Yeah, baby. There's gonna be a police officer waiting for us, and they're gonna be there the entire time, so nothing bad or scary can get you. Do you trust me?" Wren's response was immediate, her head bobbing up and down in the affirmative against Taylor's ribcage. "Good, because I'm never going to let anything bad happen to you. Not if I can help it."

"Have bad things happened to you?" Wren asks weakly, peering up at Taylor with wide green eyes searching for validation as she drowns in her own fears. She's aware enough to know most kids aren't scared of their foster parents, that most kids don't have foster parents, and that breaks Taylor's heart.

"They have. And I was scared for a long time, I still get scared sometimes, but I have to trust that I have people who will keep my safe now. Like Chad and Tree, they work with me to keep me safe. When we go back to New York, Chad will be with us almost every day to make sure nothing bad happens." Taylor hopes they can ever make it to New York without needing Chad, but she's been in communication with Tree for days, and her publicist is ever the realist when it comes to security. There are already hundreds of twitter pages speculating her location, putting the pieces together about where she's staying, and she'd be lying if she said that didn't scare her. It scared her enough when it was just her who was at risk, but now she has Wren to consider in all of it.

Wren contemplates Taylor's words for a second, letting them sink in. She thinks Taylor's the bravest person she knows, and she desperately wants to be just like her. So slowly, she nods her head in understanding, and eventually pulls herself away from the blonde, mustering up her best unbothered expression. "I think I'm ready to go now."

Taylor kissed her forehead, "If you need to pull over, you tell me, okay? We're going at your pace, and I don't expect you to be okay the entire time."

"They can't hurt me anymore. I'll be okay." Wren whispered watching as Taylor collected their bag of snacks and activities from the island and tucked their water cups beneath her bicep.

"They can't hurt you anymore, but it's okay to not be okay. Nothing can ever justify what they did to you, and even if you know they can't hurt you anymore, being scared is still a normal response. Nobody would blame you if you needed to step outside and take a break, do you hear me?" Taylor's blue eyes were piercing as she analyzed every inch of her daughter from head to toe.

"The policeman won't be mad I'm wasting his time?" Wren worried, gnawing on her bottom lip as she followed behind Taylor toward the door. The blonde reached for two matching zip-up hoodies on the rack, handing one over to Wren who slipped it on obediently, even though she already had a hoodie on and couldn't stand the feeling of her arms being so constricted.

"Nobody is going to be mad at you." Taylor unlocked the front door, waiting for Wren to join her out in the hallway before she locked the apartment behind them, letting Wren be the one to press the elevator buttons in hope that the small action made her realize she was the one in control here.

When the elevator dings and the doors pull open, both girls step inside anticipating the worst. This could go wrong in so many ways, but Taylor hoped that at the very least, Wren would get closure. "Can we listen to Reputation in the car?" The nine-year-old asked cheekily, her lips pulling into a smirk as she watched Taylor closely.

"If I didn't know better I'd say you have a new favorite!" Taylor giggles, nudging Wren with her hip when the little girl presses against her side. Taylor absorbs the feeling of her physical presence, knowing that eventually, she'd have to go on business trips without her little shadow. She's also very aware of the fact that if it were anybody else clinging to her so frequently, she'd be pushing them away and shivering at being touched out, but she wasn't. She'd never get tired of being Wren's lifeline. "We can listen to Rep, baby. Any other suggestions, it's a long drive. We can listen to Selena's album too, I know you said you wanted to hear it."

"And that song you were playing yesterday?" Wren perks up at the prospect of listening to the pretty song that she only heard a snippet of yesterday afternoon when Taylor was playing music in her bathroom.

Racking her memory for the song Wren was talking about, the only song she'd played outside of her own catalogue had been Phoebe's new releases. "Motion Sickness?" Taylor quizzed, recalling the moment her daughter came into the bathroom looking for her, just as the song ended.

Wren shrugged her little shoulders, stepping out into the cold when the elevator doors parted and dinged, dropping them off into the parking garage. "I dunno the name." Taylor laughed softly, but was already adding Phoebes new album into the queue on Spotify. She threw in The National as well, wanting something for herself that would calm the raging waters in her belly.

The sound of her car unlocking echoed around the otherwise empty parking garage, the sleek black Mercedes-AMG G63 (which Wren regretted asking the name of after realizing it consisted of so many random letters she couldn't remember the order of) flickered to life just as Taylor pulled open the back passenger door. Wren wiggled into her booster seat, letting Taylor be the one to buckle her in, not remembering the last time anybody had before she landed here, and handed the bag of snacks and her water.

"What are you gonna do if you need a break?" The blonde checks in, her eyes searching Wren's for any indication that she didn't want to go through with this, but she came up empty. She knew it was silly to project her own fears onto her daughter, but she didn't know if she'd be able to make it through today in one piece, as selfish as it sounded. That couple had beaten her little girl, starved her as punishment, they were signal-handedly at fault for crushing the spirits of an eight-year-old girl. She didn't know if she could face that reality.

"Tell you." Wren hummed, blissfully unaware of the dread that was festering in Taylor's belly. She would do anything for her daughter, but that didn't mean it would be easy.

Taylor nods, content with Wren's unbothered response, glad that one of them was confident in this decision. She laid her lips upon the soft flesh of her daughters head, letting the kiss linger for a moment longer then it needed to before she mustered the straight to pull away and praise the little girl. "Good girl."

The sound of the car door closing echoed through her skull like a beating drum, rivaling the pounding of her heart that she could feel in her fingertips. Out of sight from her observant daughter, Taylor took a second to collect herself. She drew in a deep breath, letting her muscles contract as she held it in her chest until she'd finished her could of four, and then released it through her mouth. Her hot breath floated in front of her face like the trail of a fairy, but this moment wasn't magical like that would've been.  Forcing herself to walk through a truly pathetic pep talk, she didn't want to keep Wren waiting on her any longer, so with shaky hands, she slid into the drivers seat, trying not to hyperfixate on how many things could go wrong during this new adventure.

𓇢𓆸

Skies were blue in Knoxville, Tennessee. The grass was green as if the town hadn't seen an inch of snow or frigid weather, untouched by the brutality of winter. There was a playground just beyond the local library, and without heavy winter coats or gloves, children played on the plastic equipment. Their laughter couldn't penetrate the car, too far away and too quiet, but Taylor was still able to make out all of their expressions that were twisted with glee. Watching all the parents chase after their kids, spin them around in circles without worrying if a camera was hiding in the bushes taking pictures of them, her heart sank with guilt. She'd never be able to give Wren a normal experience, there would always be cameras, and if there weren't, she'd always be worried about them showing up.

Glancing back at Wren through the rearview mirror, her little girl is still nose to the window, analyzing every building and side street they pass. She hadn't looked away at all in the last three hours. Making another right-hand turn, she hears a sharp intake of breathe behind her, followed by anxious panting and kicking. "N-No!" Wren sobs, anxiously pulling at the seatbelt that's laying over her chest, trying to find the buckle where it connects at the base of her booster seat, but the bulky plastic is in the way of the red eject button. "No! P-Please!" Her legs flail like she's trying to keep someone away from her, arms circling around her own torso when she realizes she can't get it unbuckled.

She had been doing so well, Taylor had been checking in on her every half-and-hour, asking if she needed to get some air, and she'd declined every time. What had set her off?

There wasn't a single logical concern going through Taylor's head as she parked on the side of the road, flicking her hazards on, and making a b-line straight for Wren. She didn't care that she was in a no loitering zone, her daughter was her first priority. She was barely even able to get the backdoor opened and the seatbelt unlocked before Wren was throwing herself into Taylor's arms, sobbing into her neck.

"Shhh. Shhh." Taylor softly cooed as she paced the sidewalk, bouncing Wren in her arms. She kept a gentle rhythm patting the girls back, keeping an eye out for any wandering eyes. This was not the ideal location to be having this kind of moment, every move she made was exposed, but it was Wren's privacy she wanted to protect. Against her better judgment, she left her keys and phone inside her running car, quickly shuffling into a boutique that looked empty enough. "You're okay baby, just breath with me."

The door chimed behind her and Wren as they entered the boutique like bulls in a china shop. Behind the counter, a brunette woman with caramel highlights and a sweet smile who couldn't have been any older then thirty-five, welcomed them inside. Despite not saying anything, Taylor could see a hint of recognition cross her face.

"I'm so sorry, do you have a back room or a fitting area I can use? Just something private?" Taylor motioned to the weeping child in her arms, the beginning stages of a panic attack clawing at the little girls chest, her wild eyes were desperate. Taylor's weren't any better, silently begging the woman to sympathize with her for only a few minutes.

The brunette nodded her head in the direction of a hallway, "Go 'head, honey. It's just 'round the corner, I'll watch your car for 'ya. You take care of that one, shame what happened." Taylor tensed at the woman's words, but managed a forced smile as she carried on down the hall until she found the break room.

The walls were painted an off white, bearing deep scratches in the drywall and chips along the doorframe. The overhead light flickered like it would give out in seconds, giving off just enough light to see the beaten up folding table and two single chairs. Taylor didn't care what the room looked like, just glad to have some privacy. "Shhh, shhh. You're okay. It's Taylor. It's just Taylor." She continued her pacing, rubbing Wren's back.

"T-That's w-where he 'tended to c-crash!" Wren's voice was hoarse as result of her sobbing, choking on her own tears as she tightened her arms around Taylor's neck and blocked out the light. Her body trembled against Taylor's, trapped in her mind as the memory of that night played over and over again.

It was the second time Timothy used the car as a punishment. Over a year ago now, at the time, Wren had only turned seven a few months beforehand. She was pulled to the car with a bleeding back, sliced open and bruised from the lashing of his belt, bare feel unprotected from the jagged rocks she stepped over. The rain had been pouring buckets down on Knoxville that night, sounding like tiny rocks ambushing the windows as they landed on the car. Unlike the last time, Timothy didn't give her a chance to stop crying. He didn't warn her with the same threat, 'Quit your crying or I'll give you something to cry about'. That would've been far too easy. Instead, he'd gone straight for the rush of it all, laughing manically at the feel of the engine sputtering beneath his feet, paired with  Wren's sweet whimpers as she feared for her life. He couldn't get enough of the rush. A speedometer he passed just after the park had flashed red, but Timothy knew the camera didn't work, so he didn't bother slowing down, even when the sign said he was doing ninety in a fifteen. Instead, he swerved the car up onto the sidewalk, almost crashing into the windows of Jill's Boutique before she jerked back onto the road. Wren hadn't stopped sobbing the entire time, clawing at her chest when it felt like the walls were closing in around her. Timothy just laughed, asking her if she was gonna be a nuisance anymore after this. That was the day Wren James lost her voice.

Taylor's bones went cold, her stomach lurched, her blood boiled. Her pacing feet threaten to burn holes into the floor, a buzzing network of curses and threats at the tip of her tongue, but all that matters to her is Wren, and in seconds, the network dies and it's just her and her baby alone in the room.

"I can't imagine how scary that is baby." Her voice cuts through the buzzing in the walls, an air conditioning unit working overtime to compensate for the heat coming off of the lightbulbs overhead. "What can I do for you? How can I help, honey?" She's tempted to tell Wren they can go home, that all can be abandoned and they can retire to the couch with the cats at a single word, but they've come so far already and she's aware enough to know that isn't the message she wants to instill in her daughter.

"B-Bluey." It's a mangled response, but one that Taylor hears clear as day. It breaks her heart just the slightest to know her daughters seeking comfort from such an item. At nine-years-old Wren should be growing into herself and out of stuffed animals and make believe, and no matter how endearing she finds the blossoming co-dependency, it kills Taylor to think about how many nights Wren cried herself to sleep just wanting something to make her feel safe.

Rubbing the little girls back, feeling her heart pounding as she tries to catch her breath, Taylor nods encouragingly at the request. "We can get Bluey. Let's get this face cleaned up, first." She cooes, looking around the room for anything she can use to rid the little girls face of her snotty nose and teary cheeks, green eyes watching her with innocent entrancement.

Spotting a roll of paper towels on a rickety storage shelf, Taylor doesn't even try to set Wren down on her own two feet, knowing her girl isn't ready for that yet. Instead, she tightens the arm supporting Wren's weight, and rips off a single paper towel with as much accuracy as she can manage. She doesn't mind the wet tears or the snotty nose, telling Wren to clear her sinuses without as much as a twinge in her shoulders. All that matters to her is making sure the girl is okay.

"We're gonna get back in the car when we get, Bluey. Are you ready for that, or do you need a couple more minutes?" Taylor throws the paper towel into the bin by the door, looking directly into Wren's eyes as her girl manages to gets the broken pieces of her soul back together.

"Will you sing the song?" Wren mumbles, laying her head on Taylor's chest, fiddling with the chain of the woman's silver necklace. The heart shaped pendant lays perfectly in the dip between her collar bones, the backside of the metal charm warm from how it sits against her skin.

Taylor doesn't need to ask what song Wren's requesting. It's become sort of a routine at this point, but she has no problem with serenading her girl in the quiet privacy of a boutique break room. "I remember tears streaming down your face when I said 'I'll never let you go', when all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said 'Don't leave me here, alone'. But all that's dead, and gone, and passed tonight. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound."

Like the howling of a storm in the dead of winter, two strong gusts of wind tangling together in the inky sky of dusk, creating a melody of violent beauty. Wren's sweet voice joins Taylor's, and though her words are whispered, they're there right along side the blondes, and Taylor doesn't think she's ever heard anything so peaceful as the sound of her daughter singing her own lullaby back to her fills the quiet break room. As she watches Wren calm herself down with the words of the song, she know's that shes doing something right. "Don't you dare look out your window. Darling, everything's on fire, the war outside our doors keeps raging on, hold onto this lullaby, even when the musics gone, gone. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound."

Strands of blonde hair are twisted around tiny fingers, the chain of a necklace held tight. The fires been extinguished, no lives are at stake, but Taylor holds on to her even tighter. She's not ready to let go just yet. Not when the smokes only just starting to clear, not when she's so close to breathing clearly.

Wren doesn't mind the prolonged exchange, but she's found a strength inside her belly that burns the insides of her body the longer she lets the day fall around them. "I'm not scared anymore." Her words are hopeful, clinging onto the strength that Taylor's single-handedly instilled within her. Wives tales will tell an expectant mother that daughters steal their beauty as they grow inside their belly. Is the same true for strength? When your child weeps in your arms about all the things you couldn't protect them from, when you show them strength and courage to overcome that trauma, will they take those things too? Taylor's never felt so helpless, but Wren is glowing like the sheath of a blade reflecting sunlight on a bloodied battlefield, but not a drop of crimson has touched her skin.

"It's okay to be scared." Taylor finds her voice amongst the heavy smoke that still lingers, wistfully basking in the picture of a little girl who doesn't look so young anymore. With resilience layered in green eyes staring back at her, a battered body that's hidden beneath long sleeves and pants as if the harshness of an abuser has never left his mark on once untouched skin, it's a feeling unlike anything she's known. It's the first time she sees a young woman beneath the thickness of trauma, fighting for a place to stay even if it's just for a few hours. "When you do the things you're scared of without anyone knowing; how you face those fear — that matters." Even if she doesn't understand the complexity of her words in this moment, Taylor knows they'll live on like ink stained parchment to be found again in the future. She's laying the ground for a strong woman to walk on, something she wishes would've happened for her at nineteen. "You're in control now. It's never easy to go back to a place with so many monsters hidden in broad daylight, but you still came. I'll remind you how brave that decision was until you're able to really understand it."

Like a warrior on a battlefield she should've never had to see in the first place, Wren doesn't waver at Taylor's words. Instead, she smiles, she allows herself to make amends like the fate of restoring peace lays on her little hands alone. "You wouldn't let anything bad happen. I trust you. It's okay if you're scared."

"I am scared. But this is your decision. Are you ready?" Taylor ever so softly brings a hand up to Wren's face, tenderly laying it atop of the pink flush that sits on her full cheek. The unmistakable glimmer of a glass-like stare swirls around her gentle eyes like the remnants of a watercolor palette after hours of use; she's the most beautiful painting Taylor's ever had the honor of protecting.

So assured in her own strength and the protection of her fragile body, Wren nods in an instant. She's confident in Taylor being her protector, finding credence in that blonde that she herself can't help but feel is misplaced. She wouldn't let that show, she'd never display her own insecurities for Wren to feed off of. "They can't hurt me anymore. And they can't hurt you. I think... I think I need to see that it's just a house. My Mom always said home wasn't a place, it was a feeling. I didn't know what she meant until I met you... and Benji. Benji's home too." That glimmer of innocence that had faded only minutes ago returns, revealing the broken pieces of a child forced to grow up too fast, but nothing can smother it completely, and Taylor will cherish it until the day it dies on its own accord, like it inevitably always does.

Mocking a faux shocked expression, the blonde's eyes become alight with elation, "What about Dibbles and Mere?!"

"They meow in my ear when I'm trying to sleep." Wren giggles, a simple sound that has the means to reshape Taylor's entire thought process on the world. A sound that she'll fight to protect until her dying days. She won't let anyone steal it away. Not again.

"Alright, Roo. Let's get going then."

𓇢𓆸

Once, when searching for a property in Rhode Island, Taylor had been told that a cul-de-sac was the safest place to live. At the time, she wasn't quite sure where that logic had stemmed from, but she still searched for one anyways, like a solider blindly following command. But now, standing in the center of an eerily quiet cul-de-sac with an armed patrol officer on her left and her daughter on her right, their hands desperately intertwined, she was sure it was a baseless fact. In front of the trio, with the sun shining down like a misguided golden spotlight, sat a lonely little ranch with a white picket fence barrier.

It was a quaint stretch of road, with two-story houses and thick curving driveways, forgotten soccer balls and even lonelier pink bicycles left to take up space in front yards beside festive Christmas decorations that all seemed to lack in some regard, her sleek black Mercedes and the bulky black and white patrol car dared to be the only atypical factors on the entire block. An elementary school set just behind the property, buzzing with life as Rocky Hills Elementary students were dismissed into the freedom of afternoon.

This was it. The place where Wren James had been broken down and destroyed over and over again, utterly alone with so many people just an arms length away. Somebody had to have heard something, and even if they did, nobody had reported it. Taylor had very little respect for any of the adults who sat idly by and allowed those horrors to live on for three years. She wished them the worst.

They'd gotten over the pleasantries of introductions, standing on the grass in front of the brown wooden door. Wren hadn't wavered, but her grip on Taylor's hand was brutal. "CSU finished about three days ago, the place is still a mess, so step carefully."

"Did you clean up the glass?" It's the first time Wren's said a word, her voice quiet as she avoids the officers eye, her stare fixated on their shadows that sat over blades of grass that are two times the size of their bodies. "He threw a vase at me a-and it shattered. Did you clean it up?"

Taylor and Officer Leilani York sucked in harsh drags of air, only now putting a reality to the vicious attacks they'd heard so much about. It was different to hear the stories, to handle the nightmares, to read the case file, but to be here, to see the place where it had happened, where nobody did a damn thing to fix it, it brought reality crashing down on them.

"We didn't. Do you know what it means to preserve something?" Officer York was young, barely pushing twenty-six, new to this career but not lacking the reserve. Taylor had nothing but respect for how delicately she spoke to Wren. Not like she was incapable of understanding, but with rather with a caution that reminded them both of how unfair this situation was.

"To keep it the same." Wren mumbled, nodding her head as she finally met the brown eyes that watched her every move. They were different then Taylor's, not filled with the same softness but just as gentle. "It was a vocab word before Adrianna told me I couldn't go to school anymore."

"That's right. When something bad happens, we have to preserve the crime scene, so that we can piece together a timeline of how it happened. How about I tell you the timeline we have, and you tell me if I'm right?" Officer York was in no rush to get back to her precent or her beat, taking her time with Wren, so sweetly guiding her into feeling like she was the one in control. "The case was thrown first, the water had dried on the floor before Timothy grabbed the knife. Is that true?"

"Mmhm. He got mad I wasn't asleep." Wren whispered into the open air, looking between York and Taylor with a deep sadness in her deep green eyes, easily slipping into the memory like it had happened only a day ago, not over a week prior. "But I couldn't cause the ropes were too tight on my arms. They were bleeding."

"We know that they fought over the knife. They broke a chair, and when Adrianna tripped over the leg, Timothy cut her. Is that what you saw?" York asked softly, watching Taylor softly caress her brown hair that swings from the ends of her ponytail.

"He couldn't find his coke." Like the faintest breeze trailing past on a spring day, Wren's voice was nothing louder then a pained whisper, confirming the timeline detectives had put into place. "He thought Adrianna took it. But he left it in the garage the last time he got high, he forgot that. I saw it when Miss. Emily took me to the hospital."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Wren. Do you understand why we didn't clean the glass up now?" Leilani asked softly, her voice like a blanket laid out on damp land. Wren nodded softly, even if she understood, it didn't change the dread she felt to see the sight so preserved like it had only just happened, but nothing would change that. She gripped onto Taylor's hand while her other stuffed the head of her new stuffed companion, readying herself to step inside. "Can we go inside?"

"Of course. I'll wait out here, you take as long as you need, okay?" Leilani didn't want to smother the two girls with her presence, knowing how intimidating it could be for young kids who'd gone through traumatic experiences. Some kids thrived off the feeling protection, but others had been conditioned to be afraid, and she didn't want to overstep. From the affectionate display she'd been witness to, she'd say her presence wasn't needed anyway.

The house key was in her back pocket, lended from the evidence lab by her captain, and it's simple presence felt like a hole burning through the thick material of her uniform, like just having it in her possession could incriminate her. This was the part of the job she'd never grow used to; dealing with the living victims. "Do you want to be the one to open the door?"

"I know the code." Wren said softly, nodding toward the blue and white keypad hung beside the garage door. She'd seen Timothy and Adrianna punch in the same six-digit code a few hundred times, and when she'd asked its significance, she was punched and told to shut up. She still didn't know it's meaning, but she knew both of their phones were protected by the same six digits. zero-four-one-five-one-six.

"Alright. You call if you need me, otherwise I'll be right here waiting." Leilani smiled a gentle smile, but couldn't hide the inflicted pain her eyes bore truth to. Wren didn't mind, she was used to people giving her that look, Taylor had given her that look when they first met. She just nodded her little head and led Taylor over to the driveway, tiny feet making even tinier sounds as they crunched over stray rocks kicked over from the neighborhood kids. When she was face to face with the keypad, sun beating down on the top of her head, an unfamiliar feeling as the dead of winter had blown thick over Nashville for days, she looked back over her shoulder to make sure Leilani held true to her promise.

The keypad made a three-beep sequence when the code was entered, and the garage door opened to reveal shackles handing from the curling and a pool of dried blood on concrete. Her beating ground. Her body tensed at the sight, no amount of sunlight and vacancy could ever diminish the brutality that this space held onto. Timothy's battered belts hung on the wall like trophies, and her discarded t-shirts that were soaked with blood and long tears down the back were in a pile on the floor. She always started out dressed, but the unforgiving sting of a belt slashing at her back betrayed the clothing that tried to soften the blow.

"He whipped me in here. Said it was easier to clean up then the hardwood." She told Taylor softly, although she knew the blonde had put the pieces together on her own. "He only used the chains when I was really bad, so I couldn't run away. My feet barely touched the floor."

Taylor didn't say anything, she knew Wren didn't need her comforting. She just needed to get through this, and Taylor was her anchor. "That's my bike. Ella outgrew it, and when they moved away, she gave it to me. It used to have pink tassels, but Adrianna ripped them off. I wasn't allowed to ride it, but sometimes when they weren't home, I snuck in here."

"We can get you a bike." Taylor smiled softly at the pink and purple bike that still had scuffed up training wheels on either side. They were lopsided, well-loved, and it pained her to know that wasn't a result of Wren's adventures.

"I don't know how to ride it. My Mom was teaching me, but she never finished." Wren shrugged, stepping deeper into the garage that was frigid with cold air. Although feeling like the last remnants of fall days just beyond the four walls of the garage, the cement walled room was filled with an unrelenting chill that made even the blonde shiver. "In the summer, Timothy would have his work friends over, and he'd make them hamburgers. Adrianna got him that grill for Christmas last year."

Three rickety steps let up toward a white door, freshly painted, only a few months old as it hadn't been beaten down by time. It sat in the center of the otherwise dull and ghastly cement room, bright in its position as if it hadn't seen the deepest savagery imaginable. Wren took the steps slowly, feeling the weakness of the center give way beneath her weight. They squeaked with each footstep, giving away their presence as if someone was around to hear.

Always unlocked, Wren slowly opened the door, wincing when it creaked on its hinges. No amount of paint would fix the rusty hinges, and she remembered Adrianna complaining about the sound every time Timothy dragged her out into the garage. She faltered when the dark hallway crept into view, a picture of Adrianna and Timothy on their wedding day sat above a catch-all table like the one Taylor has in her entryway. There was never anything on the table, but now there sat a set of keys. She knew what they were for, and a chill shot up her spine.

"You're okay. Do you need to take a minute?" Taylor didn't move an inch as Wren leant against her, not wanting to become another method of restraint that she feared.

Wren shook her head, but she still didn't step into the house, her eyes trained on the single silver key that sit on a pink ring. Pink used to be her favorite color. "Those keys are for the handcuffs."

"And they'll stay right there." Like a strong gust of salt air drifting off the sea as ships pass in the night, Wren could breathe clearly as the words drifted over her, settling the discomfort she felt in her belly as she tried to keep those words at the front of her mind. "Why don't you pick them up. They're just keys, they can't do anything to hurt you."

"I'm not allowed to touch them." Wren trembles as she stays where she is, leaning further into Taylor, quivering on her unsteady feet. "I'm not allowed!"

"Are Timothy and Adrianna here?" Taylor laid a single hand on Wren's shoulder, soft enough to barely feel but barely there at all. Wren didn't shrug it off, but she didn't step any further up the stairs, paralyzed in a type of fear Taylor had no experience with.

Wren shook her head, ponytail bobbing from side to side in her wake. "No."

Taylor smiled softly, even though Wren couldn't see it. But she knew her whole body was a tell, even without seeing her face she'd always been told that her smile was an obvious factor in her physical language, she only hoped it was enough to remind Wren that she could do this."You have the power now, baby love. It's what you want, when you want it."

"Even when I want cookies at bedtime?" The little girl twisted on the steps, her eyes bright as she sized Taylor up. There was still fear in her eyes, still a quiver of hesitation that nipped at her bones, but there was also the familiar gleam of a little girl desperate for love hidden away beneath old scars that still ached.

"One time only offer. You do this, you can have cookies at bedtime on one night, whatever night you want. We'll even eat them in my bed, yeah? I believe in you, I know that you can do this. Don't give up now, look how far you've come." Taylor cupped the side of Wren's face, holding her so tenderly it was like she might break under too much pressure.

Wren shrugged, leaning into Taylor's touch like it was a fleeting last goodbye. "I'm still scared."

"You might always be scared, but you can't let it define what you do in life. Would I let anything happen to you?" The sweet inquisitive frown that takes her lips hostage breaks away the walls that Wren had spent three years building, and without answering, her movements do the talking. Pulling away from Taylor's grip, she steps into the house, shivering as it's even colder inside then it is in the garage.

"They never turned the heat on." Wren mumbled, her fingers ghosting over the single key that had controlled every aspect of her life. It was just a key, and they were just handcuffs, both of them insignificant, but it still felt like a threat hanging overhead. The metal was cold beneath her fingertips when she finally brushed against it, feeling the cerated edges that fit so perfectly into the lock. "Said it was a waste of money. Adrianna walked around in a furr coat, Timothy said it didn't bother him either way. I was always cold. They said it didn't matter how I felt 'cause I was just a waste of space." For a single instance, Wren felt like nothing was beneath her, like she'd escaped to a single moment of protected peace where not even a voice had ever been raised in her direction, those walls of security came crashing down in seconds when the sound of metal meeting wood jingled through the silent house. The keys weren't on the table, but there were salty tears on her cheeks that tickled her skin like kisses from a thousand fairies. "I don't like them!" She sobs, looking between her empty hands and the keys laying on the floor. They're insignificant, but they had made her feel like she was too.

"Why did they do this to me?" Wren sobbed so harshly her body convulsed beneath the weight of her heaving, bloodshot eyes searching for Taylor's in the midst of her panic. Bluey felt heavy in her hands, falling to the floor without her even realizing she'd slackened her grip in the first place. Her eyes bled the pain of a million children still ensuring the same cycle of abuse, but not so many would have the courage to retrace the steps where the memory of the worst days of their lives lived frozen in time like it could happen over and over again at any moment. "They didn't h-, they didn't have too! You have to get a l-license! And-And they didn't have to and they did! Why did they do this to me!"

The question had circulated Taylor's thoughts over a thousand times, but she always came up with the same pathetic answer. The picture on the wall depicted nothing less of a happy couple, smiles wide and eyes bleeding with untouchable admiration. Oh how far the good had fallen, all hands point to a smoking gun. She shook her head, getting down on her knees in front of Wren, ignoring the dirt that tainted her pants from the bottom of their shoes that had been tracked in. She gripped the little girls trembling hands as they closed into tight fists at her sides, prying her hands open to prevent the indentations of little nails trying to draw blood. "Some people only want control. They don't care what hoops they have to jump through to get that taste of power. And kids like you, they make the perfect victims. You didn't deserve what they did, do you hear me baby, you didn't deserve any of this. What they did was never about you, it was about them."

Smearing the tears across her face, Wren harshly ripped her hands away from Taylor's and dragged her palms across her cheeks, sniffling as she tried to calm herself down. "I d-don't like them."

"I don't like them either." Taylor sympathizes, pulling her girl into a bone crushing embrace, cradling the back of her head with gentle urgency. "But sooner or later, karma always comes around. They'll pay for what they did for the rest of their lives, but you have the chance to build something from this. It's never going to stop hurting, and it may never be easy to put your trust in someone again, but you were not at fault here. I know you might not get it yet, you might not get it for a long time, but I will never stop reminding you that you survived. That's not something to just forget. You survived, Roo, and I'm so glad that you did."

"I wish I met you when I was little." Wren whispers into Taylor's neck, hidden away in the darkness that she used to fear. Her words tickle the woman's skin, hot as they trail down her spine and shock her nerves a million little times.

"I'm glad I met you now. At least I get the chance to know what a beautiful little girl you are, that has to mean something. Don't you think?" Taylor's blue eyes are soft when Wren pulls away to look at her face, only now seeing how empty the house truly looks.

"I'm glad I met you." Wren sniffles, wiping at her eyes with a softer approach now. She gladly accepted Bluey when Taylor offers him to her, his little ears dusty from where he'd fallen into the floor. She wipes him off earnestly, whispering an apology for dropping him to begin with — another remnant of childhood. Taylor watches fondly, brushing off the knees of her pants after she stands up, stretching out her back. "Adrianna painted the kitchen yellow and Timothy was so mad. He wanted it to be green." Wren wrinkles her nose as she leads the way further into the house, looking at all the empty walls that bore no story of the people who had lived within them. The Tilghmans were never ones to display intimate moments, unlike Taylor and Andrea, who covered every inch of their homes in paintings and frames, and silly knickknacks that told a thousand stories without any words at all.

Taylor took notice of how empty the ranch was, with not even a single sign that a child had ever lived within these walls. In three years there wasn't a single trace of Wren, like she wasn't even there at all. But she was, and her body and mind carried the weight of that everywhere. In only ten days, the little girl had left an impression on almost every surface she touched in Taylor's apartment. Sketchbook papers hung on the fridge and the walls, stuffed animals left to rest on couches and beds, water cups on kitchen counters, hair-ties left on vanities and ottomans. Taylor cherished every single item that painted a picture of companionship, a silent reminder that she wasn't so alone anymore. She was itching to print pictures to add to the mantle, to add to the wall leading up the stairs. And yet, not a single trace of her was left behind where the eye could see.

"This was their room." Wren pushed open the bedroom door, revealing a mess of discarded clothing and personal items. On a mounted shelf in the corner of the room, a collection of bongs and pipes sat proudly on display, and beside it, perched against the wall with chips in the paint and a dent in the tubing, was an American flag beer funnel. Taylor seethed at the sight, but kept her anger tucked away to deal with later. Now wasn't that time. "I wasn't allowed in here." Wren said, but stepped into the carpeted room anyway. Taylor couldn't put into words how proud she was. "They'd get high on the couch when it rained. That one was Adrianna's. They had their own cause they couldn't share, always fought over who had it longer. It always smelled so icky when they smoked inside, but I never said anything. It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Hey, Wrenny." Taylor called softly, drawing the little girls attention to her face as she listened closely for whatever Taylor needed. "Our house is a democracy. Do you know what that is?"

Wren shook her head, wrinkling her nose in confusion. "What's it?"

"It basically means that both get a say in what happens. If I do something you don't like, we'll come to a solution that works for the both of us. I know you're not going to agree with everything I do, especially as you get older, but I'm never going to shut you down if you just talk to me about it. It's our home. That means you're just as important as I am." Taylor was content to see Wren bob her head in confirmation, letting the girl carry on with her own healing process.

Wren shook her head at the sight, turning on her heels and leaving the room behind without even a second glance. Taylor followed behind her blindly, shivering as a gust of cool breeze traveled inside from the open garage doors. She didn't pay much attention to the interior of the house, rather kept her eyes on Wren who kept her chin raised high. They passed two other open doors, a bathroom and linen closet, both in the same condition as the main bedroom. Linens and clothing were thrown haphazardly on the ground and shelving units, nothing about the place looked cared for, but it fit the profile she'd unconsciously constructed in her wildest dreams.

She paused when Wren falter at the sight of broken glass, entire body going rigid as she looked between the kitchen and a bedroom she once called her own. They were separated by only a handful of wooden planks, a perfect distance away to still see everything that occurred in either room. The floor in the kitchen was stained with the blood Adrianna Tilghman lost when her husband stabbed with with a butchers knife, a clear reminder of all the bad things nobody had stopped until it was almost too late.

"This was my room." Wren whispered, pushing the bedroom door open even further. Like her room at Taylor's, every inch of the space was pristine and tidy. All of her clothes were put away, and every knickknack she owned was nearly and carefully arranged on the limited amount of shelving and storage. "They'd tie the ropes to the headboard." Wrens eyes were focused on the blood stained ropes that still lied on top of the unmade bed. Pink Disney Princess sheets were tousled and wrinkled with many restless nights, looking like they'd seen better days as they sat beneath sunlight, faded and stained with blood. "Adrianna got me these sheets when I moved in. I thought she was gonna be nice cause she asked me who my favorite princess was, and said we could watch her movie when Ivana went home. We never watched it."

Taylor almost gagged at Wren's confession. Three years of sleeping on blood stained bedsheets, and still her little girl had held onto hope that things would change until they'd beaten every last ounce of ambition out of her titchy body. How long had that taken? A weeks? Six months? Two years? How long had her daughter wished for someone to save her, and nobody ever did?

"My Mom made these." Wren smiled softly as she caressed a dusty case of DVDs that had been previously hidden beneath the bedframe and out of sight. Wren unzipped it tenderly, looking through the thick sleeves. In black sharpie, Taylor could make out years scribbled on each disk, some had only one, but others had two or three. 2010. 2011. 2012. 2013. But they stopped at 2015. The year that Sarah James was killed. "She said it was a gift from my Dad on her birthday. She filmed everything, I remember that. I hid them from Timothy. He would take them if he saw them. He saw a picture I had of me and my Mom. He ripped it up and made me watch."

Not wanting to sit on the bed, Taylor leant up against the wall with her arms crossed against her chest, a deep frown in place of her smile that had once been radiant. "Do you have another?"

Wren nodded silently, abandoning the case of DVDs and getting back on her knees to crawl under the bed. She fished out a pink and purple duffel bag from beneath the bed, 'Wrenley Noel' embroidered across the side in white lettering, a collection of ironed on daisy patches peeling up from years of use and batter. "I didn't get to bring everything when I moved in, cause Ivana thought my Dad was gonna come back, but he made me take a couple of pictures so that I didn't forget what she looked like. I think he knew he didn't want me at all anymore." The casualty of Wren's words made Taylor's heart stutter in her chest, and the already minimal respect she harbored for Colin James dwindled down to nothingness. "This was my baby blanket, and she always said this was the outfit I came home in. Daddy said she'd want me to have it with me."

In her little hands was a soft pink blanket with even softer silk edges. From the angle that she held it, admiring every little detail like she'd forgotten what it looked like after all these years, Taylor could partly make out that her initials were embroidered on a single corner in soft white lettering. It was evident that she had been so loved, it the time and attention to detail laid out in all of her belongings was only a fraction of the life she'd lived for the first five years of her life, but all of that comfort and security had been ripped away from her so quickly.

"Can I come closer?" Taylor didn't want to overstep her boundaries and take this moment away from Wren, but her little girl was holding back tears as she looked down at a newborn outfit and blanket her parents had dotingly picked out.

Wren nodded, managing a weak smile when Taylor's body slid right beside hers, bigger hands hesitantly reaching out to hold the tiny outfit she was inspecting, pink daisies carefully placed all over the solid white babygrow. Wren let her hold it, knowing Taylor wouldn't do anything to disrupt its state. "Daisy's we're her favorite flower. I don't remember lots anymore, but I know my Dad always took me to the flower place to get her a lotta daisy's on mother's day."

"A bouquet." Taylor filled in the word unconsciously, admiring the precious little outfit in her hands, barely big enough to reach the crease of her elbow as she laid it down against her palm. She could hardly imagine Wren ever being this small, this innocent and untouched by anything good or bad alike. So many people had the means to protect her, but they all abandoned her the second Sarah James had died.

"There's not a lot in here." Wren shrugged sadly, rummaging through the duffle bag until she came across a bundle of family pictures tied together with a rubber band that had seen better days, and two CD cases. With a thick layer of dust from so many years left untouched, both CDs were hard to recognize, but the blonde would be able to tell that purple colored casing from a mile away. "Look, it's you Taylor." Wren sniffled softly, placing everything else on the bed to closer inspected the beaten up Speak Now case. 'To my baby, please never grow up' was written in gold sharpie, though some letters were missing entirely and some had been rubbed away from years of little hands getting ahold of it. The front cover was destroyed, holding onto life by a single thread as chunks of plastic were missing and when Wren opened the casing, the image on the disk was scratched to hell. Taylor doubted it would even play anymore, but there was no doubt in her mind that for years, it was cherish.

Smiling softly, Taylor wiped away a tear that betrayed her. "I see, baby. We'll have to listen to it tonight, I can find my old CD player. How does that sound?"

"It doesn't work anymore." Wren shook her head in dejection, sniffling as she let it rest on the tousled princess bedsheets, reaching for the other CD that was admittedly in better condition. "Mommy laughed when I tried to play it and it just kept skipping, she said we could get a new one. We never did."

Like the world had come crushing down on her shoulders, it felt hard to breath as Taylor mourned a childhood taken from Wren too early. Her blue eyes glistened with tears, nose stinging as she tried to hold herself together, if not for her own sake, then for Wren's. "What's that one you're holding, buddy?" She diverted, taking Wren's hint loud and clear, although the topic wasn't dropped in her mind. She would do anything to get Wren that CD, even if it meant buying a few thousand gold sharpies and studying Sarah James' handwriting until she was sure she could copy it identically.

"Dixie Chicks. My Mom liked this one." Wren flipped over the case in her hands, brushing her pointer finger over the different colored stars scribbled beside track names in distinctive metallic sharpie. From the little Taylor knew of Sarah James, it was easy to piece together that each color had a different meaning attached to it, intended for her husband and daughter to cherish, almost like she knew she'd be gone too soon. In the same gold color that was scripted on the cover of Speak Now, track six and track eight both had a gold star next to them — Lullaby and Silent House. Taylor knew the words of each song like the back of her hand, unable to stop the tremble of her shoulders as she thought of an alive Sarah rocking a newborn Wren to sleep while singing Lullaby in a dark room. Silent House was a bittersweet recognition. That fear of inevitable change and growth she harbored in her gut when she snuck into Wren's bedroom to watch her sleep at night hadn't fallen short of the same feelings Sarah held onto. They might've met Wren at different points in time, they might play different roles in her life, but they'd both remember moments she would inevitably forget. It was a strange knowledge, knowing that the most important days to them would be forgotten by her as she grew and changed and lived her own life into adulthood. Track two and track nine — Easy Silence and Favorite Year — we're followed with silver stars. It was undeniable that Sarah had loved Colin deeply and passionately, but it stung to know that the second she died he threw away the best thing that had happened to her.

"Your Mom loved you so much, Wren. So much." Taylor kissed the top of Wren's head, sinking into the warmth that spread through her entire body when Wren sank into her embrace with a gentle hum of content. "I'm so proud of you, baby. So beyond proud."

Wren wrapped her arms around Taylor's waist, sinking deeper into her tight embrace that felt like home on an easy spring morning, golden warmth of sunlight kissing every exposed inch of skin. "Taylor?" Wren hummed, peering up at her favorite adult with wide albeit hesitant eyes.

"What's up, baby love?" Taylor earnestly took Wren's face in her hands, smoothing back then flyaways that threatened to hide her baby away.

Fiddling with the hem of Taylor's sweatshirt, Wren shifted her weight between the balls and heels of her feet, avoiding the blondes eyes now that attention was on her, "Is it okay that I love you the same way I love my Mom?"

"That's more then okay, Wren. I can never replace your Mom, and I will never try to, but you're my daughter. I knew that from the second I saw you, nothing can change that." Taylor kissed her head, dropping her hands to where they'd started around the little girls shoulders, squeezing her tightly as Wren managed a week mod against her sternum.

"I'm ready to go now. I know they're not here and they'll never know, but I don't wanna look at anything else that I know he would've taken." Wren mumbled into Taylor's chest, exhaling a heavy sigh that had been building up between her ribs since the second they walked in. She felt good, like she could finally move on from this place, even if it still haunted her dreams.

"Okay baby, that's okay. Let's get everything packed up, this is all you wanted?" Taylor double-checked, eyes scanning the room for anything that looked of any sentimental value. She knew how many strings Emily had pulled to get them here to begin with, a second swing-around was definitely out of the question.

"Mmhm. Everything else was here when I moved in. I don't even like power rangers." Wren wrinkled her nose at the sight of a pink power ranger action figure in the corner of the room, Timothy never let her play with it anyways. Despite claiming she was ready to leave, she didn't let go of Taylor, and the blonde laughed when she realized, slackening her own grip.

She rubbed Wren's back, and despite not being able to feel the scars her porcelain skin held onto, Taylor knew they were there, and most likely never fully going away. "If you wanna get out of here, you've gotta let me go buddy."

Wren whined, shaking her head, only clinging harder onto Taylor with frenzied eyes she tried to hide. While Taylor found it amusing to see Wren to petulant, she knew the reason behind her actions wasn't so captious. The only woman Wren had ever loved had been violently removed from her life, admitting she loved another the same way had only opened a door for something bad to happen again. Not wanting to fight, Taylor just smiled and pried Wren away from her despite the pout she was given. "Get on my back, monkey." She spun around on her heels, preparing for Wren's weight to settle against her. When arms were slinked around her neck and legs were encircling her waist, she carried on. "Is it okay if I touch your things to put them away?"

"Yes." Wren whispered, not bothering to watch Taylor handle her possessions, trusting the blonde to treat them with ease. Rather, she found comfort in hiding her face, just barely able to feel Taylor's heart beating on the tip of her nose from where it's pressed into her skin. "Can Andy and Austin come over for dinner?"

Pleasantly surprised by the request, Taylor kept on with her task at hand, folding the baby blanket and newborn outfit neatly and tucking them into the bag beside the bundle of pictures and DVD case. She double checked that everything was where it should be, and that nothing was left out on the bed or the dresser, zipping up the backpack and duffle, content with finally getting out of here. "Can you wait three hours for dinner, baby? We haven't eaten since this morning. I bet your little belly is hungry."

"We can have snacks." Wren reminded Taylor of the bag of snack they'd packed almost six hours ago, the sun beginning to set over Knoxville, drawing darkness into the house without the presence of artificial light. "Please, Tay?"

"Alright baby, I'll text Mom when we get in the car, okay? Austin might be busy with his friends, you remember that he's only visiting for a little while?" Taylor relented, sliding the longer strap of the duffle bag over her shoulder and holding onto a single handle of the backpack. "We've gotta say goodbye to Officer York, do you want to go through the front door?"

"Um, c-can we take the handcuffs?" Wren mumbled shyly, digging her face deeper into Taylor's neck, her heart hammering in her chest as she feared Taylor's response.

"Do you want the keys too?" Taylor didn't question her reasonings, not needing too. Wren was taking her power back, and she couldn't be prouder to bare witness to the process, watching her girl slowly pull all her broken pieces back together. Feeling Wren nod against her neck, Taylor silently went to collect the key from the floor before she made her way back into the garage, the late fall sky painted pink as the sun fell and a chill set in. "I need you to grab them baby, I can't reach them and hold you."

With tingling fingertips, and a face flush from the abrupt chill that surrounded their bodies, Wren reached her arms up toward the metal piping on the ceiling, grabbing the handcuffs that were slinked over it. The slightest tug in one direction would make them fall, but she was never able to reach them on her own two feet. On the days when Timothy really wanted to teach her a lesson, he dragged her out by her hair, and shoved a crate beneath her feet, just tall enough to keep her from dangling entirely. The slick metal was cold beneath her fingers as she clutched them between her palms, they were so light, but they'd felt so heavy every time her wrists were bound by them.

"Thank you." Wren mumbled, laying her head down on Taylor's shoulder, fiddling with Bluey in one hand and the handcuffs in the other. "For saving me."

"I would do it a million times over."

Chapter Text

you had to kill me but it killed you just the same, cursing my name, wishing i stayed, you turned into your worst fears. and you’re tossing out blame, drunk on this pain, crossing out the good years

DECEMBER 17th, 2023

"I can't just take Chad away from his family, Tree. I'm not going to go back on my word when he has kids and a wife at home."

After thirteen years working the industry, Taylor Swift knew that getting comfortable was the worst mistake imaginable for someone of her status. She knew that, but that's exactly what she'd let happen. She gotten comfortable in her little bubble far away from New York City, and she'd got Wren comfortable right there with her. Without camera flashes on every street corner, with an absence of screaming fans camping outside of her apartment, she had gotten comfortable within the intimacy of silence.

Three days since the Saturday she and Wren spent in Knoxville, Christmas Eve was now exactly a week away, and everything that could fall apart within her professional realm, was. Though most of the people who viewed her life through a telescopic lens wouldn't expect a freshly thirty year old music sensation to have a handle on her own business affairs, Taylor did. Transparency was her most enforced rule within the community she built behind the curtain, and yet she'd never felt so blindsided by what she knew was coming. Two weeks ago, Taylor put in a formal request to review the publication of her masters, a request that was approved, but didn't come without criticism from old partnerships and friends. Their words hadn't stung when they reached out to Tree instead of her directly. She had expected that. She expected to be called a bitch, a snake, a conniving and pathological knave. What she hadn't expected, was for Scooter Braun to leak her location to the press, and not only dismantle her shakily built personal peace, but endanger her nine-year-old daughter.

At eight in the morning, with peaks of gold creeping through her blinds and casting shadows against the walls, Taylor had been woken up to her iPhone blaring beside her head. It was never anything good when Tree was calling her at six am LA time. Her heart sank into her belly as she answered, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she tried to keep her voice down. Though the apartment walls were thick, there was only a few inches separating her and Wren, who had woken up sick in the night. She'd been inconsolable for hours after messing her bed with the contents of her stomach and last nights dinner, and despite Taylors best efforts to get her little girl tucked in with her just after three, she'd fallen asleep on the hardwood when Taylor went down to the kitchen to seek out a bottle of water for her scratchy throat.

An unexpected phone call from Tree never meant good news. As friends, they communicated almost solely through text messages about more personal matters like grocery store errands and the latest gossip involving mutual friends and their families, but phone calls were always professional, that is unless little Lux was begging her mother to speak to the blonde after school, but Tree always sent a text to preface. That wasn't the case now. The first words out of Tree's mouth had turned her blood cold; "Your locations been leaked."

Twenty minutes later, her body was vibrating, and her veins still hadn't warmed up. "Taylor, there are fifty fans already outside of your apartment. You need somebody with you."

"It's not going to be Chad." Taylor breathed out in frustration, feeling like Tree wasn't really hearing her at the moment. She was adamantly against bringing Chad back to Nashville after he'd only just gone back to New York. His daughters were young — five and three —, his wife was six months pregnant; he deserved to spend the holidays back at home with his family that had already missed so much of him just as much as she did. "I'll have James ask around."

"Do you need me to send Emily an update?" Tree relented, knowing she wasn't going to get anywhere with Taylor; they'd already spent three minutes going in circles, but it was ultimately Taylor's decision who she brought in for security, if she brought in anyone at all. The topic of a social worker was new, and neither woman knew quite how to navigate this situation they found themselves in, but it needed to be done by end of day, that was what they were certain of. They needed to appear in control, even if the wheels of life were turning far outside their reach and jurisdiction.

As a foster parent, Taylor could only post so much of Wren on her social media for the girls own safety (if it were up to her, Wren wouldn't be on any platform in any capacity), but most things were out of her control. Her agency was aware of that fact, she'd disclosed the uncertainty of her life at the very start of her licensing process, and she got the sense that it wasn't much of a worry to them given Wren's familial situation, or lack thereof, but they still needed to be kept in the loop of what to expect from the tabloids. "No, I'll do it." Taylor brought her hand down her face, sighing into her palm. She knew Scott Borchetta would swoop low after her departure from Big Machine Records the year prior, but collaborating with Scooter Braun — selling her masters and her location for the sake of getting even — that wasn't something she'd ever anticipated.

"We can sue." Tree stated abruptly after a silence had come over them, both thinking of a way to avoid furthering the media circus who was anxiously attempting to figure out Wren's identity and role in Taylor's life. This wasn't just about her safety anymore, but her daughters.

"Just leave it alone, Tree." Taylor snorted in amusement, enjoying the simple pleasantries that came from even the heaviest conversations with her publicist. "You know nothing's going to stop him from getting back at me. I'm serious about re-recording my albums though."

"Good." Tree scoffed, the sound of a keyboard jostling in the background a telling element of where she sat; alone in her office, probably nursing a mug of coffee, far away from her husband and daughter who were obnoxiously light sleepers. "Don't let that bastard win."

"I never thought it would end like this." The blonde admitted the words she'd already spoken what felt like hundreds of time since their unfortunately very public split five months ago. "I never thought he'd stoop so low as to sell my masters, and in the same breathe beg me to re-sign with him. Big Machine was my home until it wasn't anymore, and that's something he will never understand — wanting to go back to a place that doesn't exist because he couldn't respect what I gave him. I never thought he'd be the one to change. Or maybe he didn't change and I just didn't know him as well as I thought I did."

Sympathetically, Tree sighed into her phone, and Taylor could picture her rubbing a perfectly manicured hand down her face with a sunken and tired expression on her lips. "Nobody could've expected this. Nobody expected him to blame you when he's the one that fucked up."

"I should've, though. I should've known." Taylor shook her head, reaching out for Meredith who was curled up at her side, purring in content as she kneaded the pale comforter. "You know I, I tell Wren that everything will work out, that karma comes around, but after everything that happened with Kanye, and how everyone turned on me so quickly after... it just feels like I'm the problem here. I preach altruism, I try to let it all roll off my shoulders and focus on the bigger picture. I just thought that he, out of all people, would've had my back even after we split. I'm fucking thirty years old, Tree. Did he expect me to spend my entire career beneath him? How many times can I be the brunt of the joke before it kills me? It's killing me."

The sound of rustling comes from the side of Taylor's bed, like a blanket being thrown around, and at first she assumes its just Benji trying to annoy his sister who fell asleep with her arm thrown over his body, but tired green eyes that are rimmed red from hours of sobbing peek out to find her seconds later. Taylor smiles softly, patting the space on the bed beside her completely ignoring Tree's motherly response that would've done nothing but sit on the surface of her skin anyways.

"Morning, baby. Did I wake you?" Taylor worries how much of the conversation Wren heard, but to her relief, the brunette shakes her head and silently crawls into bed beside her, tucking her clammy forehead into the blonde's neck without hesitation, letting her body lean entirely against Taylor's as she doesn't even attempt to support her heavy and achy bones. She's warm to the touch, but her body is shivering, a telling indication of a rising fever. "I'm talking to Tree, can you give me five minutes to finish up before we go find you some medicine?"

"She's sick?" Tree frowns, overhearing the conversation from her end of the line. There's evident worry in her tone, a maternal instinct that can't be shut off even if the kid isn't her own. Her benevolence is rare, but cherished in Taylors life, even when it can feel a bit smothering at times like these when all she wants is for someone to sit in her sadness with her.

"I think it's just a cold." Taylor presses her lips to Wren's forehead, attempting to gage the intensity of her temperature without an actual thermometer. She remembers throwing it onto her nightstand at some point in the night, but not wanting to disturb her sleepy girl by reaching around for it now, she settles for what she has on hand. "Should I take her to the doctor?"

"Was she sick yesterday?" Tree's smooth voice is coated with trepidation, anticipating Taylor's answer like it's her own daughter that's sick, and it might as well be; the care she has for Taylor and her family is personal far beyond any professional relationship — no matter the extent of blood relation. And, over the last twelve years of being a mother to her own child, Tree has learned that sickness is something that never gets easier to handle even when they're older.

"No. No, she was fine until she woke up sick this morning around midnight." After five years of working together, Taylor and Tree had found a healthy balance between work and life, something most artists weren't fortunate enough to achieve with their publicists. They could disagree on a professional level, but they would never let that bleed into their personal relations. And this was personal. Despite Tree not agreeing with Taylor's decision over security in her professional opinion, all annoyance had been replaced by genuine concern in a matter of seconds seconds; like an unexpected sun shower that drenches a small town without prior warning.

"Take her temperature, and tell me what it is." Tree instructed, and Taylor nodded despite knowing she couldn't be seen. She gently pushes Wren away from her body, frowning at the guilt that tugs at her belly when her girl whines her complaints.

As she reaches for the thermometer, Taylor let's her phone fall toward the center of the bed between their bodies, switching Tree to speaker so she can tend to Wren. "I'm gonna put Tree on speaker, baby. It's just Tree."

"Did you check her temp last night?" Tree's voice fills the bedroom for both girls on the bed to hear. Wren knew it was wrong to make assumptions about people, she hated when assumptions were made about her, but she'd unconsciously constructed an image of Tree in her head after receiving the hoodie, and she'd decided that her voice was deep, and probably had an accent like Adrianna's. She was wrong. Tree spoke just as softly as Taylor did, and she didn't sound like she was from anywhere near Tennessee.

"She was running a low grade fever." Taylor answered as she pressed down on the power button at the end of the thermometer, waiting for it to reset before she guided the metal tip beneath Wren's tongue. She held it in place when she realized her kid had no intention of doing it herself, wincing just from moving her body in the slightest. That definitely wasn't a good sign. "Does anything hurt, baby?"

As she tried to answer Taylor, Wren visibly flinched at the sore discomfort in her throat from her bout of sickness last night, and the physical object under her tongue that prevented her words from forming coherently. Instead, she whimpered as she struggled to move her achy limbs around and point to her stomach and back.

Taylor's eyebrows creased as her face contorted into confusion."Your back hurts?" When the thermometer beeper, she gently eased it away from Wren, sighing at the flashing red light and blocky black letters that confirmed her suspicions.

"She's got a fever, Tree. It's just over one-oh-two." Taylor abandoned the thermometer on the comforter, corralling her daughter into a soft embrace. She shied away from putting any pressure on her back, still concerned that Wren had identified that as a point of pain.

Tree's breath hitched as she heard the number, only fueling the anxiety Taylor felt. She had no idea how to take care of a sick kid, but she was on her own in doing so now. It was just what she wanted, but that didn't make it any less scary. "I would take her in." Tree confirmed, "Her back hurts? You've been putting ointment on her?"

Again, Taylor nodded, and again, she remembered Tree couldn't see her. "Yes. They were healing nicely." She'd been checking in with Wren every day, and had decided for herself that they were doing well just a few days ago when she'd applied Neosporin to them. "Can I take off your shirt, Roo? I just want to see your back."

Since her first night with Taylor, the nine-year-old had gotten better about letting the woman check her wounds, she was comfortable with it even, but she shivered violently when Taylor lifted the back of her shirt over her head now, and painfully leaned away from her touch. Her movement only caused a blinding surge of pain to travel up her spine, and she cried out in discomfort as Taylor let her move away, not wanting to cause her anymore pain. The same healing marks she'd been seeing for the last almost two weeks were in the same condition they'd been in, or so she thought at first glance. As she really looked them over, a single scar down the center of her back was visibly irritated as it produced a white puss and flared back at her with an angry red appearance. Infected. Great.

"I think I'm looking at the problem." Taylor sighed, softly easing Wren's head through her pajama shirt again, and adjusting it over her back regardless of her own hesitance to further smother and irritate the wound. Right now, all she really wanted was Wren warm and comfortable until she could phone the doctors. "One of the lacs are infected. I don't know how, we've been putting ointment on them every day."

Grabbing her phone from the center of her bed, Taylor switched it off of speaker, pulling it back up to her ear now that she didn't need both of her hands. Letting Wren lean against her side, she was careful of her daughters back the entire time. No wonder she was sleeping on her stomach. Taylor couldn't help but think of all the signs she had overlooked the night prior.

"It's not your fault, Taylor. It could've been anything, or nothing at all that caused it. Just do what you can for her now. An infected cut that you've done your best to soothe does not diminish to your capabilities as a Mom. Lux has had enough for me to know that." Tree soothed the doubts she knew Taylor was feeling, but it did little to help the blonde who was biting at her bottom lips, not taking her eyes off of Wren.

"I know. I'll text James and ask who's available, in the meantime I'm going to get her an appointment and text my brother to pick us up. I don't want to risk anyone recognizing my car. Thanks for the heads up." Taylor forced a smile onto her lips, not wanting to sound unappreciative, or worry Wren who she knew was listening intensely.

"Just doing my job. You'll let me know how the appointment go?" Tree didn't argue, just accepted that her friend and her client needed space and time to realize little things like this were out of her hands. She'd had twelve years of motherhood to accept these little things, Taylor had only had been at this for thirteen days. "If you need anything, I'm here."

"I will, and I know. I would love you forever if you put in an online order for some children's medicine." Taylor raked her fingers through Wren's hair, feeling the heat radiate off her daughters shivering body.

Tree laughed, but accepted her request in an instance. "Talk to you later, Tay. Take care of yourself." She emphasized the last part, knowing the blonde had a tendency to put others ahead of herself to a crippling fault.

"Always do." They both knew that wasn't true, but neither commented, and with that, their conversation ended, leaving just Wren and Taylor in the quiet of the early morning that wasn't so early anymore.

For a few quiet moments as the sun rose above rooftops and the shadows on the wall turned to daylight, Taylor just sat with her thoughts and enjoyed Wren's company. She'd forgotten what complete silence sounded like after years of having personal security details lingering around every corner, but when she'd planned this trip to Nashville, she'd held onto a false hope that she'd find a semblance of normalcy again. In a way, she assumed she did. She found motherhood and genuine connection with someone who didn't view her as a shiny object, but she'd also found betrayal. It seemed she could never have one good thing stay untouched anymore.

When her own stomach grumbles, a reminder that neither of them had eaten since six-thirty the night before, she gently brushed her knuckles over Wren's flushed cheeks. "Are you feeling well enough for breakfast, baby? We should get something in that tummy."

Wren shook her head, burying herself further into Taylor. Her cold little hands slipped under the blondes pajama top seeking more warmth for her freezing body that couldn't seem to keep the heat of the warm body next to it. Taylor shivered at the icy intrusion, placing a chaste kiss on the top of Wrens head.

"We've gotta get you something, baby. What about some soup? That'll warm you up." Taylor eased herself out of bed, careful not to jostle the bed and shake Wren's aching body anymore then she had to. Reaching her hands out for her daughter, she easily held Wren on her hip, trying not to think about how the girl had already grown an inch or two since she moved in.

At the mention of soup for breakfast, Wren pointed to her throat inquisitively. She could recall her school teachers telling the class that chicken noodle soup nurtured a sore throat on days when winter sunk in deep and coughs floated around the room, but in the years she'd spent with Timothy and Adrianna, she'd only been sick a handful of times and they'd shooed her away like it wasn't their concern like clockwork.

"Yeah, it'll make your throat feel better." Taylor stifled a laugh, reaching for her phone before she left the safety of her bedroom behind. There was much to be done today — finish the wash cycle on Wren's bedsheets, redress her bed after that, make a doctors appointment, text not only James but Austin as well, call Emily, hide the christmas presents that were delivered the day before — but for the time being, she'd just enjoy this simple moment with her daughter.

Taylor took the stairs slowly as to not jostle Wren, and when they entered the kitchen to blinding sunlight and radiating warmth, the little girl pointed to the box of hot chocolate mix on the counter, her eyes brightening at the sight of her favorite holiday treat. "That'll upset your tummy, baby. We can make you some tea and honey?" Taylor suggested an alternative, hating the gleam of disappointment that came across Wren's expression.

Like most children offered an herbal tea for breakfast, Wren scrunched her nose upward in disgust, looking at Taylor like she'd spoken a foreign language. "It'll make your throat feel better. What if I have some with you?"

Like she'd just been told the biggest lie of her life, Wren cocked a single eyebrow at Taylor, her little finger jutting out in the direction of the blondes espresso machine. They had a routine, and when Taylor wasn't enjoying peppermint hot chocolate with Wren, she was guzzling down mugs of coffee. Another adult pleasantry that was yet to sound appealing to her. Taylor couldn't wait for the days her daughter was old enough to appreciate coffee, and they could travel the world trying new coffee shops at every stop. She laughed at Wren's persistent expression, but walking toward the stove to grab her kettle. "I won't have coffee this morning. Tea solidarity for the princess."

Wren's silence broke her heart. She already missed the way their voices tangled together, and how her laughter echoed through the house when she was in another room. She knew taking care of a sick kid wasn't going to be her favorite experience, but she couldn't imagine how lonely it would feel.

When the kettle was halfway full, Taylor placed it back on the back burner, reaching up toward a higher cabinet and pulling out two snowmen mugs. Just because they weren't having hot chocolate, didn't mean they couldn't lean into the magic of the holidays.

"Can I set you down, baby?" Taylor stroked the back of Wren's head gently, not wanting her so close to the stove while she made the soup. She was a careful cook, and Wren wasn't a squirmy toddler, but accidents still happened and she would never forgive herself if it did and she hadn't taken necessary precautions. "I'll bend the rules and say sketchbooks and notepads at breakfast today."

Despite her weak body and feverish state, Wren's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree at the compromise she'd been given, and still without her voice, she gave Taylor a thumbs up as her decision, letting herself be placed at the island a safe distance from the stove.

Taylor kissed the side of Wren's head, moving the chair in the slightest bit so she wasn't miles away from the counter. "Do you want your new sketchbook? I know your other one is getting pretty full."

Attempting to speak, forgetting about her achy body at the prospect of the thing she loved most, her actions were followed by an immediate consequence, and she cringed at the painful stab that shot up her throat. Wren deflated, resorting back to her hand signals as communication, holding up to fingers in Taylor's direction. "Both?" The blonde guessed, frowning sympathetically. Even for her, with all of her precautions toward her voice, getting sick was inevitable with her amount of travel, and she knew how badly a sore throat sucked.

Wren nodded, laying her head down on the cool surface of the island when her body decided that it was no longer freezing, but uncomfortably hot. Taylor frowned, "Do you wanna take your shirt off, bug? It might even make your back feel a little better, too."

Wren nodded, hardly phased by how exposed she'd be afterward, just desperate to have some relief on her burning skin and aching back. She let Taylor undress her, hardly even shivering as her flush skin was forced to meet the chilly morning air that infiltrated the kitchen.

Taking the opportunity to check on Wren's back again, and was relived to see that it didn't look any worse, but it also didn't look any better. She would take her wins as they came though. "I'll be right down, I'm going to call Emily while I'm up there, alright?"

Panic flashed through Wren's eyes, and even without words, Taylor knows where her thoughts lie, and it doesn't settle the knot in her own belly. It seems they'll never got over the fear of being taken away from each other. "She's not gonna take you, Wrenny. I wouldn't let that happen. She just needs to know that you're sick, and that our location was leaked. I promise, you are not going anywhere."

With hesitance, Wren held out her pinky toward Taylor, her digits trembling whether from the ache in her bones or the fear in her belly, Taylor didn't know, but she linked their limbs anyway and smiled comfortably. "I'll be right back, don't move even if the kettle goes."

Wren nodded obediently, sinking back onto the counter, listening to Taylor's footsteps as she walked away. Her entire body felt sluggish, a deep ache in her spine and shoulders, a heavy pit in her stomach that she wasn't sure was entirely related to her sickness, but rather the sinking realization that even without Timothy and Adrianna around, they could still affect her. They were far away, facing criminal charges, she was safe now, but they were still causing her pain.

Her little body felt like a thousand fires were beneath her skin, and she shifted uncomfortably when a bead of sweat fell down her spine and left a ticklish sensation on the surface of her skin that she couldn't soothe without straining her already sore muscles. She could faintly hear Taylor's voice from up the stairs, and she longed to be back in the blondes arm, tucked away from anything minor thing that could touch her. The countertop became warm beneath her cheek, no longer cold from hours left untouched. She was pitiful, really. With tangled hair and bloodshot eyes, she looked smaller then a nine-year so close to adolescence, but rather the shadow of a little girl thrown into a cycle of abuse and permanently stunted by its repercussions. Would she always be their victim? She didn't like the way that word sat on her skin, but even Taylor had called her as much. Emily called her a victim, Taylor called her a victim, Officer York called her a victim, the doctors at the hospital called her a victim. She was tired of being nothing more then a noun to every adult she met in their aftermath. She just wanted to be a real person, even if she hadn't felt like one in almost an entire hand of years.

Without her new partner-in-crime, she was left alone in the kitchen, watching steam slip out from the lid of the kettle as the water boiled. Bluey had been subject to her bout of sickness last night, left to spin in fast circles for hours when Taylor stripped her bed and put them in the washing machine to be cleaned. She hadn't realized she would miss him so much, but she did, and that only made her insides hurt worse.

Even when the kettle started to whistle a high pitched sound that made her ears ring and her skull pound, Taylor didn't come downstairs. For a second, she wondered if she'd be left alone again, like all those days back in Knoxville. She'd caused so much trouble when she'd woken Taylor up at midnight, it was reasonable for the blonde to send her away. She was nobody's child anymore, she hadn't been anyone's child in a long time, and while Taylor considered her a daughter, and she thinks she considers her a mother, she was wise enough to know that nothing legally obliged the blonde to carry out her kindness. Would she ever feel like she belonged anywhere when even her own father had left her for better at the first chance he saw?

She wanted that kettle to stop whistling already, overwhelmed by its growing sound that had no means to quit. It was like her brain was splitting in half at it's persistent shrieking and apparently, Benjamin shared her annoyance. The brown and white cat with wide blue eyes that reminded her of Sulley leapt onto the countertop beside the stove, jutting his paw out to swat at the metal appliance without any recognition that he'd harm himself by doing so. Wren gasped, and despite her orders to stay where she was, she threw her body off of the high-chair and scooped him off the counter with a deep ache in her muscles that screamed in protest. She took the kettle off the burner, and turned the stove off, shuddering violently at the pain in her back. It was just her luck that Taylor came downstairs to see her at the stove, and the blonde frowned in disappointment, only making her insides feel worse. Nothing was going her way today.

"I told you to stay at the island." Taylor sighed, and although she didn't yell or even remotely raise her voice, Wren could tell she was angry by the curt clip in her tone. Another screw up. She was never told she couldn't touch the stove, but she knew she probably shouldn't. She barely recognized the dripping sensation down her back as she spun around to fully assess Taylor's features, trembling like a leaf during a heavy storm.

Despite the pain in her throat, and the ache in her muscles, and the stabbing pressure in her back, Wren's voice filled the kitchen with panic as she avoided Taylor's eyes and shifted her weight between the balls and heels of her feet. "B-Benji t-tried to k-knock it o-over." Her voice was hoarse, choppy, and horribly quiet, but only so much of that could be blamed on her sickness. Her entire body tensed with fear, and unconsciously she stepped further away from Taylor until she was flush against the countertop, wincing at the pressure she placed on her wounds that were only just starting to heal.

Taylor looked between the cat at Wren's feet who was purring intensively, and the kettle that was still steaming on the stovetop. She sighed apologetically, knowing she let her frustrations guide her actions before she even considered why Wren would've disobeyed — something she knew her kid would never do without good reason. "I'm sorry, baby. Thank you for keeping him away. You go sit down, okay? I'm not mad, and I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just frustrated about our location being leaked, and I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore. Can you understand that? Can you forgive me for not asking what happened before I reacted?"

Cautiously, Wren nodded, but her body was still tense as she trudged toward the island and away from the stove, shaking in fear that wouldn't be so easily overcome. Her movements revealed a smudge of crimson left behind on the edge of the countertop she'd been pressed against. Taylor frowned in curiosity, but her expression turned to one of guilt rather quickly when Wren made an attempt to get back up on the bar stool, and turned her back to her. In her desperate attempt to get to Benjamin before he burned himself, she'd torn open the bottom of her infected laceration, leaving a trail of blood down her back and on the countertop as evidence.

"Oh, honey." Taylor breathed out a sigh of consuming guilt, approaching her trembling foster-daughter with light footsteps and a heavy heart. "You're bleeding." She shouldn't have left Wren alone, even if the infection wasn't her fault (not like she believed that), this was. She was the only one to blame and that felt worse then a million betrayals by hands she'd once held. "Let's get you cleaned up. Is it okay if I touch you?"

Despite her fear, deep down, Wren knew Taylor would never strike her, and her back hurt worse then it did before no thanks to her heroics. She reached her arms out slowly, leaning into the blonde embrace when she was picked up with ease. She snuggled in close, laying her head down on the bloods shoulder, feeling her heartbeat so faintly against the tip of her nose. Her sketchbooks and pencils and Taylor's notebook were abandoned on the island, and like clockwork, they made their way back upstairs toward Taylor's en-suite bathroom.

"I'm sorry." Wren croaked, shuddering deeply at the pain that was still persistent, like it had no plans of going away anytime soon.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I shouldn't have left you down here, I'm sorry. I didn't think I would be gone so long, I called Emily and the doctor. You have an appointment at one." Taylor caressed the back of her placements head, feeling like she couldn't even call herself a mother anymore with how many times she'd screwed up in only a day. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to say anything. Rest your voice."

Wren pointed to her own chest before she pointed to Taylor's, enough said in her actions that spoke louder then her words could. Feeling like she didn't deserve it, Taylor smiled sadly with glistening blue eyes. "I love you too."

They took the steps slowly, as to not jostle the little girls aching body anymore then was unpreventable. Taylor didn't even wince in distaste when trickled began to pool around her fingers that rested beneath Wren's bottom, supporting the entirety of her weight. She set Wren on her bathroom counter after she flipped the lights, facing the girl so her back was to the Taylor's chest and her face was toward the mirror. The first aid kit was still on the counter, and despite not wanting to cover the wound for the sake of letting it breathe, she grabbed a large bandaids and the antibiotic ointment.

"It's gonna hurt a little bit, baby. But I have to put some ointment on it, okay? I'll be as quick as I can." Taylor tore open a travel packet of wet wipes, cleaning up the smear of blood down the little girls back as gently as she could manage while still being affective. Wren winced at the shock of coldness but didn't protest, letting Taylor do what she needed to, sinking into the cold marble beneath her skin. When it was time for the ointment, Wren whined and tried to lean away from her fingers, but Taylor pulled her back toward her chest and coaxed her through the process with a song that had become their anchor. "I remember tears streaming down your face when I said 'I'll never let you go', when all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said 'Don't leave me here, alone'. But all that's dead, and gone, and passed tonight. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound."

After she applied the bandaid, smoothing it over Wren's clammy skin to assure the edges wouldn't lift until they got to the doctors, Taylor threw out the packaging and washed her hands afterward to rid the remaining blood from between her fingers. She kissed the side of Wren's head, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "I'm so proud of you." Taylor whispered, hoping that Wren let those words sink in and internalized them. "I know this is hard, and I can only imagine what you're thinking, but you are something so special Wren. I'll be eternally grateful for getting to spend any amount of time with you."

Wren let her eyes fill with tears and before she could help it, sobs were escaping from her lips, shaking her shoulders and causing waves of pain to crash over her battered body. The bruises may have healed, but the wounds still remained beneath the surface, and they stung. She was so little, so innocent and pliable, but she'd seen so much. It was hardly fair.

"I know you don't believe me, but one day you won't remember moments like this with pain. I just hope to god you you remember how loved you are, no matter where this life leads you." Taylor pulls her off the counter and back into her arms, switching off the bathroom light before she brings her into her own bedroom where the bed is still undressed and her stuffed animals litter the floor. Her sobs only sniffles now as she hides her face, one of her favorite activities. "We need to get you some different shorts. Do you wanna try a new top, or are you okay?"

Wren shakes her head at the prospect of putting anymore clothes on her body then necessary. She's still on fire, and her crying has only added warmth to her skin. Two weeks ago she shuddered at only the thought of Taylor pulling up her shirt to assess her wounds, but slowly, they were making progress, unmaking the walls she'd spent so many years building up.

"Okay, no shirt." Taylor found the sense to laugh at that, the guilt slightly less heavy in her belly now. She left Wren's bedroom untouched as she made a new coarse toward her office, where too many boxes sat piled up in her closet. "I have a surprise that was going to be for Christmas, but I think you could use a little pick-me-up. Do you wanna see?" Taylor coaxed, setting Wren down in her office chair that she loved to spin around in.

Her girl nodded with a lightness in her green eyes, still sluggish and timid in her body, but more relaxed then she had been earlier. Taylor would take that as a win, even if she desperately missed the radiant energy that fell off her being on any other day. She instructed Wren to close her eyes, sifting through boxes until she found the one thing she was looking for. It was from a children's boutique, and it was still tied together with a light pink ribbon around its edges, but she knew exactly what laid inside. She'd spent hours searching through websites for the perfect execution of her vision, no dollar amount in mind to her specific search. It had taken far too long, and she'd started to think nobody made what she was looking for, but when she found it, it was like her own Christmas wishes had come true. The price was steep, but she'd have paid double just to make her kid smile from ear to ear.

"Alright, you ready?" Taylor hummed with her own excitement, untying the ribbon and slicing down the center of the box so Wren could open it easier, before she handed it over.

Just as she had expected, the second Wren opened the folds of the box and inspected what laid inside, her little eyes lit up like fireworks in July and a smile pulled apart her lips, creasing her eyebrows with joy. In her hands were unbelievably soft bamboo pajamas of a Monsters Inc design, big enough to fit her for at least the next handful of months. They weren't flashy and cliche like all the other ones Taylor had seen, and unlike the Sulley shirt they bought at Target, this set wouldn't run the risk of peeling away over time and excessive wear. It wasn't a heat press design like so many children's clothes bore, and that wasn't easy to come by. She'd initially searched for any Sulley related pajamas that could withstand the test of time, but she'd struck gold when she found this woman owned small business. Unlike the other hundreds of Monsters Inc themed clothing that were geared toward little boys, Mike Wasowski was nowhere to be found. It was just Sulley and Boo in all their pastel purple and blue glory. The shorts were littered with hundreds of chaotically placed images of them, complete with a pastel tie that was three shades lighter then Boo's monster costume and Sulley's spots.

"Thank you." Wren croaked, smiling widely as she stroked her fingers over them. All of the fear and pain and dread she'd felt earlier melted away from her body, replaced by a feeling of contentment.

"You're welcome." Taylor smiled fondly, sinking to her knees in front of Wren so she was able to grab the box, and pull the tags off each individual item of clothing. She left the pajama top on her desk beside the box, "Let's get you changed and have some breakfast, we've only got a couple hours before we have to leave."

𓇢𓆸

"It's definitely infected. Everything else is healing nicely." Doctor Wortham concluded, looking at Taylor from his post across the room as he slathered his hands with a gel sanitizer that was potent enough to waft through the air and make her own eyes sting. She hates doctors offices. She hates how they all carry the same antibacterial scent that clings to your skin and lingers in the air even after you leave. She hates the bright florescent lighting that hurts her mothers eyes after chemo. She hates the fake pleasantries and small talk. She hates not being able to fix everything herself. She hadn't stopped fidgeting since she and Wren entered the small pediatric exam room, unable to contain her own anxiety. But, with the news that everything else was healing as it should, and Wren was otherwise healthy besides being underweight which she already knew, a pressure had been lifted off her chest.

Taylor's gaze trailed over to Wren, admiring the way her hair cascaded down her back in loose chestnut colored waves, and how the lights reflected in her glassy eyes. "Do you know what caused the infection?" She pulled her palm down her face, trying to appear put together for the sake of her daughter who was shaking life a leaf on the exam bed.

Doctor Wortham sighed as he pulled his white lab coat tighter to his body, his stethoscope slinked over his neck unevenly. Taylor couldn't help but notice the little things he did while trying to keep her attention off herself, her palms sweating. "Sweat. There was nothing you could've done to prevent it."

"And her fever?" Taylor stood up from the uncomfortably stiff black chair, wobbly on her legs as she closes the distance between her and Wren, desperate to fix anything she can. Her girl lurches into her arms, clinging to her as tightly as she could manage with trembling limbs and a numb lower back.

"I'm going to prescribe a penicillin antibiotic to take once a day. It should break within the next twenty-four hours. I'm also going to prescribe a higher dosage antibiotic ointment, apply it twice a day. Before she goes to bed, clean the area with hydrogen peroxide. There's no need to avoid getting it wet, I see a lot of parents who think that's the best solution, but a warm bath is fine. Showering might cause discomfort for the next few days, just make sure it is getting cleaned. Avoid pools and any harsh chemicals that can further irritate the area. But other then that, you're all good. And, I hope I don't see you anytime soon, Miss Wren." Wortham smiled kindly, opening the exam room door and welcoming the sound of crying babies from the room over into the once quiet space.

Taylor stayed where she stood with Wren in her arms, swaying her body to the rhythm of her heartbeat as she watched Jeremiah Wortham type out his prescriptions. Wren was twirling strands of blonde hair around her fingers, feverish eyes unfocused on anything specific, but laid solely on Taylor. The blonde smiled.

"Is the pharmacy listed still preferred?" Doctor Wortham asked, keeping his voice low and his details minimal. After the morning she'd had, and the fans still outside her apartment complex, Taylor was beyond appreciative for the discretion she didn't even have to ask for.

"Yes." She nodded her confirmation, brushing her fingers through Wren's silky tresses, deconstructing the knots that had formed when she wrangled Wren's clammy body out of the thick hoodie she'd worn out.

"It should be filled within the hour." As Wortham finished sending the script of medications, he smiled his farewells. Motioning for a nurse to give him a minute when she came back behind him with a notepad, dressed in yellow daisy scrubs that perfectly fit the uplifting aesthetic of the office. "I'll give you a moment to get your things. There's a back exit I can lead you too if you have someone waiting."

Taylor smiles kindly at the pediatric doctor, reaching down to collect Wren's hoodie and her black faux-leather crossbody bag. "That'll be perfect."

Wortham nods, gives one final smile, before he closes the door and the symphony of crying babies is drowned out again, leaving silence to fall around them like thick specs of glitter in a snow globe. Taylor's lips twitch upward as she swayed around the room with Wren, effectively calming the both of them down with rhythm of her heart and the soft words of a song she wrote eight years ago, content enough for the time being to appreciate the closeness.

"Let's get you bundled up, baby." Taylor settled Wren on the edge of the exam bed, making a goofy face at her child. She bunches the crewneck up in her hands, pulling it over Wren's head with practiced ease. Although her back was numbed and the infection sight wasn't a cause of pain anymore, her muscles still ached and her skull still pounded as a result of the fever, and Taylor apologized softly when she winced as she pushed her limbs through the arm holes. "You did so good. I’m so proud of you." Taylor pressed her lips to Wren's temple before she pulled her off the bed and set her down on her own two feet.

Taylor sent Austin a text before she grabbed Wren’s head and led them out of the exam room, where the same nurse in daisy scrubs was waiting to take them out back. She didn’t make small talk, which Taylor was grateful for already on edge from just being in a doctors office, she just held open the door and waved goodbye to them both before disappearing back into the facility with that same warm smile on her lips.

The sky was clear, the weather was brisk, but so many daunting tasks sat on Taylor’s shoulders that made the day feel dim. Austin could see the exhaustion on her face, and the way she tried to keep herself together as she coaxed Wren into the car and buckled her in. His sister was the strongest person he knew; even without stepping foot into the pediatric office, he felt his heart sunk into the pit of his stomach and he hadn’t been able to help himself when he texted Andrea to check in, despite seeing her that morning. He doubted there would ever be a day in any future where either one of them could go to a doctors office or a hospital without feeling like they were right back in the cancer wing feeling a blinding sense of panic and helplessness.

“What’d the Doc say?” He quizzed when Taylor slid into his passenger seat, slipping dark sunglasses over her eyes as a precautionary measure. The hood of her jacket was pulled up around her ears, concealing the more identifiable elements of her body.

Taylor sighed, “Infection. Everything else looks good. We’ve gotta pick up her prescription in about an hour. Same pharmacy Mom uses.”

“Don’t worry about it, Teff. I’ll run and grab it. You get her into bed.” Austin smiles, grabbing her hand over the center console and squeezing twice before he places both hands on the wheel again, focusing on the road.

“You don’t have to do that, Aust.” Taylor shakes her head, looking over her shoulder to check on Wren who’s sitting silently in the backseat, her clammy head against the window tensely watching the world flash by.

“Taylor.” Austin mimics her shake of the head, his blue eyes creasing with worry and affection as he steals a glance at his sister that looks like she could crumble at the slightest gust of wind. “You don’t need to carry the world on your shoulders alone. Get her home, watch a movie, call Blake or Abigail; do something besides worry. I’ll grab her meds and pick you up some dinner. Does the diner on Hudson sound good? Your usual and a chicken soup for the shadow?”

“Thank you.” Taylor relents, trying to forget about the emotionally draining morning she’d had. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon and she was beyond ready to climb into her bed and call it a night.

“I’m only a phone call away. Just because you want to do this alone, doesn’t mean you have to.”

Chapter Text

walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy vanished when i saw your face. all i can say is, it was enchanting to meet you

DECEMBER 20th, 2019

Time. A transient, precious, unconscious fact of life that means so little to most until they're at a place where reflection can happen; and when it does, when that moment of cogitation sets in, it's enchanting and equally daunting. Children grow up being told to never take a single moment for granted, told to make the best of every day even if it's mundane, told that one day, when they're older and have their own families, they'll look back and wonder how they've come so far in so little time. Taylor thought she understood that. She thought she knew everything there was to understand about the maleable existence of time. She was wrong.

The living room had been destroyed, but the crackling of the fireplace and the sound of her friends voice brought serenity into her disassembled common room. Back when she was just a wide-eyed kid in Pennsylvania, Taylor had always worn many hats; she was a friend, a student, a daughter, and a sister. At fifteen she added musician to the list, at eighteen she added mentor. At twenty-nine, she added her favorite role, one that still took her breath away when she thought of it — Mom. But, with a tall glass of white wine and the warmth of a crackling fire, she added Santa. The magic of Christmas would never feel the same as it once did, no thanks to the insurmountable existence of time, but rather manifested itself in a new way as she wrapped up another present to put under the tree.

"All James wanted was this Frozen castle. I spent an hour online trying to order it while Ryan kept her and Inez busy." Blake rolled her dazzling blue eyes, sitting on the floor of her bedroom in front of an insurmountable pile of Christmas presents and an even larger collection of wrapping paper tubes, her face full of familiar softness that felt like a piece of home to Taylor after so many years.

With flushed cheeks, not only a result of the fire but also her well-deserved glass of wine, Taylor laughed at the mental image she constructed, picturing a stressed out Blake trying to fight every other parent on the website for a Frozen castle with her credit card in hand and a slurry of curses escaping her lips. "The only things I managed to get out of Wren were my CDs, bracelet kits, and a Sulley plush. I hope I haven't completely missed the mark on everything else."

On the topic of her daughter who was sound asleep upstairs, Taylor's smile had doubled and her cheeks had grown flusher from endearment, something that didn't go unnoticed by Blake, who had been desperate to hear more about the little girl ever since Taylor had first told her about the placement. "How is she doing?"

"Good." Taylor abandons the scissors in her hands in favor of pressing her palms to her warm cheeks, looking absolutely radiant in the dim amber lighting. She was more then happy to talk about her daughter, feeling like she was about to burst just thinking about her. "She's doing so good, Blake. I think we're finally getting into a groove." She nods, hardly able to contain her shit-eating grin as she looks at her friends face, knowing that she understood her level of entrancement. "You know I never questioned wanting this life, not even after Betty, but I was scared we wouldn't have a connection. Taking a kid in that already has parents that they can remember is formidable at best. But she's become the best part of my life, my little best friend. She's the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and I have to check on her every night before I can even think about sleeping."

Blake listens closely to Taylor's every word, admiring not only her friends resilience after her unfortunate miscarriage, but her altruistic radiance that had the means to brighten every life she stepped into from the very first second. Her energy was laudable after everything she'd been through — personally and professionally. "Motherhood looks good on you, Tay. I don't think I've ever seen you this happy."

"I don't think I've ever felt so content." Taylor agrees, taking another sip from her glass of wine as she and Blake lock eyes and share a million words that can't be spoken out loud. "I forget that she's not actually mine, that we've both lived lives outside of this little bubble we built. I always thought you were crazy when you said they change in the blink of an eye, I thought I was paying attention, but I looked at her the other day and it was like she'd grown overnight and I couldn't pinpoint when."

Blake's smile is radiant, able to speak a thousand silent folktales without so much as a sentence. Her eyes gleam with the same nostalgia that Taylor feels, maternal tenderness embedded in her deep blue stare. It's a look that had once felt so unattainable for Taylor, but now she wears it with pride every day. "They'll do that to you. It doesn't matter how closely you watch them, how many pictures you take, how many hours you spend watching them breathe as they sleep at night, you never seem to catch them growing until you realize they're not so little anymore. Betty changes everyday, but, I thought I was safe with James." Blake runs her fingers through her hair, looking effortlessly beautiful in the dim lighting of her bedroom with toys and clothes and books spread out on every once untouched surface. "She came home from school the other day, kindergarten drama is all we talk about anymore, and I just sat and listened to her. Really listened. I don't know when she stopped saying packpack, but she has. The days are long, Tay, but the years are so short."

"Tell me about it." The blonde scoffs endearingly, rolling her blue eyes into the back of her head with a feeling of grief that's so much lighter then any death she's ever faced. She's not mourning an entire person, just her favorite traits of a child whose bound to grow up at some point. Taylor looks down at her lap when paws step on her folded legs. Meredith meowed at her glass of wine, shooting an inquisitive paw toward her nearly empty glass before she decides she wasn't interested and turned away, heading back to wherever she came from. Probably Wren's bedroom.

Blake resumes her wrapping, and Taylor follows suit, once again misplacing her scissors in the pile of crumbled scraps she misjudged the length of. "Have you gotten school sorted out?" Blake questions as she tapes down the first flap, eyes entirely focused on the task at hand.

"Finally. I felt like I was drowning in homeschool programs for a good minute there, but I found a good one I think she'll get a lot out of. She'll start just after the New Year, I'm just waiting for the engagement books to come in." Taylor paused to reach for another sheet of sparkly labels on the coffee table. They were the same shade of silver as the design on the wrapping paper she was using for Santa presents. If she was anything, it was over the top, but she hoped that one day when Wren was older, she looked back on these moments and appreciated the effort made. She know she does when she can't sleep at night and reflects on all the magic her parents had created for her and Austin. "Emily and I agreed that she needed some time to settle before we threw her into anything else, so I'm not in too much of a hurry to talk to her about it. It'll be good for her to have a set routine when I start traveling again, though."

"How are your long division skills?" Blake teased, pressing a letter 'J' sticker onto the box in her hands before she placed it into the pile at her side, reaching for another item to wrap. Wrapping presents for three kids was a daunting task, and Blake frequently found herself questioning the number of kids she had every time presents came around. "These kids are so spoiled." She muttered more to herself then to Taylor, but the blonde picked up on it anyway, laughing softly with her. From the very first time she and Blake met, they'd gotten on like a house on fire, back during the days when James was only a year old and Taylor was childless and single. That had never damped or strained their relationship, Taylor had been happy for Blake and Blake had used Taylor's quiet house as a rendezvous point when she needed a break, but now they had an additional role to bond over that didn't have to be shared with the media, and both of them would do anything to make their kids happy, even if it meant spoiling them rotten on holidays while the magic was still alive.

"I graduated high school with a four point even GPA, Blake. I think the more appropriate question is how are your long division skills." Taylor shot at her caramel blonde friend, her lips quirking upward into a playful smirk.

"Horrible. Ryan's in charge of math homework."

This was everything that Taylor had ever wanted for herself outside of a career. She had spent so many years watching from the sidelines as her closest friends and high school peers started their own families with spouses and kids, with nothing to contribute beside support and a strong shoulder to cry on when they needed someone. There had always been an emptiness within her chambered heart, always a feeling of longing that had only amplified after her miscarriage. But she faked smiles, forced laughter, held in her own tears for the sake of appearing happy for her friends, and their domestic little lives. Nobody had seen the way it killed her, saving all of her sadness for the lonely walls of an empty home where she cried over newborn clothes her own baby never got to wear, still shoved in the back of her wardrobe back in New York. That lose still hurt, it would always sting to think of what had been taken from her so prematurely, before it ever really existed at all, but it didn't consume her like it used to. She had someone to focus on now, someone to live for. She'd finally found her own happiness in a green eyed little girl after a decade of watching other people get what she wanted so easily.

"When are you coming back to New York?" Blake changed the subject after seeing the twinge of grief in Taylor's blue eyes that only ever had one meaning. Her heart ached for her friend who has lost and sacrificed so much of her youth for a career that betrayed her every other week. A career she still adored despite the nightmares that plagued her sleepless nights.

"The sixth as of right now." Taylor hummed as she finally came to the end of her wrapping for the night. Brushing her fingers through her oily hair that desperately needed a wash, but somehow time always escaped her. "I'm still undecided if we're going to go to London."

"How are things with you and Joe?" Blake quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, studying Taylor's body language for any unspoken answers. She hadn't heard much in regards to the Londoner lately, which was unfortunately a telling sign that trouble was brewing in paradise. Taylor loved hard, it was something Blake cherished about her. She took any moment she could find to gush about those intimate and personal relationships, but somewhere down the line Joe had fizzled out without anyone realizing.

"That's a great question." Taylor sighed dejectedly, leaning back against the couch, forcing herself to dwell on the topic of her boyfriend; a man whom she had barely spoken to in the last few weeks, but had been so excited to begin a new chapter with. "He's been off, and it's definitely put a strain on things. We've only spoken a handful of times in the last two weeks, and it's never about anything significant. Anytime I bring up Wren he comes up with some lame excuse to hang up. It infuriates me that I don't know where his head is at, but it's not my responsibility to force him to talk to me. I guess I'm just kind of leaving well enough alone at the moment, taking the time to focus on Wren and my tour."

"Kids are a lot, Tay. It might take some time for him to realize he hasn't completely lost you to somebody else." Blake smiled sympathetically, knowing the pain Taylor felt, but she also knew the younger blonde wasn't really hearing what she was saying, so far in her own head that everything else fell away and turned to quiet static. As a child from Reading, she was always free-willed, always stubborn, always overly pessimistic about her own capabilities and worth. Even as a child, she so strongly believed that she was the problem, and Joe was only giving her reason to believe it more. "How is tour planning going?"

At the mention of her upcoming tour, Taylor's entire demeanor changed, and the grief and despair that plagued her had once again been pushed aside to confront later, or never. "We're finally getting the ball rolling on the technicalities. Tree sent me the list of approved dates a few months ago, but I only just sat down with Wren to go over stage designs yesterday. She came up with something I hadn't even considered, I think it's my favorite stage I've had, I can't wait to see it through. I've never had anyone to share this part of my life with, and I guess it's always felt sort of isolating, but she's just as excited as I am. Especially when I asked her to come up with some designs for my outfits."

Blake perked up, eager to hear more about the little girl that had so quickly stolen her best friends heart. "How's she liking the sketchbook?"

"She makes sure to tell me at least once a day that she doesn't want to use up all the pages because it's her 'most favorite sketchbook'. She also wants to make sure I've sent you her thanks, without fail she reminds me at least once a day." Taylor gushes, completely enamored by the sleeping girl upstairs and her gentle heart that was sure to face a few thousand heartbreaks as she got older and trusted in the wrong people, but Taylor would always be there to patch her up when she fell. "We both got a kick out of your little notes. I think she's got them all stashed somewhere upstairs."

Blake smiles fondly at Taylor's words, an audible coo falling from her lips as her blue eyes practically melt into love hearts. "Does she want to come be my fourth kid? I'm sure James would love to get a bunk bed."

"I think I'll keep her, but I'll keep that offer in mind." Taylor chortles, shaking her head at Blake's theatrics, though she knew if anything were to happen to her, as grim as the thought was, she had an army of people willing to step up and take care of her girl. The thought warmed her heart. "Have you gotten our presents for the girls yet?"

"They came in yesterday, and James has already spotted them. She wants to know if you've sent her a cat." A smirk forms on Taylor's red lips as she squints her eyes at Blake with mischief brewing in her deep midnight gaze. Blake's own expression sobers as she recognizes the glint in Taylor's eyes. "Taylor do not send her a cat."

"I don't know, one might spontaneously show up at your door, and I'd have no idea how it happened." She laughed, trying her hardest to keep her voice low despite her amusement with Blake's unimpressed glare.

"I have enough kids, I don't need a kitten." Blake's head fell into her hands as she stifled her laughter. "Betty's been pretty colicky for the last few weeks, I'm pretty sure Ryan fell asleep on the nursery again."

Taylor grimaced at the mention, her heart going out to Blake and Ryan who were undoubtably the best parents they could be for their kids, but a baby with colic was trying for anybody. "How are you doing? How are the girls adjusting?" Taylor checks in, resting her chin on her fists as she leans in close to the camera, watching her friends face closely, really taking note of the exhaustion in her smile.

"Postpartum anxiety is a bitch." Blake shrugs, raking her fingers through her hair — a nervous tick she doesn't realize she possesses, but Taylor does. "I can't even take James to school without having a nervous breakdown thinking that the car will breakdown and we'll get into an accident, or checking the backseat to make sure I didn't forget to buckle Betty in. I don't know what I would do without Ryan, honestly. He's been holding down the fort while I try to get my life together." Blake sighs wistfully, her eyes becoming teary as she forces herself to dwell on all of the little moments she's missed out on while confined to her bed in a slump of heavy panic that has no justifiable grounds to fester on. "The girls are doing good, James absolutely adores Betty, but we're still working on Inez. As of yesterday, she thinks we should give her to another family."

"Sounds like Ryan's kid." Taylor jokes, bringing lightness back to their conversation, and Blake can't help but crack a smile, adoring the little things her children have learned from their father whether he notices or not. Taylor sobers up as she watches Blake, her smile becoming more of a smirk as she looks at her best friend. "If you need anything, I'm here."

"I know." Blake smiled thankfully. There were only so many people as genuine as Taylor Swift anymore, and Blake considered herself lucky to get to know the woman for so many good years. The media had taken away her humanity the day she booked her first major role, and they'd done it twice over the day she became a wife and a mother. She loved her job, she's devoted to her husband, and she adored her children, but she's still a person with her own feelings and needs beneath those heavy titles. Taylor had always made an effort to show her that, to remind her that sometimes it's okay to be just Blake. She hoped that she was allowed the same courtesy in moments when Taylor needed it, but her friend was ever the selfless warrior. "Alright, Tay, I've gotta go tap Ryan out before I have to deal with him complaining about a stiff next all day tomorrow. Don't fall off the face of the earth before you get back to The Village, okay?"

Taylor smiled at her friend, nodding her understanding, but a question still plagues her mind that she hopes Blake is too tired to really focus on. "What size diapers is Betty wearing?"

"She's still in a size one." It's a subconscious answer, another yawn ripping through Blake's body as she grabs her phone from the candle it's propped against, and she hovers her finger over the bright red circle.

Taylor hums her confirmation, doing the same, always a competition between them on who could hang up first. "I'll talk to you soon, B." The FaceTime ends, and once again, Taylor is left alone in the quiet of her apartment surrounded by a pile of presents and warmth.

She sits in that quiet for a minute, unable to stop the thread of thoughts that warm her insides almost impossibly so. She's so grateful for this little life of hers, and as cliche as she knows it is, she can't help the one persistent thought from spinning on a loop in her brain. She'd been so enchanted to meet, Wren. Pulling herself out of her puddle on the floor, she stretches out her back as she stands up, and begins the process of cleaning up the living room before little eyes get the chance to peak at the presents. It's a tedious process moving the few dozen boxes into an empty linen closet around the corner, but she gets it done in under half an hour, which she rightfully pats herself on the bag for. The empty tubes of wrapping paper get shoved into the back of her pantry for a later date of disposal, and her collection of tape and scissors get brought back up to her office, all the lights being switched off as she makes her way upstairs.

As always, she can't retire to her own bedroom until she checks on Wren, so she peeks into her dark room and admires the sight that she's met with. Wren is sprawled out on her belly, her hands beneath her head and her lovie tucked into her elbow and covering her lips. Her hair is wild, spread out all around her like a hallow, and every few seconds her ribs contract as she breathes in and then out, entirely peaceful and content. Taylor lingers at the door unable to pull herself away, wondering how she got so lucky at all. The door creaks as she pulls it closed, leaving just enough space for the cats to come and go as they please.

Her bed sinks beneath her weight when she finally sinks into her sheets, face washed and teeth brushed, ready to catch at least a few hours before she's worked up for breakfast, but as willing as her body is to sink into unconsciousness, her mind races with words she's not been able to forget. Reaching for her phone, she swipes through to her notes app without second thought.

'rust grows between telephones'
'you used to be home'

Her fragile heart cracks at the black text words on her screen that she can't hide from, not wanting to believe that they've somehow gotten to this point; a point where the only thing that connects them is the thing that means distance has grown. She'd been twenty-six when they met, twenty-seven when something had shifted and be started to feel like home, and here she was questioning the strength of their relationship at thirty. He had been her favorite person, the only eyes she looked for in a crowded room, but now he felt like a stranger she'd never be able to untangle herself from.

It felt like everything was falling apart around her, and she had no power to try and fix it. All she ever did was try and fix things, but empires always crumbled anyways. Everything she ever touched had turned to ash at one point or another, leaving her bloodied on a battlefield barely breathing. When would it kill her? When would her suffering finally end?

'i can go anywhere i want just not home'

Taylor turns off her phone. She rolls onto her side, and she tries to sleep, her heavy heart slowly shattering as she just tries to survive another day.

𓇢𓆸

Taylor had woken up the next morning to Wren climbing into bed beside her, soft strands of hair tickling her nose as the nine-year-old cuddled in close and laid her head down on her chest. The antibiotics had done wonders in only a short amount of time, but there was still a handful of days left on the prescription before they were truly in the clear. With tired eyes and heavy bones, Taylor accepted the company, entirely in love with these early mornings of hers — even when her body screamed in protest for just five more minutes of sleep like today.

Her fingers found a place in Wren's knotted tresses, and occasionally her nails would scratch at the girls scalp, provoking goosebumps that trail down her spine and shake her little body as she melts into the touch. Taylor's lips quirked into a smile feeling Wren sink deeper into her touch. She slowly peaked her eyes open, not wanting to miss a single moment, the brutal stream of sunlight that penetrated the room temporarily blinded her, but it was worth it to see the way it covered Wren's body and painted her golden.

"Did you sleep okay?" Her voice was thick with sleep, gravely as her words slugged together and felt heavy on the tip of her tongue. She desperately needed five more minutes, but she would take this instead any day.

Wren nodded against her chest, fiddling with the chain of Taylor's necklace. It was still the same silver chain she'd been wearing, and even while laying down the pendant fell perfectly between her collarbones. "Mmhm. But I missed you."

Taylor giggled softly, straining her neck to kiss the top of Wren's head, stroking the flyaways back from her face as they threatened to cover her beautiful eyes. "I missed you too, baby."

"Am I still going out with your Mom?" Wren peered up at Taylor through her heavy lashes, blue meeting green as their eyes locked together and a secret language formed without words.

Taylor's smile never fell as she caressed the side of Wren's face and her baby soft skin. Her freckles were fading as quickly as the seasons changed, and Taylor wondered how they looked in the summertime if they were already so dark in fall. "If you want too."

"I don't have any money." Wren shrugged her shoulders, wrestling her body around the bed until she was fully pressed against Taylor — chest to chest, heart to heart. She would never be this little again, after her conversation with Blake that thought was heavy on her mind, and Taylor dreaded the day when Wren outgrew morning snuggles and forehead kisses. She knew it was inevitable, she knew every teenager went through that phase at some point and most of them grew out of it, but it didn't hurt any less to consider the years she'd lose when they time came.

"Did you know that the state gives me money for you every month?" Taylor hums, linking her arms around Wren's back to keep her where she was, not wanting this moment to end any sooner then she was ready and her daughter had no objections. Wren shook her head, eyes wide and filled with anxiety as she looked at Taylor for answers. "When you first came to stay with me, I had an account set up so you have access to that money. For special occasions and emergencies or whatever you want that you're too scared to ask me for. I think Christmas shopping is a very good special occasion, what do you think?" Taylor didn't mention that the first check wouldn't come in until January, that much was irrelevant to her. What she also didn't mention to Wren was that she no intention of giving her that money until she was eighteen. The account she set up was one linked directly to her card, and that money was her own. She would do anything to make sure Wren had a stable life waiting for her outside of the system, and seven hundred dollars a month wasn't really making or breaking her bank if she were to be honest.

Taylor could practically see the wheels turning in Wren's head and she furrowed her eyebrows, her lips turning downward into a pout that she couldn't quite place. She looked... bothered, but not entirely surprised by whatever conclusions were being drawn in her head. "Did Timothy and Adrianna get money too then?" Her voice was nothing louder then a hesitant whisper, begging Taylor to tell her the truth. So many people had lied to protect her, but it only ever hurt worse when everything unraveled in her hands. She remembered the days back in Knoxville when they'd have screaming matches, and when blood had been shed over not so quiet whispers regarding money. She vividly remembered when they'd drag her into the argument, sometimes literally, and tell her how it was all her fault. She remembered the hunger, and the hurt, and the beatings that would come of it. She only wanted the truth now.

"Yeah, baby." Taylor nodded sadly, her deep blue eyes all but dimming at the mention of the heinous people that had completely obliterated her little girls spirit. Maybe it was wrong to harbor such resentment for people who were already facing a lifetime sentence of guilt and punishment, but she couldn't find it in herself to be the bigger person. The wound would never heal, not for her and certainly not for Wren, somebody deserved to be angry even if her daughter was too young to realize that now. "Sometimes that money is used for new clothes, and fun toys, or backpacks for school!" Taylor tried to lighten the blow, but she knew that Wren hadn't been given those things. All it did was make her feel worse. "You know how my job lets me travel?"

"Yeah, you live in New York too." Wren nods along, not trying to hide the hurt that bleeds into her voice as she thought about all of the things that had been withheld from her. They had a choice on whether to take her in or not, and they still choose to blame her and hurt her.

"Well, not everyone has a job like mine. Some people work at super important companies and walk around in stiff suits with briefcases and leather shoes, and some people work at equally important places like a school, or at McDonalds, but not everyone gets paid the same way. I'm very lucky to make good money singing songs for people, and that allows me to support not only myself, but you. Timothy and Adrianna might not have made as much money, lots of people don't. Do you get that?" Taylor hoped she was making sense, hoped that she was healing some of the hurt Wren felt, even if it was at the expense of excusing her previous placements behavior. She'd make them look better if it meant Wren didn't feel so bad.

Wren nods her head slowly, but Taylor can still see the hurt in her eyes that hadn't budged even an inch. "Why did they say it was my fault then? I- If they got money from the state, why didn't they let me eat with them? Or get me a backpack? Or new shoes when the other ones got holes in them?"

Taylor's heart sank to her stomach as she dropped her head back on the pillows and closed her eyes tightly, trying not to think of all the ways those people had tortured and taunted her baby. "I can't tell you why they did what they did, nobody has that answer besides them, but what I can tell you is that how they acted doesn't reflect your worth as a person. You are deserving, you are capable, and you are so so kind despite everything you've been through. You are the most important thing in my life, more important then Blake and Selena, more important then all of my Grammys downstairs, more important then peppermint hot chocolate. I need you to know that." Her fingers prod the sides of Wren's ribcage, causing the girl to wiggle around trying to escape and shriek.

Her giggles are infectious, and she dives headfirst into Taylor's chest like an uncoordinated newborn, panting for breathe when the blonde finally lightens up her assault. Taylor can't help but laugh along, despite being minorly winded from the impact.

"Taylor?" Wrens little voice filled the quiet room, but being so content with her place on Taylor's chest, she hardly moved an inch even to look at the blonde as she asks her question. Even without knowing the girl as a toddler, she could picture her asking a million whys, just wanting to know how things worked and what caused them to happen. It was heartwarming.

"Yeah, Roo?" Taylor giggles, sneaking her fingers beneath the girls pajama top and trailing her nails across bare skin, smirking when she shivered in response but leaned into the touch. Her daughters love language was definitely physical touch, something they both shared.

"Do you ever get sad that your friends live other places?" There was something in Wren's voice that broke Taylor's heart, something more then just a genuine curiosity that most little kids had. Her questions were never so innocent when you broke them down, something was bothering her, and Taylor had no idea what it was. It pained her Taylor to great extent not being able to take all of the hurt she felt, but she'd been the one to say bandaids don't fix bullet holes, and that's exactly what she'd been trying to do for almost a month.

"I do. My best friend Abigail lives in Kansas now, it was hard when she moved away, but I know she's happy so that makes it easier. What's going on in that head, baby? Who do you miss?" Taylor stroked the back of her head, closing her own eyes as she felt the drumming of Wren's little fingers on her ribs as she rested comfortably against her.

"Lillie." It was a name Taylor hadn't heard before, a reminder that as many walls as she'd broken down, as much as she knew, there were still five unaccounted years that she couldn't place. The home videos they recovered from Knoxville hadn't been watched yet, just sitting in the duffle bag toward the back of Wren's closet, waiting for a day when it didn't feel like a knife to the gut by simply hearing her mothers voice. "She was my best friend, but can I still call her that? I haven't seen her in lotsa years."

"No. She's still your best friend, baby. Just because you don't see someone, doesn't mean they can't be important to you." Taylor coaxes, tangling her finger in Wren's honey-like tresses, feeling the weight of a little life on her chest, weighing her down but freeing her at the same time.

"Like Joe?" Wren sniffles, dragging her palm over her nose, wiggling her face deep into Taylor's chest. Anyone else touching her like that would've set fire to her skin, made her belly churn, but with Wren, it just felt comfortable and right, like she was supposed to be having these moments.

She stiffened at the mention of her boyfriend. She hadn't heard from him in a handful of days at this point, and the radio silence was growing heavy on her heart. She felt like she was losing him, or maybe, he was losing her. She was changing, finding herself in something other then the shadows that he found her in, but he was staying the same; covered in darkness and hidden from prying eyes. How long could they last like this? Taylor forced a smile onto her lips, nodding her head to Wren's question. "Just like Joe, baby. I still love him even though he's far away sometimes."

They fall into silence as Wren contemplates what she knows and whatever is going on in her mind. Taylor doesn't pry, letting the girl have her moment. She can't even imagine how difficult it is to have lived three different lives in eight years. Her life had overlap, she changed her hair, her style, her sound, but at the root of all that's changed, she remained the same within herself and her family. "I think I wanna go to London." She mumbled, bringing back the conversation they'd had days ago.

"Are you sure, bug? I won't be mad if it's too much." Taylor mindlessly fiddles with the little girls silky strands of hair, twisting thin pieces of her hair into tiny braids.

Wren shrugs, "He's important to you. You don't talk about him lots anymore. Do you miss him? I didn't like thinkin' about my Mom when I went to live with Timothy and Adrianna cause I missed her. So I stopped answering when Ivana asked me."

For the umpteenth time since they'd met, Taylor felt her heart stutter in her ribcage becoming short of breath as tears pricked her vision, heavy in her body as she bearer the grief and adoration a million men couldn't even begin to fathom for one observant and tender-hearted little girl that she was lucky enough to call her own. She knew that she wasn't so aware at nine, wasn't so considerate of other people's feelings and their silent actions. Wren was a masterpiece, and she was so incredibly enchanted to spend these days with her all rolled up in bed with just themselves and the morning light.

"I do miss him. I'll talk to Emily, and we'll sort out a date. I bet Joe would like to draw with you, he's a lot better then I am." Taylor thinks back to all the nights she and Wren spent hunched over thick pieces of paper, scribbling and shading and letting their imaginations run freely wild creating beautiful masterpieces that they then taped to any willing surface of the house. Wren never commented on the difference in design or how Taylor's pictures were rather simple, always finding something to complement whether it be her perfected signature at the bottom of the page, or how much she'd learnt since the first night.

"Okay. You're my favorite sous-artist though." Taylor laughed like she did the first time Wren had deemed her a sous-artist, finding these little moments her most prized possessions. "Do you think Santa got my letter?" Wren diverts, laying her elbows into Taylor's ribs without much thought, reaching for her silver chain. The blonde winces, but doesn't push her away, knowing one day she'll miss the discomfort of a little body pressing into her so sweetly.

"I think he did, I'm sure he's sent you one back, but it takes a while for the postal service to ship all the way from the North Pole. Do you think the paper Santa has smells like candy canes?" Taylor pressed her eyes brows together in a faux curious expression, giggling at the laughter Wren bellows.

"No, silly! Santa writes on regular paper! I bet he gets it at target like we do." Wren nodded her head matter-of-factly, her green eyes bright as she looks at Taylor like she's the only thing that matters in the world. When had she stopped looking at her mom the same way? Why did so many things have to change? "Can we write more letters? To your friends? It was fun!"

Taylor matches the expression on Wren's face, excitement bubbling beneath her deep blue gaze. Her eyes were always brighter in the early mornings and late evenings, something Joe always said he loved; a dazzling cobalt blue iris framed by thick blonde lashes that her mother blessed her with. "That sounds like a great idea! Who should we write one too?"

"Blake! And Selena! And Abigail! And..." Wren droned on until she realized those were all the names she knew, "I don't know any of your other friends. Do you have more?"

Taylor shook her head in laughter, "I do have more, ya goober! There's Ed, and Jack, and Bellamy, and Aaron! What should we write them about?"

"Well, we can say thank you to everyone who got me birthday presents! And then, I dunno? We can ask them if they're excited for Santa! I bet they are!" Taylor felt tears swell in the back of her throat, a suffocating sense of pride hanging over her body. She absolutely adored having a front row seat in Wren's life, watching her learn new things and come into her self and out of her shell, truly having a little personality beneath all of the fear and anxiety that had previously damped her light. She was so kind, so sweet, Taylor didn't know how anyone could do anything but love her unconditionally. She was so unbelievably proud of how far they'd come in just under three weeks, knowing that even just a week ago they'd be having a very different conversation.

"That sounds like a great idea! How about we grab some paper and pens from my office and head downstairs for breakfast? We can set up a whole little workshop until you leave for the shops." Taylor beamed, and Wren easily complied, slipping away from her body just as easily as she'd fallen into it, waiting eagerly at the foot of her bed with clasped hands. "First one downstairs gets to pick what we have for breakfast!" Taylor declared with a smug smirk, though she had no intentions of actively trying to beat Wren. She wanted to encourage her to make her own choices, and find her own voice, and while they were making progress and she was getting better at not second guessing herself, a challenge always lit a spark beneath her.

Without second thought, Wren bolted down the stairs leaving Taylor to trail behind her, feeling nothing but the hottest spark of golden love in every nerve in her body.

𓇢𓆸

"How do you spell Inez?" Wren questioned around a mouthful of scrambled eggs, thankfully blocking her mouth with her little hand that wasn't holding onto a pink glitter gel pen. She shrieked when she realized how hot they were on her little tongue, profusely blowing outward hoping to cool them off without causing further damage, Taylor just watched from the counter with an amused glint in her eyes, flipping the next chocolate chip pancake before it could burn. She'd warned Wren that they were hot, had even teasingly snapped her fingers in the girls face until she gave her some kind of recognition, however it must've fallen on deaf ears either way as she scrambled to swallow the hot bite of food with eyes wide from shock.

"I told you they were hot buddy!" Taylor laughed gleefully, serving two mini pancakes to her daughter on the side of the plate the eggs didn't cover. Wren had chosen chocolate chip pancakes and eggs for breakfast, which had shocked Taylor the slightest bit, but she complied without a trace of uncertainty, more then happy to comply with the simple request. There were multiple sheets of paper all lined up on the island counter, her friends names scribbled at the top of each corner in a sparkly ink.

"Oh yeah." Wren giggled, making Taylor roll her eyes affections. Like she always did, her feet were swinging back and forth into the island, creating a beat with each hollow impact. She learned fairly quickly that rhythm came naturally to Wren, and while Taylor feared a hole being kicked into her island, she didn't have the heart to ask her to stop. "How do you spell Inez, Tay?"

"How do you think you spell it? You've spelled everyone else's name right!" Taylor encouraged, taking the moment to be a learning opportunity even if she hadn't officially started home educating yet. The little girl had already asked her three times how you spell certain names and words, but without her help, she'd gotten them all right.

"I-N-E-S?" Wren furrowed her brows in concentration, her little tongue poking out of her mouth as she went over the word in her head and broke it down by letter.

"That was close! What other letter can make that sound? I-N-EZ!" Taylor sounded it out as she came over to the counter with her own plate of pancakes and eggs, setting it down beside Wren before she went over to then refrigerator to grab the butter and syrup she'd forgotten.

"Z?" Wren guessed, sounding less then sure of herself despite being correct.

"Good job!" Taylor applauded, closing the refrigerator with her hip, side stepping Meredith who was circling her feet with intent to claw at her bare legs. "Do you want strawberries on your pancakes?"

"No, thank you." Wren shook her head, swinging her wild mane of hair around as she moved, entirely focused on her letter. Taylor watched her work, smiling to herself as Wren found the words to say without consulting her every prompt like she had when they wrote a letter to Santa all those days ago. "When Adrianna told me I couldn't go to school anymore, we were writing letters to soldiers that couldn't come home yet. I don't know if mine ever got sent."

Taylor frowned. It wasn't the first time she'd heard Wren mention not being allowed to go to school, but it still sat heavy on her shoulders, and dread pooled in her belly for all the possible reasons that could've caused that decision. She didn't want to know, but it wasn't fair to Wren for her to shy away from conversations about her life for her own stomach. "Why weren't you allowed, baby?"

"Cause my teacher asked why I was wearing long sleeves at recess and then called Adrianna to bring me a new shirt when I got too hot." Wren shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, like it was something she had grown accustomed to as if it were as mundane as wearing shoes outside the house, but it made Taylor's heart sink into that deep dark pool in her belly, nervous chills running down her spine even though she knew Wren was safe now. Would this always haunt her?

"I'm sorry, buddy." Taylor frowned, stabbing a piece of her pancake with more force then intended, a disgusting shriek coming off the fancy dishes they we're using, making both of them cringe away. Wren giggled after the initial chills has subsided, going back to her letter and occasionally spearing a bite of eggs into her mouth. "Andrew will be here soon. Do you think we should make him some cookies?"

After her conversations with Tree and James, they'd mutually agreed on flying Andrew Garcia out to be lead security for the remainder of their stay in Nashville. Taylor had worked with him on a few separate occasions, and was sad to hear about his divorce a few years ago, at the time, offering as much time off as he needed while still being guaranteed a job when he was able to return, but he'd only shaken his head and told her he enjoyed having a purpose to his otherwise unruly life and her cookies were a bonus. He and his ex-husband shared three kids, but they were all old enough to understand his work, unlike Chad who still diapers and tantrums to sort out. That didn't stop Taylor from doubling his hourly salary until after the holiday season, telling Andrew it was the least she could do when he initially protested.

Taylor had been relieved when Wren got on well with him on his first day, not daring to initiate conversation from her own volition, but not shying away when he addressed her in pleasantries either. The security risk had dwindled since the initial leak, but fans still lingered outside of the apartment, and where their were fans their were paparazzi waiting to catch her in a compromising position that completely shattered the image she carefully curated. They'd been cautious for the last three days, but they couldn't stay inside forever, and Wren was beginning to get a taste of cabin fever.

"Yeah!" Wren beamed, finishing off her letter with a little heart at the bottom of the page, holding it up to the light proudly for Taylor to see. "I finished Blake's letter!"

"Good job, Roo! Why don't you stick that one in the envelope and when you're gone, I'll put the stamps on it." Taylor beamed, handing over a single envelope from the pile she'd brought down. It had been ages since she wrote anyone a letter, but she remembered why she loved doing it so much. "You know, if you like writing letters, they have these cool ways to seal them with wax. We can look into getting you one later."

"Like in Harry Potter?!" Wren gasped, her eyes wide as a full moon in October, sparkling in the kitchen light before she pulled another sheet of paper close to her body only taking a second to read the name at the top of the page before she hurried on with all the questions and words she had planned out in her head, making Taylor laugh at her eagerness.

"Just like in Harry Potter. When I was your age I used to have an ink jet and glass quill, and I would write my friends letters and seal them with pink wax. But they have all kinds of colors and designs now. I'm sure we could find you a Sulley one!" Taylor beamed, cleaning up her dishes when she finished her breakfast, noticing that Wren hadn't even touched her pancakes, too busy writing to Selena with her little tongue poking out from between her lips. "I know you're excited, bug, but don't forget about your pancakes."

"Will you cut them for me? I'm busy!" Wren exclaimed dramatically, gliding the ballpoint pen across the paper with ease, her penmanship perfected with little variation as she worked quickly.

"Do you want me to feed you too?" Taylor shook her head in amusement, but had no problem complying to the task she was asked to do, slicing the pancakes into bite sized pieces and pouring a decent amount of syrup on the side of the plate. She'd learned that Wren preferred to dip her pancakes in syrup so they wouldn't get soggy so quick, and she couldn't argue with her logic.

"My hand hurts." Wren declared rather dramatically, no doubt a trait she'd picked up from Taylor, but finished off Selena's letter anyway. Her focus on the letters was displaced as quickly as she'd begun the process, spearing a piece of pancake on her fork as she looked in Taylor's direction, watching the blonde shuffle around the kitchen attempting to keep an organized mess. "Can I finish the rest later?"

"I'll keep them in the living room for you." Taylor nods her head as she finished stacking the dishwasher, the countertops cleared off enough to begin her baking project. She moved toward the island, staking up the unused envelopes and pages of paper to be moved somewhere else later on. "What kind of cookies should we make Andrew?" She asked, leaning with her hip against the cool surface of the island.

"Sugar." Wren decided, practically inhaling the pancakes on her plate after being distracted by her letters for so long. "Can we make them Christmas tree shaped?"

"Of course. There should be some green icing in the pantry to decorate them. Why don't you go up and take a shower while they bake? Mom'll be here in about an hour." Taylor said whilst digging around in her cabinets for a baking sheet.

"Okay. Do I have to wear long sleeves today?" Wren wrinkled her nose at the thought of wearing a jacket overtop of a long-sleeved shirt, but Taylor had insisted on it the other day when they went grocery shopping, and although she hadn't outright protested, her discomfort wasn't even slightly hidden as she continuously pulled at her sleeves and neckline through the aisles of the store.

"No, babe." The blonde laughed, recalling the same sequence of events with fondness. She'd eventually come to the conclusion that it made her girl feel suffocated, but by time that was realized, they were already in the car with Andrew. "Just make sure you wear an actual jacket, okay? It's too cold to just wear a hoodie if you don't have long sleeves underneath."

Wren nodded her compliance before she raced up the stairs, little footsteps echoing through the apartment as she took the stairs two at a time. They only paused for a moment when Taylor heard her whisper a good morning to Benjamin, who she assumed was sprawled out on the steps looking for scratches.

Alone in the kitchen with nothing but herself and her self-deprecating thoughts, Taylor deflated against the marbled countertop with her head in her hands. She didn't have the time to sit there and sift through everything she was feeling regarding Joe or Betty, nor did she want to ruin a perfectly good morning with her melancholy, but with only the pitter-pattering of the shower running upstairs to ease her anxious mind, it was almost inevitable. Clearing her throat, she straightened her back and lifted her head away from her hands, squaring her shoulders with enough faux-confidence to convince herself to keep moving until she hit a breaking point. So, instead of feeling bad for herself and everything it felt like she was losing, she shuffled through her Spotify playlists before settling on a Christmas station that would fill the apartment with something other then her own criticism.

She had hardly even noticed the minutes as they rolled by until Wren was back in the kitchen smiling brightly up at her, with dripping wet hair and a mismatched outfit on her little body. The entire apartment smelt like warm sugar, with only three minutes left on the timer for her cookies and the icing and sprinkles fished out from the back of the pantry. She'd made a coffee as well, but even the taste of her favorite seasonal creamer felt displaced in her state of doldrums. She faked a grin for Wren, nodding her head in the direction of a pastel blue mixing bowl.

"I saved you some dough." She beamed, knowing that was always the best part of making cookies as a kid, and even if they were on a bit of a time crunch with Andrea and Andrew arriving within the next twenty minutes, she wouldn't take the little moments away from Wren when she didn't need to.

Wren raced toward the mixing bowl with excitement clear in her green gaze, not wasting a single second as she scooped up some of the yellow dough onto her pointer finger before dipping it into her mouth, letting her eyes flutter as she giggled around her single digit, tasting the sugary sweetness of the slightly grainy dough.

"How is it?" Taylor quizzed, nursing her mug of steaming coffee that was definitely working at easing her out of whatever funk she had fallen into. She didn't think anything would make her feel less ostracized, but she would take the simple victories when they came.

"Good!" Wren grinned in her direction before she went back to the bowl of sweets, scooping out dough until it was empty and all that remained was flour at the edges. "All done!"

The cookie timer went off only a second later, and Taylor was quick to shut it off and slid her hand into a gingerbread oven mitt to avoid any burns from the scorching baking sheet. She turned on the cooling fan above the stove to hopefully speed up the process, before she turned to the sink where a pile of dishes from breakfast and baking awaited her. There was always something to do, even on the days when she just wanted to crawl into bed and stay there.

"I can do them." Wren offered, her voice meek as she lingered by the island, hands folded nervously in front of her body. She wasn't sure what had happened since she left to take a shower, but the atmosphere had shifted and Taylor wasn't smiling as brightly, that much was obvious and it left her uneasy in her own skin, like she was stranded in a choppy sea.

Taylor smiled, despite her back being turned, eyes focused on the too shiny silver faucet, watching sunlight glisten against it like kisses from a million angels. She had gotten so used to picking Wren up, making sure she felt secure in her body and mind, she doesn't even remember how to give herself that same grace. "It's okay, buddy. I've got them." Taylor shook her head, letting the faucet run over the pile of dishes, waiting for the water to warm up. "Will you put your shoes on, so you're ready when my Mom gets here?"

As quietly as she can manage to be in the echoey apartment, Wren does as she's told, her gentle footsteps the only indication that Taylor receives on whether her words have been heard. While the blonde scrubs at the dishes, the brunette crumbles in the hallway, feeling like she's right back in that small shoebox of a bedroom in Knoxville. The picture frames in the hallway fade away, the glossy ground beneath her feet becomes stained with blood, and just like she feared, the only person she has is shutting her out like she's nothing.

Just like she left them, her converse are waiting by the front door as her little feet manage to carry her through the entryway and toward the collection of shoes. Most of them are Taylor's, but she's collected a few pairs since being placed her. She's never felt so undeserving of these things, staring at the black shoes with a feeling she'd never experienced, but makes her body feel hot and clammy and too small for her bones. Would she have to leave her shoes when she moves? The floorboards creak as she sinks to her knees and then her bottom, hardly minding the flush of cold she feels on her palms when she grabs at the floorboards to steady herself. She winces into herself when her movements cause a ricochet around the room, making the walls feel closer then they are as she feels too small and too big in the space at the same time. She can barely tie the laces of her shoes her fingers are trembling so harshly, she doesn't know when that started, but she doesn't want to ask for help incase Taylor lashes out on her. Something had happened, and all signs pointed to her.

Unconsciously, the words of a familiar song slip past her quivering lips in whispers so soft they become nothing more than a kiss of breathy silence, but they're loud enough to calm the brewing storm in her chest, loud enough to bring her back down to earth from the high cloud she'd been floating on. Not loud enough to convince her everything will be okay.

"You and I'll be safe and sound." She doesn't know why she started mumbling the words to that song, doesn't know why she turned to Taylor for comfort when something had changed to make her look right past her with a fake smile and empty eyes, but she had, and it only makes her that hot and clammy feeling grow in her tummy. She wouldn't ever feel safe and sound. Not in morning light that painted bedrooms and kitchens golden, and brought warmth and protection over everyone still sleeping, and definitely not in echoey hallways with matching pairs of shoes and perfect family portraits she wouldn't ever fit into.

The only thing that interrupts the silence that falls overtop of Wren and Taylor like a heavy blanket is the jingling of keys in the hallway, fumbling around until they found a home in the lock. Not wanting to move back into the kitchen where the silence was thick and heavy, Wren pressed her back against the wall and waited for the door to open, forgetting all about the cookies she'd been so excited to ice.

Tuffs of blonde hair peaked through the cracks just seconds before blue eyes became clear, Andreas smiling face beaming down at Wren the second she noticed her curled up in the corner. She was completely unaware of the murky waters she was stepping into without a life jacket, her sunny disposition estranged from the overcast vibe that had set in without warning.

"Good Morning, honey." Andrea smiled brightly at her foster-granddaughter, not questioning why she was folded into herself on the floor. Her smile was sweet as it was gentle, and it did wonders to ease the pit of anxiety clawing it's way up her throat. "That's quite the festive outfit you have on!" She laughed softly, analyzing the snowmen printed leggings and reindeer t-shirt that clashed in an adorable way.

"It's Rudolf and Olaf." Wren smiled shyly, running her fingers over the Olaf printed leggings, feeling a twinge of sadness as analyzed the smile on Olaf's face, wishing  she could be as happy as him for just one day. Something always dampened her mood, like the world was against her ever growing past the torture.

"I see that!" Andrea grinned fondly, offering a hand to Wren when she realized the little girl had no intentions of standing up on her own. "Let's go find Tay and tell her we'll be going."

Wren took Andrea's hand, sinking into her side and letting her be the one to lead the way into the kitchen where the smell of sweets was stronger in the air. She assumed Taylor would be cleaning up, but they found her slumped over the counter with her fingers tangled into her hair, shoulders trembling the slightest bit. The icky feeling in her belly came back stronger, and she fought every instinct in her body to turn around and flee to somewhere she couldn't be hurt.

Andrea froze in the doorframe, looking between her daughter and the little girl that had quickly become family. "Go watch some TV, okay? I'll come get you when we're ready to go." Andrea ruffles the top of Wren's hair, smiling encouragingly as she watches her go, hoping that now that they're alone in the kitchen she'll be able to get some answers out of Taylor. "What's going on, Tay?"

Taylor breaks down, sobs rolling off her shoulders and jolting her entire body as she doesn't soften the pain she can't keep inside anymore. Scott and Joe and Betty and a million other minuscule things had built up beneath her skin during the last three weeks, and somewhere along that very thin line of protecting herself and protecting her daughter, she'd forgot that she needs comfort and reassurances as well.

Andrea doesn't interrupt her cries, she simply slinks an arm around her shoulders and rubs her back until she's calmed down enough to reveal her beautiful blue eyes that are dimmed red and glassy. She throws herself into her mothers body, squeezing so tightly around her shoulders if it were possible, they would've become one single individual.

"She wants t-to see Joe." Taylor's aware how silly that sounds without any insight into her own feelings, but her mother knows her well enough to put the pieces together, and her growing silence at the topic of her boyfriend is as much of an indicator as Andrea needs to understand the underlying pain she's been feeling for weeks. "A-And I can't stop myself from thinking about Betty, and what she would have been like i-if I even got one chance to hold her. How can someone throw away their baby when that's all I wanted and couldn't have? Her Dad just threw her away, Mom." Taylor tries to keep her voice low, tries to protect Wren's peace, but her body-wrenching sobs are making it difficult to stay quiet as she fights to get any coherent words out over the hiccuping sounds of her crying.

"It's not fair." Andrea soothes her adult daughter like she's just a teenager again, raking her fingers through knotted blonde hair the way she knows calms Taylor down. Her own heart is breaking into a million sharp pieces at her feet for her daughter, but there isn't anything she can do to make her feel better besides agree with her and hope that she can find the strength to pull herself through this choppy sea of grief. She can be a shoulder to cry on, a reassuring voice in the dark, but she can't take the pain away no matter how badly she wants to. "It's not fair that you didn't get to have the one thing you wanted, and that he sent away a perfectly healthy little girl the second he had the chance, but how lucky are you to have that little girl in your life? How lucky are you to be her Mom?" Andrea cups her daughters cups lightly, brushing away the falling tears that are almost as rare as shooting stars. Her daughter is strong, the strongest woman she knows, but she hurts so deeply when she lets herself feel it. "You've gotta pull yourself together for her, you need to show her that she can do hard things. You both can. You don't have to hide these feelings, or pretend that you don't have bad days, but you have to let her in, let her see you cry and scream. That little girl has been through hell, she needs somebody to teach her how to cope."

"She's been through so much, I don't want to add to it." Taylor sniffles, leaning into her mothers gentle touch. Her eyes glisten like a million pieces of shattered glass, and her heart feels the same way.

"She's not going to break, Taylor. She cares about you just as much as you care about her." Andrea pulls away from the embrace with one last squeeze, fixing the hair around her daughters face that sticks to her damp cheeks. "Take it easy today, have a pity party if you need to, but don't let it affect the way you parent her. It's not all about you anymore, you're somebody's Mom."

Taylor nods, clearing her throat as she stands to her full height, squaring her shoulders back and going through the same breathing techniques she'd taught Wren all those cold fall nights ago in the toy aisle of Target. In. Through. Deep. Out.

"Thank you." Taylor whispers hoarsely, her words lingering in the space between them, but despite their softness, they're heavy and meaningful as they sit on Andrea's sink and sink into the pit in her belly that longs to make her children little again, speaking a million things in two simple words.

"I'm your Mom. Doesn't matter how old you get." Andrea emphases her point with a witty smirk, shaking out her hair as she looks back toward the direction of the living room where Wren is just barely visible on the couch, hunched over her sketchbook with her little legs folded like a pretzel. "We'll be back in a couple of hours. Figure things out while we're gone."

𓇢𓆸

The bustling crowd of last minute Christmas shoppers was vicious as elbows shoved into ribcages and shelves were stripped bare of the most sought after items of the year. There was no variety in the music each store played, the same seven tracks on a broken loop through the overhead speakers, but even with the violence and repetition, nothing could ruin their festive mood.

Wren's entire attitude had done a one-eighty since they'd left the apartment, and thankfully all thoughts of Taylor sending her back to Emily had fallen away from her. Though, it had taken significantly more time for her to push aside her nerves as she sat in the backseat of Andrea's sleek silver car. Anything could happen in such a public place, and she wouldn't have Taylor to hide behind, but the blonde woman had shown her nothing but kindness and had dotted on her every need, even when it was just a pit stop to tie her shoe before she fell on her face. They were an hour and a half into their excursion now, and a handful of bags had already been brought out to the car with different people in mind for them all.

Wren's eyes sparkled with wonder as she took in the elaborate Christmas decorations hung on every available surface, specifically adoring the larger-then-life sparkly snowflakes that were strung up on the ceiling with near invisible wiring. They made her feel tiny in comparison to their size, and she wondered if this is what the fairies in Tinkerbell felt like they they traveled to the mainlands.

The pair had just dropped a good few hundred bucks in a small sports apparel store toward the east wing of the mall, and as they browsed the racks of anything imaginable (jerseyss, pajama pants, hoodies, and beanies, blankets, keychains, bobble heads, etc.), Andrea had fallen into the story of how the tradition came to be, fondly racking her memory for the Christmas' in Reading when Taylor and Austin were only little, and how she'd started buying them new shirts at Christmas time when the old ones got too small. Wren had known that Taylor didn't grow up in Tennessee, but football had been the farthest thing from her mind when she'd asked questions about what it was like up north. Andrea filled in the gaps now, sparing no minuscule details as she droned on about the games and the super bowl parties, and the few weekends they'd spend away at hotels watching the Eagles from the stands when they had the chance. She'd insisted that Wren become a new member of the tradition, and stood by the racks for twenty minutes as she watched Wren sift through jerseys and t-shirts with an endearing smile until the brunette girl held up the one she wanted.

With absolutely no understanding of football in a general sense or any knowledge on who the players were or the positions they played, she grabbed a number sixty-two jersey with 'Kelce' on the back rather confidently. Andrea had asked why she picked that one, but she only smiled shyly and shrugged her shoulders as her cheeks become flush beet red hue, but in her heart she held onto the fading memories of her parents, and all the years they'd spent celebrating Sarah's birthday on June second. Even without hearing the story, Andrea hadn't protested her pick, just browsed the racks until she found a simple Eagles design for Taylor that lacked any particular player or number to avoid public scrutiny if she ever decided to wear the shirt outside of the house.

"What do you say we surprise Taylor with some Santa pictures?" Andrea's voice was dipped in sunshine, but still Wren's heart stuttered and sank to the bottom of her belly at the mention of the blonde who had been so distant only a few hours prior. Her palms became sweaty with nerves she couldn't quite place, and the grip she had on the shopping bags they hadn't yet put in the car began to tremble as she forced herself to swallow thickly and keep a clear head. There was nothing she could do about the tears clouding her vision, or the way her chest constricted tightly as she fought for an even breath. Would Taylor want pictures of her? To stare at fondly until they became painful reminders of how much she resented all the change Wren brought? "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to." Andrea kneels in front of the little girl, seeing the look of turmoil she possessed within her empty green eyes, the overhead lighting reflecting off the tracks of tears on her cheeks.

Wren shuddered violently, teeth clattering against each other as she struggled to express herself to Andrea, eyes hazy and unfocused as she panicked. "She's mad at me."

"Why do you think that, honey?" Andrea frowns so deeply it wrinkles her forehead, her blue eyes slitted into narrow stripes as she lays a gentle finger beneath Wren's chin and shifts her attention to one focal point. Seeing the wild gleam in her forest eyes, she doesn't bother to find a place for them to sit down, she sinks to the floor and pulls Wren down with her, back flush against the wall so they're out of the way from foot traffic. She doesn't pay attention to the odd looks they're thrown, entirely present in this moment with Wren,

"I made her sad!" Wren deflates into sweet sobs that break the hearts of everyone passing by, her body flush against Andrea's chest as she grabs fistfuls off her jacket, her face buried into the blonde woman's neck.

"You didn't make her sad." Andrea's shushes Wren's crying with a gentle hand on the back of her head and a tight grip around the middle of her waist, sighing deeply at the turmoil she found herself in. She knew Taylor would feel like the worst person alive when she inevitably had to tell her about this moment, but her priority now was talking Wren down and explaining to her the events of the morning she wasn't completely aware of. "Come on, big girl. Can you take a deep breath for me. In through your nose," Andrea instructs, placing her palm firmly on the center of Wren's back to feel her ribcage expand and contract. "Through your body, hold it deep, there you go, you’ve got it. Out through your mouth now. That was so good! Can you do it again?"

Wren does as she’s asked, knowing the drill after enough of these little breakdowns with Taylor, and she feels herself calm down the longer she goes on with her instructed breathing methods. Despite her sadness and the confusion she can’t quite name, her little body aches for the way Taylor would sway them side to side in moments like this, she longs the way she would hum the words of a familiar song until it was the only thing Wren could focus on. She misses the way she smells sweet like flowers and vanilla, and how her fingers would tangle into her knotted hair and how she’d whisper her reassurances like they were the only two people in the world that mattered. She misses Taylor. Andrea was trying her best, and she was being just as sweet and patient with her, but it wasn’t the same. She just wanted her Taylor.

“Do you wanna tell me why you think you made Taylor sad?” Andrea asks when Wren slowly pulls her face away from the darkness of her neck that she’d been hiding away in, still shuddering as an aftershock of her tears, but no longer hiccuping over her cries and looking around in a panic as if something terrible lingered around the corner just out of sight.

“W-What else coulda made her sad?” Wren blubbers, her cherry lips pressing downward into a frown as she scratches at the backs of her hands until the skin turns red and streaks of nail marks bubble up.

“Do you ever get sad thinking about your Mom?” Andrea approaches the topic gently, not wanting to traumatize the little girl anymore then she already was, still able to feel the fast beating of her heart as they sit in the mall hallway chest to chest, but she had no other ground to plant her feet on. Wren nods, her eyebrows wrinkling together. “That’s why Taylor was sad. She was thinking about a lot of things that have happened that she couldn’t control, like you couldn’t control what happened to your Mom. Sometimes we all have bad days right? Where we’re just sad and we need the people we love to be patient with us.”

Wren nodded her little head in understanding, not sure if she felt better or worse about the situation now that she knew it wasn’t a result of something she’d done. She never wanted Taylor to be sad, she was too pretty when she smiled to cry, and she was too kind to think of such bad things. “Was she thinkin’ ‘bout, Betty?”

Andrea’s lips wrinkled upward in a saddened smile, nodding her head in the affirmative. “She loves you so so so much, Wren. Sometimes it makes her sad thinking about how she couldn’t protect you when you needed it, and how she couldn’t protect Betty either.”

“How could she protect me if she didn’t even know me? That’s a silly reason to be sad.” Wren tilts her head to the left, looking strikingly similar to Kitty when Andrea says one of her favorite words. The blonde laughs endearingly at the innocence that slowly faded away from people as they grew up, wishing she still had moments like this with Taylor and Austin, even if she was beyond proud of the adults they’d become.

“You’ll understand when you get bigger, but for right now, you just need to know that you didn’t make Taylor sad and she’s not mad at you. Got it?” Andrea tickled her belly, a wide grin growing on her lips as Wren shrieks in laughter and tries to wiggle away from the prying touch on her most ticklish spot. Taylor had discovered her belly was the most ticklish spot a few days ago, and she hadn’t known a moment of peace since that night when they were all cuddled up in the big bed with milk and cookies.

“I got it! I got it!” She laughs out her understanding, heaving deep breaths as Andrea finally relents and drops her wiggling fingers back into her lap. “Andy?” Wren questions when she’s able to breath again, looking at her with doe like eyes and a bitten bottom lip.

Andrea hums her attention, stroking strands of silky honey hair away from Wren’s eyes. “Do you think it’ll make Taylor happy if we get Betty a present?”

Andrea’s heart breaks into a million little pieces as she gets a first row seat to the innocence and kindness that makes up Wren’s gentle nature, hoping that nothing ever breaks her heart or her spirit as she gets older. The world could do with more kind people like Wren James. “I think that’ll make her very happy. I also think having a picture of you with Santa will make her very happy, but it’s still up to you if you want that.”

“Is it the real Santa?” Wren draws her attention away from Andrea’s blue eyes in favor of looking at the big Christmas display around the corner, only able to see the top of his big red sled from where she’s sitting.

“It’s one of his helpers! Every Christmas, Santa gets some of his best elves together in his workshop and they drink a magic potion that turns them into big people for a couple of months so that they can come to shopping malls and meet people who believe in them, and then when they go back to the North Pole at night, they tell Santa all about it and he makes sure they get what they wished for!” Andrea smirks, her eyes twinkling. She’d told Austin and Taylor the same story when they were little, and she’d missed how easily the words rolled off her tongue and into innocent little ears that still believed in magic and holiday characters.

“It’s one of Santa’s elves!” Wren gasped, looking up at Andrea with wide green eyes that didn’t show a single ounce of sadness or distress, the previous issue resolved for the time being.

“It sure is. What do you say we go get in line to meet him?”

𓇢𓆸

“Taylor! We’re back!” Wren bellowed the second she stepped into the warm apartment, immediately taking note of the lingering scent of peppermint that drifting through the air from somewhere in the kitchen. She raced away from the door with handfuls of shopping bags, leaving Andrea by herself in the foyer as she was eager to see her favorite blonde and investigate what she was making that smelled so good. The sky was dark with nightfall, and just barely visible was the holiday decorations strung up in the lawn of a house across the street. “Hi!” She beamed when she came face to face with the blue-eyed women who was standing with her back to the countertop in a pair of kitty cat pajamas, her lips wearing a similar eager smile.

“Hi, baby.” Taylor giggled, glad to see that Wren had a good day out with Andrea, even if her heart had stuttered with worry as the hours ticked by and they still hadn’t returned. Andrea stood in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling cheerily as she watched the scene unfold. Taylor looked better in the dim lighting, eyes bright and face not so pale with sadness anymore, the hours of quiet and lonesomeness doing wonders for her frazzled mental health. “Did you have fun with Andy?”

“Yeah! But she said I can’t tell you what we got.” Wren frowned as she simultaneously dropped the shopping bags onto the floor. With her hands free, she was able to wrap her arms around Taylor’s midsection in a hug she’d been craving all afternoon, melting into her gentle warmth like she’d been deprived of it for months. “You’re not sad anymore?”

Taylor sent a questioning look to her Mom, growing tense for a moment before she relaxed. Andrea smiled fondly, mouthing that she’d explain later, but she stumbled up the stairs with her hands full of shopping bags, intent on giving the pair some time alone.

“I’m not sad anymore. Did I scare you this morning?” Taylor frowned her curiosities, cupping Wren’s cheeks in her warm-to-the-touch palms when the little girl pulled away from the tight hug.

Wren didn’t want to make Taylor feel sad again, but she nodded her little head in honesty that she couldn’t quite ignore. “I thought I made you sad, cause you wouldn’t even look at me and you didn’t do my hair like you always do. But Andy told me that you were just thinkin’ and that made you sad. It’s okay to be sad sometimes, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a hug this morning. I like when you hug me when I’m sad.” Wren blushed as she admitted the last words that lingered on her tongue without a filter, content to see that Taylor wasn’t sad again though.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do your hair this morning, baby. I didn’t want to worry you, but I guess I did that anyway, huh?” Taylor joked softly, pulling Wren back into her chest with tight arms around her shoulders. “I’m still learning how to do this, can you just stick by me as I figure it out?”

“You’re doing the very bestest job.” Wren admitted sheepishly, though her attention was momentarily directed toward the countertop where three steaming mugs sat on the counter. “Did you make hot chocolate?”

“Why don’t you go find out.” Taylor laughed a gentle laugh, shoving Wren away from her embrace and toward the countertop with affection in her eyes. Andrea had texted that they were on the way back, and she figured there was no better treat then a warm mug of peppermint hot chocolate after being out and about all day.

“You did!” Wren shrieked after the first sip, smiling from ear to ear as she cradled the mug in two hands. “Can we have hot chocolate all the time? Even after Christmas is over?”

With a smirk on her strawberry colored lips that were slathered in a peppermint chapstick, Taylor didn’t stop herself from quoting one of Wren’s favorite songs that unabashedly described this conversation like it was written for it, feeling like her life had finally come full circle after all that tried to destroy her and leave her a pile of ashes on the floor. “This is our place, we make the rules.”

Wren laughed wildly, taking another eager sip from her mug, but Taylor didn’t miss the gleam of mischief that swirled around her pupils. “The rules say we also get to have cookies at bedtime tonight.”

“Well I can’t argue with that!” Taylor grinned, and Wren mimicked her expression happily.

“I missed you today.” The little girl admitted, and Taylor smiled fondly, unable to stop herself from thinking how enchanted this feeling is, how lucky she is to be able to call this girl hers. 

“I missed you more.”

Chapter Text

cause we breakdown a little but when i get you alone it's so simple, cause baby i know what you know we can feel it. and all the pieces fall, right into place, get caught up in a moment

DECEMBER 24th, 2019

Nashville was beneath the spell of Christmas in full swing as the sun began to rise over Christmas Eve day. Christmas carols blared through car speakers, peppermint and cinnamon swirled through the air in breakfast treats and hot drinks, and kids galloped through their houses and apartments eagerly anticipating the moment nightfall took place and whispers of magic drifted through the air in favor of a jolly old man sneaking in through chimneys and front doors with a sack of presents and candy.

Wren was still tucked away in a deep and peaceful sleep, slumped against Taylor's torso as the blonde laid awake staring at the ceiling, feeling a rush of excitement tickle her nerves as she thought about their first holiday together, and one of her favorites at that. She could barely contain herself, wanting to shake Wren awake and begin their lazy day at once, but knowing her girl needed the sleep more then she needed to spend the day cuddled up on the couch.

Her smile twinkled in the darkness of early morning, sunshine hidden away from their little corner of the world by new blackout curtains she'd had installed just two days prior. Ever since that day when everything seemed to fall apart and come back together in only a handful of hours, Wren had been glued to her side like a wrench, anxious anytime she stepped away for even a second, and while Taylor hated how she was at fault, she couldn't say she minded the company and the warm bed they slept in. In her current unconscious state, Wren shimmied closer into her chest, grabbing at Taylor's pajama top and holding the soft material in tight fistfuls, breathing out contently against the blondes exposed skin.

It always seemed to start here, in the coming of morning light, tucked away beneath the serene quiet of slumber and stillness, just two kindred spirits beneath the fading stars. Taylor had no problem with the mundaneness of this life and these daily beginnings, knowing they wouldn't last much longer, and just like the inescapable morning light, things would be changing and routines would be evolving. With London and New York approaching in the coming days, there was only so much of this normalcy she had left to grasp.

Her phone dinged beside her head, and blindly she reached around the blankets until she found it tousled in the sheets by her torso, wondering how it traveled so far when she'd laid so still all night, careful not to roll away from Wren and have her wake in a flushed panic. Seeing the three letters in the notification bar, her belly churned in something so sinisterly sweet, a bitter taste forming on the tip of her tongue but quickly soothed with a pinch of sugar.

Joe 🤍
Merry Christmas Eve, beautiful. Can't wait to see you, X

Three weeks ago, she would've swooned at the notification before she'd even fully read it, would've swallowed down butterflies and kicked her feet in adoration like a love drunk schoolgirl, but something about his lack of recognition for all the days that had past by without even a simple text of acknowledgement left a sour taste in her mouth. She wasn't a malicious person, she forgave too much too easily, but this wasn't something she was willing to sacrifice. His text hadn't even mentioned Wren, hadn't offered an apology or insight for his distance, and she had a sickening feeling in her belly that this would be the beginning of the end for them if he couldn't accept that her life had changed beyond what he was willing to accept. He said he wanted this. He said he was okay with this, that he would support her decisions no matter what — it wasn't like she hadn't consulted him about this change, and yet he shunned any mention of her sweet green eye'd girl like all of his whispered promises in the darkness of midnight had been nothing but a lie to get her to stop talking.

Not wanting to fight on one of her favorite days of the year, Taylor swallowed her pride and responded just as blandly, letting her phone fall out of her hands and onto the tousled bedding the second the message sent, returning back to her wandering thoughts and the warmth of Wren's tiny body. If this was the end of them, she wouldn't let it break her.

As she admired Wren, she couldn't help but wonder what she dreamt about when her nights weren't plagued with memories. Her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids, and she looked entirely at peace as she lounged against Taylor's breast bone, with not even an ounce of fear in her face. Taylor wanted to know everything about her, all the good and all the bed. She just wanted to be the one person who saw her entirely, even if it wouldn't last forever.

They never slept in so late, never wasted the precious warmth of morning light, but somehow it felt right, like they were supposed to waste away the precious hours of dawn wrapped up in thick blankets and near complete darkness. They'd spent all night and even more hours of the early morning huddled up on the couch downstairs watching the most of Wren's home videos. They'd cried, they'd laughed, they'd come together in a way that could only be described as absolution beneath the darkness of nightfall and twinkling Christmas lights. Taylor knew that Sarah James was a beautiful woman with an even softer heart that she wore on her sleeve for anyone to take advantage of, but seeing her in those intimate and most times chaotic moments of postpartum and motherhood; she couldn't shake the feeling of seeing an old friend for the first time in decades. There was something so charismatic about the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, about how her laugh traveled across rooms no matter how quiet she tried to be, it was so welcoming and warm and Wren was her spitting image in all of those ways even if she didn't realize it yet.

Wren snuggled closer to Taylor, eyes fluttering open as she left the realm of dreamland and joined the blonde in consciousness. Taylor smiled sweetly, scratching down her back softly, welcoming her into the festive morning with tender touches. "Good Morning, Wrenny Roo. Merry Christmas Eve." Taylor leaned down to kiss her head, unable to hide the bright gleam in her smile that penetrated the darkness of the bedroom.

Taylor laughed when Wren tried, and failed, to mumble the same greeting back to her, words slurred together and audibly incoherent as she pressed her face into the darkest part of the blonde's chest, scrunching her body into a tight ball as she tried to find the solace of fleeting slumber again, not ready to be awake so soon.

"Are you gonna go back to sleep?" Taylor giggled as she trailed her blunt nails over Wren's ribcage, just light enough to avoid the ticklish sensation she knew would jostle the girl into a consciousness fully, but with enough pressure to be a grounding feeling in her bones. Wren was at her most anxious state in the early mornings when she was most vulnerable, and slowly Taylor was learning how to deal with it.

"Uh huh." Wren huffed, but to no avail could she shut her mind off now that her eyes had opened, entirely consumed with the thought and excitement of Santa Claus coming by later on that night and finally getting to give Taylor her own presents that she and Andrea had spent the previous day wrapping. "Can we—" She struggled to get the words out through a body shaking yawn, stretching her arms out into the blackness of the room as she gave up on finding quiet, almost punching the blonde in the jaw with her blind movements. "cookies for breakfast?" She didn't bother putting the sentence together in full, content enough with her half mumbled request.

Taylor cracked a wide grin at the request, remembering her own childhood fondly and how Christmas Eve breakfast was almost always whatever sweets and treats you could find around the kitchen. Her breakfast of choice was always apple pie and sugar cookies. "Should we have some ice cream too?"

"For real?" Wren gasped in pure shock that her suggestion had gone over without any need for bargaining, leaning up just enough to find Taylor's eyes in the darkness of the bedroom, the deep shade of blue that her favorite person housed within her eyes piercing her soul like some form of witchcraft had fallen between them. She was completely unaware to her elbows digging into Taylor's ribcage — a near daily occurrence for them now — but the blonde didn't mind so much when it meant getting to see that gleeful daze in her evergreen eyes.

Taylor smirk was full of mischief as she pulled Wren onto her lap by the undersides of her biceps, giggling when her daughter maintained a look of pure shook and excitement despite the jostling. "For real. Unlimited hot chocolate and sweets today. Christmas Eve tradition."

"Let's go! Let's go!" Wren shrieked, scrambling away from Taylor's tight grip and practically bolting out of the master bedroom and into the hallway, her feet making solid contact with the wooden steps and echoing through the otherwise silent apartment as she descends two at a time, barely having the patience to hold onto the railing like Taylor always insists on.

There aren't very many moments when Taylor finds herself dwelling on the specifics of her situation. She absolutely adores this little life and raising Wren by herself is fulfilling and exactly what she wanted despite the inevitable hard times, but for a single second as she races down the stairs and watches Wren bolt into the kitchen like a madman on a mission, she wishes there was somebody else trailing behind them, recording these moments for her to cherish and play back as many times as she wants on late nights when she can't sleep. She almost feels guilty, having so many home videos of her childhood and early adolescence, and not being able to provide Wren the same experience without sacrificing the integrity of their sweetest moments by putting a camera up in front of her face.

She's right behind Wren when the tiny brunette makes a quick right into the kitchen, gasping in excited delight when her eyes trail over the scene that was left in the center of the island, all thoughts of breaking into the ice cream forgotten for the minute. Taylor stands in the doorway grinning from ear to ear as she watches Wren quickly approach the present bag and envelope waiting for her, bouncing on the balls of her feet with enough excitement to power a small city.

"It has my name on it, Tay!" Wren bellows in pure shock, tenderly reaching out to brush her fingertips along the white envelope. She looks back at Taylor apprehensively, longing evident in her stare as she can hardly keep eye contact for longer then a few seconds without turning back to make sure the present hasn't disappeared. "Can I open it?" She asks shyly, gnawing at her bottom lip as she pleads with the blonde through a silent exchange of puppy dog eyes.

"Of course! Who do you think it's from?" Taylor steps further into the kitchen, sliding her lanky body into one of the high-rise bar stools and moving the present bag and envelope closer to the edge so Wren didn't have to reach up on her tippy toes.

Wren's eyes sparkled brighter then the first time Taylor had seen the Eiffel Tower at night, and she so delicately pried at the seam of the envelope as to ensure the neatly folded paper inside didn't rip before she could read what it said. "Santa!"

Dear Wren,

I write you this letter from my desk at the North Pole, so please forgive the cookie crumbs and peppermint dust, the elves have been rather sneaky this Christmas season despite Mrs. Claus warning them to keep their crumbs in the bakery. I was so very happy to see your letter waiting for me, please forgive me for my years away, I hope this early present will make up for the Christmas' spent without my magic.

Mrs. Claus and I have been watching you closely ever since you were a little baby no bigger then the size of my best elf, Sprinkles, and we're so proud of the kindness in your heart and all the good choices you've made this year and every year prior. You are kind, generous, and very thoughtful, just the kind of little girl who deserves the top spot on the nice list. Taylor is so proud of how you're adjusting, we hope these early gifts make the perfect Christmas Eve treat, until we meet again tomorrow. Remember, the best magic happens when you're asleep, so bedtime is a very important thing tonight!

You are very important to all of those you touch, always keep your kindness and generosity, they're appreciated more then you know.

As I'm sure you're aware because you're a very clever girl, my reindeers and I will be very busy tonight, and also very hungry. Could you leave us out some cookies and milk? You make the best cookies, but don't tell anyone else, it'll be our secret!

Ho Ho Ho,
Santa Claus

"He said I'm on the nice list!" Wren gasps, eyes wide as saucers as she looks between the letter and Taylor, practically buzzing as she clambers onto the bar stool and really analyzes the fine details of the letter. She traces her pointer finger over the deep red ink Santa used on the body of the test, but his name scripted in a metallic gold ink that shimmers beneath the bright essence of sunlight that slips into the kitchen through the windows. There are smudges of chocolate and cookie crumbs along the corners of the paper, and she giggles thinking about the little elves causing such mischief for the big man in charge so close to Christmas Day.

"I'm sure you're the very first person on the nice list, baby." Taylor leans in to press a kiss on the top of Wren's head, savoring this gentle moment and hoping to god it's not the only one they ever get to share. "What else did he say?"

"That he's been watching me since I was a teeny tiny baby and he's sorry that he missed a couple years. And then he told me a secret!" Wren all but gushed as she held the letter close to her chest, protectively wrapped up in her arms and careful not to crinkle it.

"A secret? You have secrets with Santa Claus? No way, buddy, that's so cool!" Taylor gushes, rubbing her hands across Wren's shoulder blades, unconsciously trailing lower to feel for her healing wounds, happy to find that Wren didn't flinch away from her touch in pain. "You should open the present! What do you think he left you?"

"I dunno!" Wren grinned, letting the letter rest on the counter as she fumbled to pull the red tissue paper out of the peppermint stripped bag carefully. She folded it neatly on the counter before she reached blindly into the bag, feeling the softness of what she assumed to be a shirt and the harshness of what felt like a CD case. She'd felt enough to know the distinction between any other hard plastic, and eagerly she pulled the CD out of the bag.

Tears pricked Wren's vision as she tenderly held the CD case in her trembling hands, the familiar swoopy letters staring back at her in perfect condition, not worn by time and use, but rather perfectly pristine and legible. The frilly lettering of a gold metallic sharpie that was so eerily the same as her mothers gentle handwriting was up in the right corner, exactly as it was on the original copy she cherished in her bedroom. She read over the words time and time again, cementing them to memory like she might wake up one day and forget they ever existed. 'to my baby, please never grow up'. She could almost hear her mothers voice, whispering those words as they sat in the darkness of night tucked into a cushiony rocking chair just the two of them and nothing else. Before she could stop herself, she dissolved into tears that rattled her ribcage and jostled her shoulders, so gently cradling the thick plastic case to her chest like any sudden movements might break it completely.

Taylor frowned adoringly as she watched her daughter come apart in the chair next to hers, ever so gently pulling the fragile little girl into her warm and waiting embrace, easing her through her tears until they were just quiet hiccups and sniffles. One day, Wren wouldn't believe in the magic of Santa anymore, and she'd realize who poured their heart into these little moments, but for now Taylor was content enough to let magic fester in the belly of her baby, not needing to take the victory for herself when all that mattered was making Wren feel seen.

"Are you okay, baby love?" Taylor asked gently, stroking the back of Wren's head with tender touches filled with love. She couldn't even imagine all of the thoughts and emotions that were probably flooding her body to an overwhelming extent, but she would do her very best to coax her through the storm if it was needed.

"How did he know?" Wren peels her eyes away from the CD to look up at Taylor with a glistening gaze, wiping away the remnants of tears that tickled her flush cheeks by simply existing. The back of her palm twinkled beneath the light of morning when she pulled it away from her face, and ever so quickly she wiped it down her pajama top until not a trace of her tears remained insight. She felt silly for crying, silly for not knowing what she was even crying about, whether it was that same twinge of grief that snuck up on her every so often, or if it was relief to finally have something that reminded her of her mother that hadn't been broken.

"Santa knows everything." Taylor answered simply, wiping the pads of her thumbs across Wren's flushed cheeks, clearing the tears she'd missed in her futile attempt to pull herself together. "This doesn't replace the original, but I think he knew you needed a reminder that she's not going anywhere, even if you can't physically make new memories."

"Can we leave him extra cookies tonight? As a thank you?" Wren asked, and Taylor beamed her agreement with a wide smile and nod.

"I think he'd like that." She laughed, pressing a kiss to the crown of Wren's head just before her little girl sat up straighter on the bar stool and placed the CD down gently. "Finish up with your present and I'll start on the hot chocolate, how does that sound?"

"Extra peppermint and whipped cream?" Wren proposes cheekily, beaming a bright smile in Taylor's direction when the blonde playfully narrows her blue eyes in consideration, although that had been her plan from the very beginning.

"You're going to be fun to put to bed tonight."

𓇢𓆸

Loud laughter traveled through the Swift-James apartment as late afternoon fell overtop of Nashville like a warm blanket, the glow of sunshine becoming blackness until only the brightest stars were visible in the sky. After their unconventional breakfast of champions and a light lunch of apple pie and macaroni and cheese, they migrated into the living room with full intentions of watching every classic Christmas movie they could think of until their eyes went square, but not without refilling mugs of peppermint hot chocolate one after the other until Taylor was absolutely certain her tongue would remain permanently charred until this time next year. It had been years since she had this kind of Christmas Eve. Her life had become so repetitive and predictable, and she hadn't had realized how much she missed the spontaneity of childhood until now, with flushed cheeks and sweaty palms, and a cramping pain in her belly from laughing so hard so often.

Somewhere in the middle of Eloise at Christmastime, they'd turned the living room into a magical forest full of fairies and greedy pirates, deeming the red velvet couch an enchanted river and the stairs rocky cliffs leading to the North Pole where Santa Claus prepared for a night full of adventure. All the sugar they'd consumed since morning time becoming reckless energy that neither one protested, absolutely buzzing in their own little world.

"No!" Wren shrieked as she jumped over the arm of the couch, landing on the hardwood with a loud thud and wobbling ankles, but her movements hardly slow down to recover from the impact as she clambered around the side table and narrowly avoided knocking over the antique lamp in the center as Taylor wagged a pillow in her direction, blue eyes challenging her to make a mistake and surrender to the inevitable attack of tickles and a pillow to the face.

"You can't run from me!" Taylor's sweet belly laugh rattles the structure of the apartment, bouncing off the walls and wrapping around the two wild bodies like it was made just for them to hear. She's swinging the deep blue pillow around wildly, stepping over discarded blankets and pillows as she follows Wren's trail closely, the little girl making a b-line straight toward the kitchen. "I'm gonna get you, Roo!"

It's a miracle that the barstools are still standing upright as she watches Wren climb onto the kitchen island and stand proudly in the center with her chest jutted outward and tiny folded fists pressing into her hipbones like a pirate scoring the ultimate treasure after an epic battle. Without even a second of hesitation, the little brunette leaps onto Taylor's back, giggling manically as the blonde spins around in circles trying to loosen her grip, not quite ready to surrender the game they'd created on a whim. "I got you!" Wren declares proudly when Taylor stops spinning in circles and instead gives into her laughter, dropping the pillow in favor of holding onto the back of Wren's thighs to make sure she doesn't fall to the ground.

"You did get me, baby." Taylor grins widely, thought her chest contracts and expands in exaggerated motions as she attempts to catch her breath, not without jostling Wren around until she's shrieking with contagious laughter that only makes Taylor laugh again. Meredith watches the two of them from the corner of the kitchen, meowing her protests for the loud noises with a dramatic bellow that's bigger then her entire body, but her annoyance only enticing the two girls to laugh even harder, and defeatedly the scottish fold trots away to find a place of acceptable quiet.

"Mere's mad." Wren giggles quietly, deflating against Taylor as the thrill of their chase eventually fizzled away into gentle peace neither wanted to disturb, bodies still buzzing from the immense amount of sweets they'd consumed, the kitchen counters enough evidence of the fun they'd had since morning. Without much thought, the blonde began to sway their bodies to the melody of a song she hums in her head, entirely content with this perfect little day of theirs that was slowly coming to an end as the cold of nightfall set in.

"She'll get over it." Taylor breathes out deeply, feeling a chill run up her spine as the wind whips around outside of their little oasis. She can see tree branches flailing around as a breeze sweeps by, but nothing could disturb this moment of serenity. She sits Wren on the only untouched space of countertop that's left, and begins to clean up their mess of ice cream containers and whipped cream cans with an easy way about her movements, desperately wanting this day to last forever. "What kind of cookies should we make for Santa?"

"Hmm." Wren taps a single finger against her chin inquisitively, kicking her feet back and forth against the cabinets as she watches Taylor move around the space easily, there's a handful of cookies leftover from their last batch, but she doesn't want to make the same kind again, not sure how else they could try decorating sugar cookies and desperately wanting to try something new. "Maybe peanut butter chocolate chip? We haven't made those kinds yet!"

Taylor beamed at the suggestion, nodding her head in the affirmative as she brought two empty mugs to the dishwasher, not sure how they managed so much destruction on only a few hours. "We can make those! Will you grab the peanut butter out of the pantry?" After finding out that Wren was allergic to walnuts, she'd thrown away anything in her pantry that said as much as "may contain", but still she threw out a warning to the little girl who bounced about with joy. "There may be a bag of chopped walnuts right next to it, be careful!"

Wren nodded her head even though Taylor couldn't see her as the blonde turned her back to the pantry and focused on playing tetris with the dishwasher, mugs and plates clanking together as she defeatedly tried to make the situation work, but the little girl didn't need the warning either way. She'd been in the pantry a few hundred times since moving in, one of her many duties as sous-chef, and she'd never come across any nuts aside from the jars of peanut butter Taylor kept well above her head. Climbing the two lowest shelves just to barely reach the jars of smooth peanut butter Taylor kept, she heard the blonde giggling to herself as she undoubtably stood with her arms folded across her chest watching in amusement. When she finally managed to get the peanut butter down, only narrowly avoiding it falling on her head, it wasn't without realizing the jar was nearly empty and there wasn't a backup.

"I guess we're gonna have to go to the store." Taylor was still stifling her laughter behind her palm when Wren came out of the pantry with a disappointed frown on her pink lips, though her blue eyes bore all the amusement she tried, and failed, to keep at bay.

"It's not funny." Wren protested, only half-annoyed at the blonde who had honestly forgotten she'd put the peanut butter up so high. Wren was used to things being out of reach, not only because of Taylor's height that rivaled hers by over a foot, but because that was Adrianna's favorite punishment when she wasn't calling for her husband to handle the situation. Her chest twinged at the memory, feeling hot and achey, but just as quickly as she let herself think about those days, she blocked them out.

"I'm sorry, monkey." Taylor truly couldn't help herself as she let the nickname slip past her bitten lips. Her nerves were buzzing from the insane amount of sugar she'd consumed within the last eight hours, her energy levels shooting through the roof and to the moon as she did little to compensate for the energy, but Wren just giggled as she skipped toward the island and placed the jar of Skippy next to her peppermint stripped gift bag, her own sugar rush getting the better of her. "What do you say we walk to the market down the street?"

"Can we take the long way and go past the big house with the Santa display?" Wren beams at Taylor's suggestion. They had yet to walk anywhere with the increasing amount of paparazzi and fans gathering outside the confines of the apartment, but she'd been dying to get out and see the house around the corner with the big snowmen statues and animated projector since the very first time they'd driven past it all those cold December nights ago when Taylor had taken her out to see the lights.

Taylor smiles at her excitement over the little things that she had otherwise overlooked since becoming an adult. If she was asked to summarize the last three weeks in only a word, she'd have the perfect one to give: cathartic. She'd always heard of parents experiencing the world through the eyes of their children, how the innocence of little imaginations brought back a sense of childhood within themselves they hadn't realized they missed, but nothing could truly breach the surface of the feeling she's caught within until it was right in front of you. Deep down, she knows that one day, Wren wouldn't care for Santa Claus or make believe anymore, and that one day they wouldn't spend hours scouring the apartment for Bluey when he disappears or walking the neighborhood in the biting cold of winter just to see a cheap projector image of Santa Claus, but they were happening now, and while they lasted, she'd enjoy every second of it. "Of course, buddy. Grab your winter coat, not a sweatshirt."

Wren nodded giddily, bouncing on the balls of her feet before she bolted from the kitchen at lightning speed, narrowly avoiding the throw pillow Taylor had left abandoned in the center of the kitchen floor. The blonde laughed softly at the display before she pulled out her phone and texted Andrew, letting him know they'd be going out and should return within the next hour or so. They hadn't needed him up in the apartment since the very first day of the commotion, but he lingered around the lobby at all hours of the day and night, alert in case anything changed in a moments notice. Taylor couldn't have been more grateful for his diligence and willingness to give up his holiday.

Leaving the apartment to be picked up later on in the evening, she grabbed her thick black coat from the rack in the foyer, sliding her arms into its warmth before she bundled up in a knitted beanie and thick gloves. It wasn't unbearably cold outside, one of the benefits of being more toward the south, but she was smart enough to count on Wren getting sidetracked and their twenty minute walk turning into an hour long spectacle. As she was lacing up her boots, and fixing her socks so they covered the exposed skin of her ankles, Wren jumped down the stairs three at a time, clinging to the banister as she nearly ended up on her bottom a handful of times. Taylor didn't know if she should find the situation amusing, or petrifying as she watched her daughter tempt fate and a concussion.

"You're gonna crack your head open, Roo." She warned the little girl who was so riled up on sugar she didn't assess the danger of the situation like she typically did, entirely carefree as she let everything roll off her shoulders in waves. Taylor didn't particularly enjoy feeding Wren this much sugar, but she could appreciate how all the girls anxieties tended to slip away from her when she had something else to focus on.

Wren just giggled at Taylor's warning, frolicking toward the blonde before she wrapped her up in a tight embrace that was soft enough to fuse all of Taylor's broken pieces back together. Her chin rested in the center of the woman's ribcage, green eyes peering up at her with such an innocent excitement for their planned evening, long lashes framing her emerald green eyes like a picture frame that Taylor wasn't to display on every wall in the apartment. The blonde wrapped her arms around Wren just as tightly, playfully swinging their bodies back and forth until Wren was a giggling mess in her arms clinging to the sleeves of her winter coat.

When Taylor eventually pulled away from the embrace, she began to run through the list of everything they needed before they left the house, making sure she had her house keys and wallet before checking Wren over and making sure she had her gloves, hot, and scarf. The little girl just eagerly bounced on the balls of her feet while she was fussed over, anxious to get outside and see all the christmas lights they'd been missing out on.

"Do we need Andrew?" Wren broke the silence with her question, having becoming used to the routine of having Andrew around anytime they went outside; which wasn't often anymore.

"Nope. Just you and me tonight, how does that sound?" Taylor grinned widely, excited to finally have some semblance of normalcy again. The friends she made outside of the industry would never understand the guilt of always having security lingering around the corner during your most intimate moments, and while some would just remind Taylor she chose this life, others like Blake and Selena would argue that privacy was a fundamental right no matter what career path you chose. She hated that she couldn't give Wren that protected peace more often, but there was no point in beating herself up over it when nothing could be done to change the way her life was. That ship had sailed fifteen years ago.

Wren beamed at Taylor's words, eager to have a quiet moment with just the two of them outside of this little apartment. "Good!" She grabbed at the blondes hand, dragging her toward the front door with sugary excitement, absolutely buzzing.

Taylor went along easily, sinking into the weighted feeling of her hand in someone else's. The hallway lights were dimmer then the LED bulbs in the apartment, leaving a yellow hue to rest on their porcelain skin. Wren was admittedly tanner then Taylor, and beneath the lights that bounced off her radiant features, she appeared golden. Taylor kissed the top of her head after the apartment door was locked, sneakily racing the elementary schooler toward the elevator without saying go — the most important, and only, rule to the game.

"You cheated!" Wren gasped, astonished that Taylor would ever dream of cheating at their sacred game. Her green eyes pooled with disbelief, little lips fluttering to find any other words beside the two she uttered in complete shock. "That's naughty!"

Taylor's echoing laughter probably disturbed the people below them, but she couldn't find it within herself to care as her finger prodded the elevator button repeatedly, all in a childish fashion as she poked her tongue out at Wren. "You just weren't ready!"

"Because I was waiting for you to say go! You always say go!" Wren threw her arms out in exasperation before she dissolved into giggles, their laughter synchronizing into a beautiful harmony that Taylor wished she could set as her ringtone and play back forever no matter how far apart they may be. "You have to give me a piggyback to bed tonight!" Wren declared, thinking she'd won something with the prideful smirk on her lips.

"I give you a piggyback every night, ya goober." Taylor scoffed, stepping into the elevator when the doors dinged and slowly separated to reveal the elegant black and gold accepted elevator. She loved the aesthetic of the building, feeling like the faintest bit of her mothers house resided in the dainty details that surrounded her.

"Oh yeah." Wren giggled, slipping into the elevator beside Taylor and clinging to her side like a magnet connected them, both of her little arms linking around just one of Taylor's, hugging onto her like some unforeseeable force may come between them if she let go.

Taylor wondered about all the things that could possibly be going on in Wren's little head, but decided now wasn't the best time to ask about the past. They had an entire future to create together, but the little details of who Wren used to be weighed on her shoulders heavily. She never wanted her daughter to lose those formative details of herself, but it was almost inescapable when she wasn't there to witness the first eight years of her life. That didn't sit lightly on her chest in moments like this when most families were sat around a dinning room table or sprawled across a living room, remising about the past in light fun. Wren would never have that to share with anyone; her first full memory being one of absolute terror and pain. Taylor couldn't imagine what that would be like for her as she grew.

𓇢𓆸

The refrigerator section of the grocery store was light brightly in contrast to the stark darkness of nightfall that held Nashville captive, and Taylor shivered as she reached into the deepest freezer for a pint of chocolate ice cream. How they ended up on a search for the melty treat when they'd only come with peanut butter in mind, she would never be able to tell you, but the smile on Wren's cherry red lips as she bounced on the balls of her feet made the extra five dollars worth it.

"Ice cream and peanut butter, anything else we should add to our list?" Taylor giggled, closing the heavy door with her hip. She didn't like not having a physical grip on Wren while they were in public, and while she trusted the little girl to keep by her side, she didn't trust the people she shared the roads and aisles with. She'd heard too many stories about abduction and watched too many episodes of Law and Order to have any peace of mind when they weren't tucked away in the safety of their own home, but for tonight, she was trying to let Wren exist in her own bubble.

"No." Wren skipped down the aisles, looking through every glass case of ice cream with excitement. The last thing she needed was anymore sugar, but Taylor had said there were no rules on Christmas Eve, and she wasn't about to let that promise fall short on the very first year. The maternal whisper in the back of her head warned her of the repercussions — headache, bellyache, sickness — but until she saw any of those signs, she'd happily let Wren be a kid at the expense of a few lost hours of sleep. "We're gonna see Andie tomorrow, right?" Wren stopped dead in her tracks at the end of the aisle, waiting for Taylor to catch up with the basket of grocery's in her gloved hands. Even bundled up they were still chilly, noses flush and cheeks chapped from the wind. It was absolutely perfect.

"Yup, Andie and Austin, and my Dad. How are you feeling about meeting him?" Taylor checked in, nodding for Wren to follow her toward the self-checkout that was located around the corner and directly in front of a wall of windows. She was glad it was dark, and the unforgiving cold of a winter night allowed her to be bundled up with muted physical features. She didn't want anything to dismantle this perfect little moment of normalcy.

"You said he's nice." Wren echoed back the words Taylor had been feeding her for days, they'd been talking about Christmas for almost a week, going over what to expect and that it was okay if she needed a break or to leave, really working over anything that may arise just trying to make this transition period as easy as possible for them both. "Austin's nice."

"Austin is nice. My Dad is nice too. But what did we talk about?" Taylor hummed as she set the basket down and scanned the ice cream and peanut butter, placing them into a plastic bag on the other side of the machine. Wren rocked back and forth on her feet, eyeing the sugary treat with unmatched excitement.

"That it's okay if I wanna leave, or wanna go to your room for a little. Nobody's gonna be mad or make it a big deal." Wren nodded proudly, giggling when Taylor kissed the top of her head in fondness. Her beanie made it impossible to feel the presence of the blondes warm lips against her skin, but she basked in the feeling anyway. It had been so long since she'd had these moments, so long she could barely even remember them existing before now. "I'm gonna be okay."

Taylor smiled tearfully at her little girl, wondering how they'd come so far from a fearful little angel clinging to her side like her halo might shatter if they separated. Beneath the gleam of florescent lighting, she could see a future for them both. Long winter days where neither truly needed each other, but always found their way back home. She dreaded those days, when she wasn't needed like this, but she could so fondly look forward to them in the same breath. Wren had a beautiful future ahead of her, and she was just glad to see her build castles as she went. "You're gonna be okay." Taylor mimicked back, nodding her head proudly despite the longing ache in her heart to keep Wren this age forever. "You're always gonna be okay, even if it feels like the world is ending. You know why?"

"Because I'm strong. And nobody can take that away from me." Taylor's bottom lip trembled as she pulled Wren so close to her chest it felt like their hearts were beating together, ribcages flush together as they stood embracing in the self-checkout aisle of the grocery store. That wouldn't be what Taylor remembered about this moment in the years to come when they sat reminiscing about the earliest days of their adventures. She would only remember how painfully tragic time was, and how beautifully blessed she had been on December fifth to receive a phone call that changed her life.

"You are so strong. Stronger then I could ever pretend to be. I wanna be just like you when I'm older, Wren. You have no idea."

Chapter Text

under the mistletoe watching the fire glow and tell me "i love you". just being in your arms takes me back to that little farm, where every wish comes true

DECEMBER 25th, 2019

"It's Christmas, Benji!" Wren's face was mere centimeters away from the cat's as she shrieked in pure elation, trying and failing to keep her voice quiet while jumping up and down in the center of her bed with the kitten tucked as safely as he could be in her wild arms. The sun hadn't even risen over the hilltops yet, the sky still an inky canvas of darkness above the Nashville apartment, stars hidden beneath gloomy clouds that hadn't yet made themselves known, but her little mind was awake and desperately itching to race downstairs and witness the magic of a holiday she'd been excluded from for three years. Ever nerve in her body was pulsing with joy, the squeaking of springs beneath her weight just an added symphony to this moment that she couldn't begin to fully process. She hadn't realized she'd been so excited for Christmas until now, not letting herself enjoy it until she was sure it would last, but now it suddenly felt like time was moving backward as she watched the minutes tick by on the digital clock across the room. Blocky and blindingly bright fucsia letters almost mocking her as they moved slowly despite her wishes for them to flutter faster.

5:31am.

5:32am.

5:33am.

Wren didn't even register that her bedroom door was creaking open as she bounced on her feet and wriggled her body around in anticipation, but Benji did, and he mewled loudly for help as Taylor stood behind the heavy oak door trying to contain her laughter with a bitten bottom lip and flushed cheeks, blue eyes the only visible asset in the dimly lit bedroom. She'd heard the commotion the moment it began, almost half an hour ago, and had tried her very best to remain in bed until a more acceptable hour, but as the seconds went by and the minutes dragged on, her own excitement was becoming unmanageable. It seems their Christmas would start now, before the sun had even risen or the birds had sang their song, and that was perfectly okay with her.

The small child gasped when she spotted the blonde haired woman standing in her doorway adorned in matching red and gold Christmas pajamas, hair tousled and knotted from a fitful night of sleep, but somehow still elegant and picturesque in the darkness that the hallway clung to as she silently admired the sight.

"Tay! It's Christmas! It's Christmas! Good Morning! It's Christmas! Did Santa come?!" She babbled her every thought, not pausing for a moment to sit down on the bed or stop jumping so high her head almost bonked the ceiling. Her pure joy was enough to warm Taylor's freezing fingers and toes, sending a rush of adoration through her veins that rivaled the pre-existing elation she felt on the daily. These were the moments she lived for. The magic and the in-between.

"We'll have to check it out. I think I heard some reindeer pattering around last night." The blonde giggled, playing into the magical moment despite knowing that those reindeer sounds were just a six hour youtube playlist on her phone that she prayed wouldn't go to an ad break before she finished setting up. She steps filling into the elegant pink and creme bedroom, flicking the light switch as she did and letting the delicate glow of a yellow-toned lightbulb fall upon Wren's tousled brown hair and freckled little face. "Why don't you let Benji go before he gets a concussion and we can head downstairs." Taylor laughed, saving the cat from her daughter. She pried him from her grip, letting him leap onto the floor and dart across the room beneath the desk chair. Wren just grinned widely, throwing herself into Taylor's arms and hugging her tightly around the neck.

"It's Christmas!" She repeated, still bouncing in place as she leaned against Taylor, shrieking in delight when the blonde picked her up from around the waist spontaneously and twirled her around the room until the pictures were spinning when she was still.

"Merry Christmas, baby love." Taylor placed a heavy kiss on her forehead, letting this simple moment sink into her memory to treasure until the end of time. Her body was warm from the hours she spent beneath thick blankets, slightly flushed from her excitement, but so soft and comforting despite all of it. Wren couldn't help but cling to her with little legs around around her like a koala. One day, she'd be too big for this, too mature and self-sufficient, and that day would be Taylor's worst nightmare.

"Merry Christmas, Tay!" Wren gushed, squeezing her just the slightest bit tighter, radiating an infectious energy Taylor drank every last ounce of. Her green eyes were bright and crystal clear as they peered into Taylor's, untouched by everything bad and damning that had previously plagued them. Taylor wanted to protect her forever, and if she had any say in it, she would do just that. Laughing more to herself then with Wren, it was no surprise to Taylor that in seconds the little girls head was nudging at her neck, searching for the darkest dark she could provide without physically putting her body inside of Taylor's, though the blonde suspects she'd take every advantage to do that if it were possible.

Rubbing circles on the little girls back, Taylor swayed their bodies in the hallow lighting of the room, the darkness of the sky still a blanket over Nashville. "Did you have a good sleep?" Taylor hummed softly, her eyes closing on their own accord as she let herself fall deep into the silence that surrounded them. No flashing lights, no ear-piercing shrieking the second she walked outside, no mask — just her, just darkness, just two heartbeats. She could get used to these quaint little moments, unable to help but wonder how Wren would adjust to life with Taylor Swift, not just Taylor.

"Mmhm." Wren mumbled simply, "You and Andie were there."

"Oh really? Was I an Amazonian warrior princess with long blonde hair?" Taylor teased gently, and Wren giggled as she strained away from the blondes chest and laid her little hands on the clasp of her silver chain necklace.

"You were dressed like candy canes! And you rode horses to a gingerbread house like in Shrek!" Wren giggled sweetly, and Taylor couldn't help her own laughter at the visual she constructed of what that possibly could've looked like.

"That sounds like a pretty eventful dream." The blonde muses warmly, tickling beneath the little girls chin when she was distracted by the light reflecting off of the gems in the center of the pendant on her thin chain necklace. "Are you ready to go downstairs?"

"Yes!" Wren beamed with as much excitement as her little body could muster, a buzzing ball of radiant elation as she practically became a bright becan in Taylor's arms. She didn't wiggle away and onto the floor, but her desperation was clear as day as she reached toward the open bedroom door with unmistakeable anticipation. "Come on, Tay! Come on! Santa came!"

Taylor grinned from ear to ear, racing down the stairs at record pace despite every maternal nerve in her body screaming about the dangers of running on the stairs, but Wren would only be so little once, and making the most of the magic was all that mattered to her in this single moment in time. Wren clung to the neckline of her pajama top, losing her mind in joy as she kicked her legs against Taylor's thighs and shrieked wildly, head thrown back in laughter as she tried to hold on as tight as she could.

Her laughter hadn't subsided even when Taylor came to a halting stop in front of the Christmas tree, carrying on for seconds as she heaved to try and catch her breath with a holly red face. Her words spluttered and slurred together as she tried to form a sentence, and tears leaked from her eyes as she giggled.

Taylor laughed with her, filling the apartment with nothing but elation as she collapsed onto the couch in a pile of limbs and jostling chests, panting against each other when they finally sobered up enough to find a second to breathe.

Wren craned her head toward the Christmas tree, and she gasped softly, a collection of wrapped presents say beneath the heavy pine branches, a delicate red stocking filled to the brim with tiny boxes and packaging that she had never seen before. Her name was written in a glittery substance, all four letters printed in bold silver sparkles just like how she'd seen at Andreas's house.

"A stocking!" She scrambled off of Taylor's lap, holding it proudly in her little hands as she extended it toward the blonde woman who sat on the couch watching; drinking it all in. "It's just like yours and Andies and Austin's!"

"Mom dropped it off a couple days ago. She made that one just for you!" Taylor gushed, her voice soft and emotional. She wasn't shocked that Wren had noticed the specifics of the stocking that matched her childhood keepsake so perfectly, but it still squeezed at her heart so see her daughter hold something she cherished. "Mom made them for Austin and I when we were babies, and I know it's different for you, and nothing can ever replace your parents, but you're apart of this family for now and forever if you want to be."

"I wanna be here forever and ever!" Wren exclaimed brightly, scrambling to find a comfortable spot in Taylor's lap with the precious red and gold stocking tucked between their chests, delicate colored eyes locked together. "I love you."

"I love you more, little monster." Taylor grinned cheekily, knowing how much Wren hates that name, before she presses a soft kiss to the button of her nose, and trails an even softer finger over her freckle dusted cheeks that are glowing with an untouchable radiance she's never seen before. If she had the power to make every morning Christmas, she would. "How about we start opening some presents?"

"You first!" Wren exclaimed enthusiastically, searching through the pile of presents for the boxes and bags with Taylor's name written neatly in the corners. The red glitter gel pen she used had been a tedious skill to master, but eventually she got used to the slippery wet ink that took forever to dry, bar a couple of boxes with smeared and illegible glitter across the entire tag, but those ones weren't without the same amount of love and care that the others possessed, maybe even more before they'd been the ones she was most excited to perfect. "I know what that one is!" Wren grinned eagerly when Taylor began tearing open a square shaped present, remembering that day in the mall with Andrea when everything felt like it was falling apart around her. It didn't feel like that anymore. Everything felt so whole and untouchable.

The wrapping paper Wren had chosen was thin and shiny, almost impossible to tear because of the thick gloss, but Taylor adored the unicorn design that was plastered on it evenly, and tried her best to tear along the seams of the folds. They might be here for hours neatly tearing into present that would be discarded into garage bags later on anyway, but that was perfectly okay with Taylor as she looked back at the expectant eyes of her nine-year-old.

When the wrapping was folded up neatly at her side, no longer obstructing her view of whatever gift lay inside, her belly churned in delight. A heavy metal frame kept a single picture protected from weathering conditions and time, Wren's brilliant eyes staring at the camera with so much hope and excitement that Taylor could practically feel her happiness. She was standing beside a mall Santa, smile bright and blinging with a single hand resting on his red velvet covered thigh. It was so normal, so childish, Taylor almost didn't register that her lifestyle with flashing  lights and multi-million dollar houses could all lead to something so trivial.

"It's me and Santa! Andie said that you'd like it!" Wren beamed, proud of that one little picture like it was a grammy award, and to Taylor, it was something ever better. She could win two-hundred grammys, she could be crowned a nobel prize winner, but this would always be her favorite thing. This would always be what she lived for, and the reason that she kept going through all of the criticism and backlash. She had someone to protect now, somebody to change the world for. She had a greater purpose, and anchor on a choppy sea.

Taylor's eyes water as she looked between Wren and the picture frame, feeling like her hands have gone numb the longer she sits and admires the still. How can someone so little be loved so much? "I love it, baby. I love it so much. Why don't we find a spot on the mantle for it. Whatever spot you want."

"Anywhere?" Wren gasps, spinning around to look at the fireplace and the shelf of pictures above it. There's one single spot left open, probably a picture that's been moved or had fallen in an unfortunate event and been broken, but her little heart is eager to fill the gap, and she definitively points to that empty spot. "There!"

Taylor has no arguments either, finding the situation oddly parallel to her own internal realizations. Wren was the missing piece of her heart, she'd known that from the very first day they spent together when all of that longing and bitterness turned to butterflies in the pit of her belly, but something about adding her to the only open spot on the mantle felt so permanent, so rewarding, like she could finally stop fearing whatever was lurking around the corner in the dark. This was her little girl, her daughter, her best friend. Nothing could take her away, even in the darkest hour of midnight when the morning light was stripped away and all that was damning and evil lurked freely. Nothing could taint these moments.

Taylor stepped back to analyze the picture frame on the mantle, craning her head to the right and then the left with fisted hands resting on her hips. A wide grin pulled at her cherry red lips, turning her cheeks a delicate shade of pink. "It's perfect, what do you think?"

"Perfect!" Wren beamed, wrapping her arms around Taylor's waste as she looked at the picture frame with pride. Her artwork was taped up in the apartment in so many rooms and hallways, but this was her first real picture, the first semblance of her that couldn't be easily unattached from who she was and explained away as something else. She didn't think Taylor would do that, but this felt different, it felt good, like home. "Come on! I have more for you!" Wren giggled, tugging Taylor back to the couch where she was immediately handed three others presents.

In the same tedious and careful fashion, she opened them all, unable to stop herself from smiling from ear to ear as she looked at her collection of things that made absolutely no sense, but we're exactly what she didn't know she needed. Wren stood proudly in front of her with her hands clasped in front of her body, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet eagerly. There was one more present left, and she'd warned the blonde that it was the best one so she had to save it for last. Taylor didn't know how anything could be better then everything else she received, but her world faded to static sounds the second she pulled the tissue paper out of the bag and her fingers fell upon the softness of a baby onesie and a picture frame.

Similar to the metal frame of the first picture, it was heavy and cold in Taylor's sweaty palms. Her throat felt impossibly dry as she tried to swallow down her tears, her nose burning all the way through her cheeks as she blinked away her overwhelming emotions. She didn't even think her Mom still had the ultrasound picture she'd received the second time she went to go check in on her little Betty, but in the center of the gold frame with the words 'Big Sister' carved out in a swoopy font, laid the last ultrasound photo she'd ever received from just twelve weeks. Her baby was tiny, but she had a head and perfectly little arms and fingers. She was so perfect. An angel from the very first day Taylor knew about her.

The onesie absolutely destroyed any strength she managed to impose upon herself, ugly sobs tearing through the silence of the apartment as she tenderly stroked the soft pink material between her thumb and forefinger. 'Mama's angel' was embroidered in a darker pink fabric, right in the center of the chest. Her daughter would never get to wear it, never get to smile and laugh and become a person, but she would cherish the thought behind this gift and the memorializing of what could've been. For so long she thought that Betty would die with her, a little girl that nobody knew or loved, but Wren had changed that. Wren had seen Taylor for who she was, and who she could've been, and she celebrated it with no difference to a mother who had a baby to show for her pregnancy.

"I'm sorry." Wren frowned in a panic, wild eyes searching Taylor's face as the blonde woman tried to collect herself in the center of the couch. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"No, no." Taylor shushed her worries immediately, "Come here." The blonde moved the picture frame and onesie out of the way, pulling Wren onto her lap and holding her so tightly it almost hurt. "I love it. Thank you for thinking about, Betty. That was very very kind of you."

"You like it?" Wren bit at her bottom lip, deep green eyes swimming in a sea of blue searching for truth. Taylor's smile doubled as she hugged Wren close to her chest, breathing out contently when the little girl reciprocated the embrace.

"I love it." Taylor rubbed gentle circles on Wren's back, smoothing out the kinks in her Christmas pajamas that were wrinkled by sleep. The scars on her back had healed completely, relieving some of the anxiety Taylor felt about them becoming infected again. All that remained of them was slight discoloration, though she and the pediatrician were hopeful that they would fade with time. She didn't want her daughter to face any more challenges then she would inevitably go up against with a childhood filled with trauma and a future in the limelight. While she wasn't ashamed of Wren's scars and would never teach her to hide them, she could only fear what the public would think when she got to the age of bikinis and crop-tops, when strangers thought it was acceptable to comment on things they had no idea about. Taylor had faced that too many times, she never wanted that for her daughter but only so many things could be controlled in a world that painted a target on your back. "Now, I believe you have a few hundred presents to open."

Wren giggled, slipping away from Taylor's embrace and padding toward the Christmas tree with excitement. Her eyes scanned the presents, a knot forming in her belly the longer she stood looking at the assortment of gift bags and wrapping paper. "I dunno where to start." She admitted shyly, fiddling with her fingertips as she turned back to Taylor, clearly overwhelmed with the mass amount of presents that all had her name on them. Some were from Santa, some were from Taylor, but most of them were from people she had never met before, but somehow they knew her and they cared enough to buy her a present. She didn't want anyone to feel less appreciated for their efforts if she opened them last, but she was so used to not receiving anything, so used to being pushed aside and belittled; she didn't know what to do with herself now that people cared, and she worried that it wouldn't last much longer. Her novelty would wear off eventually, it always did. Selena, Blake and Ryan, Karlie, Abigail, Tree, Cara, Gigi, Sophie and Joe, Jaime and Leo. How was she supposed to pick who went first?

Taylor smiled encouragingly despite the guilt pooling in her belly for not predicting this outcome. She'd held onto a false hope that this would be a normal christmas morning, with paper being shredded faster then she could put it in a garbage bag, and pure elation setting in over their shoulders like a morning dew. Wren had been doing so good, she'd been coming out of her shell and letting Taylor and her family in, she'd let herself be distracted by the good things and forgotten about everything that still haunted her daughter in the dark. She nodded for Wren to come join her on the couch again, rubbing the red velvet couch as an invitation.

"How about we open the presents from Santa, and then I can tell you a little bit about my friends. Would that help?" Taylor asked gently, and Wren nodded slowly. "Do you wanna tell me how you're feeling?"

"I don't know them." Dejectedly, Wren looked down at her lap where her hands trembled uncontrollably, developing a clammy film on her palms the longer she dwelled on the situation. "And I don't want anyone to feel bad cause I opened their presents last, cause it's really nice that they got me anything at all! Timothy always said I was ungrateful for what he did for me, I don't wanna be ungrateful."

Taylor's heart aches just hearing the slightest fraction of what was troubling Wren, and she wished so desperately that she could take those insecurities and anxieties for herself to bare. No nine-year-old should be worrying about the order in which she opened presents on Christmas, no nine-year-old should be worried about being seen as ungrateful in any capacity. She was so young, she had so much to learn and experience, and yet the worst of the world had been shown to her before she even got to experience the good things.

"You are not ungrateful. You are the most caring, thoughtful young woman that I know. What Timothy said isn't true, you know how I know that?" Taylor laid her hands on Wren's little legs, kneeling down in front of the brunette and peering straight into her shame filled eyes.

"How?"

"Because, you're sitting here contemplating which presents to open. Because, you thank me every single day for giving you the bare minimum that you deserve. Because you're always trying to include other people so they don't feel left out. You are the sweetest person I know. Okay? Can you believe me on that?" Taylor asks softly, blue eyes bleeding with desperation to be believed. She didn't know how else to help Wren accept the truth, not that she could be faulted for believing in lies. That's all she'd been fed for years, no matter how many times she told herself that the trauma inflicted upon her couldn't be undone in only a few weeks, it always felt like a failure on her end when such a sweet girl questioned why anyone could love her.

"Okay." Wren whispered into the thick space of silence between their bodies, feeling like she'd destroyed their untouchable bubble of excitement with her inability to keep her thoughts to herself and away from Taylor. No matter how hard she tried to deal with her crippling anxieties by herself, Taylor could always see right through her walls, and she hated how she needed to rely on the blonde to coax her into smooth waters. Attempting to bring their sprits up, she wiggled into the cushions of the couch and jutted a finger out toward the mountain of presents. "Will you bring me that one?"

Taylor gave her a tight-lipped smile, nodding in the affirmative. She made a dramatic display of getting up off the floor, holding the middle of her back with an exaggerated grumble of discomfort as she limped toward the tree claiming she wasn't as young as she used to be. Wren sat giggling on the couch, little sounds of elation muffled by the smooth skin of her hand that blocked the sound from fully penetrating the living room. Her eyes trailed over toward the mantle again, and a wide smile pulled at her downturned lips when she caught sight of herself amongst the pictures of Austin and Joe and Andrea. She belonged here, even if it didn't feel like it sometimes, even if she didn't fully believe it in the dark of night when everything bad came back to her at once, she was always reminded that there wasn't any place better then right here with Taylor at her side. She would never be able to thank Taylor enough for everything she did for her.

𓇢𓆸

Red. Green. Blue. White. Pink. Brown. It was all a blur to Wren as she stood in the middle of the living room, spinning around on the balls of her feet in her brand new deep red and royal green Christmas dress, watching as it flared outward the faster she twisted. Her hair whipped around with the movement of her body, elegant chestnut curls cascading down her back like the prettiest princess she'd ever imagined, and the front pieces were secured away from her eyes by a big gold bow. There were still presents to open and breakfast to be had, but as the morning unfolded slowly, Taylor and Wren found time for everything in their own way.

The blonde's laughter was infectious as she watched from the entryway of the room, mindlessly scratching behind Olivia's ears, entirely caught up in the magic this moment had produced not only for her little shadow, but for her wilting heart that didn't realize it needed the lightness of this morning until now. She would never be able to express the extent in which Wren had saved her, but she thinks the little brunette shares the wealth. They were each others missing pieces, and they understood that without needing to speak it.

When the little girl bobbled into the side of the couch, vision still spinning while her body stood still, she collapsed on the floor in a fit of infectious giggles holding her head in tiny hands that trembled from the jostling of her ribcage, spurring Taylor's laughter on for another round. Her chest twinged in pain, her cheeks ached, and tears were gathering in her waterline, but she doubled over in laughter like it might be the last chance she had to genuinely enjoy something as good as this. Wren's spluttered sounds drew concern from the cats, who approached warily and prodded her body with gentle paws until she sat straight up with a red flushed face, strands of brown hair threaded into her eyelashes and in her mouth.

"I'm dizzy!" She exclaimed joyfully, flattening out the wrinkles in the pleated of her dress. Taylor was still giggling into her hand, stumbling closer and closer until she collapsed on the floor as well, her wrinkled Christmas pajamas getting crinkled and twisted beneath her weight without a care in the world for appearing put together. "That was fun, Tay! All the lights from the tree just blended together!"

Taylor couldn't contain herself as she laughed even harder at the awestruck expression that claimed her daughters features, wide eyed and taught lips, all reflecting the same innocence she bore in her most unintentional moments. "Can we finish opening presents now?" She eyed the collection of presents still beneath the tree, the only ones left to open being the ones from Taylor herself. The living room had been destroyed, even with garbage bags of tissue paper and wrapping paper strategically placed around the floor, but cardboard boxes and packages and stray items adorned the coffee table and couches. There wasn't an empty space for as long as the eye could see, and yet Taylor wouldn't have it any other way. She missed the chaos of Christmas morning. The excitement and the influx of energy that otherwise would've depleted quickly after waking up if there wasn't something to promising and enticing to dive into downstairs. Their five am wake up call was brutal, and they'd be feeling the affects of it by dinner time, but for now, they were happily energized in their own little bubble of peace.

"Pick one out, bug!" Taylor encouraged. They'd taken a break from opening presents almost two hours ago when she could tell Wren was getting overwhelmed, her little hands trembling and her eyes becoming glassy and she assessed the sea of new toys and new clothes thrown all around her tiny body in an organized disaster. They'd transitioned into cleaning up then, Taylor more then happy to have some help with the seemingly daunting task, taking the time to just appreciate what was given to them by loved ones they hadn't seen in so long, or ever at all. Blake's presents once again stuck out in Wren's mind, the little girl fawning over the Christmas dress she'd been sent, somehow in her perfect size and embroidered with her initials along the silk red bow on the waistline. She'd read and re-read the card a few hundred times, feeling nothing short of cared for and appreciated as she let Blake's elegant handwriting develop in her memory to always be cherished.

'You'll always have a friend in us, no matter how far away you are. James insisted you all needed matching Christmas dresses and I couldn't agree more. Happy Holidays, sweet Wren, we'll be eagerly waiting by the phone for a play date whenever you're ready.'

"Taylor?" Wren calls out, looking between the pile of presents that all have Taylor's distinctive handwritten scribbled on the shimmery labels, and the frame of the blondes body as she curls up on the couch. Her heart feels so heavy in her little body, so full of love that it can barely stay afloat on its own. She may not remember much of her birth parents anymore, but she knows nothing was ever this special before now. Nobody had ever seen her like Taylor does. "This is the best Christmas ever."

"This is the best Christmas ever for me too. Thank you for spending it with me, Wrenny." Taylor bears an endearing smirk, knees curled up to her chest as she continues to watch from the couch with stars in her eyes, like Wren was the entire solar system and she couldn't peel her attention away.

"I think i'm gonna pick..." The word drags on for seconds as she taps her chin almost comically, Taylor having to hide her laughter behind her palm as she watches Wren's eyes scan over the assortment of presents she'd left untouched. Most of them were smaller boxes she could hold in her little hands without being afraid of dropping them, but one of them was almost the height of her entire body, and curiosity won as she kept glancing back at it. "This one!"

That present in particular was buried beneath a handful of others, propped up against the wall with an elegant gold blow placed in the center. She watched with bright eyes as Wren struggled to grab the box, her little arms not long enough to wrap around it entirely, and almost bashfully, she turned to Taylor with a pleading gaze. The blonde scoffed in amusement, abandoning her cozy spot on the couch, and maneuvering the presents until there was space on the floor for the box to be laid down. There was barely time for her to step out of the way before Wren was diving into the wrapping, pulling away the tape and paper until all that was left to look at was the box. Taylor watched with as much excitement as her daughter, so full of love and admiration that her hands felt cold and clammy. She could never understand why such happy feelings produced such a sickness within her, but nothing could compare to what this present meant to her. She'd been over the moon when Wren first gave it an inch of interest, jumping on the chance to pick out the most perfect version and get it customized just for her special girl. She'd been waiting for this moment for almost an entire week, and the suspense was becoming difficult to bare.

Wren spluttered over her words in shock, looking between Taylor and the large box with a guitar etched on the front. When she managed to get the box open, her eyes fluttered between Taylor and the gentle blue finish over the body of the guitar. The neck was a deep midnight blue color, and beneath the frets were deep gold stars with a shimmering finish over them.

"Do you like it?" Taylor's voice was thick with conflicting emotions; nervousness, excitement, dread. She hoped she hadn't misinterpreted the smaller things, the longing stares at her string instruments, the peaked interest anytime she mentioned a new song or needing to practice, the fascination with music. So badly she wanted to be able to share her passion with her daughter, but never at the expense of forcing it on her without consideration for what she wanted. There was no commitment behind the guitar, she knew that, but her precious girl took every minor action to heart, and she never wanted Wren to feel like she had to like certain things to be loved. That was not the kind of household Taylor wanted to bring Wren up in.

Wren bobbles her head at an alarming speed, clutching the neck of the guitar in her tiny little hands that look even smaller compared to the instrument in her grasp. She manoeuvres it into her lap that way she'd seen Taylor do a handful of times, with sheer grace and delicacy that most professionals would envy, bearing the most genuine smile Taylor thinks she's ever seen. "Will you teach me a song?" She bellows with energy, plucking at the strings with no particular sound in mind, just getting familiar with the feeling of the tightness of the strings beneath her fingers and the way the sound vibrates through her bones when she lays her fingers on the frets.

"We'll go over some chords later, okay?" Taylor laughs softly, overwhelmed with a sense of peace that hadn't ever crashed on her shores before. She'd only been a few years younger then Wren when her parents had given her that very first guitar for Christmas, and while it had taken her years to fully appreciate the instrument or show any kind of interest in learning the admittedly frustrating basics, she could see that same beacon of adoration in Wren's eyes that she felt now as an adult, as she looked down at the guitar in her lap, and for the first time, things felt like they were coming full circle.

"Okay!" Wren agreed easily, though she lingered in the center of the living room with the guitar in her lap for a few more seconds, fixating on every inch of its beauty. The deep shades of blue complimented the lighter shades perfectly, and the stars were the perfect added touch that made it feel like something more than just an instrument. This was hers, it wasn't Taylors or anyone else's, it was just hers to enjoy and fall in love with, and while the idea of writing her own music like Taylor crossed her mind for the quickest of seconds, it all fell away when she thought about how endless her options were. For the first time, Wren didn't feel like she needed to be a perfectly curated representation of Taylor's best traits, she could just be herself, even if she wasn't completely sure who she was yet beneath everything bad and wrong that had been inflicted upon her.

As the sun began to fill the apartment, the morning light dousing their bodies in a golden warmth that couldn't be replicated by any amount of light fixtures and fireplaces, Wren reached for the last present beneath the tree, absolutely certain her very first Christmas in Nashville couldn't get any better then it already was. Taylor seemed to brighten though, as she adjusted her posture on the couch and leaned forward with anticipation. Wren was none the wiser, carefully unknotting the red ribbon that tied three boxes together. She opted for the larger one first, carefully setting aside the two other boxes and focusing her attention on what was in front of her. Beneath the wrapping paper, was a box she'd never seen before, thick and white and sturdy, but she recognised the image on the front and her eyebrows furrowed together. Surely this was't for her, Taylor must've mixed up the labels.

"Is this for me?" She whispered shyly, not wanting to offend the blonde, but entirely sure she wouldn't be gifted something like this. Her fingers traced the design on the front of the box, almost too scared to even open it and break the contents with a heavy hand.

"You'll need it for school. It'll be easier than us sharing one." Taylor elaborated, smiling reassuringly at Wren who was still frozen in shock. The picture of a laptop intimidated her, but ever so cautiously, she pulled the top off the box and admired the sight of a baby blue laptop with a clear hard case already protecting it. The think dusting of sparkles in the case added a level of personalisation she'd never seen anyone have before, because even Taylor's laptop was unprotected sitting in the center of her bed most days, but she was grateful that it wasn't so breakable anymore.

"Thank you!" Wren beamed, opening the screen to find that it was already set up, and the background image was a picture of her and Taylor on one of their very first nights. She looked so different, so scared and timid as she smiled next to the blonde almost nervously, but she adored it nonetheless and affectionately ran her finger over their features.

"You're welcome, buddy. Why don't you open the other ones and I can show you how to use it later, okay?" Taylor didn't want to rush her, but they still needed breakfast and she still needed to get in the shower before they were meant to be at her Moms. Their five-thirty wake up call had only put them a few minutes ahead of schedule, and while she didn't mind the tedious inspection of gifts and the needed breaks to regroup, she did want to get something into Wren before her brother was able to fill her with candy and hot chocolate all afternoon leading up to dinner.

With a growing confidence that suited her fair skin, Wren complied with ease, lacking the anxiety she featured earlier in the morning. The clock was nearing closer to nine-thirty, and as the day blossomed around them, the strong winds of a storm blew in relentlessly, but nothing could dismantle the pride swelling in Taylor's chest as she watched Wren tears into a box with childish ease for the first time. Blue eyes swelled with tears as pieces of wrapping paper were messily discarded on her rugged floors, ribbon and bows in a ball somewhere far from the tiny body. Wren spluttered like a fish as she held the iPad box in her hands, looking at Taylor with an expression that could only be classified as bewilderment.

"An iPad?" The little girl gushed. She knew that her previous placement parents had an iPad, but it was hidden away and forbidden to be touched by her, not that she minded much, preferring her sketchbooks to whatever they used it for, but she couldn't help but feel an ounce of guilt swarming in her belly thinking about how these were expensive, and now she had both a MacBook and an iPad to use and not let waste away without her attention. She's sure Taylor wouldn't be happy if her money went to waste.

"It's for school mostly, do you see that attached to the case?" Taylor slid off the couch and sat cross-legged in front of Wren on the carpet, pointing out the all white stylus looking object attached to the case she'd picked out. "That's an apple pencil, it'll help you write out your school assignments if you don't want to type them. Plus, you can watch movies on the plane or when we have long car rides."

"You didn't need to get me both." Wren protests, green eyes wide and beaming with so much unspoken joy that it almost hurt Taylor's heart to think about what she could possibly be going over in her head. "Nobody's ever been this nice to me before!" Wren dissolved into tears, covering her face with her hands as her shoulders shook and her ribcage ached. Her perfectly curled hair fell over her shoulders with the harsh movements of her body, concealing the little bit of her face that Taylor could still see.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're okay. Can I hug you, buddy?" Taylor asked softly, her voice even and controlled. She gently pried the iPad out of Wren's possession, putting it back in the box and setting it off to the side so it wasn't damaged in any way. She wasn't entirely sure what Wren needed in this moment, knowing that she was overwhelmed and probably mourning all the years she'd been treated like a burden, but for her own sake, she couldn't bear the sight of her crying on her own on a day she'd been so looking forward to.

Wren didn't give her a verbal answer, but she clambered into the blondes lap blindly, hugging her impossibly tight around the middle and digging her face into the blondes neck, seeking out the warmth and protection only Taylor could provide. "I want my m-mom." She sobbed, hiccuping over her words and choking on her tears as she tried to understand the nagging feeling in her belly that was only amplifying the more she thought about everything she's never had before. Christmas was never perfect when she was still with her parents, but at least she belonged there, at least she still got to read a story on her fathers lap and bake cookies with her mother. At least she didn't feel like the world was constantly moving on without her, and even with Taylor's affection and her endless doting, nothing could replace that feeling of security she'd forced herself to remember on those cold nights in Knoxville.

She never wanted to go back to the Tilghman's, she never wanted to step foot in Knoxville again period, but she couldn't help but feel like it was easier there, simpler. She didn't have to face the fact that her parents were gone, and they were never coming back to get her. She didn't have to admit that most of what she fantasised about was her own imagination because she couldn't even remember what their voices sounded like anymore. Her life had never been perfect, there had always been fighting and there had always been a disconnect on some level, but she had a home and that used to be enough. Why wasn't that enough anymore? Why did the one thing she clearly remembered about her parents have to be the times that they failed to show up? The times when they were nasty to each other and used her as their middle man, the times when they walked away and left her to fend for herself? Why could nobody ever love her the way she deserved. Why did she want her mother, who had threatened to leave just hours before the fatal crash? Why was she never good enough for anyone to stay?

"I know, baby." Taylor's eyes were pinched shut, blocking out all the light the sun forced into the room, only feeling the lightness of golden warmth on her arms and the heaviness of Wren in her lap as they rocked back and forth in the center of the living room, surrounded by garbage bags and presents. "I know you do, I'm so sorry I can't get her for you. I'm so sorry you have to miss her."

"She said she was l-leaving." Wren admitted into Taylor's neck, stunning the blonde woman who hadn't heard Wren say anything besides positive things about Sarah James. At thirty-three, she was painfully aware of the duality of people, and how nobody could remain perfect in all moments of life, but she'd never pictured that kind-eyed beautiful woman to throw around a claim like that, especially not in the presence of her daughter who was younger than six at the time. The little brunettes cries only became harsher the longer she carried on, and Taylor knew she had to get her to breathe before she threw herself into a panic attack. They hadn't had to deal with on in so long, they'd been doing so good, but she could only expect so much from a nine-year-old who was spending yet another Christmas with someone new. "She s-said she was done! That she couldn't put up with it a-anymore. Why was she gonna leave me!"

"I don't know, baby love. I don't know why anyone would want to leave you, but I do know that she loved you. Even if she said some really mean things, even if sometimes it didn't feel like she saw you, you were her entire world. Sometimes, adults just have a lot of things going on that little kids can't understand. But, I can promise you Wrenny, that you aren't going anywhere anymore. You're staying right here with me until the day you want to leave, and when that day comes, I'll always be with you, right here." Taylor pried Wren's arms away from her middle, forcing her palm between their warm bodies and laying it over the brunettes beating heart. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, though. Can you do that for me, take a nice deep breath in, just like that, good job." Taylor went through the motions with Wren, drawing in seven deep breaths before blowing them out through her mouth, she talked Wren though the rest of her meltdown with practiced ease. This was getting easier, getting her calm was getting easier, but every time she broke down and showed the true colors of her scars, it only hurt Taylor's fragile heart more. How could so many people fail this little girl? How could she still have so much love and tenderness in her heart when all anybody taught her was how to hurt and how to leave?

With a pitiful face and a broken heart, Wren pushed into Taylor's chest with all of her strength, curling her arms up between their chests and laying her head down on the blondes shoulders, still hiccuping over sobs that threatened to build again. "I just wanted s-someone to stay." She admitted through sniffles, "Please stay, Taylor."

"I'm not going anywhere. You're my entire world." The blonde laid a single hand on the child's back, keeping her as close as she could be as the morning light filled the room and covered them with warmth. She rested her cheek on the crown of Wren's head, breathing in the scent of sweet strawberry shampoo that they had picked up from the store only a few days ago, entirely positive that this was her entire purpose. She was put on this earth to be Wren's mother, even if it had taken eight years for them to find each other, even if they weren't blood related. They were made for each other, and she would live the rest of her life knowing this innocent little girl is her best accomplishment. "I remember tears streaming down your face when I said 'I'll never let you go', when all those shadows almost killed your light, I remember you said 'Don't leave me here, alone'. But all that's dead, and gone, and passed tonight. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound."

When Taylor paused to admire the little girl clinging to her torso, so defeated by pain and trauma but somehow still painted with love and hope, she was met with a whiney protest and a hand being placed on the side of her face, cold and clammy like it always was after an episode, but still she sat with the feeling and tried to soak it all up and commit it to memory. These would be the moments that followed her for the rest of her life, and no matter the pain that came with them, she would appreciate every meltdown, tantrum, and bad day that was was given. "Keep singing. Please." Wren requested, nuzzling even closer to Taylor as her fit of tears reduced her to nothing but a sleepy human koala.

"Don't you dare look out your window. Darling, everything's on fire, the war outside our doors keeps raging on, hold onto this lullaby, even when the musics gone, gone. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down, you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you'll be safe and sound." Taylor swayed them back and forth, the song committed to memory at this point as she let herself get lost in the feeling of peace that started in the tip of her toes and rose through her body all the way up to the top of her head, hoping that by some miracle, Wren felt it too. "Just close your eyes. You'll be alright. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound."

𓇢𓆸

Unprotected from the cold, Wren shivered as she waited by the backseat of the car in the middle of the long curvy driveway that led up to Andrea's house, watching Taylor scour for her missing phone. The blonde groaned as she bent her arm at an inhumane angle, struggling to grip the iPhone that had fallen out of her hands when she tried to grab all of the presents at once. Even in their heavy winter coats and scarves, the wind was unforgiving, making the gorgeous day feel even colder than it was. Wren giggled when her eyes danced along the driveway and found Austin peeking out from the living room windows, waving his hand around animatedly, his mop of blonde hair bouncing around. She waved back with the same enthusiasm, though her little gloved hand was barely visible over the open car door. When Austin poked his tongue out at her, she mimicked the action, squinting her eyes at the younger Swift who looked like he was laughing.

Taylor was none the wiser to the entire exchange, entirely focused on rescuing her phone and escaping to the warmth of her mothers living room, and when she bellowed with success, Wren startled, snapping her eyes away from Austin and onto her favorite blonde who was waving her phone around with pride. "I got it! What are you giggling about?" Taylor teased, and Wren only giggled harder, pointing in the direction of the living room windows, but Austin was gone, and her mouth hung open in shock.

"Austin was there!" She exclaimed, eyes wide as she looked between Taylor and the fluttering curtains that just barely allowed a glimpse at the Christmas tree that was in the middle of the room, Austin not anywhere in sight. Taylor laughed, shaking her head at her brothers antics. He'd played this game too often for her to be surprised, but Wren didn't know that.

"Was he now?" She taunted, and Wren huffed as she led the way inside, little hands holding onto a single present box that was labeled for Andrea. Taylor carried the rest, a smirk on her cherry red lips that were flush from the cold, but her body was impossibly warm as she soaked up every moment of the day. Her first Christmas as a mom. "Alright, remember what I told you?"

"That I can take a break if I need one. I'll be okay." Wren mumbled, rolling her eyes at Taylor's insistence. They'd gone over that same promise four times since leaving their apartment, and while Wren knew Taylor was just looking out for her, it was starting to feel a bit suffocating. She was nine, she could handle one new person in a house full of people she considered safe. She would be fine. She wasn't scared of her own shadow anymore, even if she did have a meltdown in the middle of the living room while opening presents.

"I know you will be." Taylor mused, letting Wren be the one to open the front door, swiping the present box from her hands at the last possible second before they were ambushed by Kitty, and Wren's shrill giggles filled the entire house as she petted at the dogs head and tried to stay on her own two feet as Kitty barked and jumped at her. Taylor stood in the doorway amused, watching her daughter try to control the animal that was an entire head taller than her when standing on her back paws.

"Kitty!" Austin called for the dog, holding onto her collar so her paws stayed flat on the floor instead of on Wren's shoulders. "Go grab your blanket." He instructed, and obediently Kitty did as told, practically galloping away toward another room where her safety blanket resided on the floor in a pile.

Wren narrowed her light eyes at Austin, hands square on her hips. "Tell Tay you were in the window." She accused, huffing petulantly as she posed a questioning expression, one little eyebrow quirked. Andrea stood farther down the hallway, side by side with a man that bore some of the same features as Austin, but Wren was unrelenting as she glared up at the dirty blonde.

"The window? I wasn't in the window." Austin shook his head, fighting off the smirk that threatened to break apart his entire reserve. Wren gasped at his blatant lie, crossing her arms over her chest as she analysed him. Taylor stood in the doorway of the house still, thankful that she had thought to grab the present box from Wren's hands before they stepped inside, knowing it would've either ended up crushed by Kitty or wrinkled in Wren's grip as she tried to face off against her stubborn and persistent brother.

"You were!" She cried dramatically, throwing her hands out to her sides in the same fashion as Taylor would've. That wasn't lost on Andrea and Scott who chuckled quietly to themselves, watching the entire scene unfold. "You stuck your tongue out at me!"

"I think you're seeing things, Shadow." Austin laughed, reaching a hand out to ruffle her neatly curled hair. Wren batted it away with ease, rolling her eyes as she side stepped Austin and rushed to give Andrea a hug, no longer entertained by his whereabouts minutes prior.

Her arms wrapped around Andrea's middle tightly, peering up with wide excited eyes. "Merry Christmas!"

Andrea smiled fondly down at the little girl, running her fingers through the ends of Wren's silky brown hair that had gotten so much longer and healthier since moving in. She was hardly the same little girl anymore, but her eyes would never change. They would always be filled with love and softness, Andrea didn't doubt that for a second. "Merry Christmas, Honey. I love your dress." The compliment caused a soft blush to rise on Wren's cheeks, her flustered state the perfect opportunity for Austin to sneak up behind her and catapult her into the air. Andrea shook her head disapprovingly, though Wren's giggles were contagious and soon every adult in the room was shaking their head in amusement as she clung to Austins neck, face flush.

"Austin!" Wren shrieked, hugging him tightly around the neck when she was finally lowered from the air, butterflies swimming in her belly that were anything but bad. They were warm, and fizzy, and she loved the way they raised goosebumps on her arms. Only a little bit ago, her reaction would've been so different, her relationships would've been so different. Austin wouldn't have even thought about surprising her like that, Taylor would've jumped into action and wiped away the tears that fell out of panic, but she didn't need Taylor to do that, she had made so much progress in only a few short weeks, she wasn't afraid anymore. She could say that confidently.

"Austin, put my kid down. She's full of sugar." Taylor scolded lightly, stifling her laughter when Wren was returned to her feet and bolted away from him, little face contorted into faux anger she wasn't quite ready to dismiss. Taylor extended her arm, inviting Wren into her side where she happily leaned, giving a pointed look to Austin. "Hi, Dad."

"It's good to see you, Teff." Scott beamed at his daughter, hardly able to keep his eyes off of Wren who had distracted herself with a stuffed animal previously shoved into her heavy jacket pocket. The soft blue fabric was a complete contrast to her red gloves, and he couldn't help but reminisce about the days Austin carried around something similar. His kids had grown up on him, despite his best efforts to keep them little. "Who do we have here?" Scott stepped closer, his eyes just as blue and just as kind as Taylors. Despite her lack of fear, Wren was still shy, that would never change, and timidly she pressed her face into Taylor's belly and extended her hand out away from her body so that Scott wouldn't have to come any closer to take a look.

"Bluey. Blake got him for me." She informed quietly, eyes darting between the unfamiliar man and Austin, who smiled at her encouragingly, sensing her nerves. Wren didn't need Taylor to remind her that she was okay, she did that herself, taking deep and even breaths to calm her racing heart. She reminded herself that not all new things were bad. She remaindered herself that only three weeks ago Taylor had been something new, but she turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Scott's smile was gentle as he looked down at Wren, keeping his distance, much to her relief. "You know, Austin had one just like that." The tall man was unaware of previous conversations held within these very walls, but Austin's cheeks flushed never the less, and he defeatedly looked at his father with mock betrayal.

"Dad." The youngest Swift groaned, shooting his hands outward. Scott shrugged him off, entirely pleased with himself for finding a way to embarrass the younger man even if that wasn't his intention. It didn't matter how old his kids got, he'd always find a way to get beneath their skin.

Austin was just about to quip back at his father when the tea kettle blew in the kitchen, the high pitching whistling sound startling Wren who hadn't been expecting it. She flinched into Taylor's side, grabbing at the hem of her winter coat, muscles tensing out of reflex, but when Andrea's eyes lit up and a smirk clawed at her cherry red lips, her belly somersaulted with excitement. Taylor made delicious peppermint hot chocolate, she drank enough of it to be certain of that, but Andrea's was better (not that she would ever tell the younger blonde that).

"Is that hot chocolate?" She asked eagerly, fiddling with the zipper at the front of Taylor's coat, her thick gloves making it nearly impossible to get a good grip on the slippery metal. Always elusive when it came to hot chocolate, Andrea shrugged her shoulders teasingly, though she nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen, which was all the prompting the little girl needed. Without so much as a glance back at Taylor, she separated herself from the blonde and took off on eager feet, giggling wildly as Andrea raced with her. "Taylor taught me how to make it!"

"Well then, why don't you help me out?" Andrea proposed, grabbing the peppermint creamer from the top shelf in the refrigerator before she reached for two candy canes on the counter. Wren was waiting by the sink, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she watched Andrea intently. "Let's get you out of this jacket first." Andrea laughed softly, really taking in the sight of Wren as she attempted to wobble around and reach for two mugs, her movements heavily restricted by the puffiness of her coat.

Wren agreed, absolutely hating how suffocated she felt in the thick material, slipping out of it easily and letting Andrea take both the jacket and her red gloves once she had freed herself from their confines. The older woman neatly hung the jacket from the back of a kitchen table chair, folding the gloves into each other and putting them in an empty pocket so they were easy to locate later — Wren knew where Taylor picked up that habit from now, and she couldn't deny the pang of sadness in her chest knowing she didn't remember her own mother well enough to inherit little quirks like that, but she tried not to dwell on it, today was a happy day after all. With all of their attention focused on the hot chocolate now, smiles on their lips as they laughed and giggled, they hardly realised that Taylor and Scott had joined them in the kitchen, standing in the doorframe whispering amongst themselves about the adjustment period they were finally starting to come out of.

"Did you know Tay got me a guitar!" Wren squealed to Andrea as she mixed a chocolate coin into her hot chocolate with the stem of her candy cane, waiting patiently for the whipped cream to be handed off. "She's gonna show me some chords when we get home tonight!"

"That's so cool, buddy! I'll have to come over and watch you both some time, then." Andrea smiled kindly, full of enthusiasm and feigning shock, even though she had known of Taylor's plan for an entire week. She saw so much of her daughter in Wren's green eyes, and even if eight years had come and gone without a single intertwining moment, an outside perspective would never know that. Family wasn't about blood, or how long you had known someone, it was about genuine love and connection, but knowing that and experiencing it firsthand were entirely different feelings, and every day Andrea was fortunate enough to have Wren in her life, it taught her something new.

Nervously, Wren thought about how in less then a week, her entire world would change again, and what that would mean for the relationships she built here in Tennessee. Nothing had ever been permanent in her life, people had never stayed longer then a few years at a time, and the thought of losing everything all over again made her feel queasy. "Am I still gonna see you when we go to New York?" Her little voice was shaky as she refused to look up from her mug of sweetness, swallowing back tears for the second time that day.

"All the time." Andrea promised softly, intending to keep her word and prove to Wren that not everyone left. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she considered all of the cruelty that life had shown this sweet angel. As she considered the possibility that Wren didn't know anything else but abandonment. She didn't know what it meant to have family wherever you went, she was never shown that. All of her life she had been taught that the moment she was moved away, everything that she had ever known seized to exist. All of her life she had only been something temporary. Andrea couldn't even imagine how hard that was, especially at such a young and formative age.

"Wrenny." Taylor called from the doorway, watching her daughter prepare to say goodbye to the only family she could remember with glistening eyes and a guilty conscious. She hadn't considered the repercussions of her career in this aspect, but she should've. She should've known this transition wouldn't be easy. "Why don't you tell Andy about the new phone you got for Christmas?" Taylor suggested.

"Tay got me a phone." Wren sounded meek as she looked up at Andrea, unshed tears shimmering in her waterline as the overhead kitchen lights reflected against them.

Andrea smiled warmly, "Well, do you know what that means then?" Her voice sounded so upbeat, Wren felt like she'd missed something important as she shook her head slowly. "You can call me anytime you want. Day or night, big or small. I won't always be able to be there with you, but that doesn't mean I'm going away."

Wren perked up at the suggestion, green eyes round and bright and full of excitement at the proposition being made. She hadn't even thought of that, but now that Andrea had reminded her, leaving Tennessee didn't feel so permanent. "Really?!"

Andrea hummed, "Really." The older woman laughed tearfully when Wren lurched forward and pulled her into a bone crushing hug, her spirit no longer dampened by the approaching separation they would face. Things would be different, that was uncontrollable, but they wouldn't end, and that felt like the best conclusion for right now.

𓇢𓆸

Although snow hadn't fallen over Hendersonville, and Santa Clause himself hadn't been spotted, this very first Christmas Day together had felt absolutely perfect. Taylor smiled behind her mug of coffee, leaning into her fathers warm embrace as they sat side by side on the couch. She couldn't stop herself from reflecting on the last three weeks, and how much her little buddy had changed and grown into herself. Wren was undeniably a soft soul, Taylor was seeing more and more of that everyday, but she was also a firecracker when she got comfortable. She knew what she liked and she was finding her voice in making it clear, and to Taylor, it was an honor to watch happen, but equally somber as she thought about the girl that had shown up on her doorstep so detached from herself and her own personal wants. There was hardly anything left of her now. What happens to all the past versions of ourselves that we forget? Where do they go? Taylor can't help but wonder, because although Wren might never realize how far she'd come, she'd never be able to forget it.

Unbeknown to the blonde that was leisurely sipping on her mug of coffee, Austin had corralled her daughter up the stairs and into his childhood bedroom, where an array of blank canvasses laid out flat on the wooden floor, and globs of red and green paint threaten to spill over the edges of festive christmas plates he'd taken from downstairs. A thick black sharpie was one of the only writing instruments amongst the crafty scene, and two padded paint brushes lay beside it, brand new and not at all helpful in uncoding whatever message Austin was hoping to get across.

Wren stared at him quizzically, thin eyebrows furrowing as she looked around the room for any other hint when Austin didn't say anything. The painted walls held a few picture frames and fading posters, bands and friend groups that Austin probably liked and associated with in high school, but other then that, there wasn't anything to pull information from.

"What are we doing?" Her voice was quiet, nervous even as she tried not to overthink why Austin wanted her alone, and she wasn't allowed to tell Taylor. She tried to remind herself that he was safe, that he hadn't hurt her yet and Taylor trusted him, but the nagging voice in her head was screaming danger, and if anything happened, it would be her fault for letting it.

"Well, it's your first Christmas with Teffy, and when we were kids, Mom used to have us do crafts with our handprints and footprints." Austin smiled cheekily, his bright blue eyes squinted from how widely he was smiling. "I know it's not your first Christmas, but it's the only first Christmas you'll ever have with Taylor, and you'll never be nine again. So, I figured we could make her some homemade presents. She loves that kinda stuff."

"Are you gonna paint my feet?" Wren asked eagerly, eyeing the plates of paint and the sponge brushes with excitement. She'd never done a project like this, aside from the one day in art they'd been allowed to finger paint, but she'd been too scared about messing up her clothes to join in.

"If you want me to! We don't have to if you don't wanna get messy, it's entirely up to you." Austin reassured, taking it slow, not wanting to be the final touch that sent Wren over the edge. She wasn't a paper doll, and she'd been handling today well, but it was still a lot of changes in such a short amount of time, he wanted to tread lightly.

"Will it get on my dress? Blake got it for me, I don't want it to get ruined." The little girl frowned deeply, looking down at her pretty red and green dress that matched James and Inez and Betty. She never wanted anything to happen to it.

"I have a shirt you can put over it. When we painted this room when I was younger, Teff and I got paint on everything, and I saved the shirt for projects like this, so if some paint does get on it, it's not going to ruin it. Okay? If you get messy, that's perfectly okay, and I won't be mad." Austin was clear with his feelings and expectations for the project, something he'd heard Taylor picked up from on the few times he'd been over to visit, or they'd been over here. He wanted this to be something fun, something Wren didn't have to miss out on, but she was unpredictable; not like it was her fault.

"You won't be mad." Wren parroted, nodded contently. "I'll try my best not to get it messy, though." She grinned eagerly, watching Austin walk toward the closet on the far side of the bedroom, and pull out a paint stained black t-shirt that looked four sizes to big for her little body. She giggled when she saw Taylor's face on the front, a mock-up of an old design that never saw the light of day on her website or merch stands. "It's Tay." Wren giggled as Austin helped her put it on over her dress, maneuvering her arms through the designated holes and pulling it down until it fell to her mid shins.

"Yeah, don't tell her I still have that shirt. I think she forgot I took it from her closet." Austin grinned sheepishly, before he moved to sit down on the floor in front of the lined up pallets, waving eagerly for Wren to come and join him. "Do you wanna do your feet or hands first?"

"Um, my feet! But, isn't it gonna get on the floor?" Wren frowned, sitting down next to Austin, pulling off her frilly socks that Taylor had been so enthused about when she pulled them out of her dresser drawers that morning.

"It's washable, it'll come right off with some water. You should've seen what the kitchen looked like when Teff and I were kids. She had this big paint set and we'd pretend to be face painters at the fair, Mom would be scrubbing at the tiles for hours trying to get off the little specs that dropped on the floor." Wren liked hearing about Taylor and Austin as kids. She knew that nobody knew their parents when they were little, that would be impossible, but hearing these stories always made her feel a little bit closer to the blonde, like she hadn't missed so many years not even knowing she existed.

"Okay." Wren agreed, watching Austin carefully as he grabbed one of the sponge brushes and dipped it on the green paint. "What's it gonna make?"

"Mistletoes. That's one of Taylors favorites from when we were kids, I think Mom has them saved in an album somewhere in the attic. When we do your handprints we're gonna make little reindeer faces, how does that sound?" Austin asked, reaching for Wren's foot which she easily provided, giggling when the globby paint smeared across the bottom of her foot, tickling her sensitive skin and cold to the touch.

"Good!" Wren nodded firmly, watching Austin pick up the largest canvas and press it against her foot, making sure each of her little toes were pressed down enough to leave a mark. When he pulled it away, the green paint had sunk into the groves of her foot, leaving behind an almost perfect print. "Can we do yours too?"

"My feet are a little too big for the canvas, Shadow. But, we can do my hands." Austin grinned at her question, moving to wipe down her foot with a paper towel and then he move onto doing the other one, repeating the same process of paint and then canvass. No paint had gotten on her clothes yet, which she was extremely happy about, but she kinda hoped that maybe some would. She never got to be messy when she was super duper little, never allowed to come home with dirt on her clothes or mud under her nails from playing too hard on the playground. It didn't matter who she was with, the Tighlmans or her Mommy and Daddy, everyone always wanted her to look perfect. Taylor never expected that from her, she liked that more then she thought she would.

"Can we leave it on my feet?" Wren asked timidly, pointing to the bottom off her wiped clean foot, that was still slightly green. It didn't transfer onto her finger, so she didn't think it would make the floors messy when she walked.

Austin didn't question her reasoning, he probably didn't want to know why she was so amazed by her green tinted skin, but he nodded either way, smiling reassuringly. "Alright, we're gonna let that dry for a couple of minutes while we do your hands. Do you want me to paint them with the brush, or do you wanna just dive right in and dip your hand on the plate?"

Wren's eyes lit up like fireworks, her lips curving upward into a contagious grin, "Dip it!"

"Alright, right into the brown! Go ahead." He pulled the plate of brown closer, nodding his head at Wren through the entire process. "Now, put your hand on the littlest canvas and press down super hard." Wren followed his instructions, giggling at the feeling of the paint squishing beneath her fingers.

"I did it!" She beamed proudly, pulling her hand away and showing it off to Austin. He grinned lightheartedly, grabbing another paper and wiping off the excess.

"Good job! Now, we're gonna bring these into the bathroom and use the hairdryer to speed up the process, okay?" Austin stood from the floor, collecting the two wet canvases in his hand. Wren nodded along, following him like a little shadow into his en-suite bathroom. Taylor hadn't come looking for them yet, so she figured they still had time to get away with the surprise entirely without her suspicions being peeked.

When the canvases were dry, no longer an risk to drip all over the place when they presented them to Taylor, they moved back into the bedroom and sat on the floor, finishing up the last few touches that would really bring them to life. Austin drew little red bows on her green footprints, using the black sharpie to make it look like they were hanging from the top of the canvas, and while he was doing that, Wren was painting on eyeballs and a red nose for her reindeer handprints. Austin took over when it was time to draw the antlers, laughing quietly as she expressed her concern about drawing them perfectly. All that was left to do now was add the words to the bottom, which Wren happily agreed to do, adding the date on the bottom left corner before she capped the sharpie and grinned at him proudly.

"Look, I'm Rudolf!" Wren swatched the tip of her nose with a glob of red paint, grinning over at Austin, who snapped a picture with the intention of sending it to Taylor later on in the evening, after they'd given her the canvases and no longer were harboring the surprise.

"You're silly." Austin grinned, but swatched the tip of his own nose, leaning in closer to Wren, taking a picture of them both with a wide grin on his lips. "Still wanna do my hand or do you wanna go show, Teff?" He ruffled her hair, earning himself a displeased frown from the little girl who was entirely protective of her curls that were slowly falling as the day went on.

"Show Tay!" Wren didn't even need to consider her options, too excited to wait around any longer. She wanted to get downstairs and show off her projects, desperately wanting to hear what Taylor would say. She'd never had anything like this to show off, but when she did, on the rare occasion that she brought the festive crafts she made in school home with her, nobody had cared about them and they ended up at the top of the trashcan, but Austin had promised Taylor would love them, and that was too good of an offer to postpone.

"Alright! Let's dry the red really quick and then we can go show, Teffy." And once again they were on their way to the bathroom, switching on the blow dryer and watching as the wet paint slowly dried down. Wren no longer understood the expression 'i'd rather watch paint dry', this was so much fun.

"Can we show her now?!" Wren bounced on her toes, looking up at Austin with pleading green eyes, long lashes batting prettily like she'd seen in the movies Taylor showed her. For added effect, her bottom lip was pouty and her hands were clasped in front of her chest, swinging back and forth the same way her body was.

"Let's get you outta that shirt and then we can show her!" Austin laughed at her eagerness, leading the way back into his bedroom where he made quick work of taking the big t-shirt off of Wren's body and throwing it onto his neatly made bed to be dealt with later.

Wren didn't waste a single second once she was free, bolting down the stairs two at a time, not even holding onto the bannister as her excitement and the immense amount of sugar she consumed got the better of her.

"Tay!" She shrieked happily, skipping toward the living room where she heard Taylor talking with Andrea and Scott. She waved shyly at the man, still not comfortable with him like she was Austin, but didn't pay him too much mind as she catapulted herself into the blondes lap and grinned at her widely.

"What happened to your nose?" Taylor laughed lightly, eyeing the red paint on the tip of Wren's little nose that was wet to the touch and beginning to drip down toward her chin, the red smear a deep contrast against her fair skin and glistening beneath the artificial light filling the living room. The sun had fallen behind treetops, and the overcast sky had faded to blackness, but the house was still bright and their voices were still merry, and Wren was still the best gift Taylor had even been given.

Wren giggled, settling against the front of Taylor's chest, looking up at her through thick lashes, happy to see that Taylor's entire focus was on her, and she didn't look bothered by the paint on her face. "I'm Rudolf! But, Austin and I made you presents!"

"Oh yeah? Is that what all that noise was about?" Taylor prodded at Wren's ribs, wiggling her fingers in a teasing manner, further amplifying the giggles that were falling past the little girls lips as she tried to keep a straight face.

"Mmhm! We were using the hair dryer." Wren nodded matter-of-factly, covering her mouth with her hand when she heard Austin start coming down the stairs, his footsteps loud and booming as he took them two at a time, just like Taylor always did when she was excited. He was wearing the same mischievous smirk as her, his nose still painted red, but his hands were clasped behind his back, and tissue paper stuck out from the top of the gift bag he was trying to hide.

"Are you Rudolf too?" Taylor couldn't fight the smirk that clawed at her cherry red lips, mapping out the mess of red that was dripping down her younger brothers face.

"Well obviously." Austin sassed, rolling his eyes at Taylor before he shifted his attention to Wren, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "You can't join our club, two Rudolf's is more than enough."

Taylor scoffed her amusement, shifting Wren on her lap when the little girl began to slip off. She eyed the gift bag in Austin's hands, raising her eyebrows questioningly. "Are you gonna hand it over?" She teased, and Austin smirked, shaking his head.

"What do you think, Wrenny? Does she deserve it?" Austin prodded, and Wren nodded her head in the affirmative, reaching for the bag with wiggling and impatient fingers. Austin let her have it, laughing when she dove straight in, tissue paper discarded beside her body on the couch to be dealt with later.

"Look!" Wren picked up the smaller canvas, making sure Taylor could see the entire thing from over her shoulder. The blondes lips curved upward into a smile, but her eyes filled with tears that dared to contradict the seemingly happy expression on her face. Wren's belly sank with dread, nervously shifting her gaze away from Taylor. She should've known that this would never change, even if everything else did. She didn’t want to look at Austin, it wasn’t his fault Taylor didn’t like it, and she didn’t want to see the pity on his face when he realized he’d made a mistake, so instead she looked down at her brown stained hand, wishing she would’ve washed away the reminder when she had the chance.

"I love it." Her head shot up to look at Taylor, eyebrows pinched together as she repeated that single sentence over and over again in her head.

Her voice was shaky, filled with nerves as she tried to keep it level. Taylor was crying, was she lying just to make her feel better? Or had she jumped to conclusions too fast? Taylor told her people cry when they’re happy sometimes, but nobody had ever been happy to receive an art project. Especially not one she made. “You do?”

“Of course I do, honey.” Taylor kissed the top of Wren’s head endearingly, wiping away the tears that dampened her cheeks. She sniffled cutely, a thin smirk pulling at the edges of her mouth. She didn’t look sad, so maybe she really was telling the truth. A warm feeling traveled up to Wren’s belly, one she’d never felt before, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It just made her nervous, a good nervous. “What else have you got in there?”

Wren let the smaller canvas of her Rudolf handprint sit on the edge of the couch, slightly shocked when Andrea stepped close enough to pick it up and examine it the same way Taylor had. They really liked them? They really cared about something like this?

“We did this one first.” Wren spoke softly, looking back at Taylor with eyes clouded with uncertainty. Taylor didn’t have to ask to know what that was about, but she wouldn’t let it dampen her reaction. The blonde was beside herself looking at this carefully made projects. She never thought she’d get the chance to do any of them with her own kids, losing Betty had pretty much solidified that for her, but now she was sitting in her childhood home, holding onto a little girl that looked at her like she’d hung the stars, and unwrapping canvases that would never be this small again. Her heart felt so impossibly full. “It’s mistletoe.”

Taylor let her fingers dance along the little frilly red bow painted at the top of the canvas, feeling the bubbler paint beneath the top of her finger. Her eyes watered again, but no tears fell this time as she looked between the little footprints and her daughter. Her daughter. Wren was so much more then just a foster placement. She’d been saying that for days now, calling her her daughter, but something about this moment made it all feel so real. So permanent. She could do this for the rest of her life, and she’d be damned if anything for in her way to stop it.

“You know what they say about mistletoe?” Taylor quirked an inquisitive eyebrow, but before Wren could answer, she was peppering kisses all over the little girls face that had her squirming and giggling loudly — the loudest Scott Swift had ever heard Wren be, and his face was brightened by a contagious smile as he watched his daughter hold everything she’s ever wanted close to her chest.

“Tay!” Wren shrieked her enjoyment, little hands trying to push Taylor’s face away from hers, but to no luck. Taylor was stronger, and she wasn’t really trying to get away, and that bad feeling in her belly had completely gone away so really she wasn’t too annoyed by the kisses.

When they finally lightened up, and Taylor looked down at her with beaming blue eyes, Wren couldn’t help but portray that same expression, mimicking the smile and nose crinkle that Taylor wore. “Do you like them?”

“I love them, buddy. Thank you.” Taylor grinned, smoothing down the hair at the top of Wren’s head that had become wild during her attack. “Should we give everyone else their presents now?”

“Yeah!” Wren beamed, but she didn’t slip off of Taylor’s lap so that the blonde could get up to distribute the wrapped packages. She smiled mischievously, too content with her position to move away and he on her own again, and Taylor didn’t argue for a second. This was typically how their nights ended, with Wren all curled up into her until she fell asleep or was too tired to move her little body. Most nights Taylor would carry her to her, other times, they just fell asleep together like there hadn’t been eight years in between their meeting.

Wren had been Taylor’s missing piece since the very first day she walked into the Wonderland apartment in the middle of a storm, but tonight, she’d been the most perfect christmas present.

Chapter Text

can i go where you go? can we always be this close, forever and ever?

DECEMBER 27th, 2019

The apartment was in disarray as Taylor and Wren rushed around, checking under couches and at the very back of cabinets, making sure they had everything they needed for their week away in London. They wouldn't be back in Nashville for a few months, and all important things had already been shipped away to New York, but still they checked incase they'd missed something. Christmas had come and passed for the mother-daughter duo, and while little things still lingered around like Wren's gingerbread blanket and an antique snowglobe Taylor left out year round, all the other decorations had been packed away and returned to normal.

The morning sun was hidden behind murky grey storm clouds, and rumbles of thunder rolled across the sky every few minutes, just as Taylor thought things were settling. There hadn't been a stroke of lightning yet, hadn't even been a single droplet of rain that dampened the ground below them, but it wasn't looking good. She'd been in communication with her pilot for hours, checking and double checking that their flight was still okay to leave around midday, and she'd been assured of that every time, but nothing settled her nerves.

Wren followed the blonde around the apartment like a shadow, checking where she checked, stepping where she stepped, never straying too far out of sight. She hadn't said she was nervous, hadn't so much as implied it even when they sat down for breakfast and Taylor explained in detail how the day would play out hoping that would ease some of her visible concern, but Taylor could see the uncertainty still written all over her little face every time they made eye contact. Her hands trembled at her sides, her cheeks had become pale, and her little green eyes had sunken in from lack of sleep. She'd been up every hour on the hour, stressing about the long journey overseas and every possible outcome that could prevent them from landing safely, but she hadn't gone to Taylor once. She laid awake, paralyzed in fear and alone until morning came. If she would've sought out company, she would've known that the blonde had been wide awake in her own bed, deep in thought as she pulled at her hair and thought about everything she needed to say to Joe when she had the chance. She didn't know what she wanted out of the conversation, she'd never gotten that far, but she knew that they couldn't go on like this. Since he'd gone back to London without her, they'd become strangers tied together by one invisible string. She loved him, she knew that she did, but the question she couldn't even stomach the thought of answering weighed on her heavily — was she in love with him anymore? Truthfully, she didn't know.

Straightening her back, wincing as her spine cracked, Taylor sighed almost reluctantly and settled her hands on her hips in loose fists. She gave her bedroom a final once over, satisfied with its tidy appearance, before she turned her focus on Wren. Her bubbly little girl had been quiet all morning, and she missed the sound of her laugh as it echoed through their home.

"Come sit with me." Taylor sat down on the edge of her bed, not minding how the blankets rustled and wrinkled beneath her weight. A bed could be remade, her priority now was getting to the root of Wren's anxiety. She rubbed the spot next to her, smiling infectiously when Wren wordlessly joined her, leaning into her side with heavy eyelids. "I know somethings bugging you, buddy. Wanna tell me what it is?"

Wren didn't look all that convinced to share, and whether it was because she liked the security of having a secret, or just didn't know how to verbalize her thoughts in a coherent way, Taylor wasn't sure. "What if I give you a list of reasons why you might be feeling this way, and you nod if you agree?"

Wren thought it over for a second, dropping her eyes to her trembling hands before nodding her head. Her bottom lip was caught captive between her teeth, the pink skin irritated and raw from her persistent picking and biting. Taylor didn't say anything about it for right now, she wasn't going to take away the only comfort Wren had to lean on.

"Are you scared about the plane?" Taylor paused, looking at Wren, watching for any slight indication that she agreed. The antsy shuffling beside her was enough of a confirmation, so she pocketed it away for later. "Are you nervous about meeting Joe and his family?"

This time, Wren nodded her head. She didn't know why she was nervous, but it was eating up at her inside. She'd met Austin and Scott and they'd been fine and sweet and nice, but Joe felt different in a way she didn't like. Taylor got sad when she thought about Joe for too long, and Wren didn't like that. You don't get sad thinking about people you love, you get sad thinking about people you're scared of. At least, that's how she saw it.

"Okay," Taylor cooed gently. "Are you a little bit worried that I'm gonna send you back with Emily?" She tried to approach her last question gently, but there was only so much grace she could give with a topic like that. She knew her daughter well enough to know she'd definitely been mulling over that idea for days now, and she wouldn't just ignore it for the sake of keeping the tide low between them.

Wren's head shot upward, looking directly at Taylor with wide green eyes and a trembling bottom lip. Her hands shook harder, her shoulders tensed quicker. She looked so broken sitting on the edge of Taylor's bed. So little and damaged.

"Have I not made myself clear when I say that's never going to happen?" Taylor doesn't give her the chance to babble and beg. She can see the words on the tip of Wren's tongue, but she cuts her off before she can plead her case. Her eyes are soft, kind, but they're hurt and desperate, and Wren can see that. Transparency. She needs to get better at that. "You're staying with me, baby. This isn't a test, there are no ultimatums. It's just you and me, forever. We're going to go to London together, and then we're going to go to New York together. I'm not letting you go, okay? I'm never letting you go."

"Okay." Wren nods her little head, voice quiet as she whispers her agreement. Truthfully, she didn't have much of a reason for thinking Taylor would send her away, she knew that she was safe here, that she was permanent here, but she'd fallen into her own head last night and hadn't been able to get out. Taylor knew that pain all too well, and if she recognized it, she didn't give Wren any indication.

"Now, what's going on in that little head about Joe? You seemed so excited the other day." Taylor hummed curiously, reaching out to brush a few wild strands of hair away from Wren's little face.

"What if he doesn't like me?" The child frowns deeply, green eyes wide and filled with tainted innocent. "I don't want you to have to pick between me and him."

Taylor should've expected this. She should've considered how Wren would feel being thrown into the middle of a relationship that was already standing on rocky waters. Her daughter was observant, she was considerate and intelligent, and she knew when something was wrong. But, Taylor had let so much slip her mind in recent days, she'd been confident that things were going well, that they were finally on solid ground. She had let herself believe Wren didn't question the integrity of their relationship anymore, but now she knew that wasn't the case. She'd failed to see all of the ways Wren could make herself sick with worry, and she couldn't help but feel like most of Wren's anxiety was her own negligent doing. If she would've kept her head clear, would've taken a step back to see how far they still to come before Wren could really trust her, she would've realized sooner how eerily similar this situation was to Knoxville, and she could've guided Wren through it, been a voice of reason, a safe place to land, but she hadn't been any of those things. The only thing that made Taylor and Joe different from Adrianna and Timothy in this situation was her word, and so many people had lied to Wren already, she couldn't blame the little girl for coming to her own conclusions when all she had to go off of was past experiences.

Taylor took Wren's trembling hands into her own, squeezing them softly, hoping the contact would give Wren something new to focus on. "You are my first priority. Whatever happens in London, good or bad, you come first. There's never going to be a decision between you or Joe. Do you trust me on that?" Taylor asks softly, her blue eyes gleaming with unspoken adoration that makes Wren's belly feel like it's all knotted up.

"Why?" Wren's little voice breaks Taylor's heart into a million pieces, her eyes filled with innocent confusion that shattered the solid ground Taylor stood on. Wren doesn't know the words to express how she's feeling, but she knows that nobody had ever felt the way Taylor does about her.

"Because you are the most important thing to me. I've wanted you for my entire life, baby. I'm not gonna let you slip away so easily. You might not get that now, and that's okay, but it'll make sense when you're older." Taylor leaned in close, laying a gentle kiss against Wren's forehead. "Now, we only have a little bit of time before our car gets here. What do you say we put our bags by the door and paint our nails?" Taylor's smirk is contagious, and Wren can't help but nod along excitedly. She'd been asking to paint their nails for days, but time had always slipped away before they had the chance to get it done.

No longer dwelling on what-ifs, Wren didn't feel so heavy in her own body, bouncing off the bed and onto her two bare feet that slapped against the hardwood floor nosily. "Can I pick your color?" She proposed, grinning cheekily up at the blonde.

"If you get there first." Without a proper warning, Taylor bolted past Wren and out of her bedroom, laughing loudly when little footsteps attempted to catch up with her, shouting that cheating isn't fair as they took the stairs two at a time, but Taylor's legs were longer, and Wren was still caught up in shock as she trailed behind.

The green eyed girl pouted at Taylor from the entryway of the living room, watching the blonde triumphantly wheel their two suitcases toward the front door, Bluey and her stuffed Sulley tucked beneath her arms.

"Cheater." Wren mopped, a dainty frown on her pink lips as she tried not to laugh. Taylor could see through her pouty display, knowing the girl like the back of her hand at this point, and she smirked to herself as she set Bluey and Sulley on top of Wren's suitcase before spinning around to face her daughter.

"Cheater? I would never cheat, Wrenny!" She gasped dramatically, splaying a hand over her chest in an overdramatized fashion. Before Wren could fire back, Taylor was rushing forward and scooping the little girl up in her arms, tickling her belly and the back of her knees where she's learned is the most ticklish spot. "Am I a cheater now? Tell me I'm a cheater!"

"Y-You're a c-cheater!" Wren spluttered out through shrieks and giggles, face becoming pink from breathlessness as she wriggled and squirmed around helplessly, trying to avoid the assault of ticklish fingers. "T-Tay!"

Taylor relented with a teasing smirk on her lips, eyes shining brightly as she continued to hold Wren like an infant in her arms as she made her way back up the stairs and toward her en-suite bathroom where the nail polish was kept. Wren had no arguments, peering up at her favorite blonde through long dark lashes that had a natural curl to them. The freckles dusting her cheeks had become lighter as the season advanced, but Taylor swore she could trace the constellations within the muted chocolate dustings on her baby's face. Taylor smiled down at her fondly, tears brimming in her gentle blue eyes as she let herself feel the sheer amount of love she held for such a tiny person. She would never be able to understand how you can love another person so much it physically hurt.

"I love you." Taylor craned her neck just low enough to kiss the top of Wren's head, laughing when the nine year old grabbed her cheeks in tiny hands and kissed her nose in return, grinning cheekily. She would miss these little moments when life picked up, because even if she knew nothing was really changing, she knew that this wouldn't stay the same when she had to juggle interviews and rehearsals and meetings and everything else that came with living in the public eye. Life wouldn't be just Taylor and Wren anymore, and that was daunting to think about.

Setting Wren on the bathroom counter, Wren swung her legs back and forth with an innocent ease, letting the heels of her feet bang against the cabinets beneath her as she craned her little body over the sink, reaching for the display of nail polish Taylor kept on the countertop pushed up against the backsplash. She'd gotten her own nail polish for Christmas, but she'd insisted that they keep it all together in Taylor's bathroom, so quietly she mulled over all of her options as she thought about New Years and all that the sparkly glitter filled holiday entailed. She'd never truly celebrated the night, either too young to stay up until midnight or not allowed to take part at all because to two cruel individuals, holidays didn't exist. But this year was going to be different, this year she was gonna get to spend the entire night with Taylor, wearing a sparkly dress and pretty black shoes that were already packed in her suitcase eating fun treats and drinking fun drinks because apparently sparkling apple juice is a New Years Eve tradition in the Swift household, so their nails needed to be just as perfect. Everything needed to be the absolute best it could be, not only for her, but for Taylor too. Wren wanted this first New Years together to be perfect.

"Which one is it gonna be, Roo?" Taylor laughed softly, combing her fingers through Wren's silky hair, watching as the tip of her little tongue poked out from between her lips, face screwed up with a deep contemplation that was adorable and sweet.

Wren didn't answer immediately, pursing her lips as her eyes flickered between two shades of silver. One had a soft shimmer to it, and Wren thought it looked like a melted down disco ball in the clear bottle, but the other looked like sparkly confetti had exploded and been swept up into one little jar. "This one!" Wren held up the chunky silver glitter, beaming brightly as she extended her hand toward Taylor. "It'll match our dresses!"

Taylor smiled fondly, nodding at the choice. "Very good choice, Ms. Wren." The little girl blushed bashfully, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears as she avoided Taylor's eye contact, still not entirely accustomed to praise and compliments. She was getting better at accepting them, but there were times when they made her skin crawl in a way that wasn't entirely pleasant, but definitely not unpleasant either. Sometimes, she just couldn't trust that they were true, but she knew Taylor would never lie to her, so she was working on ignoring her own doubts about it. "What are we listening to today, buddy?"

"Hayley!" Wren exclaimed with a bright energy and eager smile. Recently, Taylor had been doing her diligence in assuring that Wren had proper music education, because as much as she enjoyed listening to her own albums on a brain bleeding cycle, she was eager to show her kid the true classics. They'd been playing a lot of The Nationals and Duran Duran, and while Wren enjoyed them, she definitely had a preference when it came to the music Taylor showed her.

"Paramore." Taylor corrected lightly, laughing to herself as she reached for her phone and scrolled through her Spotify albums until she found Brand New Eyes, letting the songs shuffle instead of going through them chronologically. She'd been telling Wren about her friendship with Hayley a few nights ago, a bedtime diversion tactic that she didn't have the heart to avoid, but ever since that conversation the little angel had been clinging to Hayley's name when requesting to listen to the band. As cute as it was, Taylor corrected her every time.

"Hayley." Wren smiled cheekily up at the blonde, the slightest glimpse of her unfiltered personality rearing its head through the thick smog of anxiety and trauma that usually muffled her. Taylor rolled her eyes in amusement, smiling just as fondly at her daughter. "Can you text Hayley and tell her to change the band name to Hayley? That way I can be right?"

Taylor laughed genuinely, throwing her head back in pure elation as she listened to Wren, clinging onto her every witty word. These moments weren't a rarity anymore, they were becoming more and more frequent as the little girl grew confident and comfortable in this not-so-new environment, but when mornings like today's crash against their shores, moments like these are all the more meaningful.

"Smile." Taylor held her phone up to the little girl, intending to send Hayley a picture of her little mastermind. Her heart flutters in her chest when Wren pulls her cheesiest grin, so wide and full of joy that her little eyes are almost entirely squinted shut, long lashes brushing against her eyebrows and freckled cheeks tinged pink.

"Lemme see!" Wren begged, giggling slightly when Taylor let her analyse the picture. She looked silly sitting on the counter, her hair messily crimped from the braids she'd fallen asleep with, wearing one of Taylor's old tour shirts and blue sleep shorts that only just peaked out from the bottom of the large t-shirt. "Are you gonna send that to Hayley?"

"Is that okay?" Taylor checked in, keeping her words as gentle and light as possible, wanting Wren to know the decision was hers. She didn't have to worry though, because the little girl was bobbing her head in agreement, smiling cheekily as she resumed kicking her legs, fiddling with the top of the nail polish bottle.

"Do you think we should bring it with us? Just in case Joe wants to match?" Wren asked, untwisting the cap and beginning the process of painting her non-dominant hand. She usually did the first one herself, asking Taylor to do the second because she always got messy around her cuticles. Taylor never minded, that's what Wren likes. She doesn't mind doing things for her, she doesn't mind making games out of silly tasks that other grown ups just want to get out of the way.

"That sounds like a great idea. I'll put it in my carry on." Taylor couldn't believe how sweet this little girl proved to be every after everything she'd been through, the sentiment behind her words tugged on Taylor's heart, breaking it into pieces just as it patched it up. There might not be hope for her and Joe, but she'd never let it affect Wren. Smiling over her phone at her daughter, Taylor pressed a chaste kiss to the little girls head before she went back to typing her message to Hayley, chuckling to herself as she attaches the picture of her baby before pressing send.

Taylor
The little boss is requesting you change the band name to Hayley, I hate to say she makes a convincing argument 😜
*image attached*

"You're doing a very good job, Ms. Wren. I think you missed a spot though." Taylor grins as she nudges Wren's pointer finger, a small gap missing toward the end of her nail where the brush must've run out of paint. Wren gasps at the realisation, quick to drag the bristles over her nail until everything was evenly coated, bearing the proudest smile on her little face as she extended her sparkly fingers toward Taylor, waving them around so fast they were just a blur of silver, but Taylor fawned over them either way, just happy that the spell of distress Wren had fallen beneath either seemed to be fully behind them.

"It's like your song, Tay! Mirrorball!" She laughs soundly, extending the bottle to Taylor, silently asking the blonde to do her other hand, which she lays on her lap to be held and prodded at.

"It is like my song, bud. You know, pretty soon I'm gonna start recording it. Do you think you'd like to come to the studio with me?" Taylor asked, picking up Wren's hand gently, focusing her attention on the tiny fingernails that were slowly becoming silver with each additional dip and brush stroke.

"I wanna go wherever you go." Wren admitted softly. She might not understand a lot of her feelings right now, too young to really grasp the full effect of what's spiraling through her jumbled mind, but she knows that she never wants to be too far away from the blonde. She likes the mundane routine they've created, she likes that there aren't any surprises about what they're doing or who they're seeing. She likes the structure they've built, but she knows that things are changing whether she wants them to or not. They've talked about Taylor's work, and they've discussed how New York won't be as quiet as Nashville, but she trusts Taylor, and the blonde pinky swore that she would always come first. Wren hasn't been given any reason to doubt that, so for right now, she just tries to remind herself that different doesn't mean bad. And, she's excited to meet Blake, so maybe, just maybe, New York won't be so scary when she finally gets to show Blake all the drawings she's made in person.

Taylor's eyes glisten, no longer so focused on the little nails she'd been painting, entirely enamored by the sweet face that's gazing up at her with so much love and trust that she wants to weep. This is everything she's ever wanted. Every heartbreak and betrayal that had felt like the end of the world feels so irrelevant now that she had this to hold onto and cherish. She loves hard, and she's blamed every failed relationship on her level devotion that was never matched, but now it's being given back in the purest ways and all of the pain she's ever felt feels worth it to have finally gotten to this moment. "I wanna go wherever you go too, buddy."

"Can we be best friends even when I get big like you?" Wren questions shyly, looking down at her freshly painted nails that are drying slowly, the fragments of glitter reflecting the light from the vanity mirror behind her. She doesn't know what healthy maternal relationships resemble in adulthood, Sarah didn't talk to either of her parents, and Adrianna's mother passed away when she was in high school, but Wren sees the way Taylor and Andrea look at each other, and she watches how they talk and hug and help when it's needed. She hopes her and Taylor are even a fraction of that when she's big and has her own family.

"We're going to be best friends forever, but you're not allowed to get any bigger." Taylor proposes, lifting Wren's chin so their colored eyes can meet. "You're gonna stay little, right?"

"No!" Wren giggled, shrieking in surprise when Taylor quirked a single eyebrow and assaulted her belly with tickles, squirming all over the counter she tried to dodge the attack. "I'll stay little! I-I'll stay l-little!" She batted Taylor's hands away as she folded, gasping for air as the blonde bared her own satisfied smirk.

"I'm glad we came to an agreement." Taylor teased, "Do you wanna paint mine now or do you wanna do it on the plane? Andie should be here in a few minutes to say goodbye." She brushed Wren's hair out of her eyes, smiling softly knowing the next half hour would be upsetting to the little girl who had only just gotten close with her mother.

"I don't wanna say goodbye." Wren deflated, dropping her head as she pulled and twisted at her fingers, butterflies gnawing at her belly again. Every goodbye she'd ever said had been permanent. She doesn't want Andrea to become another person she can't have anymore.

"I know you don't, baby love." Taylor frowns, so badly wishing she could help Wren through this transition, but there wasn't anything she could do besides assure Wren that this goodbye wasn't permanent. "But, you don't just want to leave without seeing her, do you?"

Wren shakes her head, "No."

"So we're gonna say goodbye in a little bit, and in a couple of weeks she's gonna come visit us in New York." Taylor talks her through how this afternoon is going to go for a second time, reminding Wren about the airport and the plane they'll be taking, how it'll be just them two and nobody else, going over what to expect during takeoff and landing (how their might be some turbulence because of the weather but they'll be perfectly safe), just trying her best to making sure that nothing is left as a surprise. She mentions how long the flight is, laughing at Wren's horrified expression when she learns it's at least eight hours if there isn't air traffic, but for the most part, it seems to help as she nods and listens to what Taylor has to say, not feeling so out of place with all of these changes and new experiences.

"We're gonna see Blake in New York, right?" Wren reaches for Taylor's silver chain, drawing the woman in until she's standing between the little girls knobby knees, the blondes arms wrapped around the brunettes middle as the charm on her necklace is fiddled and tampered with. She hasn't told Wren, but she'd ordered the girl her own identical necklace a few nights ago when she hadn't been able to fall asleep, to caught up in her own thoughts about this constantly changing life, but she'd wanted her daughter to have a piece of home with her wherever she went, so she focused her breakdown on something productive rather then tearing herself apart. She'd chosen the necklace because it was the one material thing that Wren always seemed to cling to beside her Bluey, and even if Lover was only a temporary era of her life, the thought of the album would always serve as a reminder of the best year of her life; the year where she not only put out an album without manipulating assholes, but the year that she had became a Mom to the best little girl anyone could ask to keep.

"Mmhm, are you excited for that?" Taylor smiles fondly. She'd been working Wren up to the idea of seeing Blake and the kids when they got to the city, not wanting to keep her kid isolated but not wanting to rush the idea of other people entering their little circle either. It was a delicate thing, something Taylor wasn't so sure she completely has a handle on yet, but they'd been making progress, and that's what mattered.

"Yeah. I like your friends." Wren nodded, eyes flickering back up to find Taylor's, no longer fixated on the sparkling 'L' pendant, blushing timidly when she realized how sweetly the blonde was already looking at her. "I didn't like Timothy's friends. They yelled a lot, and they broke things."

"My friends like you." Taylor booped the sweet girls nose, "They were so so excited when I told them you'd be coming to stay with me. You know, Hayley really wants to meet you."

Wren brightened at the news, accidentally knocking Taylor in the nose when she perked up, giggling apologetically when the blonde groaned with playful spirits. "Sorry." Wren covered her mouth with little painted nails, smiling cheekily when she assured that Taylor wasn't really hurt, just pretending because according to her, 'she has a flare for the dramatics'. "Hayley wants to meet me?" She backtracked, a bright elation in her kaleidoscope eyes. If Taylor believed in Cupid, she'd have though he shot her straight in the heart.

"She does. We'll have to make time for a visit soon, huh?" She combed her fingers through Wren's knotted hair, making a mental note to brush it out before they left for the airport. Her little girl bobbed her head enthusiastically.

"Does she live in New York like Blake?" Wren asked hopefully, wanting something good to come out of the months they'd be spending in New York.

"Sorry buddy." Taylor shook her head, effectively crushing the tiny sliver of hope Wren was clinging to. It wasn't that she wasn't looking forward to exploring New York with Taylor, because she absolutely was, she had loved and marveled over the little parts of the city that she could remember, but it felt so secluded as opposed to how they were living in Tennessee. Andrea loved here, Austin came to visit here, Scott still has a house here. After eight years of never having any relatives, never having any proper holidays, never having enough love, she had finally found it all, she was finally getting comfortable with it — looking forward and inquiring about days when they could spend hours with Andrea and Kitty — and now that was being taken away for a place with only a handful of friends that wouldn't always be around. "But, when we come visit Texas next time, I'll make sure that we see Hayley and Selena, how does that sound?"

"Is New York lonely?" Wren frowned up at Taylor, moving past the disappointment of delayed introductions.

"What makes you ask that, honey?" Taylor matches her frown, eyebrows creasing together in worry as she searches the depths of Wren's cloudy eyes for any indication of what could possibly be troubling her so much.

"You've got lotsa friends here, and Andie's here, and sometimes Mr. Scott and Austin are here. Only Blake's in New York, that sounds lonely."

Taylor smiled fondly at her daughters innocent concern, "New York isn't lonely, Roo. There's so much to do that it makes up for not always having a lot of friends to go and visit, but there's usually somebody around if you ask enough people. Remember how I told you about my squad?" That hadn't been a conversation she was particularly intent on having so early on, mostly for the public backlash she faced and the sour taste that still lingers in her mouth years later, but also because she didn't want Wren to adopt a skewed sense of friendships versus cliques by taking her words the wrong way, but they'd watched the Bad Blood music video one rainy night, and it had left the little girl with a plethora of questions pertaining to all the women featured.

"Yeah!" Wren bobbed her little head, "You were friends with two Hayleys!"

That minuscule piece of information had fascinated Wren beyond belief when she found that out, and they'd spent the better part of twenty minutes differentiating between Williams and Steinfeld's careers afterward. Taylor had that music video to thank for her daughters downward spiral into a Paramore obsession, but she wouldn't change a single thing about it. It was the greatest honor to watch Wren become her own little individual with all kinds of likes and dislikes and hobbies and phases and idols. "I was friends with two Hayley's! But, remember how one of them is spelt?"

They'd been working on spelling ever since Wren decided to write letters to all of Taylor's friends, and she'd been growing increasingly confident with alternative spellings since then, just another little mundane thing that Taylor found immense joy in. "H-A-I-L-E-E! And my Hayley's name is spelt H-A-Y-L-E-Y!"

"That's right, superstar!" Taylor raised her palm for a high-five, which Wren happily reciprocated, grinning at the sting that spread through her palm and fingers. "A lot of them live in New York, that's where most of them work full time!"

"Where do you work?" Wren's head tilt resembled a puppy as she craned her neck inquisitively, once again losing that grip of dread that had plagued her only minutes ago.

"Everywhere!" Taylor wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, before she tapped Wren's thigh, motioning for the little girl to spin around on the counter so she was facing the mirror instead of Taylor's chest. They needed to tackle her hair sooner or later, and Taylor would rather have it done by time they were rushing around to leave. The blonde reached for a brush as she explained the logistics of her job, starting from the knotted ends of Wren's hair and working her way up until the bristles ram through smoothly. "When I want to work with specific people, sometimes I travel to where they live, and I get to stay in super fun hotels or I rent really big houses and pretend I'm a princess in a new castle. Pony or braids?" Taylor paused, waiting for Wren's answer on how she wanted her hair.

"Braids." The little girl reached for the jar of clear elastics, fishing out two before she handed them off to Taylor who pinched one between her teeth and the other around her thumb while she parted Wren's hair down the center of her head.

"The plan is to record some of my next album in New York, and some of it in Los Angeles. I think you'll like LA, you won't have to wear your big coat." Taylor teased, her words slightly slurred together as a result of the thin plastic barrier between her clenched teeth.

"I don't like big coats." Wren agreed, resisting the urge to bob her head as Taylor worked on twisting some of her hair into a long braid.

When the singers phone buzzed from a notification on the counter, effectively interrupting Misguided Ghosts, which Wren was not thrilled about, she didn't have the hands to reach for it, but she could read Hayley's name on the screen of her phone. "Will you pick it up, bug? It's Hayley."

Wren hummed her compliance, eagerly reaching for the abandoned phone when Taylor paused her braiding, giving the girl some slack to move around without pulling her own hair. She knew Taylor's password without having to ask, typing in the six digit code eagerly and swiping to open the message, giggling at the picture of herself when she saw it again.

"I look silly." She commented, before she focused her attention on Hayley's response.

Hayley
How can I argue with that face? Paramore had a good run while it lasted!

Hayley
Where are you gonna be next month?

Taylor peered over Wren's shoulders to read the messages for herself, working on tying off the end of the single french braid she'd accomplished before starting the new section, going through the same process of sectioning off and twisting the thin strands.

"Tell her we'll be in New York until March." Taylor informed, watching Wren's little fingers scour around the keyboard for the letters she needed. It might not be a conventional education approach for a nine-year-old little girl, but Taylor tried her best to incorporate age appropriate activities into their days whenever she could. For today, this little task would have to be good enough until they got settled in New York and she introduced the workbooks and homeschool curriculum.

Taylor
New York until March

Taylor grinned over Wren's shoulder as she watched the little girl correctly type out the words without her help or autocorrect, even remembering to capitalize the month. She grinned even wider when Wren opened the front camera, raising the phone that was too big for her little hands so that both of their faces could be seen, taking a picture and sending it to Hayley.

Hayley
Am I talking to the Wren right now?!
*image attached*

Wren giggled when the notification came through in seconds, attached being a selfie of the southern woman laying down on her couch, colored hair sprawled all around her head as she wore comedically large sunglasses inside and a baggy white t-shirt, grinning just as cheekily as Wren had been in the first picture sent.

"How do you spell phone?" Wren frowned, stuck on the word that sounded like it should start with an 'F', but she knew that it didn't, racking her brain for the correct combination of letters, she couldn't quite recall which ones made the sound. "It's not F."

"P-H." Taylor guided, eyes flickering across the phone screen as she monitored the conversation, tying off the second braid with an accomplished snap of the elastic.

As she stood back and just watched Wren submerge herself into a conversation that she wasn't guiding, her heart swelled with a sickening pride that made her queasy and excited at the same time. It had taken a lot of tears and even more patience, but it was undeniable that Wren was gaining her confidence back, not so easily shaken anymore. What would Taylor do when she wasn't needed anymore?

Taylor
Tay is doing my hair so I have her phone! We're going on a plane to London!
*image attached*

Wren's attention drifted from the phone when the front door opened downstairs, and two sets of footsteps echoed through the empty hallways that had no idea that in only a few short hours, they'd be alone with the quiet of isolation for months. The only visitor the girls were expecting was Andrea, and with equally panicked expressions, their gaze connected in the mirror as Wren leaned back into Taylor's chest, gnawing at her bottom lip, that sickening feeling of dread chilling her bones for the fourth time since sunrise.

"Munchkin!" Wren gasped as she heard Austin's voice bellow through the apartment and up the stairs, muffled by doors and furniture, but distinct enough to settle the unease climbing up her bones. Handing the phone back to Taylor, she shimmied off the countertop, racing through the bedroom and down the stairs (taking them two at a time like she always did), until she was close enough to leap onto the youngest Swift's back, hugging him tightly.

"You said you were going home!" She accused, feigning a displeased expression as she leaned over his shoulder to stare into his icy eyes.

"I couldn't leave without a proper goodbye from my favorite girl." Austin laughed, maneuvering her little body until she was properly held against his chest, little arms snaked around his neck and holding on tightly.

"You're in my house, remember?" Taylor chastised from the top of the stairs, her eyes looking over the top of her phone screen as she wrapped up the conversation with Hayley, a gleam of mischief in her blue stare that could rival Austin's; even if the younger of the duo was more outwardly silly.

Taylor
Mom and Austin just got here to say goodbye, the little boss has been stolen, expect another selfie when she's bored at the airport 😝

"You're my third favorite girl. Don't get butthurt!" Austin teased slickly, winking at Andrea as he dramatically jostled Wren's little body around until she was a mess of giggles, clinging onto the neckline of his shirt. "You all ready to go?"

Wren nodded, pointing to the suitcases by the door. They were different from the duffle bags she packed the last time she went away anywhere, but it felt less permanent to know that her entire life wasn't in one small bag. She wouldn't be going anywhere for too long, this wasn't like the last time. "Sulley's in there." She pouted, displeased with her stuffed friend being trapped inside of the rolling case, but Taylor said it was best if she only had Bluey with her on the plane so nobody got lost or forgotten.

"He'll meet you in London." Austin ruffled her light hair, laughing boisterously when his hands were batted away and Taylor endearingly smoothed down the frizzy strands before Wren could do it herself.

"Give me back my kid." The blonde rolled her eyes, snatching Wren from Austin before her brother had time to either comply or completely ignore her; which she knew would've been what happened. Wren leeched around the older woman's neck, wrapping her legs around Taylor's waist before she laid her head down and hid away in the darkness it provided, suddenly overwhelmed with what was to come. She'd be saying goodbye, and she didn't like that at all. "You wanna say bye-bye to Andie before we have to leave?" Taylor asked softly, pulling her fingers through the ends of knotted brown hair, unconsciously swaying their entangled bodies when she felt Wren tense.

The little girl shook her head adamantly, clinging tightly to the source of her comfort. She didn't want to let go, and she especially did not want to say goodbye.

"Okay, baby." Taylor cooed, keeping a hand on the center of Wren's back, wanting to feel her breathing for her own sake of staying grounded. "The car's going to be here in ten." Taylor announced to her mother and brother, embracing Andrea in a hug first, with Wren pressed between their warm bodies.

"Bye, honey. I'll see you soon, okay? And you can tell me all about London and how you're liking school." Andrea caressed the back of Wren's head, leaving a soft kiss on the little girls shoulder before she kissed Taylor's cheek and stepped back. It didn't matter how many times Taylor left, it would always be emotional. This was her first baby, but she wasn't a baby anymore, she was a grown woman who had accomplished so much for herself.

"Bye Teff. Bye Wrenny Beau-Benny." Austin teased gently, embracing his sister tightly, laying a sweet kiss on his nieces head before the blonde pulled away and everything became real. "Don't come back with a british accent." Austin prodded the little girls ribs with a teasing finger, and while he didn't get the laugh he'd hoped for, he saw an inkling of a smile on her terrified face, and that was good enough.

When Austin and Andrea left the already quiet apartment, the echoey halls reflected what was to come, but before Wren could fully process what she was being thrown into, Taylor got a text saying their car had arrived downstairs, and Alex would be up to grab their bags in a few minutes.

"Alright, baby love. Off to London."

Chapter Text

i've been spending the last eight months thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end, but on a wednesday in a cafe, i watched it begin again

DECEMBER 31st, 2019

Little cheeks were flush from the cold, little hands were covered by fluffy blue gloves knitted by yarn covered in sparkles. Little feet stomped against a cobblestone path, heavy purple snow boots making impressions on freshly fallen powder. The night was young, dressed in darkness but still very much alive as two southern Americans navigated central London, searching for a specific sparkling apple juice.

"Watch where you're going, Wrenny!" Taylor laughed, guiding her daughter away from a clearly intoxicated couple on the path, giving the women an apologetic smile that they waved off endearingly. The strangers smiled at the sight, not bothered by the little body that had narrowly avoided running straight into them, their drunken giggles perfectly aligned with the intentions of New Years as they continued on their walk to the next pub Taylor supposed. "You've gotta open your eyes when you walk, silly."

"But, I'm trying to catch the snowflakes!" Wren giggled her protests, racing ahead of Taylor on the dimly lit path, stopping just before the street light and somewhat busy intersection, tipping her head back and sticking out her tongue, green eyes pinched shut as she tried to capture the icy snow in her mouth.

"You've had too much sugar." Taylor mutters beneath her breath, silently cursing herself for letting the little one dip her hand into the candy bowl an outrageous amount of times within the last few hours. When she caught up with her buzzing daughter, her little eyes still pinched shut as she craned her neck further back, not having any luck with the sporadically falling snow. "Eyes open, Wren." Taylor nudged the child, grabbing her hand before she could take off again.

"After I catch a snowflake!" Wren disagreed, swinging her hand with Taylor's as she let the blonde blindly lead her around the town, head still turned toward the sky, eyes still pinched shut.

Taylor sighed, stopping on the sidewalk, letting her arm be yanked when Wren kept walking forward, not realizing that Taylor had paused. As amused as the older woman was, now wasn't the time to crack a smile at her oblivious little shadow who was entirely lucky she hadn't run face first into a light post yet. "Come here, Roo." Taylor coaxed the little brunette into her arms, keeping her close so her words could be heard over the cars on the streets.

"I'm trying to catch snowflakes!" Wren whined, wriggling in Taylor's grasp, trying to step back out into the center of the sidewalk where the snow was heaviest. The awning they stood under kept them from the shower of snow, much to her displeasure.

"Hey, hey, none of that." Taylor chided with furrowed blonde brows, not recognizing this side of Wren. She was always sweet, always compliant, always patient and attentive toward her surroundings, this was completely unusual, and equally unsettling. "Why are we not listening, baby?"

"I'm not a baby." Wren wriggled out of Taylor's embrace, standing on her own in the cold, crossing her arms over her chest, avoiding the blue eyes of her favorite person as she rocked on the balls of her feet.

Taylor frowned, majorly thrown off, trying not to take Wren's attitude personally. She'd never been pushed away, she'd never been shut down when she was just trying to help. This wasn't like Wren at all, but everything had been going so well ip until this point. Wren had been having such a good time. "I know you're not a baby, honey. What's going on, hm? Talk to me."

"I'm not a baby!" Wren shuddered, her nose scrunching upward as her lips quivered and her shoulders deflated. She refused to meet Taylor's eye, but the blonde could see unshed tears gathering in her waterline. "I'm not."

"You're not a baby, you're my baby though. Can I touch you, buddy?" Taylor raised her hand softly, watching with broken eyes as the little girl flinched backward, her eyes wild and frenzied as she search for impending danger. "I'm not going to hurt you, I'm never going to hurt you. It's just me, buddy. It's just Tay, can you look at me?"

Taylor was beyond conflicted and confused as she stood on a random street in London, wearing a sparkly silver dress beneath a long black coat. She'd been here too many times, at a crossroad stuck between what she knew and what was unknown. She had no idea where to go from here, staring at the face of a little girl she adored with her entire heart, seeing nothing but the shadow of someone she knew like the back of her hand. They hadn't been here since those very first nights in Tennessee, and Taylor's heart sank to her stomach wondering what could've led to this regression. So much trust had been built, a bond and understandings had been formed and mulled over — Wren had never pushed her boundaries before, but she had tonight, she'd been defiant and silly and like any other child, but now she was staring past Taylor like looking at her would only hurt.

"What's going on inside that little head, hm?" Taylor dropped her hand, trying to keep the hurt off her face. Wren didn't need to feel guilty for something she couldn't control, her feelings were relevant right now.

"I-I'm not a baby!" Wren repeated frantically, shuffling toward Taylor and hugging her around the waste, visibly distressed. Taylor didn't hesitant to reciprocate the embrace, cradling the back of Wren's head gently, letting her other hand hold the little angels cheek.

"There's nothing wrong with needing a little extra love, Wrenny." Taylor kissed the top of her head softly, forcing green eyes to look up at her. "What happened, hm?"

Wren pressed her face into Taylor's chest, sniffling quietly to herself as she fiddled with the black ties on the waistband of Taylor's coat. "I heard Joe."

Even with her voice muffled and quiet, Taylor heard Wren loud and clear, and her blood ran cold the second she processed what her daughter meant. All she could see was hot white anger, grounding her teeth together in annoyance as guilt pooled in her belly.

DECEMBER 30th, 2019
LAST NIGHT

Joe was absolutely livid as he paced back and forth in the living room, surely burning holes into the hardwood as he waited impatiently for Taylor to come back downstairs and join him on the sofa. She'd been attempting to put Wren to bed for the last hour, and every time he thought she'd be coming down, the quiet continued on and he remained alone with two wine glasses slowly becoming warm. They'd been together for days, the end of her trip approaching faster then either of them could fully grasp, yet every time he attempted to get close with his girlfriend and make up for lost time in sexually suggestive ways, that little girl did something to intervene, whether it was intentionally or not.

Taylor had barely even looked in his direction since her flight landed, so preoccupied with a foster kid that wouldn't be around forever that she didn't spare him a second glance. Everything had revolved around Wren since she'd arrived. They ate what she liked, they watched what she wanted, and when they finally had the night to themselves without any interruptions, all Taylor wanted to talk about was the kid; like she'd never been happier.

When Taylor finally did come back downstairs almost two full hours later, her t-shirt was wrinkled around the collar, no doubt from how tightly Wren had been clinging onto her. She frowned at the sight of Joe so worked up from whatever internal conflict he'd let consume him, but she didn't dwell on it, wanting to enjoy a quiet night with him before she left that Wednesday.

"Sorry, she didn't want to go down. I think she was a little spooked by your neighbors. Did you pick a movie?" She smiled brightly, pushing aside her own exhaustion in favor of spending a few hours with the man she flew all this way to see. Admittedly, things had been tense between them, but they hadn't been completely unpleasant either, so she tried not to dwell on his blatant discomfort around Wren. She figured he was just adjusting, trying not to rustle any feathers, letting things come naturally if they ever would. He'd been so supportive about her getting her license and equally as encouraging when she first mentioned Wren, he'd been quick to give her the green light when she brought up how fostering a child might change the dynamic of their relationship, she hadn't even considered that he was going back on those promises now that he saw it firsthand.

"W-What's wrong?" She stuttered, stepping away from his warm body when she felt his hands push against her shoulders, his body stiff under her gentle kiss.

"Your wine is warm." He nodded toward the two glasses on the coffee table, and Taylor furrowed her brows in confusion. She'd told him she was putting Wren to bed before she went upstairs, she told him she'd be down when she could slip away without causing a meltdown, she'd made it clear that some nights took longer then others and he shouldn't wait for her, that she would just find him when she could, so why did he set out two glasses of wine and why was he so perturbed about them getting warm?

"Oh, well, we can just pour some more." She shrugged attempting to diffuse the situation, just wanting to melt into the couch and let her brain go numb until she fell asleep. "It was only a cheap bottle, it's not that big of a deal." She'd picked up the wine at a supermarket around the corner yesterday afternoon, leaving Joe to have a quiet house while he sorted out a last minute contracting conflict with his manager.

"That's not the point!" Joe growled lowly, shocking Taylor who hadn't expected this to become such an issue. It was only wine, wine that she bought, why did he care if some of it went down the drain?

"It's not that big of a deal, if we like it I can just pick up another bottle. I usually bring wine over for New Years anyways." She reached for the wine glasses on the table, fingers wrapping around the stems before Joe could grab them himself. She frowned, her points finger brushing against the base of the glass, noting that the wine wasn't even warm enough to consider it room temperature yet, but she had a feeling there was more then just wine weighing on Joe. "What's going on?"

"You've barely even looked at me all week!" Joe huffed out, raising his arms at his side in a petulant display of frustration.

"What do you mean? I thought we were having a nice time." Taylor wandered into the kitchen, dumping both glasses of wine down the drain, not in the mood to have any and definitely not wanting to deal with a drunk Joe while he's in this mindset.

"You've been having a nice time! I've been ignored! Two hours to put a nine-year-old to bed? She's not a baby, Taylor! She doesn't need you coddling her!" Joe raised his voice, trailing behind his girlfriend until both of them were chest to chest in the center of his homely little kitchen, pots and pans from dinner time still stacked on the drying mat.

"Lower your voice, I just got her to sleep." Taylor sighed, feeling annoyance bubble up in her belly as she looked her boyfriend over, hardly recognizing the man he'd become in recent weeks. "Now, what's the problem with me showing her a little bit of extra love? It's only ten o'clock, we still have plenty of time to relax on the couch like you wanted."

"Because you have time now? I'm just supposed to be okay with the fact that you've ignored me all day?" He growled lowly, slamming his hands down on the kitchen island when he turned his back to her, something he knows she hates.

"Don't turn your back on me, Joe. We're not going to play this game. I'm here. I'm four thousand miles away from home with a traumatized little girl that sacrificed her own routine and comfort because she knows that I wanted to see you, and I wanted to fix whatever this is. I'm not the one who got distant. I'm not the one who stopped calling and stopped texting . You made that choice without consulting me, but I'm still here because I want to try and save us." Taylor ran her hands through her knotted blonde hair, standing in the kitchen with only a pair of sleep shorts and a t-shirt on, face stripped of makeup and a smile. She knew that they needed to talk things through, but the last thing she had expected was for Joe to start yelling at her about how she chose to parent. "Is this about us, or is this about her?"

"It's about everything! It's about how I can't even hold your hand in my own fucking house without her wanting your attention! It's about how you won't even talk to me about you anymore! Every time we talk it's about her! You haven't even brought up the new project I signed onto!"

"She's the most important thing to me right now. That little girl is my entire world, she's the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. I'm sorry you can't understand that, but your feelings are not my responsibility. I came to you before I applied for my license. I made you aware of how this would change our relationship, you have to do the rest. Either try and accept that I have bigger priorities now, or end things right now, because nothing is going to change my mind about her." Taylor felt her eyes welling with tears as she stared into Joe's icy blue eyes.

"You haven't even known her for a month, Taylor! Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? She is not your daughter, she is not Betty! You can try and patch that hole all you want, but you'll never replace her! You need to find your head! She's a fucked up foster kid! It's not like she'll be around forever!" Taylor took a step back at Joe's blatant disregard for not only her feelings and her trauma, but Wren's.

Her sweet little girl didn't deserve to be seen as something disposable and temporary. So many people had given her that classification already, so many people had failed her, but she never anticipated that a man she once loved so deeply could fall into that same volatile position so easily. After everything she'd told him about Wren, she thought he'd see things clearer. She'd hoped that he could find it within himself to be happy for her, if nothing else. Wren wasn't some shiny object that would eventually lose its novelty, she was a little girl who needed security and love, and despite how she wanted to see herself, Taylor knew she was exactly the same. The aftermath of Betty, Kanye, Scott and Scooter — they had destroyed her, and she tried to keep up appearances, she tried to move on, she tried to act like she was perfectly okay and content and unbothered, but at the end of the day she fell into an empty bed with empty arms and just wished for the day she had a child to adore and a life that wasn't so against her.

"I-I think you need to walk away and get some air before you say something you'll regret." Taylor stuttered over a sob, her entire body trembling as she looked at Joe like he had just shattered the solid ground she walked on. There was no coming back from this, there was no fixing them. They wanted different things now, their hearts weren't in the same place, and somewhere along the lines he'd become the very people he'd initially tried to save her from.

"Tay-" A grimace of realization dawned on him when his words finally caught up with his thoughts, and a heavy guilt settled over his shoulders with just one look at the crestfallen glaze over his girlfriends eyes.

"I've heard enough for tonight, Joe. You don't want this kind of life with me and that's okay, but bringing my daughters into this... my miscarriage is not something you can throw in my face when your feelings get hurt. I know that I haven't been the most attentive partner these last few days, but being a mom is new and it's exciting, I want to talk about it, and I want to share my love for her. I won't apologize for that. You're the only one who has made me feel like I should. Wren is as much my daughter as Betty is, even if I didn't physically have her myself, you want to hurt me, go for it, call me whatever names you want I've heard them a million times, but I won't allow you to belittle that innocent little girl upstairs who just wanted you to like her." Taylor shook her head, a single tear escaping despite her best attempts to keep herself together. "I'm taking the second guest bedroom tonight."

DECEMBER 31st, 2019
PRESENT

"You were fighting b-because of me, and he was y-yelling and it was scary and it's my fault." Wren sniffled, digging her face into Taylor's chest wanting to block out the sights and lights that surrounded them.

"It is not your fault." Taylor said sternly, forcing Wren to look up at her once she managed to slip her finger beneath the little girls quivering chin. "Joe was mad at me, it had nothing to do with you. Sometimes when people are mad, they say things that aren't true because they want to hurt your feelings. That doesn't make what he said okay, but it doesn't make it true either. You are the best thing that's every happened to me, baby love. You're my daughter, no matter what anyone else says or thinks. Joe and I, we loved each other for a long time, but sometimes you just fall out of love and that's nobody's fault. We tried really really hard to make it work, and it's okay that it doesn't, but that's between us. So, you don't need to worry about it, okay? We're going to get you some apple juice, and we're going to go back to the party and celebrate your very first New Year's Eve, and tomorrow when we go home, everything will be exactly the same as before. It's you and me against the worst, Wrenny."

Wren whimpered her distress, craning her little neck until she was able to see all of Taylor's face, reaching her arms up until they tangled around Taylor's neck and silently begged for the older woman to pick her up. All she wanted was comfort, she'd been depriving herself of the woman's gentle touches all day, so blinded by the argument she'd only been able to hear one side of through the thin walls. Right now, she just wanted to be close, she just wanted her Taylor. "I'm sorry I wasn't listening." She apologized weekly, laying her head down on the blonde's shoulder, letting everything else slip away. She couldn't forget what she heard, she'd never be able to forget how her belly churned and her face burned with shame and embarrassment, but she had no reason not to trust Taylor in this moment.

Taylor smiled softly, seeing the beginning of the end in Wren's gentle kaleidoscope eyes. She may have lost the love of her life four hours before the new year rolled in, but she held her entire heart in her arms, and that was enough to ease the sting of a closing chapter. "All is forgiven, sweetheart."

lover. 

Chapter Text

our coming of age has come and gone, suddenly this summer it's clear, i never had the courage of my convictions, as long as danger is near

FEBRUARY 10th, 2020

Despite the silence that stretches throughout the lavish sky rise penthouse, there's a little girl hidden away upstairs, lost in her own imagination and innocent magic as the morning goes on around her. Her existence is hard to miss, even with the absence of her physical body, but if you look close enough at the organized chaos that covers coffee tables and couches, it's unmistakable. There's coloring books piled up neatly with a forty-eight count box of crayons situated on top, a Monsters Inc. throw blanket crumpled up into a ball on the floor by the couch, and at least three cups adorned with timeless characters on the side table that had once only held decorative candles and antiques. What's even harder to miss, is the pile of shoes by the front door, worn black converse that are adorably small nearly tripping the musician as she stumbles into the penthouse with a deep inhale. "Wrenny!" Taylor calls for the child, closing the heavy front door behind her sweaty body before she pulls the thin elastic out of her silky blonde hair, allowing crimped waves to fall down her shoulders and cling to the perspiration that glistens on her skin. "I asked you to pick these up yesterday!"

The silence that had come over the apartment since she'd left for the complex training rooms was suddenly disrupted, a steady commotion coming from upstairs that Taylor had become accustomed to since they'd truly settled down into life in New York City. It had taken a few weeks for Wren to adjust to being away from Nashville, and more specifically Andrea, but ever since she'd found a new routine and had realized that the mother of two would always answer her texts and calls, there'd been minimal hiccups, only the typical catastrophic meltdown, which was becoming less and less frequent as the months went on. Another loud sound that was muffled by the distance between two bodies bounced around the apartment, and the musician could picture Wren jumping off of her bed without needing to actually see it anymore. She smiled to herself at the little routine her daughter had unintentionally created for herself, not having the heart to tell her off for doing something so normal, even if she feared the day her daughters ankles gave out on impact. "Sorry!" The little girl bellowed sheepishly, a genuine gleam of sincerity glimmering beneath her colored eyes as she peaked her head around the banister of the stairs, still dressed in her pajamas but now sporting messy French braids that had become frizzy from a fitful nights sleep.

"You get some of your schoolwork done, bug?" Taylor doesn't dwell on the forgotten task, knowing they wren't intentionally left in the middle of the hallway, and that bringing anymore attention to the mistake would begin to unravel the peace that Wren was finally beginning to find for her. Instead, she kicks them up against the wall with her own tennis shoes herself, assuring that they're out of the way so no other near-accidents can occur. She'd have done it on her own in the first place if she wasn't slowly trying to reframe Wren's mindset on responsibility and punishments. They'd come a far way since meeting back in December, but Wren was still nothing close to the typical six-year-old, and it was oddly refreshing to see that she was comfortable enough to leave her shoes in a pile rather than in a meticulously straight and neat line.

"Mmhm!" Wren beamed, skipping down the stairs with a loose grip on the banister, her naked footsteps soft yet somehow simultaneously heavy. Taylor would miss these little inconsistencies that came with childhood, knowing her years to experience it were becoming quite limited. The little girl had started school the week after they'd come back from London, settling into the curriculum as easily as could be expected for a six-year-old that had never truly had any academic guidance or consistency, but she'd slowly been finding her footing and becoming confident in her schoolwork, and Taylor was beyond proud of her accomplishments and motivation. "I finished tomorrow's lesson already!"

"That's awesome, monkey!" Taylor smiled brightly at the news, her blue eyes sparkling with pride as she looked over at the frame of her daughter on the last step, "Do you need me to check anything over?"

Wren shook her head, declining the help with a cheeky grin on her lips that Taylor had no further insight on. There wasn't time to question her mischievous expression, because in seconds Wren had decided to close the gap between their bodies and bolt across the foyer to embrace the blonde in a tight hug around her waist, not bothered by the sticky perspiration that dampened the woman's athleisure attire. "I asked Aunt Blake." She announced, although the words came out in a muffled jumble as she dug her face into Taylor's chest, just needing a couple seconds to collect herself, clearly not having told the songwriter the truth about her night when Taylor had asked before she left. The woman knew the signs of a nightmare now, they always left exhaustion sitting on the child's shoulders, and her little voice was always twinged with lingering fear that only time and reassurance could shake. She'd been certain there'd been hints of it earlier that morning, yet Wren had waved her off and assured her that everything was okay. "She called when I was doing my geogragraphy work a'cause you weren't answering your phone, and said you left the studio keys in her kitchen."

"Damn it." Taylor cursed lowly, knowing she'd forgotten something when they left last night, just not realizing it was the keys she needed for today. They'd gotten into the habit of going over to Blake's for dinner once a week, usually on Friday's when Wren didn't have that many assignments to finish for school and James didn't have kindergarten the next morning. It was a sweet routine, one that helped both of them ease into this new dynamic and simultaneously kept their anxious minds and restless body's busy. If Blake had it her way, they'd be over for dinner every night, but that was still too much for Wren who became overstimulated and panicky after a couple of hours. They were making leaps and bounds of progress, but the little angel still beat herself up about everything she couldn't do 'normally'. "We'll stop by after breakfast, how does that sound?"

"Okay." Wren bobbed her head in agreement, still clinging to Taylor's midsection tightly. "I had a bad dream." She admitted softly, casting her gaze toward the floor so she didn't have to face the blonde woman she'd lied to only a handful of hours ago.

Taylor frowned knowingly, her fingers rubbing gentle circles on the little girls back overtop of her pink princess sleepwear. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you just want to come help me make breakfast?" As the months went on and trust was built, Taylor had begun to pick up on Wren's not so subtle avoidances. Understandably, the six-year-old didn't always want to talk about her nightmares first thing after they happened, so they did little things to keep her mind busy until she was ready to share. Sometimes, she never was, sometimes she kept her dreams and her flashbacks to herself to deal with and eventually move on from, but other times, when facing the aftermath of the trauma felt too daunting to carry on her own, they sat on the couch with mugs of steaming peppermint hot chocolate and ran through a checklist that Emily had suggested during one of her recent visits — Am I safe, Am I loved, Do I have a reason to be worried right now. The questions didn't fix everything, but Taylor had noticed that at the very least, they leveled out some of the worry and anxiety that came with the repressed memories Wren saw at night until she could convince the little angel that she really was safe and sound.

"Know that I'm okay." Wren shook her head at the thought of talking about her nightmare, which wasn't any different than the one she'd told Taylor about last week. She wasn't scared, for the most part, she'd long since overcome the fear that had been embedded in those horrific memories, instead, she was left with sadness now, but that could be handled by herself. She didn't need to run through her checklist, she just wanted Taylor's attention. She'd heard Joe's voice in her dreams all night, that argument from late December taking up space in her mind no matter how hard she tried to just forget about it entirely. She knew what he said wasn't true, Taylor had proved that it wasn't, but it still hurt. It might always hurt. "We can make french toast?"

"We had french toast yesterday!" Taylor teased, poking at Wren's sides until the little girl bubbled with laughter and wiggled away from the prodding touches. "We can make french toast." The blonde conceded with an easy smile pulling at the corners of her lips, her hands cupping both of Wren's cheeks tenderly, drawing her little girl in close enough to kiss. "Let me shower first, okay? I'm all stinky."

"No." Wren shook her head petulantly, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she reattached herself to Taylor's waist, squeezing tightly.

"Oh, I've got a clingy little peanut today, hm?" Taylor laughed endearingly, the sound echoing through their apartment and bouncing off the naked walls that hadn't seen a redesign since the picture frames had been impulsively taken down. The hope was to replace them with stills of Wren that Taylor had taken over the months, but they'd found themselves constantly moving since January and hadn't thoughtfully committed any time towards the project. Innocently, Wren adored the echoey rooms and visual clarity that minimalism provided, which she didn't hesitate to make known everytime she decided to test that the echoes hadn't gone away overnight. When Taylor's question registered, the excitement of the echoes dwindling, Wren nodded her head matter-of-factly, digging her face into Taylor's chest despite the stench of sweat on her skin. "Come on, little miss. Your spot on the counter is waiting." The blonde joked, pulling Wren up in her arms until she was settled on her hip, taking the stairs two at of time. They'd gotten into a habit of sitting together in the mornings as they went about their typical routines, Taylor assumed that it had been to reaffirm Wren's peace of mind, so that the little girl could visibly see she wasn't alone and didn't need to worry, but either way it didn't bother her. Wren sat on the counter while she showered, rearranging and sorting through her makeup and skincare, sometimes telling little stories that had no real meaning, or singing songs that had been stuck in her head.

"Can I practice my braids on you?" The little girl questioned hopefully, laying her head down on Taylor's shoulder, twirling the crimped blonde strands around her little fingers as she listened to the dull beat of the woman's heart.

"Of course, buddy. You're getting so good at them, you're not gonna need me pretty soon." As Taylor stepped into the bedroom with Wren wrapped around her body tightly, she switched on the lights with a practiced ease, quick to begin sifting through her drawers until she found a pair of light washed jeans and a black t-shirt, something inconspicuous enough that would attract only minimal attention on the streets if anyone happened to be paying close enough attention to them.

"No, I want you to do my hair forever and ever." Wren sulked at the prospect of ever having to do her own hair again, pouting her bottom lip out as she gazed up at Taylor with doe-like eyes that pleaded for her fate to remain the same as it currently was. The blonde laughed softly at the expressive pout, shaking her head.

"I'll do your hair for as long as you let me." She booped the little girls nose fondly, grabbing her undergarments before she stepped into the bathroom and set Wren and her clothes down on the counter like she did nearly every morning.

"Are we gonna see Joe?" The question had seemingly come out of nowhere, but since that night in late December when snow had fallen over barren streets, the fear of his unexpected presence had rattled the little girl that had only just escaped the torturous environment of the Tilghman's. She'd dwelled on the possibility of his arrival since they'd left him behind in London, fought nervously with her imaginative mind that created narratives where he showed up again, only to say the same mean things or worse. Her voice was low, quiet and rushed with nervousness in the elegant en-suite bathroom, and for the first time, Taylor could visibly see just how much that argument had haunted her baby. The sad reality however, was that the anxiousness Wren felt wasn't uncalled for, and there was nothing that Taylor could do to quell it. Within the next handful of days, they'd be back in London — back where everything had seemingly fallen out of place, and tragically, it was perfectly acceptable for the little girl who had never known unconditional love to worry about her safety. They were leaving tomorrow afternoon, the plane already in New York awaiting their arrival, and it would only be a short while after that when Taylor would be dragging Wren through the place where she'd heard her biggest fears and insecurities be used as a weapon. She herself would be lying if she said the weight of that fact wasn't beginning to suffocate her.

"No." She shook her head adamantly, halfway undressed as her jogging pants pooled around her ankles awkwardly. She'd learnt very quickly that it didn't matter to Wren how many or how little clothes she had on, all the little girl saw was a parental figure that could provide comfort, so Taylor didn't even think about the fact that she was standing in front of her anxious daughter wearing nothing but bright pink underwear and a tank-top. Modesty wasn't her priority now, nor had it been for quite some time. Assuring safety and comfortable unconditional love was, and that priority would never lose its weight; no matter how much progress Wren made in adjusting to life with the superstar. "We're not going to see him. Is that what your dream was about, baby?" She asked softly, cupping Wren's cheeks in her hands so that she couldn't look away and hide from the truth that had slowly been eating at her.

Timidly, Wren nodded her head, the action minuscule but harrowing as Taylor felt the slight movement between her shaky palms. "I know he was just being mean 'cause he was sad, but I didn't like it. H-He sounded like Timothy." She deflated in Taylor's hands, and the guilt the musician felt a month and a half ago in London resurfaced like it had never left. Her daughter had been plagued with unimaginable trauma the very first time they'd met, and she'd walked her into that situation knowing that sad reality. She let it happen, even if she never could've anticipated it.

"Timothy can't hurt you anymore, my love. And, Joe can't hurt you either. I won't let that happen again. I won't let anything like that happen ever again. They're both gone forever." Taylor kissed the little girls nose with tender delicacy, bringing Wren back down to earth as she watched her beautiful eyes glaze over with thoughts that spiraled into darkness and her breathing begin to increase shallowly. "It was scary, huh?" She questioned, her dazzling blue eyes light with understanding. She didn't need to hear Wren's answer to know how the little girl had felt in that moment, so she continued on without hesitation, not wanting this moment of connection to become overwhelming. "I was scared too. It's never okay for someone to make you feel scared, but it is okay to be scared anyways. If nothing scares you, then there's nothing keeping you safe." Wren was too young to fully grasp the meaning in Taylor's softly spoken assurances, the delicate scrunch of her freckle dusted nose reaffirmed that, but the weight of her words would last a lifetime, and that gentle reminder would hopefully guide her daughter through challenging periods of her life. "Sometimes I have nightmares about it, but it's over now. We got out. So, tomorrow we're going to take the plane to London, and you're going to stay at the hotel with Mr. Greg while I'm working. I'm going to be gone for a couple of hours, and then when I get back we can order all of the desserts you want and have a party in the room. Just me and you. No bedtime." Taylor wiggled her eyebrows, hopefully selling the incentive and by the way that Wren giggled, wrapping her arms around Taylor's neck as she squirmed in excitement, she knew that she did.

"No bedtime!" She cheered, letting the weight of all her worries fall off her shoulders for the time being. "I dunno know why I'm scared." Her voice dropped back down to that shaky and quiet whisper that Taylor hated, but she didn't dwell on it.

"That's okay, baby. Being scared isn't something bad. I get scared, Aunt Blake and Aunt Hayley and Aunt Selena get scared. Sometimes there isn't a reason, and sometimes it feels super silly to be nervous, right?" Taylor asked gently, watching the gears turn in Wren's head as she eventually nodded along.

"He didn't hurt you, and he didn't hurt me. He just said mean things, everyone says mean things sometimes." She whispered, remembering the conversation she had with Taylor on the streets of London back in December. Sometimes people say mean things because they don't know what else to say and they're own feelings are hurt, but that still doesn't make it right and it doesn't make it easy to forgive. For the first time, Wren didn't think she wanted to forgive. She forgave Timothy when he hurt her because she thought that would make him like her at least a little bit. She forgave Adrianna because Timothy was scary, and she didn't want the woman to feel like she was trapped with him. But, she didn't think she had it in her to forgive anyone else, especially not Joe, especially because he hadn't only hurt her, he'd hurt Taylor too.

"You have had to deal with so much in your little life, baby love. It's okay to be scared, as long as you don't let it stop you from doing something you want to do. Being scared can be a good thing, just as much as it can be a bad thing. I'm scared of getting hurt on stage, so I take care of my body so that's less likely to happen. But, it can also keep us from doing something we might really like, but we were too scared to find out." Taylor said pointedly, hoping that she hadn't confused the little girl that was still so new to life. She would hate to see the argument with Joe shape Wren's future anymore than life with the Tilghman's already had. She knows how much Wren had loved London before everything fell apart, she knows how much her little bug adores traveling and seeing new places, and she knows how much she loves hotels even if it's something she doesn't understand. She'd hate to see that all be dampened by an argument that hadn't even really been about her.

"When am I gonna not be scared anymore?" Wren pouted, leaning against Taylor's chest, letting the blonde wrap her up in a tight embrace.

"I don't know, baby girl. If it was up to me you'd never be scared of the past again." Taylor said softly, pulling away from the embrace so she could look Wren over. "Are you okay now? We got it all out?"

"Mmhm. Are you okay? I know you cry sometimes." Wren stabbed Taylor in the chest with her innocent question and worried eyes, her sweet heart so untouched by the cruelties that haunted her. Her attentiveness was scary, and something that Taylor constantly overlooked. She'd had no idea that Wren knew about the nights she cried herself to sleep, but she should've. Her little girl had a heart too big for her body, and she picked up on the slightest indications that others weren't okay even if she could barely recognize her own trauma triggers.

"I'm a little bit scared too. But I know that I'm okay when you're with me. We look out for each other." Taylor held up her pinky, to which Wren easily reciprocated the action and twisted hers around Taylor's, bringing them up to her lips to kiss like she'd been shown all those weeks ago. Taylor did the same, smiling before she disappeared into the shower and left her gym clothes in a pile on the floor.

𓇢𓆸

As promised, once Taylor had gotten out of the shower and re-dressed in clothes appropriate for the slight chill that blew through alleyways in the city, she'd sat patiently on the floor of her bedroom allowing Wren to weave two nearly identical french braids into her drenched curls. She felt immensely better than she had when she'd initially returned from the gym; always in better spirits once she'd washed the evidence of an intense core workout off of her aching body and replaced it with whatever sweet smelling body wash she had in the shower at the time. The french braids thrown over her shoulders were looser than she would've done herself and how they settled against her shoulder blades created puddles on the back of her black t-shirt as she and Wren walked hand-in-hand down the busy streets of Tribeca — occasionally pointing out an extravagant mural encouraging kindness or stopping at a street vendor to smell locally grown wildflowers — but each time she felt the weight of them swing in time with her rhythmic steps, she saw a flash of the last few months and couldn't deny that slowly, progress was being made.

Unsurprisingly, Wren had insisted on matching with the blonde when she'd seen what outfit Taylor had picked out for the day ahead of them. They'd matched a handful of times back in Tennessee, but since they'd settled into New York, Wren had become more adamant about matching as often as Taylor would allow; which was anytime she asked, though Wren hadn't quite figured that part out yet. Wearing her own pair of acid washed jeans and a black t-shirt, the child's hair was braided down her back in perfect french braids that gave a certain sharpness to her still baby-ish features, though anyone walking alongside of them wasn't aware of that minuscule detail as the child's face was concealed by a Philadelphia Eagles hat and dark tinted black sunglasses the same designer brand as Taylor's. The only difference between their outfits were the shoes that they'd slipped on before heading out the door. Where Taylor had gone with a pair of chunky white sneakers, Wren had slipped on her trusty black converse, which came as no surprise to the musician. If Taylor had to guess why Wren was so obsessed with the hightop shoes, she'd say it was probably because she was two inches taller with them on, and that just slightly made peering over countertops and reaching elevator buttons easier. Either way, the little obsession was cute, and finally something that Taylor could lean into and support without the lingering fear of triggering a traumatic breakdown. Wren had no idea, but Taylor had ordered her a custom pair the same style as her current ones, and they'd be waiting for her in the penthouse when they returned from London. That was still a few days away but they'd pass the time quickly. Somehow, it felt like time was flying by now that Wren was in the musicians life.

With bellies full and warm from a homemade breakfast of french toast and scrambled eggs, that hadn't stopped them from stopping at a small cafe down the street from their apartment to pick up some hot chocolate, of course with peppermint, and mini donuts. It had become a sacred part of their day whenever Taylor needed to stop by the studio, and seeing the gleam of pure excitement on Wren's face each time she licked the frosting off the donuts before eating them made the purchase more than worth it.

"You've got it all over your face, silly girl!" Taylor beamed with laughter, stopping at an intersection when the streetlight turned red, using the pad of her thumb to brush away the strawberry icing that was smeared across Wren's upper lip and cheek. "How'd you manage that one?"

"I dunno!" Wren giggled, "It was yummy!" She declared, though her stillness expired rather quickly, and she squirmed away from Taylor's fingers when the blonde kept prodding at her face. Her little nose scrunched up in horror as she watched Taylor lick the pad of her thumb, about to bring it down against her cheek before she successfully wiggled free. "No, Tay!" She whined, making the blonde laugh lightheartedly as she stole another swipe in the short moment of distraction, finally getting the last of the pink sugar off of Wren's face.

"Keep the icing in your mouth next time then, trouble." Taylor teased but continued to guide Wren across the crosswalk when the white signal flickered. The mother-daughter duo passed libraries and drugstores, happy families and lone businesswomen, taxies and ubers, on their walk to the Reynold's penthouse, and diligently commented on the things that caught their eye as they continued down the familiar route. It wasn't a close walk, they normally took one of Taylor's security vehicles, but it wasn't that far either, and they had time to kill before the appointment at the studio, so just enjoying the somewhat warm day was a good way to get them out of the apartment for a while longer than usual.

When the penthouse was in sight, just two buildings down from the street corner, Wren's pace quickened significantly, and it was no question to Taylor about why it had changed. "I wanna press the button!" She exclaims eagerly, only dropping Taylor's hand when they were steps away from the entrance, not even waiting for conformation before she reached up on her highest tip-toes and pressed one of the buttons highest up on the black box bolted to the side of the doorframe. When she felt it click beneath her fingers, she turned to Taylor with a radiant smile, beyond proud of herself for not only assisting in their journey, but remembering which button needed to be rung without any help.

"Good job, monkey." Taylor laughed softly, unaware that something so simple could make a person positively beam from inside to outside. Wren wasn't the only one learning how to enjoy life without the shackles of trauma, Taylor was learning right alongside her, watching as things she'd classified as 'insignificant' or 'mundane' became the child's entire world. It was a retrospective look at how adulthood changed perspectives without any indication of it happening at all, but Taylor was earnestly trying to rewrite her belief system, wanting to share Wren's uncontainable joy however it came to be.

They walked into the lobby of the lavish complex hand-in-hand, smiling at the clerk stationed behind the front desk who recognized them from the night before and didn't so much as stop them to ask who they were intending to visit. At this point, all of the staff recognized Wren and Taylor from their visits that happened at least four times a month, oftentimes more for instances like this or spontaneous lunches with Blake when Ryan had the girls out at an activity, and most of them had stopped asking them for identification at all, allowing them to stroll toward the elevator uninterrupted; though having already received a call from the Reynold's residence about their anticipated arrival eased some of the lingering concern that it had been a visit the penthouse occupants weren't expecting. Wren marveled at the chandelier on the ceiling, attempting to count the low hanging crystals — just like she did every time they came to visit. Her head turned toward the gold light fixture, and had Taylor not softly guided her toward the elevator doors with a gentle hand splayed across the center of her back, she would've stood there for hours trying and failing to get an accurate count of the dazzling glass pearls.

"Are you going to push the button or keep staring at the lights, goose?" Taylor teased, her gentle question snapping Wren out of her daze instantly. The little girl brightened at the offer, usually having to fight Taylor over who got to press the button — again, she always won the 'fight' but she hadn't quite caught onto that fact yet — and jutted her little pointer finger out to press the gold plated up arrow four times before her hand was smacked away and she receives an amused but strict glare; another routine that Taylor truly had no interest in breaking but scolded each time anyways. "One time is enough, baby."

"But it dings!" Wren cackled in excitement, her laughter echoing through the lobby of the complex as they waited for the lift to come down to collect them. For added effect, because she'd finally discovered that taunting Taylor was simple and didn't result in harsh punishment, she snaked her other hand out toward the button, wiggling on her toes when the 'ding' sound came from the panel once more.

Despite her amusement, Taylor raises a pointed eyebrow that is a weak attempt at a scold, "No more, or I'm eating all your chocolate coins when we get home." She taunts, not meaning her threat at all and Wren is more than aware, before stepping into the elevator when the doors opened and invited them inside with a delicate chime. Despite the knowledge that Taylor wouldn't actually eat her chocolate coins, they'd talked in length about respecting the other persons belongings and not touching anything without explicit permission, Wren gasped in shock as she swiftly followed Taylor's path into the lift, pressing the same button she pressed every time they came to see Blake and Ryan when the doors closed.

"No you won't!" She puffed out her chest, crossing her little arms over her torso, efficiently covering the white words pressed across her chest that say '#1 Swiftie' in capital letters. Four months ago, if anyone would've told the blonde that she'd be buying her own bootleg merch without a second of hesitation, she'd have laughed in their face and called them delusional, but she just couldn't say no to Wren when she came barreling into the kitchen after seeing the hoodie on a more than deranged google search. Taylor still has no idea what Wren had initially been searching for to even stumble upon a site filed with knock-off merch and fan-made designs, but she'd spent a pretty penny on the admittedly adorable items that the little girl had pointed to eagerly.

"Do you want to find out?" Taylor quirked a challenging eyebrow down at her cheeky little shadow, but her pink lips curled into a playful smirk the second their watercolored eyes locked together. She was only messing around, but chocolate coins were serious business to the little girl on her left, and even if they weren't in any real danger, Wren wasn't letting go of the threat anytime soon.

The child sulked through the hall when the elevator doors opened with a chime, following exactly three steps behind Taylor until they found themselves in front of the Reynolds front door — the only door on the floor, the penthouse having been built in a similar style to the apartment Taylor rented out in LA and Tennessee. Neither had the chance to knock before Blake was throwing the front door open, clearly having been waiting for them since Wren had pressed the buzzer outside, reveling the messy penthouse and shrieking children somewhere unknown inside.

"Tay— What did you do to my niece? What did she do to you, baby?" Blake's happy disposition shifted instantaneously when her soft eyes landed upon Wren, who still had that deep frown on her little lips and stood with her little shoulders pressed up to her ears standing slightly behind Taylor. It was unusual to see her so far away, normally Taylor was having to pull her back by the shoulders so she wasn't right in their faces when the door opened.

"She said she'd eat all of my chocolate coins!" Wren rushed past Taylor into Blake's already open arms, being scooped up by the honey blonde actress without even a second of hesitation. She was getting better at adjusting, her comfortability having expanded since leaving Nashville behind. She was letting her walls down without having any minor (or major) breakdowns or needing constant reassurance from Taylor, but letting anyone outside of the Swift family hold her and coddle her was still a big step, one that made Taylor's heart leap every time that it happened, even if she was on the receiving end of Blake's glare currently. Wren's entire demeanor was all for show however, something that both Taylor and Blake knew but didn't comment on, allowing the little girl to think she'd pulled one over on them both. That was something she'd learned from Ryan, watching closely each time he pretended to genuinely be upset by something the kids or Blake had said in conversation; although Austin was just as much to blame for her newfound love of mischief and teasing as the actor. She smirked mischievously at the blonde once she'd settled into Blake's arms, having no protests about staying there until she was placed on her own feet. If the glint in her eyes was any indication of her feelings, Taylor could gather that she was beyond proud of herself for constructing this innocent, and admittedly humorous, scuffle.

"Taylor Alison Swift!" Blake chided in a manner that wasn't dissimilar to how she scolds her own children, shaking her head in disbelief as she pressed Wren's head into her chest and carried her deeper into the penthouse where Inez was spinning around in a pink dress-up costume entirely unaware of the conversation playing out. "You need to behave yourself. Apologize to my Wrenny Benny!"

Taylor rolled her gentle blue eyes, but apologized nonetheless, laughing amusedly when Wren made a dramatic show of sighing into Blake's neck as if she was contemplating whether she should extend forgiveness to Taylor or not. Blake laughed along, shaking her head in amusement as she finally embraced Taylor, pinning Wren between their warm bodies as if she wasn't even there at all, making the child laugh as she wriggled for room to breathe. Even if Taylor hadn't said anything, Blake could see the sheen of sadness in her eyes that she was desperately trying to keep away from her daughter, and Blake didn't need to ask to know what it pertained to. They'd had many conversations over the months about how Wren had been affected by the argument that ended it all with Joe, and with the approaching return to London, it wasn't impossible to guess what had rattled the blonde.

"Your husband's corrupting my kid." Was all Taylor said in return, shrieking in laughter when Blake elbowed her in the ribs, but didn't object to the observation either. Ryan had never pushed himself onto Wren. He'd waited for her to show interest in him, and even then, he'd never inserted himself in conversation with her for longer than a handful of minutes at a time, not giving her the chance to become overwhelmed, backing off the second it was appropriate to give her the time and space she needed to decide how she felt about him without guilt or fear. His understanding of her past and her fragile state of mind had inevitably led to Wren having somewhat of an obsession with him, much to the amusement of Taylor and Blake who never would've anticipated the skittish girl to adore the wildly boisterous actor.

"Uncle Ry!" Wren cheered at the brief mention of the man, entirely ignoring Taylor's lighthearted attempt at motherly scolding. She'd decided within the second week of stopping by for family dinner that he was her second favorite New Yorker, but she'd never actually hold him that herself, even if it was obvious by the way she clung to Blake at any appropriate time.

"Mini TS!" Ryan yelled back from somewhere deep in the penthouse, coming out of Betty's nursery seconds later, the four month old baby cradled in one arm and a balled up diaper in the hand, looking significantly less toxic than the last time Wren had seen him in such a state. Still she scrunched her nose up, something that didn't go unnoticed by Taylor who laughed at her disgusted expression. "I should start charging you rent." He teases gently, pressing a kiss to both Blake and Wren's temples as he draws nearer. It wasn't the first time he'd kissed her head, but it didn't happen often by any means. The first time had been more out of instinct than anything else, but when Wren didn't freak out, and Taylor had expressed to him in a stolen moment alone in the kitchen when Blake was getting the girls set up with a movie in the playroom that Wren looked like she hadn't minded the action, he'd slowly been incorporating it into their greetings more and more. Taylor wasn't alone in assuring that Wren adjusted to normalcy and kindness, and both he and Blake assured she knew that anytime they could. Wordlessly, he transfers Betty into the musicians arms before he's on his way to the kitchen, beckoning for Inez to follow along with him, probably getting the toddler a snack as she wobbles on plastic princess heels, but able to see that today, Wren needs a little bit of time to truly settle into their company.

"Hi, cutie! Did you grow since I saw you last? That's not allowed, missy!" Taylor pulls at the wrinkles in the infants onesie, fixing the the neckline of the little outfit so that it doesn't pose the potential risk of choking her in anyway before she's brushing her fingers through Betty's tuffs of wild peach fuzz on the top of her relatively bald head. She coos over the gummy smile she receives from the wide-eyed and innocent baby, nuzzling her nose against Betty's soft and smooth cheeks, inhaling the heavy scent of baby powder and lotion that has settled onto her skin since the last bath she'd taken before she moves on, not wanting to test the boundaries of Wren's jealousy when she's already rattled by their upcoming trip.

Their visits were practically predictable at this point. Blake would fuss over Wren the second she walked in the door, stealing as many hugs and cuddles as the little girl would allow, sneaking her cookies and extra glasses of apple juice while her own kids were preoccupied, and while that was happening beneath Taylor's nose (Not that she was unaware. No, she saw it all happening but had decided that it didn't hurt anyone to let Wren experience the joys of being a kid and getting spoiled by trusted loved ones a healthy amount) the blonde would hold Betty hostage, soaking up all the baby cuddles she could before the infant was a busybody toddler that couldn't be kept in one place. Sometimes, Wren ventured off to play with the girls, wiggling into dress-up costumes or coloring in different sheets of paper that James shoved her way, but that had only happened a handful of times. As much as she'd grown, as much as her confidence in the Reynolds had flourished since the first time they'd done Friday night dinner, she was still working up the courage to be away from Taylor for more than a couple of minutes at a time when they weren't secluded in their own little bubble. And secretly, she still was holding onto the irrational fear that eventually, Taylor would leave too.

Blake and Taylor took up space on the sofa in the living room, the television switched onto a kids channel at a soft volume, but effectively captivating both Betty and Wren despite the near non audible sound. Better stared at the bright colors flashing around the flatscreen, but Wren was hooked on the silly antics that Minnie Mouse got caught up in as she fixed up her Bowtique. With the kids distracted, Taylor and Blake spoke quietly about the event in London and the session she had booked with Jack, keeping the topics light in case little ears were paying more attention than they realized. They only paused when they heard the clacking of little plastic heels on the headword coming toward them at lightning speed, smiling fondly in the way all parents do when their children extend kindness and generosity to others.

"Daddy cutted these for you!" Inez beamed brightly, never taking note of Wren's withdrawn attitude, which always unnerved Taylor before Blake could reassure her that it was fine and healthy to be subtly pushed by something innocent. She extended a plastic bowl of sliced apples and strawberries toward Wren, grinning with pride at the fact that she hadn't even spilled anything on her trip from the kitchen to the living room. She had her own bowl tucked toward her chest, a bite taken out of an apple slice that was laying on top.

"Thank you." Wren whispered, accepting the baby blue colored bowl shyly, leaning back into Blake's chest as she took a bite out of a strawberry sliver, hardly phased when Inez wiggled up not the couch and sat beside her curled up body, so close that their legs were flush together and their hands could've brushed if Wren wasn't holding so tightly to her bowl of fruit. Both of them watched the cartoon in silence, oblivious to the wide smiles on both Taylor and Blake's faces as the parents came to the same conclusion. Progress. They were undoubtably making progress.

When it was time to go nearly an hour later, Wren didn't protest, but she did offer Inez a hug which had the little girl beaming and barreling into her with excitement. Their bowls of fruit had long since been finished and collected by Ryan who was in his office reading a script away from the chaos that three children could create without even trying. It was the first time that Wren had stalled upon Taylor calling for her, and as much as the blonde needed to get moving, she knew Jack wouldn't mind them being a few minutes late, so she didn't say anything to get the little girl moving any faster, just stood beside the couch waiting to see what would come next; if anything would come next or if this had already pushed Wren's comfortability to its farthest extent.

"Um," The little girl fiddled with her fingers, looking between both Blake and Taylor as she stood beside Inez, the slightly younger girl having stepped away from the hug but still stood close enough for Wren to feel the scratchy material of the princess dress against her arms. "I-I say bye to Uncle Ry?" Her voice was soft, questioning and unsure, but it marked the first time that she'd ever asked to say goodbye to any individual beside Taylor, and undoubtably that was progress.

"You can absolutely say goodbye to Uncle Ry." Blake beamed, stealing a glance at Taylor who wore a smile of absolute pride on her lips and nodded just as encouragingly as Blake's words had been. "He's right around that corner, sweetheart. Go say goodbye."

Wren nodded shyly at Blake's approval, little feet slowly making their way through the penthouse and down the hallways illuminated by bright lights that were dissimilar to the ones that Taylor had in the hallways. The lights at home were soft, not so bright and slightly yellow, but she doesn't think she minds how bright and white these lights feel against her eyes. They're different, but Taylor had said that different doesn't mean bad, it just means you have to get used to them. Wren thinks she's willing to get used to how these lights make her eyes squinty and achey, especially if it means getting to have strawberries and apples on the couch with Inez.

Looking over her shoulder to assure that Taylor hadn't left without her, the blonde gives the little brunette two thumbs up of silent encouragement when she realizes that green eyes are staring back at her desperately, and to Wren's immediate relief, she's still standing in the same spot she'd been in beside the couch with Betty in her arms.

The door to the office was left slightly ajar just like Taylor's bedroom door always was at nighttime, and Wren tries not to hesitate as she pulls at her fingertips and stands in front of it, filled with uncertainty but something else, something... different; a good different though. She braces her hands on the solid wooden door, pushing it open just like she does with the door to the music room, only this time Taylor's not the one she's seeking out. It's Ryan, and Taylor's not here to make sure that he doesn't try to hurt her, but Ryan's never tried to hurt her even when Taylor slipped away to the bathroom at dinner and he'd had more than long enough to at least try to hurt her a little bit. She thinks she's being sneaky, that Ryan hasn't noticed her yet, but she's unaware of how the door slowly opening has projected a shadow against his laptop screen and that her converse aren't as quiet as she thinks they are. Especially not now, when an electrically charged silence has settled over the apartment while the two adults in the living room are anxiously waiting to see how this turns out. Taylor's already prepared to cancel her session at the studio if this proves to be too much for Wren to handle all at once, but she's confident in her daughter, and she's confident that even if it rattles her slightly, she'll bounce back once surrounded by the familiarity of music and Jack's witty banter and teasing. Wren's come a long way, and Taylor needs to be strong enough to show her that it's okay to try, even if you fail.

"Uncle Ry?" Wren asks softly, stepping farther into the office, allowing the sunlight to fall over her with delicate warmth. She tries not to think about how she can't see Taylor anymore, tries not to think about how she's interrupting Ryan and that might make him angry with her.

"What's up, Mini TS?" Ryan asks gently, in a voice that's typically reserved for Betty whenever she starts to fuss at dinnertime. Wren doesn't think she's ever heard him be so soft with James and Inez, and she tries not to think about how he might see her as a baby just like Betty. She's not a baby. Taylor said that Joe didn't mean it when he called her a baby, that he was just mad, so that means Ryan doesn't see her as one either because he trusts Taylor and she's probably told him that she's not a baby.

"Tay says we're l-leavin'." She informs, filling in the missing information that she doesn't think Ryan knows. He'd heard Taylor, but he still acts like he doesn't, making a face at Wren that has her giggling nervously as she pulls at her fingertips.

"Well, I think goodbye hugs are very serious and important. Would you like a goodbye hug? Or maybe we can do something special. Do you know that friends sometimes have a secret handshake?" Ryan's voice is light, but it's animated in a way that has Wren leaning closer, her eyes wide as she shakes her head, not having heard of secret handshakes before. She doesn't think she knows how to make one, she's never done it before so she might not be good at it. The weight of the unknown is evident on her face, but Ryan's quick to amend the questions left unanswered before it can spiral into anything more. "I've never had a secret handshake, so maybe we can make one together?"

"I never had one neither." She whispers, like she's trying to comfort Ryan, and the actor can't help but smile fondly down at her, scooting closer to where she stands, assuring that his movements aren't drastic or too fast paced. It doesn't seem to bother Wren, who doesn't back away or fall inward on herself, so he continues, holding both of his hands out to her.

"How about we clap." He moves slowly, clapping his hands together softly, the sound barely audible as his palms come together. "And then maybe we spin around?"

Wren giggles at the second suggestion, but she follows along with his instruction as best as she can, clapping her hands together before she spins around on her tip-toes, feeling like she's a princess in the office decorated in action movie posters and shiny awards. Taylor had just shown her a new princess movie the other night, she doesn't quite remember the name, but the stolen princess had worn a pretty purple dress with pink ribbons like the ones that Taylor puts in her hair sometimes, and she'd spun around in the grass when she was rescued from the tower. She feels like a princess, and she thinks she likes that feeling, her mind briefly flickering to the dress Inez was wearing overtop of her pajamas. "We can pinky promise? 'Cause Tay and me come for dinner on Friday! So, so we can pinky promise that we can see each other soon?" She suggests softly, her voice soft and filled with uncertainty, but it doesn't tremble in fear like it had when she'd first stepped into the room, and Ryan knows to take that as a win.

"I didn't even think about that! I think that's a great idea! So we clap, and we spin around, and we pinky promise! That's a pretty awesome secret handshake, Mini TS. Should we try it out?" Ryan questions, receiving a nod from the little girl across from him, looking incredibly small next to his large bookshelves that even James can reach the fourth or fifth shelves on. Wren barely comes up to the third, her tiny frame endearing though a constant memory that she'd spent the formative years of toddlerhood malnourished and traumatized.

The pair goes through their secret handshake, smiling back at each other when their pinkies linked together and sealed the greeting until the next time they would need to do it. Wren waves rather exuberantly afterward, a beaming smile on her lips, before she's dashing out of the office and back to Taylor, her arms raised in a silent request to be picked up. Thankfully, Taylor had already given Betty back to Blake, and her arms were free to abide by that request without any moment of hesitation or transferring. Taylor doesn't realize how much that means to Wren, but it had only further solidified the promise that whenever Wren needed, she would be there to help.

"You say goodbye to Uncle Ry?" Taylor cooed softly, brushing her palm over the tight braids weaved atop of Wren's head, feeling how silky they'd become since they'd switched her conditioner and hair care routine a few weeks ago.

"Mmhmm, have secret handshake now." She informed, a shy smile on her lips as she snuggles into Taylor's chest, practically becoming deadweight in the musicians arms as she curls up, evidently exhausted from the displays of vulnerability she'd had to muster up the courage to display in any capacity.

"A secret handshake, that's so cool, buddy!" Taylor praises, her hand rubbing comforting circles on the child's back, feeling each inhale and exhale as they come and pass, taking note on how her breathing is heavier than normal, but not to an alarming degree. They hadn't had a panic attack in nearly a week now, and Taylor's beyond proud when she recognizes the breathing technique the little girl in her arms is going through without any coaching or reminders. "You ready to go to the studio now? We'll see Aunt Blake and Uncle Ry for dinner next week?"

"Not this week?" Wren frowns, picking her head up from where it had fallen into the blonde's neck, her gaze quizzical as green eyes flicker with uncertainty. She liked their routine, and it was only Tuesday, they weren't meant to be in London for three whole days, so nothing should prevent them from being able to come on Friday. Wren knows that, she and Taylor have gone over the plan a few hundred times since the nominations had been set in stone months ago, and she'd been running with the assumption that their Friday night ritual would remain unbroken.

"We'll see how you feel, okay, buddy?" Taylor amended, her eyes meeting Blake's for a second, seeking conformation that in the event of Wren being adamant about attending Friday dinner, the Reynolds wouldn't have any objections. Their flight was early on Friday morning, takeoff scheduled for nine am sharp, and realistically they'd get in with just enough time to head back to the apartment and get changed before they'd need to head to dinner if there were no unforeseen complications, but jetlag was a variable that Taylor wasn't sure how to further explain to the little girl who had clearly become dependent on their routine. "Remember when we came back from London last time, and you were super sleepy?"

"Mmhmm, but... need to color with James." The little girl raised a pointed argument, one that had both Blake and Taylor smiling with affection.

"And me! Mommy showed me how to color in the lines!" The little girl bellowed in excitement from where she was curled up on the couch, her eyes trailing from the television screen over to Wren who seemed to take her input very seriously, nodding along to the statement with pursed lips.

"And Nezzy. Need to color with James and Nezzy." She corrected her former objection, clearly not understanding the implications behind Taylor's soft explanation. It seems they would just have to play it by ear, neither parent in the room willing to blatantly tell the girl no when she was only just beginning to assert her wants and opinion.

"Okay, baby. We'll try our best to come for dinner this week." Taylor adjusted how Wren was situated on her hip, shuffling the little girl higher into her hold so that she wasn't so awkwardly placed on her hipbone, but rather seated evenly on her waistline. That seemed to be all the conformation Wren needed, because she nodded curtly before laying her head down on Taylor's shoulder, fingers fiddling with the strands of hair that had slowly begun to slip out of the French braids down her back. "You ready to go see Jack now? I think he probably has some yummy treats for you."

"Byebye, Aunt Blake. Byebye Nezzy." Wren whispered her parting greeting, looking to be on the verge of sleep as one hand held tightly to the neckline of Taylor's t-shirt and the other continued its fiddling with her braids.

"Bye, sweetheart. Have so much fun in London, okay?" Blake smiled encouragingly, waving off the pair who disappeared into the elevator in the hallway just as she'd gotten the front door closed and locked behind them.

Wren didn't fight to press the button this time around, content to stay where she was in Taylor's embrace, although the musician seemed to be in a silly mood as she used one hand to support the child's weight and the other to guide the tip of her converse toward the control panel, pressing the button they needed with Wren's worn converse that desperately needed replacing after four months of nearly consistent wear and usage. "TayTay?" Wren yawned, rubbing at her eyes with closed fists, the emotional vulnerability of the last half an hour clearly taking its toll on her.

"Yes, my love?" Taylor smiled softly, swaying slightly as she tucked Wren's head farther into her neck, hoping to avoid the paparazzi getting a glimpse of her face and selfishly hoping that she'll take a good nap and make up for the nightmares that had interrupted her restlessness last night.

"I can get princess dress like Nezzy?" The question brought a smile to Taylor's lips, her head nodding even if Wren couldn't see the encouraging motion. She'd yet to ask for anything of that nature, standing far from the lines of imaginative play and dress-up unless she was being corralled by an energetic and stubborn James. Taylor wouldn't dream of turning Wren down, even if she requested the most outlandish costume that would inevitably tear at the seams after only a couple of a days of wear and play.

"Of course you can, baby. You want a sleeping beauty one like Nezzy had today?" Taylor attempted to pull more information out of her little shadow, still swaying in place as the doors pulled open and reveled the lavish lobby, still as empty as it had been when they'd first entered.

She smiled politely at the desk clerk as they passed by, but her focus was primarily on Wren who seemed to be contemplating the question with seriousness. Eventually, the child shook her head, peaking up with sleepy green eyes until she could see Taylor's face. "Purple one."

"Rapunzel? You liked that movie, bug?" Taylor laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Wren's head before she guided it back down to her neck, spotting a long lens at the next corner that didn't seem to be around for her, but still wanting to take the necessarily precautions to protect Wren's valued privacy.

"Liked that one. With the lil guy." The response was sluggish and hardly above a whisper, practically inaudible as Wren spoke into Taylor's neck, but the blonde had heard the response, and was making a mental note to order some t-shirts and toys that sported the energetic princess.

"Pascal, baby. Rapunzel and Pascal. Should we see if we can get you some toys with Rapunzel on them?" She posed the question simply, not sure if Wren would understand the concept of toy sets based on specific movie scenes without seeing it physically. She was puzzled for a minute when Wren shook her head, little hands tightening around the neckline of her t-shirt as another little yawn interrupted the easy conversation.

"Can get 'Punzel cup? Like Sulley one." Eventually came the soft reply, and Taylor couldn't help but laugh at the little girls brewing obsession with cups rather than any kind of toy. Wren would be at her happiest if Taylor just set her loose in the cup aisle of Target, but still she tried to introduce more age appropriate choices and options, even if the answer was always a softly spoken dismissal.

"We can definitely find a Rapunzel cup for you." Taylor agreed, receiving another nod of acceptance before the conversation died. Taylor didn't mind the silence that followed her to the studio, accepting it and cherishing it as it gave her the time to get her own thoughts in order without worrying about how her turmoil would come across to impressionable little eyes. There was a lot coming up for the both of them, a lot to ensure went off smoothly and without damaging the peace they'd finally begun to find in New York. It was incredibly daunting, and maybe it was foolish, it definitely was foolish, but Taylor firmly believed that she and Wren could come out of it on top. She'd be setting herself up for failure if she gave into the spiraling anxiety that had come to surround London, a place that she'd once adored.

The rest of the day was peacefully uneventful. Wren had slept through the first few hours Taylor had been in the studio with Jack, but when she woke, the producer was quick to set her up with a movie on his laptop, assuring that she didn't have to watch it if she didn't want to, but if she got bored of listening to him and Taylor talk about different sound elements and lyricism approaches, it would be there for her to watch. They'd wrapped just before six, with Taylor promising to keep him in the loop with her developments on certain tracks and Jack telling Wren that she was the best client he had. They'd gotten home just before seven, had dinner that was really just grilled cheese and goldfish, and then Taylor had gotten Wren showered and ready for bed before eight. She'd spent the rest of her evening preparing for the trip, not only mentally, but physically. She'd packed their bags, assured that every stuffed animal the child could possibly want was packed in a backpack or a carry on suitcase, and then went to bed herself, preparing to be up early enough to slowly get the child ready without stress. It felt too soon to be going back to London, but if Taylor kept pushing it off, the fear that haunted Wren in the middle of the night would only grow. She fell asleep quickly once she'd really settled down, but not without the unspoken mantra repeating in her head that everything would work out.

Chapter Text

with you i serve, with you i fall down, down
watch you breathe in, watching you breathing out, out

February 11th, 2020

The morning dawned on New York City before either resident of the Swift-James household was ready to start the day. The birds that had flown south for the winter were slowly migrating north again, and Taylor was faintly aware of the squawking pigeons just beyond the windows as she stumbled through the kitchen, preparing an easy breakfast that she knew Wren adored and wouldn't be too fussed about eating so early in the morning. The stovetop was hot to the touch, keeping a pan of scrambled eggs warm until it was time to wake up the little girl still sleeping peacefully upstairs with three fuzzy companions to keep a watchful eye over her. The waffle maker had been on for a while, having been filled with batter time and time again, though it perfectly cooked the breakfast pastries until they were golden brown and fluffy inside despite the prolonged usage. She was hoping that breakfast would hold Wren over for a while, at least until they were wheels up and could sort out the lunch situation with the airline crew, so she didn't stop with only two waffles like she typically would have.

It wasn't too far off from their typical routine, but there was a certain buzz in the air as Taylor filled a straw cup with orange juice, setting it on the counter for Wren to have as soon as she came down the stairs. She'd gone to bed without too much of a fuss the night before, and when Taylor had peaked her head into the bedroom just a couple of minutes after five — when the sun was barely on the cusp of rising over skyscrapers —  there hadn't been any indication of nightmares plaguing what was meant to be a restful sleep. That was nearly an hour ago, and as much as Taylor didn't want to disrupt what had definitely looked like an enjoyable nights sleep, if the wild bedhead and pillow indented cheeks were any indication, they were running out of time to get everything in order before they had to be out the door and on the road to the airport. The entire point of Taylor setting her alarm so early was to hopefully avoid the need to rush, but if she let Wren sleep any longer than she already had, that would be exactly what ended up unfolding. So after plating the last waffle and ensuring that there was at least one chocolate chip in every perfectly symmetrical pocket, she left the completed breakfast spread behind and began the journey upstairs. To her surprise, Wren seemed to be waking up on her own as she softly pressed the door open; little arms stretching overhead as tiny feet that poked out from the bottom of her new favorite blanket stretched and attempted to flex away the stillness that had settled over little muscles and bones hours ago.

Benjamin was lying beside Wren on the large bed, his head resting on her sternum that rose and fell with even breaths, though he didn't seem to mind the constant motions that jostled his entire body and kept him from sleep. Despite needing to move efficiently, Taylor lingered in the doorframe for a moment, unable to help herself as she took in the scene before her and how genuinely content Wren looked all tangled up in a fuzzy pink blanket with white daisies all across it. Eventually, Taylor pushed off of the wooden structure and fully stepped into the room, noting that both Meredith and Olivia were beneath the desk and merely lounging on the floor like loyal guard dogs. She scoffed affectionately at the display, hardly able to blame the felines for becoming so attached to the child.

She remains quiet as she comes deeper into the bedroom with soft pink walls and deep green accents, highlighted by light oak furniture and splashes of bright white. There's an essence of maturity in the simple theme, but it had been significantly lightened by whimsical touches reminiscent of fairies and magic. It was one of Taylor's favorite designs amongst the bedrooms she'd designed for Wren, somehow captivating both elegance and playfulness. It would grow with the child for a while, but that hadn't been the goal when plans were being drawn out. Taylor had only known Wren for a couple of days at the time, but she'd attempted to reflect the few interests and hobbies she'd realized the little girl liked without making it too on the nose incase she'd assumed wrong. Luckily, Wren had developed quite the interest in fairies after being shown Tinkerbell and Magic Rainbow books, and all but adored the greenery and twinkle lights that helped her feel like she was sleeping in a fairy house. The room is still Taylor's favorite to spend time in, which is how she finds herself milking the getting up process, trying to prolong Wren's inevitable waking.

Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, Taylor strokes strands of chestnut colored hair away from flush cheeks, smiling faintly at how warm Wren feels beneath her palm. She brings that same hand down the child's belly, softly massaging the area with her fingers, hoping that it's not too abrupt of a sensation. "Wrenny." She coos softly, blue eyes taking in every minuscule detail of the child's peaceful expression. She doesn't get a response, and so she pulls the blanket just slightly off the little girls frame, sneaking her hand beneath the thin fabric of polka-dot speckled pajamas to scratch her nails against sensitive skin. That seems to do the trick, and the second she feels Wren tense beneath her palm, little hands balling into fists as they come to rub at tightly pinched eyes, she's coaxing the child farther from sleep with a sweetly whispered, "Time to get up, baby."

"No," Wren's mumbled whine had been exactly how Taylor had felt when her own alarm had gone off, and she can't help but sympathize with the little girl who had finally started sleeping through the night more regularly. It was nearly two hours earlier than she usually got up on her own, and with the sun only just rising into view, it wasn't the most welcoming atmosphere.

"Yes, sweet girl. I already made you yummy waffles and eggies, and there's orange juice on the counter in a brand new cup I think you'll like!" Taylor tried with bribery, but all that accomplished was reducing Wren to a whiny tearful mess, little green eyes blinking open with glimmering tears pooling in her waterline. "Why the tears, baby?" Immediately concerned, Taylor didn't continue to press about their schedule which was becoming less and less flexible as the minutes passed. She could handle the rushing around if it meant getting to the bottom of Wren's unusual behavior.

"S-Sleepy!" The child argued, her bottom lip quivering as she started rubbing harder at her eyes, looking exactly like the depiction of any other six-year-old being woken up at six in the morning. Taylor couldn't help but smile fondly, allowing the feeling of impending doom to slip away from her chest. This was normal. This was expected. This was progress.

"Oh, I know you're so sleepy, but remember that we get to see Tree today?!" Taylor beamed, softly pulling the blanket farther away from Wren's body, somewhat forcing her to accept being awake. The little girl whined pitifully, reaching out to Taylor with wiggling fingers. It wasn't the first time Taylor had been on the receiving end of what she endearing calls 'grabby paws' but each time it happened her heart fluttered the same way. "Come here, my girl." She laughed softly, collecting Wren's little body into her embrace, softly pulling her fingers through the knotted strands that had a slight wave to them from the day before's hairstyle.

Realistically, Taylor knew that exhaustion wasn't the only reason for Wren's vulnerable behavior. Over time, she had picked up on the little girls slight behavioral differences whenever she was upset or feeling threatened by something, and the thought of returning to London was definitely a factor at hand. "Feeling a little bit scared?" She quizzed gently, rising from the bed so that they could truly put a start to their early morning. Wren nodded against her neck, little fingers curling into the neckline of the plush crewneck Taylor had slipped on after getting out of bed and brushing her teeth. There was a slight draft coming through the apartment, one of the windows in the living room needing to be repaired, but it wasn't an unwelcome chill. It was almost refreshing to be hit with the gentle breeze that swept through at times, keeping her alert and focused on her tasks. "That's okay. We'll just take it easy, hm?" Wren nodded again, evidently choosing to have a silent morning, which Taylor didn't mind at all.

They moved through the penthouse as one entity, Wren refusing to be placed on the floor once they'd reached the end of the stairs, clinging to Taylor with desperate whines that just about broke the blonde's heart. Taylor didn't mind the clinginess at hand, and had merely shushed the little girl before she'd carried on with what needed to be done, finally flicking the lights on in the kitchen to hopefully keep Wren awake at least until they'd eaten lunch and had settled into the flight. She wanted to make the jet-lag transition as seamless as possible, and a mid-day nap would hopefully do just that.

When they came up to the island, she did attempt to corral Wren out of her hiding spot however, slightly jostling the little girl until she peaked her little green eyes upward with a frown on her lips. "Look what came, buddy." Taylor directed her attention to the island with a jutted out finger, her unmanicured nails freshly trimmed and ready to be dressed in whatever polish her stylist decided on before the event. Wren obeyed the gentle direction and grinned sleepily when her soft green eyes spotted the brand new purple cup on the table. There was a pink straw that ran all the way through the lid, and on the side that she could see from Taylor's arms, there was a pretty tower and yellow flowers that looked just like how they did in Tangled.

"It's 'Punzel." She mumbled, reaching out with one hand for the cup filled with her new favorite juice, though her other didn't loosen on Taylor's neckline in the slightest. There hadn't been many days of excessive clinginess at this point, but every one that came was cherished and handled with grace. It could become overstimulating at times, that was undoubtable and practically unavoidable, but never did it feel like a burden to have practically become the chosen one. She had an inkling Wren was quite the cuddle bug in general, but they were still working up her comfortability to continuously ask to be cuddled or carried. Some things couldn't be amended overnight, but every day was a step in the right direction.

"It is Rapunzel! And it's already got orange juice for you!" Taylor leaned forward so that Wren could reach the island, smiling softly when the little girl nuzzled into her neck and contently held the new cup to her chest, little lips guzzling down the tart drink of choice. She'd placed a same day order through Target once they'd gotten to the studio, wanting to find something quickly for the little girl so hopefully the day ahead of them wouldn't feel so daunting, and thankfully she had heard the downstairs buzzer go off after putting Wren to sleep, otherwise she'd have entirely forgotten about it until they came home and security had brought it upstairs. "Should we take it with us to London?"

Wren nodded, her little eyes flickering up to meet Taylors before they fell back down onto the vibrant design, little fingers tracing the intricate details in astonishment. Taylor smiled fondly at the scene, moving around the kitchen with ease despite how truly challenging it is to scoop scrambled eggs out of a pan and onto a plate with a six-year-old attached to her hip. Without much casualty, although there were a couple bites of egg on the hardwood for Benji or Meredith to munch at, Taylor managed to get Wren's waffles and eggs plated on a plastic Monsters Inc. plate she'd ordered online months ago. Her own waffle was on a paper plate, something she used infrequently but would definitely be taking advantage of today.

Although it took two trips to get both plates to the island, Taylor managed it in only a couple of seconds, and right before six-thirty, they started eating in peaceful silence. Halfway through breakfast, Wren snuggled into Taylor's chest, seemingly too tired to even hold her head up anymore. The blonde laughed at the unintentional dramatics that came from her little koala, but began to feed Wren a bite of her leftover eggs in between her own bites. That third waffle did end up getting eaten as well, although they'd split it down the middle when Wren insisted Taylor have more too.

"Should we get you dressed in some jammies for the plane?" Taylor cooed once dishes had been washed and put away, starting up the stairs so she could get Wren's face cleaned up and hair sorted out before the car arrived downstairs for them. All the blonde received in response was a soft nod, but she wasn't seem phased by the prolonged silence, rather choosing to place a kiss onto the top of Wren's head and further console her worries and fears with gentle whispers. The child wasn't much help in picking out pajamas to wear, but without much contemplation Taylor had settled on the Monsters Inc. set she'd purchased at Christmastime, knowing that at the very least, it was a safe bet. They did seem to be the right choice, because as soon as they were out of the drawer Wren was pulling them into her chest and holding onto them possessively, looking back at Taylor with pleading eyes, wanting them on her body as soon as the blonde would allow.

Once she was changed and her little crocs were on her feet — Austin had gotten her a pair randomly and, despite Taylor's initial dismay, they'd become one of Wren's most prized items, even if they were hardly worn in comparison to the tiny Chuck Taylor's already packed into a suitcase downstairs — they moved into the bathroom, where Taylor brushed the little girls teeth, washed her face with a warm towelette, and then pulled her hair up into a bun, forging the few wild strands that fell out around the nape of her neck and ears. The entire ordeal was done wordlessly, but as the minutes passed Wren seemed to be waking up more and more, her little hands still holding tightly to the Tangled cup that had already been refilled with orange juice, but her eyes more alert than they had been all throughout breakfast.

Just as Taylor was getting ready to turn the lights off in the bathroom, Wren's little voice broke the silence that had stretched over head, "Not gonna see Joe." She breathed the statement softly, seemingly trying to convince herself of that fact rather than seek reassurance from Taylor, but the blonde still offered whatever little solace she could to truly solidify that in the child'd mind.

"We're not going to see Joe, that's right. We're gonna see people that kind of sound like him, but we're not going to see him. London's a big place, baby love." The blonde braced her palms on either side of Wren's little body, her blue eyes soft as they attempted to meet green. She didn't push, didn't try to pry, just stood in the bathroom quietly, content to let Wren muddle through that reassurance in her own time.

"Big place?" Came the eventual whisper, little green eyes trailing upward until they connected with blue, a wild maze of uncertainty mapped out within the kaleidoscope of colors that blended together to make such a unique and ever-changing shade.

"A super big place, sweetheart. It's the biggest city in the United Kingdom, which means that we're not going to be anywhere close to Joe at all." Taylor smiled softly, stroking the side of Wren's face with the pad of her thumb, the corners of her eyes wrinkling in fondness when the little girl attempted to lean into the gentle contact point. "Do you think you're ready to go now?"

"Mmhmm." Wren hummed her agreement to the suggestion, yet her little arms reached out to loop around Taylor's neck tightly, showing no indication of wanting to walk for herself which amused the blonde to great extents.

"Gonna be a little koala today, hm? That's okay. I don't mind." With the blonde dressed in sweatpants and a crewneck, and the brunette dressed in character speckled pajamas, they looked more than ready to endure a six hour flight across the world. Taylor did one final sweep through their bedrooms, thankful that she'd thought to do that because Bluey had been tangled up in blankets on the edge of Wren's bed, entirely concealed from sight, and the musician didn't want to know what kind of reaction would come from the child in her arms if they'd accidentally left him behind. She had everyone else that seemed to be of importance to Wren packed in the suitcases downstairs; the little giraffe they'd picked up at Target on Wren's first night, the bear thoughtfully given by Andrea, and the one that had been a gift from Selena, but Bluey was the true comfort item amongst the bunch of others. Blake had truly hit the nail on its head when she'd thought to include the blanket/stuffed animal duo. "Should we say bye to the kitties?"

"Bring Benji." Wren mumbled with a persistent pout on her little lips, her green eyes sweeping across the living room until she found the cat curled up on the couch in a tight ball, not seeming to care about how his humans were about to leave for three days without him.

"We can't bring Benji, baby. But, he'll be waiting for you when we get home!" Taylor attempted to amend the heartbreak before it set in, but her promise of receiving kitten cuddles upon returning home did little to ease the child's pout, and if anything, it only worsened as Wren turned her sad little eyes on Taylor, looking more than betrayed by the news.

"He's gonna be all alone!" She bellowed like that was obvious, and to her, it was. Taylor hadn't quite explained the premise of cat-sitters, not thinking that she would need to, but clearly that had been a mistake as Wren's little eyes welled up with tears for the second time that morning.

"He's not gonna be alone, baby. He's gonna have Dibbles and Mere, and there's gonna be a nice lady that comes over to give him lots of cuddles and treats! He'll be perfectly okay, but I do think he's going to miss you, so should we give him one last cuddle before we go see Tree?" Taylor assured, softly brushing her hand down Wren's back, distracting the little girl with the soft feeling that spread down her spine.

Together they said goodbye to Benji, giving him more head scratches than he'd probably ever received in only a handful of minutes, and assuring that he didn't have to be scared when he was all alone because Taylor was going to leave the living room light on for him; that wasn't at all what Taylor had initially planned on doing, but after Wren had suggested that maybe Benji was afraid of the dark and he'd want a nightlight for when he's all alone, she couldn't say no to the innocent minded proposition. They left a note for the cat-sitter, asking her not to touch the light, and Wren made sure to inform her that his favorite treats are the little ones shaped like fish that Taylor keeps on the lowest cabinet of the pantry so that she can reach them all by herself. They'd just finished signing their names on the bottom — because that lesson how how to write a letter to Santa had apparently been firmly planted in Wren's head and she wouldn't accept not signing her name — when Taylor's phone chimed with a text from Greg, letting her know that he had the car downstairs and Chad was coming up to collect their luggage. It would be a two car sendoff to the airport. One would leave a couple of minutes before the other, and hopefully that would be enough to minority confuse the crowd of people that was certainly waiting downstairs for her. News of the award show had begun to circulate since nominations dropped, and though her presence wasn't confirmed, people still sought out her apartment for a potential sighting, apparently not considering how invasive that was.

"You remember what to do if there are people outside with big cameras?" Swaying on her feet, Taylor stands only a few inches away from the front door, having already unlocked it so Chad didn't have to linger outside while she tried to balance a child and unlatch the deadbolts. Somehow, they'd yet to be ambushed by the paparazzi, but in the event that that changed today, Taylor wanted assurance that Wren knew how to protect her identity if she couldn't move fast enough.

"Give you cuddles." Was the simple answer that came from the child, her new princess cup once again refilled with orange juice that she sucked down at an impressive speed, though she'd been warned that there wouldn't be anymore of the tart drink until they'd at least touched down in London. If Wren had it her way, Taylor would be buying it by the three gallon bottle, but everything good for the body still needed moderation, and four cups of orange juice didn't seem like the healthiest bet at seven in the morning.

"That's right! You give me cuddles, and do you look up before I tell you it's okay?" Taylor cooed, softly patting a rhythm on Wren's bottom that had been stuck in her head for days, but hadn't yet seen the inside of her writing notebook. She'd get around to it eventually, but there were more important things to dwell on now. Taylor never thought she'd see the day where songwriting got pushed to the back burner, but she wouldn't change that for a second anymore.

"No! Gotta wait!" Wren beamed, a wide smile on her lips indicating just how proud she felt to have remembered the information without any coaching or prompting. Taylor laughed endearingly, pressing a kiss to the side of the little girls head just as a knock came from the other side of the penthouse door. They waited until another knock came, all of Taylor's security staff knowing that two knocks spread out by a couple of seconds was the only way she'd open the door for them, and when it did, Taylor called for Chad to come inside.

He smiled softly at Wren when he opened the front door to the sight of her and Taylor all cozied up together in the entryway, telling her that he'd take excellent care of her stuffed companions while they were in his company, before he was trailing out the door again with a princess printed backpack over his shoulder and two carry-on sized suitcases by his sides. The luggage was bland, both a light gray color, but the backpack had been a recent edition that was purchased solely for traveling with the little shadow. Taylor hadn't thought that character speckled backpacks and clothings would have her so emotional, but somehow the sight of their combined belongings always brought a smile of acceptance to her features. This had been everything she'd wanted for years. This had been torn away from her before she'd even gotten a chance to have it at all. There weren't any words to convey the emotional experience of seeing little bags and shoes and cups scattered around wherever she went.

When Chad was downstairs with the luggage, the first car peeling off toward the airport, she began the journey downstairs with Wren. Greg was there to greet them at the back door, offering the child a wave of encouragement as he guided them both to the backseat of the SUV and closed the door with impressive speed. The first thing Wren noticed was that there was no car seat installed for her, and her little green eyes looked curiously up at Taylor who seemed to be unfazed by the lack of its presence.

"I don't have my seat!" She whispered, still pulled close to the blonde's chest, even as Greg put the car into drive and peeled away from the apartment complex where crowds of people seemed to be gathered on the opposite side from where they'd exited.

"Isn't that so special!" Taylor beamed, gently cradling Wren's face in her hands. In truth, the lack of car seat was intentional, but she'd seen an opportunity to make this more fun for the child, and she couldn't help but play into the game of curiosity and imaginative wonder. It was only a short ride to the airport, and there was definitely a potential risk of paparazzi swarming the tarmac. It would take too long to unbuckle Wren without anyone preparing to catch a glimpse of her face, so Taylor had made the executive decision to forgo it. That decision defiantly came with its own set of risks, but she could fondly remember being a child and getting to ride in lavish cars with her father on the way to his expensive work conferences. The SUV might not have been a limo with sleek leather seats and a disco ball on the ceiling, but she could pretend that it had the same elusive charm for the twenty minute drive.

"Don't need it ever again?" Wren quizzed, her question genuine as she cocked her head to the side and glanced up at Taylor with wide questioning eyes and a cute little frown of confusion.

"You still need it, baby. But it's a super super quick drive today, and we're not going to need it in London, remember?" Taylor smiled softly, coming her fingers through the fallen strands of hair that frame Wren's face adorably, the braids from yesterday leaving behind delicate waves that would fall in a matter of hours, but for the time being, reminded Taylor of her own wild curl pattern as a child.

"Gonna stay at the hotel with Greg! And then no bedtime when you come home! And we're gonna have ice cream!" The child rattled off the list of activities she'd been told would be occurring over the next few days, and Taylor couldn't help but smile fondly at her muted excitement, her evident exhaustion keeping her somewhat hushed and diluted for the time being at the very least. It was nearing one o'clock in London, and Taylor desperately hoped that Wren would sleep at least three hours on the plane, getting her body somewhat adjusted to the timezone without fully committing. It wasn't worth changing her routine entirely, but a mid-day nap would give her just enough energy to hopefully make it to what bedtime would be in the states.

"That's tomorrow, baby. There's still bedtime tonight." The pout of deflation on Wren's face was adorable, and Taylor wished she could commemorate the moment in a timeless picture, but she was too engrossed with being present to reach for her phone. She'd been reaching for the device less and less, feeling somewhat reminiscent of her days spent hiding away in suitcases and dark apartments. It wasn't a decision made with angst, but after the separation from Joe, the only reason she ever really found to pull her phone out was to keep in contact with her parents and keep Jack in the loop about her album. "How about we text Hayley?" Taylor suggested, knowing the mention of her friend would boost Wren's spirits.

Since they'd left for London the first time, Wren had become somewhat enthralled by the routine of sending the woman a picture every time they took off on a flight. They'd sent her one the night they'd come home from that nightmare of a trip, and Hayley had propositioned that Wren text her each time they traveled as a makeshift digital scrapbook. Taylor knew the woman was itching to meet the little angel she was fostering, but busy schedules had done their very best to prolong that from happening. Still, it gave her comfort to know that even if they hadn't met, Wren seemed to trust Hayley as much as she trusted Blake.

They posed for a picture together, cheesy smiles on their lips and a flush to their cheeks from the few seconds out in the cold that hadn't melted away just yet. The heat in the car was warm, but not overwhelming, and Wren didn't seem to mind how her hands were still tiny icicles that could startle Taylor with just a simple brush against her forearms. The picture was left without a caption, Taylor too preoccupied with Wren to think of something cheeky to add, and the child too sleepy to show any interest in trying to decipher spelling so early in the morning. She was still little, only a few months into being six, but her english comprehension skills far surpassed the grade level she'd been assigned through the home education program they'd selected for her coursework. There was an upcoming meeting with Emily to establish if Wren should be moved into an upper level english program the following school year, but other than that, she was exactly where she needed to be in subjects like math and science, which was impressive considering her lack of proper education when she'd been placed with.... them. Taylor couldn't even bring herself to say their names anymore, and it had been weeks since Wren had brought up any of the traumas that occurred in that house of horrors, so she didn't see any reason to remind the girl of where she'd come from, more than content to rebuilt the foundations of her trust and imagination instead of dwelling on what happened when it seemed to be working itself out just fine, forgiving the sparse trigger that had her regressing.

What had been established however, was that Wren had more or less taught herself how to read, which wasn't surprising given her isolating history. She recounted days where Adrianna was late to pick her up from school to Taylor, telling her how the teacher would sit with her in the reading nook and they'd go over some of the lower level books that filled the class library until Adrianna showed up and offered some tragic story for sympathy. Most six year olds were only just learning how to read, but Wren had truly utilized the escape of literature when it was needed most, and if Taylor had to guess, she fell toward the third grade reading standard rather than the first grade level she was at with everything else. It gave her some peace of mind, to know that in her darkest time, Wren had at least had some kind of lighthearted escape to turn to. That being said, she could definitely understand why the child didn't want to try and figure out spelling and grammar when it wasn't even eight in the morning yet.

"Why don't you ask Mr. Greg if he'll watch Tangled with you tomorrow night while I'm working?" Taylor suggested, trying to ease Wren out of her shell in preparation for the upcoming night. It was the longest she'd be away from the child since taking her in, and while she knew Wren was definitely nervous about the separation, Taylor almost felt like she was struggling worse. She could think of a few million things that could go wrong just between the time that she left Wren at the hotel and arrived at the venue, but it would at least give her some peace of mind to know that Greg had a handle on the situation rather than it being any other member of her security team. Chad was capable of babysitting, he had his own kids to look after when he wasn't working, but Greg was the head of security, and therefore, in Taylor's anxious mind at least, better equipped at supervising Wren's actual safety god forbid there was a need for his skills.

Wren and Greg had seen each other often, and both were comfortable with each other to a degree. Taylor knew it didn't matter who watched Wren while she was away, the child would revert inward no matter the company, but she wanted to at least attempt to build a bridge for the both of them to stand on in her absence. She nodded encouragingly when Wren shifted her gaze to the front of the car, little cheeks twinging pink with nervousness as she pulled at her fingers.

"Mr. Greg?" Her little voice filled the car that was otherwise drowned in silence, forgiving the occasional roar of the engine as Greg exhilarated down the street, passing others that seemed to not be aware of the speed limit at all. The man had heard the entire conversation, knowing that it was more or less a direct order from his boss, but he still turned his head just slightly to the side and hummed attentively, willing to play into Taylor's maternal game. "Will you watch 'Punzel with me?"

"I would love to, Princess Wren." The child's eyes widened considerably at the new nickname, her head snapping to Taylor as she radiantly beamed, practically buzzing with excitement that had both adults in the car chuckling fondly.

The rest of the drive wasn't too unbearable, although Wren was significantly more awake than she had been before, and every few seconds she would wriggle around in Taylor's lap, trying to get her face pressed even farther into the window if that was somehow possible. Taylor didn't mind the occasional tiny knee digging into her spleen, focusing instead on trying to match Wren's excitement each time the child pointed out a different color car (apparently red cars were her new obsession, which Taylor didn't understand in the slightest) or a street name that according to her, was very silly. There were undeniable elements of trauma in her demeanor, but there was also an aire of normalcy that the blonde hoped would stick around.

When they pulled up to the tarmac, the large plane was already in view despite the security fence that kept them out until Greg showed the valid clearance card. Wren didn't seem to fall into herself at the reminder of where they were headed, rather kept lunging forward against Taylor's tight hold, tiny palms flat against the window as she attempted to find Tree.

"Tree's not here." She deflated immensely, sinking into Taylor's lap when she continued to come up blank. The publicist with vibrant red hair was beyond easy to spot in a crowd, and to Wren, it made the most sense for her to be waiting outside, which she very clearly was not. If the plane wasn't taking off until eighty-thirty, then that had to mean it was locked, so maybe Tree was running late, or maybe she'd decided not to come at all.

"Tree's already on the plane, baby." Taylor laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Wren's head, smoothing back little flyaways that were beginning to come away from the tight elastic keeping her hair up and away from her face. "She got here a couple of minutes ago."

"The planes not locked?" Wren frowned, her little golden-brown eyebrows furrowing together as she tried to make sense of that information. If the plane wasn't locked now, then was it ever locked? Did people lock planes at all? Could anybody get into the plane?

"Not right now, angel. It's unlocked for us today, but when I'm not using it, they keep it all locked up and safe for us. Nobody can get in who isn't supposed to." Taylor could practically see the anxiety festering within Wren, and unfortunately, she didn't need to ask what was troubling her. Ever since she'd spent that first night in Nashville, Taylor had noticed how she was always glancing at the doorknobs, almost like she was trying to figure out how they locked, or if they locked at all. Wren had mentioned not being allowed out of her bedroom until she'd been given permission during that first week, and for a while Taylor hadn't had a reason to further look into that, but after the bathroom door had locked from the outside a couple of weeks into them being in New York, she'd all be freaked out and been practically inconsolable for hours. Taylor had called Emily immediately after she'd gotten the child in bed, and had learned the heartbreaking truth that she wasn't even sure Wren consciously knew; the little girl's bedroom door had locked from the outside, and testimonies from both Timothy and Adrianna's trials had confirmed that they'd kept her there for days whenever they'd go on benders — which also confirmed the initial examination in the ER that suggested prolonged starvation over the course of many years. They'd also mentioned how the front door didn't lock, and their friends came and went as they pleased, which Taylor didn't think Wren was all that phased by, but since finding that out, she's attempted to be better at letting the girl know when they buzzer would be going off.

When the car pulled through the gate and Greg rolled to a stop only a few inches away from the descending staircase, Taylor was efficient with her exit. The second the stairs unfolded and had boarding approval from the captain, she was pressing Wren's face into her neck and making a sharp escape into the jet. The little girl held on as tightly as she could with one tiny hand already holding onto her new cup and the other desperately clutching Bluey's ear. She snuggled in close when the bumpy footsteps evened out, Taylor's quick movements slowing down before they stopped completely.

"I think I found who you were looking for." The blonde teased, softly corralling Wren out of her hiding place with a firm hand stroking across her spine.

Trina Paine, Taylor's esteemed publicist, accompanied the blonde to nearly every award show and event that made it onto her schedule, very rarely did she have conflicting obligations, or allow any conflicting obligations to stand in the way of her attendance. Whether it came down to rearranging her schedule or arranging travel by another means outside of Taylor's direct plan, she would be there to support and guide. When she did make the journey on the jet though, she always sat in the same row closest to the back wall, and that was exactly where she sat now. Her carry-on bag was placed on the floor by her feet, and a Nassau Beach hoodie laid draped over the seat next to her.

Tree's eyebrows raised questioningly at Taylor's illusive comment, though a knowing smile was simultaneously tugging at her lips as she assessed the state of the little girl she'd met a handful of times since January. She and Wren had gotten on well from the start, which Taylor had more or less expected given the laid back nature of the woman older than herself. Tree was a mother to a daughter nearly twice Wren's age, and she desperately missed the early years of childhood; even though she was adamant about never wanting to fully relive them for herself. She was a natural with the child, but on their last encounter, they'd really solidified their bond when she'd stuck around after a meeting had wrapped just to finish coloring in a picture sheet that she'd been offered by the little girl at the start.

Wren perked up at the gentle prodding, little green eyes searching for vibrant red hair until they found it toward the back of the plane, and excitedly, she waved the little hand that was holding onto Bluey, not willing to leave Taylor's embrace, but pleased enough by the company to offer a friendly gesture. Tree didn't push for a verbal greeting, simply waving back with the same enthusiasm that would've had tabloids in a frenzy. She had a reputation of being somewhat of a hard ass whenever public appearances were anticipated, and while that wasn't far off from her composed work ethic, she did have quite a soft and compassionate heart for those that she kept close.

Taylor sighed softly once she'd finally gotten Wren situated in the seat across from Tree, the little girl wearing a deep pout as she made her disapproval known to both adults that watched her closely. She'd put up one hell of a fight (well, as much of a fight as she knew how to give, which was really just pitiful whines and persistent clinging) about being sat in her own seat, little green eyes welling with tears that were only stated when Taylor reminded her of the lollipops that could be eaten during take off and landing. It was admittedly hard to not give into the sad eyes and pouty lips that Wren had going on, but by some miracle, she didn't immediately cave.

"Do you want some water, baby?" Taylor cooed, already unzipping the backpack she'd crammed full of any necessity that could even be thought about for the next six or something hours. There were two water bottles on the top, meticulously placed for this very moment, and without needing to see Wren nod, she reached for the princess cup that had — once again — been sucked dry.

"Is that a new cup?" Tree posed the question lightly, her kind eyes bright with excitement that was only slightly over-exaggerated. The only indication that it was new was the lack of bite marks on the straw and the fully visible designs, but her question was confirmed when Wren nodded shyly.

"'Punzel." The little girl offered an explanation, reaching for the cup the second Taylor had the lid screwed on again. She didn't guzzle it down as quickly as she did the orange juice, but still Taylor kept the water bottle out and within arms reach because assuredly before take off, Wren would need more, and Taylor didn't think she'd have the courage to ask for it on her own.

"Did Taylor finally show you Tangled?" Tree smiled kindly, taking note of the bright expression that came over the little girls features as she engaged in the conversation about her new favorite movie like any typical six-year-old. It definitely didn't surpass Monsters Inc., nothing ever could, but Wren definitely thinks that maybe she'd pick it first for movie night.

"Uh huh!" She beamed, no longer so offended by the distance that separates her from Taylor's body, although unconsciously her little hand reaches out to hold onto the sleeve of the woman's crewneck whether she realizes it or not. Taylor doesn't say anything, wanting to see how far Wren would go with the conversation without her input. "And said that I can get a 'Punzel dress." There was a twinge of uncertainty in the added detail, serving as a painful reminder that despite the months of healing and overcoming everything that she'd been conditioned to believe, she still wasn't used to being given nice things.

"You'll have to show me, okay?" Tree grinned brightly, and Wren nodded acceptingly, little lips suctioning around the pink straw, effectively ending the conversation that had truthfully stretched farther than Taylor had anticipated. Her girl was beyond brave, and every day was a reminder of her profound resilience. Taylor could only aspire to one day find even a fraction of that strength within herself.

The adults fell into their own conversation after that, discussing the schedule for tomorrow afternoon and early evening until the pilots voice came over the intercom and kindly asked them all to buckle in for take off. Taylor triple checked that Wren's was tight enough before reaching into the front pocket of the blue Little Mermaid backpack, pulling out one of the lollipops she'd packed for this specific moment. Wren took it into her little hands eagerly, but furrowed her little eyebrows and pointed between both Tree and Taylor when she realized the blonde wasn't already planning to further distribute the treats.

"What flavor should we give Tree?" Taylor laughed softly, complying with the slightly bossy request and fishing a handful of assorted flavors out of the front pocket. There was hardly a moment of contemplation before Wren had singled out the only red flavor in the bunch and pointed firmly in Tree's direction, apparently back to her streak of silence.

"One of these days I'm going to dye my hair." Tree teased but accepted the cherry flavored lollipop, thanking the child for her generosity before untangling the wrapper and placing the red ball of solidified sugar between her teeth.

"No, you're not." Taylor rolled her eyes at the empty threat all the while letting Wren pick which flavor she would get to eat before she put the rest away and moved on with the conversation, turning the questions on Tree as she asked about her daughters school year and her husbands promotion. "You should bring Lux one of these days!" She encouraged brightly, but Tree was quick to laugh that suggestion off.

"I've offered, trust me. She's more interested in being at softball practice." Both Tree and Taylor could remember those days, where extra curricular activities had felt so consuming and important even if they only ever amounted to old trophies in a crammed attic. For Taylor, it was a conflicting thought. She'd had hobbies that predated her interest in music, but without her all-consuming dedication to songwriting as a young teenager she'd have never attained this career nor her daughter, and neither were things she was willing to give up, but on the other hand, she'd finally reached an age where she wasn't blind to all that she'd missed out on in her youth.

"Hanging out with Taylor Swift doesn't trump running bases?" Taylor teased, blonde eyebrows wiggling tauntingly as she unwrapped Wren's lollipop and handed it back to the content child, smoothing her hand across her silky brunette tresses that were falling from the bun by the minute. She'd have to redo it in a matter of hours, but for now she didn't impede on the child's unruly state, allowing her to be the truest reflection of a little girl.

Tree gave an unamused glance, her lips pursed as if she'd gone over this with Taylor a handful of times, which she had, but it was always in good spirits that they brought it up again. "You've been Aunt Taylor since she was eight. I hate to break it to you, but you might be just as uncool as me right now."

"Hey, Wrenny?" Taylor asked softly, catching the little girls attention just as the private jet lurched forward on the tarmac, picking up speed as it headed for the runway. When little green eyes snapped to her, Taylor gave a reassuring smile, though her eyes were full of mischief. "Who's your favorite grown up, buddy?"

Wren's little finger pointed straight in Taylor's direction without a moment of hesitation, and the blonde grinned triumphantly at tells display, leaning closer to the little brunette to press a kiss into her hairline that awarded her a timid smile. "And you're my favorite kid, right?" Wren gave a confident little nod, her green eyes slightly wilted as she sank farther into the seat, Bluey resting beneath her arm as little fingers twisted its unfortunate left ear.

"Just you wait, Swift." Tree rolled her deep brown eyes jestingly, although if she were to be honest, she couldn't ever imagine a time coming along where Wren would choose anyone other than Taylor to be classified as her favorite person. It was a rite of passable in parenthood to move on from being your child's entire world; as bittersweet as that was to accept for most parents, but that didn't even seem conceivable for Taylor and Wren — and Tree liked to think of herself as a realist to a near painful degree. Only time would tell of course, but the redhead would bet money on that day never coming.

Three hours into the flight, they'd been served lunch by one of the stewardesses that kept a place in the cockpit until she was needed in the cabin. It wasn't often that Taylor had her on board, the jet was large but not quite large enough to house an absurd amount of people comfortably, but longer flights typically served for her presence and today was no exception. Taylor had ordered Wren a grilled cheese and sweet potato fries (her child was weirdly obsessed with them), while she and Tree both cut into steaks and sides of mashed potatoes. They ate over casual conversation, Wren ending up in Taylor's lap halfway through, practically dead to the world as she snuggled in close with Bluey pinned to her chest and ketchup smeared across her nose.

"How about we take a nap, hm?" Taylor suggested after wiping her face and hands clean, dabbing at the ketchup stain that had ended up on the little girls thigh after a patch of turbulence had rattled the cabin just as she was biting into her last crinkle cut fry.

Tree pulled the shade closed without needing to be asked, fondly remembering the days of putting a child to sleep in daylight. It had been a couple years since she'd had any practice for herself, but it was always a familiar comfort to help out another mother whenever she could. Wren was easy to pacify, and after only a couple minutes of gentle rocking, she was out like a light draped across Taylor's chest, one little hand holding onto the neckline of the blonde's crewneck while the other strangled Bluey affectionately.

"She's handling this significantly better than I thought she would." Taylor admitted softly once she'd confirmed Wren was out for the count in her arms, slightly shifting the child so that she could still scoop spoonfuls of cold mashed potatoes into her mouth; one of these days she'd be able to get through an entire meal without it growing cold as she attended to the needs of her daughter, but she wouldn't be wishing these precious moments away anytime soon. "I had to reassure her again this morning that we wouldn't be seeing Joe."

"About that..." Tree offered a truly apologetic wince, but nothing would make the coming blow any easier. "I got word last night that his team confirmed his attendance."

"I have to see him." Taylor blanched at the news, her face growing pale as she recounted the last spoken words they'd exchanged the morning she and Wren had left for America. She'd all but thrown the necklace he'd gotten her at his feet without a moment of regret, but the thought of having to play nice, of having to pretend like he didn't leave deep scars across her heart and her daughters — that was just as unimaginable as it was distressing.

"You do not have to. I will fully support whatever you decide is the best plan of action, but as you're publicist, if you aren't ready to speak about the separation just yet, I would advise that you're photographed together at least once." The smile of sympathy was absolutely sickening despite intending to be a comfort, and if Wren hadn't been keeping Taylor together and cemented in place, she would've been sprinting to the bathroom to expel the lunch that suddenly felt unbearably heavy in her stomach. She couldn't face Joe. Not when they'd unraveled so suddenly, not when she'd stared at his face and wondered when she'd stopped loving him, and when he'd stopped seeing her. He'd thrown the one thing in her face that had been so tragically out of her control, and two months later he'd yet to genuinely apologize. The even ground that they'd found together had been replaced with a bloodied battlefield, and she wasn't sure she had the strength to slip into her dented suit of armor another time.

"He signs an NDA." Was her strangled response, her tone clipped with emotions that Tree could understand and knew not to take personally even if the curt chill of her tone was intimidating and entirely out of character. "My name is good for him, right now. He contributes nothing to my career. He'll want that picture out there, but I swear to god if he tries anything, I'm suing him."

"Taylor, you don't have to-"

"I do have to, Tree. I have to protect her, I have to protect myself. And, if that means facing that sleazebag for a couple of minutes to stage a picture, then I'll be there. I told him everything, I had them in the same house together. I need that NDA. I need to be able to sleep at night without waking up in a cold sweat panicking over whether he's blasted her name all over the tabloids for another five minutes of fame or not." Despite the hurt that kept her from forgiving, this wasn't all about her anymore. She never wanted to think that Joe would swoop so low as to blast Wren's story from every tabloid from Thailand to Switzerland, but she'd also never expected him to throw Betty in her face and be so outwardly cold to a traumatized six-year-old. The sad reality was that she didn't know him at all anymore, and she hadn't for a while, but she needed to protect her own before she worried about how her chest felt impossibly heavy with grief and anger.

"He signs an NDA." Tree nods acceptingly, already pulling out her phone to get the nondisclosure agreement drafted and faxed over to Joe's publicist before the nights end. She works efficiently, her silence the only indication that things aren't blowing up on her end of the bargain, and when she finally sets her phone down nearly half an hour later, there's an apologetic smile on her lips that confirms her success. "He'll be in your section for ten minutes. I'm going to be right there the entire time. The second he tries anything, I'm getting you out and back home to your baby."

Taylor sighs, accepting the plan despite every instinct screaming at her to back out. "I'm really starting to hate London."

Chapter Text

"there goes the last great american dynasty. who knows, if she never showed up, what could've been? there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen. she had a marvelous time ruining everything"

February 12th, 2020

London was different than America. There was a certain thickness in the air as daylight overcame the steep darkness. There wasn't an easy way to encapsulate the stillness nor the simultaneous weight, but the closest depiction would be waking up in a breathtaking oil painting from Van Gigh's century. The colors would be vibrant, but not too bright for the eyes, and the scenery would be captivating, but upon taking a step back, it would convey only an average town, with nothing truly grand or eccentric about the location. Nothing would change about the painting, not even after awakening within its sophisticated gold frame, but there would be this electric buzz that was utterly insatiable despite the stillness of the scene. London was different than America, but that wasn't entirely unappealing.

Taylor hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. She hadn't been able to settle since being confronted with the topic of Joe, not even after she'd wrangled Wren to bed and hid away in the bathroom to have an agonizing panic attack. She'd tossed and turned all night, worse than the child that had tucked herself into that same bed somewhere after two.  She'd contemplated rifling through her medicine bag for the melatonin capsules she always kept on hand, but she didn't want to risk not stirring at any indication of distress from her bed invader. She'd come to terms with the sleepless night somewhere just after the sun rose, and had gone out onto the balcony to embrace the fresh start as optimistically as possible. She wasn't sure why she'd always thought London had a certain weight to its morning crispness, but she figured she could attribute the thought to all of the years she'd spent hearing about the Great Smog of London in high school.

She didn't hate the weight, but it didn't feel as comforting as it had in years passed. There was nothing here to look forward to anymore; nothing that kept her heart tethered to this city and its constant pain. She didn't know where to begin with unpacking that realization, but the fleeting thought of putting her house in Chelsea on the market was as persistent as it was terrifying. She'd started over a few million times, whether that contributed to a breakup that left her paralyzed by depression, or related to her constantly evolving sense of expression through sound. There was always something new off of the horizon for her, and for the time, she didn't want to accept that reality. She wasn't ready for everything to change again, but it already had.

There was nothing that could be done by anyone to amend the hurt that Joe had caused, and Taylor wasn't sure she wanted that pain to be eased at all. She'd been told her entire career that she had no right to be angry; that anger was unbecoming of a successful young woman. She had a right to be hurt, a right to be pissed, and the experience of guilt-free anger was as liberating as it was shackling. She needed time to sit with the feelings that had otherwise always been brushed off — she deserved this time to fully process the end of what had once been legendary.

There was a few minutes of silence before Wren joined her on the balcony, little limbs tangled in the pajamas she'd slept in. Taylor laughed softly at the discombobulated waistband of the child's pants, ushering her closer so that they could be fixed appropriately. Wren was warm to the touch, as she always was after a restful nights sleep, and Taylor smiled comfortingly at her little shadow who seemed to still be clinging to sleep. It was only a little after eight, which meant that it wasn't even four am in New York, but she figured Wren would be sound asleep again in only a handful of minutes if she played her cards right.

It was slightly nippy outside, the breeze sharp and slightly unsettling as it swept across bare arms, but there was a clarity that came with the cold that Taylor clung to. Still, she didn't want her daughter subjected to the breeze, and softly directed her back inside to grab the blanket she'd shoved into the carry-on. It wasn't large, it barely covered stretched over Taylor's torso without her ankles poking out, but it wrapped around the child perfectly, and soon Wren was cradled in the blonde's lap, staring out at the cityscape with droopy green eyes.

"Pretty." A little finger jutted out to point at a building in the distance, the daylight refracting off of it's rectangular windows and creating iridescent beams of light that only individuals far enough away could appreciate the simplicity of. Taylor smiled fondly, nodding her agreement as she continued to softly sway in the slightly uncomfortable chair, patting an easy rhythm against Wren's bottom as if she were an infant, but the comforting pattern never failed to settle her.

Her own finger jutted out at the skyline a few minutes later, pointing toward a cloud in the distance that could slightly resemble a heart if she tried to convince herself enough. "You see the cloud, baby? It kinda looks like a heart, doesn't it?" She hummed, aware of how she was effectively pulling Wren farther from sleep with her gentle commentary, but she wanted to milk this moment for everything that she could while she had it. Wren deserved to have comforting memories of London, and she would try her fucking hardest to keep her own turmoil away and provide what little positivity she could.

"Tree..." Wren yawned, her little lips forming an adorable 'o' shape as she tried to hide her face in Taylor's chest and fight off the remnants of sleep that kept her eyes from fully opening. "...coming soon?"

Taylor smiled softly, shaking her head as she stood up from the chair, deciding that if Wren was choosing to be awake for the day already, they'd at least get a nice breakfast delivered to the room to pass the time and fill their bellies. "Not for a little while, sweetheart. What about you and I get some breakfast, though?" She pulled the balcony door closed, not bothering to lock it just yet, having an inkling that Wren would want to go explore the tiny cubicle once she'd woken more.

"Orange juice?" The little girl hummed, little eyes looking up to seek Taylor's approval and confirmation that it was even an option. Taylor laughed affectionately, shaking her head fondly as she situated the child on her hip, scrounging around the suite for the room service menu she'd seen last night.

"Yes, we can get you some orange juice. Do you want some eggs too, baby?" Taylor questioned, knowing that if anything, Wren would have no complaints about having scrambled eggs for breakfast again. Her child would eat eggs every day if she allowed it, and more often than not, she did. They were a somewhat balanced source of protein, and any extra nutrients would do the tiny girl some good. She was still wearing 3T clothing, most of which just barely fit her properly, and the pediatrician was becoming slightly concerned with her lack of weight gain. They were slowly approaching a conversation regarding a meal plan if things didn't change within the next few months, and that's not something Taylor wanted to push upon Wren unless absolutely necessary. "Let see what else they have." She hummed, turning the laminated menu over in her hands to scan the breakfast section. The options were typical, not many wildcards to take into consideration, but still Taylor searched hoping that the definitive list would quell her indecision. Eventually, after consulting back and forth with Wren about their choices, they decided on a cheese and mushroom omelet for Taylor and the double chocolate belgium waffle for Wren, who'd really only decided she wanted that after being told that it would probably taste like chocolate cake. Taylor had requested a side of strawberries and breakfast sausage for them to split, trying to incorporate new foods however she could without putting too much stress on the child. Strawberries were always a safe bet, especially if they came with a side of whipped cream (which she had also specifically requested because her kid was definitely spoiled). The sausage was the wildcard, and Taylor had to ask herself when she'd started hoping for small accomplishments instead of major milestones, the answer was obvious, but it was still an entirely different world to be in London and her biggest priority falling onto whether Wren tried the sausage or blatantly ignored it.

"Should we pick a new movie to watch?" Taylor suggested hopefully, settling into the bed she'd failed to fall asleep in with Wren perfectly content against her chest, the little girl holding onto Bluey and the giraffe stuffed animal that had been beneath Taylor's ribs for the majority of the night no matter how many times she threw it aside. The room had two bed right beside each other, with Wren originally being tucked into the one closest to the balcony; her array of stuffed animals still beneath the tousled sheets for Taylor to fish out before housekeeping came by. Taylor hadn't been the one to book the room, but if she had been, she would've forgone the two beds without even considering them for a moment. Wren did well on her own most nights, but Taylor had known that being somewhere new would have the child crawling into her familiar embrace. She'd lasted longer than expected, but the blonde knew that there was no chance of getting the little brunette back into it for the remainder of the trip, and it would eventually become the catch all for their clothings and random items. "How about Inside Out? We haven't seen that one yet." She had never really used her streaming platforms while on business trips like this prior to Wren. The days would either be spent responding to emails, or if Joe had come along with her, making the most out of their getaways. She thrives beneath the mundanes that follows her now, something that she doesn't think he will ever even try to understand.

"Does it have a princess?" Wren's little eyes were brimming with scrutiny, her little lips furrowed as she looked between Taylor and her princess cup on the nightstand, which was still halfway full with water from what she proclaimed were the 'fancy' bottles in the mini fridge. Since she'd discovered the princess films, especially the more recent ones, there had been little convincing her to watch anything else, and selfishly, Taylor wasn't sure she that she could handle watching Frozen or Tangled even one more time without something different thrown in.

"It doesn't have a princess, but it does have an elephant with a cotton candy tail that cries candy. Should we give it a try?" That seemed to win her over, and she gave a curt nod of agreement before snuggling in, her little fingers working overtime on twisting Bluey's ear in tight circles.

Taylor hadn't seen Inside Out before, but she'd heard nothing but good things about the storyline that unpacked emotions in a way that little brains could understand. She'd been wanting to give it a chance with Wren for a while, and it seemed like the perfect time to do so now. There hadn't been any meltdowns yet, but the day was still young and Taylor could practically feel the anxiety rippling off of Wren already. She hoped that in the slightest, the movie could help her foster-daughter put a name to what she was so intensely feeling. They'd gotten just about halfway through without either of them making a peep before there was a knock at the door and room service was announced. Wren paused the film when Taylor handed her the remote, allowing the blonde to leave her in the large bed so that she didn't have to confront the servers that had brought the tray upstairs. Every member of staff had signed an NDA, it was a nonnegotiable factor whenever Taylor's team booked at a hotel, but there was still the maternal instinct within the musician that told her to limit interaction however and whenever she could.

The cart was rolled into the center of the room before the server left for the kitchen again, leaving Taylor and Wren to dig into their meals and resume the movie that was admittedly sadder than Taylor had expected it would be. She'd definitely shed a handful of tears when Bing Bong sacrificed himself for Joy, and she'd definitely squeezed Wren a little bit tighter afterward too, not that the little girl noticed, too consumed with shoving pieces of chocolate waffle into her mouth and tracking every minor movements made by both Joy and Sadness. With only a handful of minutes left in the movie, the little brunette pointed toward the orange juice, her mouth dry from all of the waffle she'd consumed at a near inhumane rate. "Finish your water and then you can have some." The blonde smiled encouragingly, handing the cup of water over to the six-year-old who looked entirely betrayed.

"Want orange juice." The six-year-old argued weakly, pushing the purple cup back into Taylor's hands, crossing her little arms over her belly in evident displeasure. It took everything in Taylor not to laugh at the stubborn display. They'd come a long way since that past December; a long long way.

"You can have your orange juice, baby, but you need to finish your water first. Look, I'm finishing mine." Taylor pointedly reached for the bottle of Fiji on the breakfast tray, guzzling down a good fourth of the previously unopened bottle just to make her point. She'd already had a conversation with Greg about what Wren was and wasn't allowed to have while she was away with Tree. Walnuts were at the very top of the no list, for obvious reasons, but even with the security guards knowledge of the severe allergy, she'd all but rambled on about how 'under no circumstances should you let Wren anywhere close to something that even looks remotely close to a walnut'. However, she'd also told him to appease her every other desire. He'd been specifically given permission to pump as much chocolate milk and orange juice into her tiny body as she could handle. At the very least Taylor wanted to ensure that some water was consumed before she left for a couple of hours.

Wren seemed to contemplate the blonde's display, her little lips pulling downward into a frown as she glanced at the cup still full of untouched water sitting in Taylor's lap. "Can finish mine too?" She pleaded sweetly, little eyes wide and desperate. Taylor couldn't say no to that if she tried, so with a reluctant sigh and a playful smirk, she unscrewed the top of the cup and downed the rest of the water before reaching for the pitcher of orange juice and refilling it with what the child really wanted.

"You're going to turn into an orange." She hummed tauntingly, watching as little hands held the cup possessively and the tart liquid was guzzled down like there was a countdown happening somewhere near. She didn't have the energy to bicker about the importance of water consumption, not when both of their emotions were heightened and their bellies were full of nervousness. So she picked her battles carefully, though Wren would not be happy tomorrow when Taylor really did make her finish a bottle of water before orange juice was even ordered from room service. "Are you all done with your waffle?"

Wren shook her head, shoving a handful of cut up pieces into her mouth before smiling cheekily at Taylor while she chewed vigorously, her little cheeks full of chocolate fluff that had her resembling a baby chipmunk. Saliva covered fingers picked up another piece before she'd even finished what was in her mouth, and for a second Taylor was prepared to tell her to slow down (something that had never come out of her mouth before), but the fear of her daughter choking was short lived. The tiny piece of waffle was extended to the blonde with a gentle smile, and with how often she pushed for Wren to try new foods, she couldn't turn down the gesture even if her nose wrinkled at the germ covered piece of pastry.

"Do you wanna try some of mine?" Taylor asked softly after she'd swallowed the waffle without even letting it sit on her tongue for long enough to really taste it. Motherhood was funny, Taylor had always figured it would be, but there was something different about experiencing it for herself, even if she'd gotten a late start. For four months, she'd chalked motherhood up to be long nights and long days, meltdowns and the sweetest cuddles that made everything else fade away, and apparently now she could add soggy saliva covered food to that running list in her brain.

Wren looked at what was left of the omelette on Taylor's ceramic plate hesitantly, her little fingers squishing a piece of waffle into a flat disk as she tried to assess the situation presented to her. The breakfast sausage had been a hit, which Taylor figured it would be if it made it into Wren's mouth at all, but she didn't want to overwhelm the child with too many new things at once, so she smiled softly, cutting into the egg and putting a piece between her teeth despite how full she felt. "You don't have to try it. You might like it though. The mushrooms taste a little bit like the sausage, and you liked that, right?" She was very aware that mushrooms and breakfast sausage tasted nothing alike, but there was no other way for her to explain the slight meaty taste and texture that came with the earthy vegetable.

Wren nodded softly, glancing down at the two pieces of sausage that remained on the plate in the center of the metal tray. Little fingers, that were now covered in melted chocolate, reached for the two pieces, holding one out to Taylor while she ate the other piece. The blonde laughed softly, figuring that her best shot of getting Wren to accept new foods was to do it with her, which she didn't mind at all. The sausage was cold now, but still it had that vibrant flavor that she didn't mind, and she tried to ignore how there was a lingering essence of milk chocolate on her tongue as she swallowed.

"I... Just a little piece?" Wren pointed to Taylor's omelette, evident indecision and fear in her dazzling green eyes, but her bravery wasn't ignored, and Taylor tried to mask her excitement at the hesitantly spoken decision.

"If you don't like it, you can spit it out. I won't get upset." Taylor amended, cutting off a little bite of the omelette for Wren to try, being sure to cut one of the mushrooms down so it wasn't too overwhelming. She held the fork up the the child's lips, watching her intently, which proved to be a good call because after a few seconds of hesitant chewing, the little girls face scrunched up in panic and she seemed to freeze, wide eyes darting between Taylor and the stack of napkins only a couple of inches away. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, bug. Spit it out, you can spit it out." She cooed as tears began to well up in the little girls eyes, and instinctively, Taylor reached her hand out to cup beneath the trembling little chin, hardly even grimacing when a ball of warm mush landed in her palm. She wiped it away with a napkin, that she really should've thought to grab before hand, and pulled the child into her chest that was clearly in the throes of a flashback.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Wren blubbered, digging her face into Taylor's chest the second the blonde had wrangled her into her lap. They rocked together in silence, the only sound coming from the bedsheets that rustled beneath their shifting weight. There were still so many unanswered questions about what had occurred in the Tilghman household, but if Taylor had to guess, there'd been many instances where dislikes were punished. "No hurt!"

"Hey, hey. I'm not gonna hurt you. Where are you, baby bug? Can you tell me, hm?" Taylor tried not to let the hurt wash across her face as Wren begged for forgiveness, her little fingers curling into the neckline of Taylor's pajama top as she sobbed inconsolably.

Guiding the child's head upward, Taylor pointed out the balcony that they'd sat on nearly two hours ago. She spoke softly about how they'd looked at the clouds, and how the sunlight had created rainbows against still glass in the distance. She'd reminded Wren about how it was chilly outside, so they'd wrapped her up tight in a cozy blanket and kept each other warm. She'd finally started to see the glaze of trauma fall away from the little girls eyes when she'd thought to offer Bluey, tucking it between their chests so that the blue fur could stimulate the uncovered inches of skin on Wren's arms.

"All better?" Taylor coaxed softly, peppering soft kisses into the child's hairline as she eased her down from that moment of all encompassing panic. Her eyes were kind, her face soft, knowing that little eyes were searching every inch of her display to assure anger wasn't hidden beneath the compassionate understanding.

"Don't like mushrooms." Wren whispered softly, her little lips turned downward as she pouted her apologetic explanation, busy fingers pulling through the comforting fuzz in her stuffed companions head.

"And that's okay. Were you a little bit scared because it was my food?" Taylor needed to understand, even if she didn't want to ask. She needed to know what to avoid for next time, because in all of the months that she'd been offering new foods and textures to Wren, they'd never faced such a vicious fight-or-flight reaction.

When Wren gave a soft nod, Taylor didn't need to ask anything more, but the little girl seemed content enough to give more insight and that would never be something Taylor brushed off. It took so much courage to open up about the traumas that she'd endured, and even though it never got easier to stomach, the blonde tried her best to take everything in and be the safe space Wren needed. "Wasted it. T-Timothy gotted mad when he gave me his food and I didn't like it."

"I'm never going to get mad at you for not liking something, buddy. And I'm all full, so you didn't waste anything. Nobody else was going to eat it. I'm so proud that you tried it! Now I know that mushrooms aren't for my little bug, huh? No more mushrooms!" Taylor pulled the little girls pajama top down, unable to resist the temptation to poke at her little belly button before it was fully covered again. Wren squealed with excitement, loud giggles rippling away from her chest as Taylor continued with her tickling torment, fingers digging into ribs in a manner that was soft, and hopefully amended some of the pain that had been caused by similar ministrations.

"No mushrooms!" Wren bellowed, head thrown back in bliss as she panted and heaved, squirming in Taylor's lap until her face was flush and her little lungs worked overtime to get her breathing evenly. Taylor finally relented when she noticed the flushed expression, smiling tenderly as she cupped Wren's face.

"I love you so much that it hurts, and I know that sometimes it's scary to be brave, but I'm so beyond proud of you for trying." She laid a kiss to the child's forehead, smiling softly when Wren's little fingers curled farther into her crewneck and her little lips that were lathered in chocolate pressed against her cheek affectionately. "Should we get you all cleaned up?"

"Not dirty." Wren frowned, looking down at her pajamas that — despite the ketchup stain from yesterday — didn't seem to be dirtied enough to warrant a new outfit. This was the battle they had every time the Monsters Inc. pajamas found their way out of her dresser, and every time Taylor had to bride her with another fun shirt or a cute hairstyle that could only be accomplished if she hopped in the shower to wet her wild mane. "Can stay in these." Her logic was solid, but Taylor wasn't about to fold so easily. She desperately needed to take a brush through the wild brown locks that had entirely fallen out of the messy bun, and she needed to scrub every ounce of chocolate off the child's face and hands before it stained her own clothes.

"You're not dirty? Then what happened to these little fingers!" Taylor pried the tiny digits away from the neckline of her crew neck, inspecting the chocolate that had dried to fingertips like she'd only just discovered it was there.

Wren giggled, licking her fingers in a manner that should've had Taylor's nose wrinkling in disgust, but she'd smiled affectionately instead, rising from the bed and carrying the little girl over to where their suitcases had been left last night. She'd definitely overpacked, but she'd wanted Wren to be comfortable and so she'd justified the four outfits and three sets of pajamas without stress. She set the little girl down on the floor, sitting with her legs crossed as she opened the smaller of the two suitcases and rifled through the options at hand.

"What do you feel like, baby? I packed the outfit that matches what I'm wearing tonight, but I think that's a little bit much for today, hm?" She tossed aside the black leggings and t-shirt that did look similar to the outfit she'd chosen with the guidance of her stylist, not sure why she'd packed it to begin with when all that awaited Wren was movies and the few activities they'd shoved in the suitcase and carry-on. She'd had grand intentions, but the top was scratchy at the seams and it just seemed like more hassle than good when Wren wasn't even joining her.

"Those ones!" The little girl rummaged through the suitcase when her eyes landed on yellow shorts with sweet little rainbows printed all over them. The hem of the shorts was intended to resemble ruffles, and that had been an immediate selling point for Taylor when she'd spotted them on some kids website months ago. "They have rainbows! Like the one we saw outside!"

The matching shirt was blue, the same ruffle design on the sleeves and bottom hem, and in the center of the chest was a rainbow and pink text that read 'Love Everyone'. It was a pajama set, soft and light as to not keep in too much extra heat when little bodies already ran so hot, and Taylor didn't see a reason to argue about how that wasn't exactly what she'd meant when she said Wren could pick the outfit. If wearing pajamas all day was going to make the little girl happy, she'd willingly turn a blind eye to the fact that it was still not even reaching the early hours of the afternoon.

Wren carried the pajamas to the bathroom with a triumphant grin on her little lips, seemingly no longer phased by then ordeal at breakfast. She was getting better about bouncing back, and Taylor was thankful for that. She felt entirely helpless when there was only so much she could do to ease the pain of remembering that bad dreams and real life hadn't been so different for a long stretch of years. The blonde followed the child into the brightly lit room with quiet footsteps, holding the bag of toiletries and hair care products that she'd shoved into the larger suitcase tightly. She discarded them on the counter with a dramatic sigh, only further provoking giggles from the little girl that watched her with wide eyes.

"Bath or shower?" She quizzed, all while brushing her fingers through the knotted locks of hair spilling down Wren's back. They'd have to take her for a haircut pretty soon, and Taylor didn't even want to think about how that was going to go.

"We have bubbles?" It was a serious question, and Taylor matched the tone of it with a curt nod, her eyes sparkling as she got down onto her knees and leaned in close.

"I'm the best at hotel bubble baths. Should we test it out?" She grinned whimsically, point toward a bottle of shampoo on the ledge of the tub that would become their scapegoat if Wren agreed with the suggestion. There was an excited nod that followed and a whole lot of giggles before the bath was ready to be stepped into, but the entire time Taylor had assured that Wren felt included. They filled the tub with warm water, squeezed the entire bottle of shampoo into the water, and had made an extravagant show of thrashing their limbs beneath the surface of the water to create the best bubbles in London. When it had all finally been prepared, and Wren had wiggled out of her pajamas, Taylor lifted her into the tub with a soft smile. "You're going to have fun with Mr. Greg tonight. But, I'm going to miss you." She wanted to reinstate that being left with Greg was not a punishment, while also making it clear the separation would be mutually felt. Hearing that Taylor was going to miss her seemed to puzzle Wren, however, and curiously she tipped her head to the side while Taylor dragged a cloth down her body and scrubbed away the remnants of sleep and dried chocolate.

"Gonna miss me?" She asked, hardly able to believe that the blonde would be capable of doing such a thing. Nobody had ever missed her before. It had always been the opposite. When Adrianna and Timothy would leave her at home, they'd always seemed so disappointed when they came home to her still being there in the house, like they'd forgotten all about her when they were gone.

"I'm gonna miss you so much! I'd take you with me if I could, but it's only for grown ups." Taylor frowned sympathetically, although that was only a fraction of the truth. If she really pushed, nobody would have a problem with the little girl attending, but that wasn't an atmosphere Taylor wanted Wren in so soon. The media was still clinging to the news that Taylor Swift had a daughter, running wild narratives about how it was a secret pregnancy with Calvin Harris or an estranged cousin she'd acquired custody to. The truth was somehow still tactfully concealed, and Taylor wasn't ready to challenge that.

"Are you gonna have yucky drinks?" Wren's little nose crinkled at the thought, and Taylor didn't know whether to laugh endearingly at the childish expression or grimace at the fact that Wren knew firsthand that alcohol was gross. She definitely didn't  want to brave the topic of how Wren had figured that one out.

"Maybe a couple, is that okay?" Taylor smiled softly, combing her fingers through the damp strands of hair that stuck to the little girls cheeks, her hands busy and lathered with bubbles that she continued to try and build a tower out of.

"Not gonna be mean when you come back?" The question was so innocently muttered Taylor had almost overlooked the severity of her concern, but the second it registered in her brain, she was fishing Wren out of the tub and corralling the soaking wet child into her lap, not caring that her own pajamas would need to be changed now.

"I am never, ever going to come home mean. Do you know what drunk means?" She asked softly, reaching for one of the fluffy white towel that were stacked neatly beside the sink. She wrapped it around Wren tightly, trying to keep her smile light and unwavering.

"Means you had al— al— alcholole." The word sounded so strange coming from someone so little, even with the endearing mispronunciation that tried to lighten the blow.

"Alcohol. It's a grown-up drink. Have you ever had alcohol?" She grabbed the brush from the counter, combing it through the thin strands of hair that were significantly less tangled now. She didn't want to conversation to seem threatening, even if her heart was hammering away in her chest. Wren didn't seem phased, although she was definitely confused about why her bath had been cut short.

"Mmm, think so. Made me sleepy, and it tasted yucky."

"It is yucky, but sometimes it tastes okay. I'll show you all different kinds when you're older, how about that?" The topic didn't seem to remind Wren of any specific instances, and Taylor wanted to keep it that way. She wouldn't be the reason the child had yet another thing to fear, but she also didn't want Wren stewing in anxiousness while she was away. Wren nodded at the suggestion, though she didn't seem all that interested in the promise, which Taylor didn't mind in the slightest. "Being drunk means you drank a lot of alcohol. It can make you act silly, but sometimes it can make mean people even meaner."

"Adrianna was silly when she had alcholole. She danced on the table one time and then it broke and she kept laughin' even though Timothy didn't think it was funny. I sawed from my room! 'Cause the door was open! But— but he got mean. Always yelled at me when he gotted drunk. Even when I was being quiet!" Taylor watched closely for any indication of festering distress, but for once, this seemed to be something that didn't phase the child; probably because she wasn't old enough to fully understand what getting drunk meant, but that barely made the situation easier to handle.

"Nothing that happened was your fault. Okay?" Taylor waited for the little girl to agree before she continued on, her fingers absentmindedly braiding the little girls hair in the way she preferred without even asking. Wren didn't mind, humming contently when Taylor's nails scratched at her scalp. "Alcohol doesn't make everyone mean. Sometimes, I think I'm a wizard." She wasn't sure if she should be telling the child about her drunk endeavors, but she was truly at a loss for how to get her point across any other way.

"You're a... a... I forgot what you're called. A singer!" Wren beamed through giggles, looking at Taylor like the possibility of being a wizard was entirely outrageous, which it was.

"I am a singer, baby. I'm a musician. I make music and then I sing it. But, I want you to listen okay?" Taylor smiled softly, finally finding it within herself to do so genuinely. "I'm never going to come home mean. So you don't even have to worry about that at all, okay?"

"Okay." Wren nodded, wiggling around in Taylor's lap so that she could reach the pajamas she'd discarded on the floor in a disheveled heap. "Put them on now?" That was apparently the end of the conversation, not that Taylor minded in the slightest. She helped the child get dressed, oversaw the brushing of teeth, and happily turned the lights off as they stalked back into the main room.

It was only a little bit after eleven when Taylor finished getting changed out of the wet clothes, but they didn't have much time left to kill before Tree and her team arrived for preparations, meaning what they could do was limited. Thankfully, Wren was content with simply coloring at the table in the corner of the room, her little tongue poking out from between her lips as Taylor caught up on emails that hadn't been previously delegated to respective members of her staff.

The little girl was still content at the table when Tree came into the room forty minutes later, the publicist having the second keycard solely because Taylor hadn't known how available she would be to open the door. She'd planned for the worst with Wren, even if she hadn't expected inconsolable meltdowns in any degree. She was thankful for that decision however, because she didn't really feel like pausing her efforts to respond when she'd only just figured out how to word her expectations professionally. Tree laughed at the sight of the two girls sat in near identical positions on opposite ends of the room, not sure that Taylor realized just how concentrated she looked if the sudden quirk in her eyebrow was any indication of her awareness.

"I haven't seen you that concentrated in a while." Tree gave context for her amused chortle, stalking farther into the room without any real purpose, though she did find one quickly after when Wren's little head shot up and she beamed brightly, waving a red crayon in Tree's direction. "Oh, did you finally realize I'm here?" The woman laughed softly, brushing a hand over Wren's head as she rounded the table, sitting at the opposite end where she was promptly given a coloring sheet and shoved a handful of assorted colored crayons.

"Uh huh!" Wren giggled, hardly phased by what was meant to be a lighthearted jab at her attentiveness. Both Taylor and Tree laughed softly at her distracted enthusiasm, her attention already back on the cupcake she was coloring for Taylor; not that the blonde knew it was for her, but Tree had definitely seen the six letters scribbled at the bottom of the paper in pink wax.

Tree noted that her picture was... very on the nose. The large tree was the only thing on the page aside from the sketch of a smiling cartoon sun in the corner. She couldn't help but laugh fondly as she picked up a brown crayon, falling into the easy silence that Taylor and Wren had created prior to her arrival.

Taylor, although she adored even having the opportunity to give Wren all of her attention, was thankful for her publicists willingness to tap in for a while, giving her just enough time to send the email and finish up her remaining digital obligations. She was just beginning to set her phone aside when little hands pressed into the mattress and attempted to catapult onto the bed, only she was simultaneously attempting to not crinkle the paper in her hands and was proving a weak multi-tasker. Taylor laughed fondly, assisting Wren into the bed with ease, her undivided attention on the squirming child.

Before she could ask, although she already had a pretty solid assumption, the pristine white sheet was being forced into her hands by a shyly smiling child. She didn't even have to glance at it before she was praising the effort and thought, but when she did look down, her heart fluttered seeing a swirl of her favorite colors make up the cupcake. The added touch was what looked like specks of purple against what was very clearly blue icing, the little flicks meant to be sprinkles if she had to give an educated guess. Taylor couldn't help but be reminded of their night spent in the kitchen baking and decorating a birthday cake for the both of them, and how she'd all but stressed the importance of sprinkles on any cake. So many things had been different then, so much had changed.

"Thank you, baby. Should we add it to the fridge when we get home?" Taylor smiled kindly, setting the picture on the nightstand to avoid wrinkling the edges in a moment of distraction. Wren nodded brightly, already back on her feet and racing the table before Taylor could ask anything else. The blonde laughed amusedly, watching as she and Tree settled into a comfortable silence, but every few minutes they'd asked to switch crayons.

𓇢𓆸

Relatively speaking, the afternoon had unfolded smoothly. Taylor's team had arrived shortly after Tree, and Wren hadn't made too much of a fuss at the intrusion of unknown individuals, although she had stuck close to the publicist whenever Taylor wasn't able to hold her. The team of three — makeup artist, hair stylist, and stylist — had gotten the blonde dressed and styled for the carpet in record time, although the look was admittedly very simple in comparison to her others and didn't require too much attention to detail. They were packed up and out the door only an hour and a half later, which had given Taylor just enough time to prepare Wren for her departure without prying eyes impeding on the intimate affair.

Tree had stuck around however, occasionally making conversation with the tiny brunette, trying and failing to lift her spirits, although Wren hadn't been very talkative, clinging to Taylor and at least three of her stuffed animals with a sullen expression that broke both women's hearts. She'd gotten worked up when it was really time for Taylor to go, little hands clinging to sleek white and black lapels as tears fell silently down pale cheeks. Taylor had needed to physically pry her away to stand any chance of leaving, but she'd reassured the girl a few hundred times that she'd be back soon and she'd miss her so so much, even as she'd stepped past the threshold of the door and was half exposed to the elegant hallway. Yes, the afternoon had gone relatively smooth in regards to Wren's emotional state, but the second Taylor had gotten out of the room and closed the door softly behind herself, she'd nearly been the one to breakdown as the crushing reminder of having to face Joe came back to her and the guilt of leaving Wren behind so soon became paralyzing.

Tree had needed to step into her role as publicist in that moment, and classily the redhead had replaced the tenderness that came with friendship with rigid strictness that partnered with her sense of professionalism. She'd all but dragged Taylor down the hallway to the elevators, all the while giving a lecture about the importance of balancing her career and motherhood, tastefully throwing in the logic that it was healthy for Wren to see her upholding obligations and pursuing her career in light of the hardships that had befallen them recently. It didn't quell the anxiety festering within Taylor entirely, nothing could, but it did screw her head on enough to at least go through with the motions of pretending like her entire world hadn't shifted since the last time she'd been in this situation.

Everything had been going according to plan for the first four hours; Greg hadn't called about Wren, interviewers hadn't pried in regards to her very sudden Instagram post about motherhood, and fellow industry colleagues had paid her only enough attention to have mindless conversations that truly served no purpose other than to remain cordial and pass the time. Everything had been going according to plan, and then everything had spiraled so unbelievably out of control before Taylor had even a moment to process it. She'd been entirely content in her crowded seating section, nearly three glasses of wine in when Joseph Alwyn had come up behind her without as much of a moments notice and sank his arm around her waist possessively. She'd only turned her head to tell him to back up, that's all she'd been intending to do, but before the words could fall off of her tongue he was kissing her passionately and she was too frozen in place to shove him away.

Instantaneously, everything had frozen. The crowed became silent, the heavy lights became dark, her chest felt tight, the room felt hot, and all that she was aware of was how his hands were suddenly away from her waistline and she was being led through long hallways that all looked the same as she heaved for breath that wouldn't come through her lungs. He'd gotten so mad at her. He'd yelled and cursed in her face. He'd insulted her miscarriage. He'd broken her from the inside out. She squirmed at the feeling of his hands heavy on her waistline, but there was nothing there to shake away, and yet the feeling persisted as she squirmed and flailed, wildly trying to separate herself from whoever was pulling her along.

"Taylor!" Her wild blue eyes were frantic as they snapped to the stern call of her name, breath frantic and thin as she hyperventilated. Her hands trembled, her knees shook, but she wasn't moving anymore, and she was no longer in a room that had too many hot bodies all crammed together. She could just barely hold onto the water that was shoved into her hands, but slowly she sipped from the bottle and tried to draw her focus to how the cold liquid felt slipping down her throat. "You back with me now?" The voice was softer, kinder then it had been before, and without so much going on around her now, she finally realized that it was Tree who was speaking, and that redhead stood in front of her wearing an expression derived of genuine concern.

"Sorry." Taylor croaked, guzzling down more of the water now that she was slowly regaining control of her limbs and consciousness. "Sorry, I just, I wasn't expecting him to do that. We weren't supposed... I thought he wasn't coming to my section for another half an hour."

"He wasn't supposed to." Tree ran a hand down her face, the bridge of her nose subject to assault as she pinched at her skin in frustration and anger. "Are you okay?" There was so much more that Tree wanted to say, but she held her tongue in favor of assuring that Taylor was alright. She'd only seen the blonde panic like that one other time, and it had been during the Reputation Stadium Tour meet and greets. She hated to think how both situations had been disgustingly similar.

"I need to get back to Wren." Taylor couldn't think about anything else. She didn't want to think about anything else, because if she did, she'd think about how the man she knew for years would've never laid his hands on her so unexpectedly, especially not in front of cameras that had assuredly caught the entire display in high definition. She felt used; like she was worth nothing more than her body and her name. "I need to go home."

"Chad's already pulling the car around. I'm going to get you back to your girl, I promise, but I need you to breathe for me. I can't get you back to the hotel if you pass out." Taylor didn't realize that she'd been holding her breath until Tree had brought attention to it, and with struggle, she did suck some air deep into her lungs, trying not to wince at how raw everything inside of her felt. If she'd been ready to say goodbye to London before, she was more than ready to leave it behind now.

"I need... I need my baby, Tree. Get me back to my baby." The woman broke down into hysterics, sinking into the couch that she'd only just realized was right behind her, and allowing her head to fall into her heads as her shoulder shook and her chest rattled from the buildup of pain that she'd tried so earnestly to shove away. There was no pushing it aside anymore. Joesph Alwyn had finally broken her entirely.

Tree was guiding Taylor through hallways again minutes later, weaving through security guards and crew members without care for how brash she appeared beneath the heavy lighting that washed out her complexion. She'd all but blatantly ignored a man that had tried to offer them a ride to wherever they were headed in such a hurry on one of the various venues golf carts, but she had no time to explain to him where they were going and who they were meeting, and she definitely didn't want Taylor's emotional vulnerability being splashed across the tabloids by morning. They'd found their way out of the back entrance in minutes, and Tree had needed to shove Taylor into the backseat when it became obvious that the blonde was too riddled with overwhelming emotions to even muster up the strength to pull the back door open all the way. They'd sat in silence until the hotel came into view, and once again Tree was having to reprimand Taylor who desperately needed the firm guidance.

"You need to pull yourself together, Taylor. You cannot go into that hotel room looking like this. You're hurt, you're upset, but you can cry when Wren goes to bed. Hell, if you need a minute to yourself, you can call me the second she's down and I'll be right there to watch her so that you can have your breakdown in my room. But for right now, you need to go be that little girls mom. You need to go make good on your promise; nobody else has." The only indication that Taylor had even heard Tree at all was evident in the way she brushed her fingers against her cheekbones and brushed away the evidence of tears. Her expression stoned slightly, no longer so vulnerable and broken, instead empty and willing to be rewritten. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough for Tree, and without further lecturing they were marching through the swarm of paparazzi and into the peacefully protected lobby, taking the elevator up fifteen floors until the doors chimed and pulled open, revealing the hallway that Taylor had carried Wren through the night before.

The blonde couldn't hear any commotion coming from the suite at the very end of the hall as her feet carried her through the dimly lit hallway swiftly, the late hour evident if only because of how light fixtures that were definitely on automatic timers glimmered casually. She had only just forced a smile onto her lips when her hand braced the door handle and she'd scanned the keycard that Tree hand handed over to her, preparing to greet Wren with as much enthusiasm as she could muster up, but all that slipped away the second her eyes found Greg standing near the bathroom door, his hands in his pockets, and his sharp eyes trained to the table in the corner of the room.

She didn't understand his rigid posture at first, but as she searched the room from the doorframe and continued to come up empty for Wren, her stomach tied into thick knots. It took four steps for her to see what the security guard was seeing, and her blood ran cold at the harrowing sight of her six-year-old huddled beneath the table, knees drawn to her chest as she sobbed silently but heavily.

"Hey, hey," Her voice was soft, even and calm as she rushed over to where Wren was curled up into a tight ball, noticing how the little girl was desperately clutching onto a bulky black phone that was always clipped to the waistband of her security guards formal slacks. "What's with the tears, baby love? Why are we hiding?"

Wren didn't respond verbally, but her little body lurched forward so suddenly that Taylor just barely had time to place her hand between the unexpecting forehead and harsh wooden surface. She tried not to wince as she felt her knuckles crack at the sudden impact, but was glad it was her fingers that had taken the blow rather than a precious little head. She corralled the child into her lap, frowning at the feeling of cold dampness sinking into her naked thighs. She hadn't been able to see the clear indication of an accident beforehand, but it was more than evident now as Wren sobbed into her chest and wiggled in understandable discomfort.

"About an hour ago a couple came through. Drunk. Fighting. Cops were called. It spooked her. I offered to call you, told her that you would come back if she wanted, but that only freaked her out more. Grabbed my phone and has been under that table since." There was an unmistakable cocktail of guilt and sorrow in Greg's tone, and Taylor had to remember that not everyone around her had grown accustomed to handling a traumatized child barely older than a toddler. Her heart sank into her belly as she rocked on the carpet, her arms tight around Wren, applying pressure to the few areas that on her back and shoulders that always calmed her down.

"I bet that was scary, baby girl, but you're safe. You're safe." Even if none of the nights events had been Taylor's fault, she felt sickeningly overwhelmed with guilt and responsibility as she held together all the broken pieces of not only her daughter but herself. They'd only just barely survived the first trip to London. Two months later, Wren was still having nightmares about the argument that had ended a once passionate love affair — she still had nightmares about the final moments of her relationship. They should've never come back. They should've stayed in New York, should've remained as far away from London and Joseph Alwyn as they could manage. But she'd wanted to try and rewrite that stories ending. She'd been hopeful that this time could be different. It was her fault. It was all her fault. "I'm right here. I'm here. Taylor's here. Mama's here. I'm right here, baby love. I'm not leaving you. I'm never leaving you again. It's you and me. That's all I need." If she was aware of the words falling off of her lips, she hardly winced at the title that had been danced around for weeks. She wasn't aware though, practically functioning on autopilot as she swayed from side to side, attempting to console the child that cling to her with an iron clad grip. Wren wasn't aware of it either, still too frantic and worked up to hear anything overtop of her own agonizing wails and whimpers.

Somewhere between sinking into the floor and gathering Wren into her arms, Greg and Tree had backed out of the room, leaving the broken down mother to console her equally as distraught daughter in deserved privacy. Taylor had only noticed their absence when she began to strip out of her movement constricting clothes, assuring that Wren wasn't too fussed by her frantic — and albeit awkward — movements as she squirmed and wiggled out of taut fabric, hardly bothered with being graceful. She pressed the little girls head deeper into her chest once everything had been discarded, working the damp shorts off of the little girl with only one hand to spare, but she didn't mind the challenge as restricting as it was.

Eventually, the both of them were beneath the assault of warm water, drowning in the scent of strawberries and coconut milk. Taylor hadn't been able to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks as she held Wren close to her chest, their glistening bodies adorned with milky sudds that hadn't been fully washed away yet, but that didn't matter to either of them as Taylor sank to the floor and finally surrendered. She dropped her forehead to rest on the crown of Wren's head, once against rocking their bodies back and forth in a measly attempt to pacify the still sobbing child.

"I remember tears streaming down your face when I said 'I'll never let you go', when all those shadows almost killed your light. I remember you said 'Don't leave me here alone', but all that's dead and gone and passed tonight. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound. Don't you dare look out your window, darling everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold on to this lullaby even when the musics gone. Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound." Taylor must've run through the familiar lyrics four times before Wren's pitiful sobs were reduced to exhausted sniffles and coughs, the little girl curling into Taylor's chest as she deflated entirely, too worn thin to even hold her head up and meet the eyes of the woman she'd been desperately missing for hours.

Taylor didn't know when she'd begun to find comfort in the song she'd once sang to ease Wren's anxiety, but she found herself softly mumbling the lyrics as she swayed their sodden bodies beneath the endless supply of warm water, too emotionally drained to think about standing up and getting the both of them dried off and redressed. The only reason she eventually picked them up off the porcelain floor was because Wren began to shiver, and quickly she got them both wrapped in towels, only to remember that in her haste to clean the both of them off, she'd forgotten to grab clothes from the suitcases. With a tired sigh, Taylor crept into the main room and scrounged through their suitcases for pajamas, suddenly glad that you'd brought so many for Wren.

She got them both dressed quickly, not even bothering to go through their nightly routine of applying lotion to Wren's sensitive skin nor brushing their teeth, exhausted enough to let those obligations slip away from her list of nonnegotiable priorities. All she wanted to focus on now was getting Wren to sleep, knowing that would be the best thing for her little girl.

There was no hushed whispering in the unwavering darkness, no delirious giggling, or playful teasing; neither Wren nor Taylor had even thought about cracking a joke or telling a random story to prolong the inevitable after they'd settled into bed and pulled the sheets tight around their still shivering bodies. Taylor did, however, make a mental note to reschedule that ice cream night with Wren, not wanting the little girl to look back at this night and associate her vulnerabilities with a subsequent loss of fun. It took two hours for Wren to fall asleep against Taylor's, but when she finally did drift off into a sleep that was too deep to face violent nightmares, Taylor didn't move a single muscle, staying perched against the headboard until morning came around again and natural light filled the room with a gentle ambiance that starkly contrasted her dull mood.

She couldn't be here anymore. She'd let him blindly lead her to the ends of the earth, she'd let him play with her however he desired, even when it became nothing more than something familiar he didn't want to fully slip away. Their end had been coming for longer than she'd been willing to see, but the picture was clearer than ever now that she had a chance to adjust her perspective. Joseph Alwyn had been given a hundred chances, but there wouldn't be anymore. London had given her so many endless possibilities, but the city felt tainted beyond repair beneath her fingertips. She'd take Wren home. They'd rebuilt what was broken, but one thing was written in stone; London and Joseph Alwyn were never being given another chance to break her spirit.

i had a marvelous time ruining everything. a marvelous time ruining everything. a marvelous time. i had a marvelous time.

Chapter Text

you are not like the regulars; the mascarade revelers. drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

February 21st, 2020

Taylor hadn't slept in days. She'd fall asleep for awhile after getting Wren down for the night, that was a fact, but like clockwork she bolted upright at sometime not long after midnight and didn't even try to settle back in until the next night rolled around and provided the same suffocating opportunity. The problem wasn't so much that she couldn't fall asleep at all, but rather how difficult it was to remain asleep when her dreams had become a highlight reel of all her worst moments. The weight of his hands on her hips was always what woke her up in a panic, but even with the resentment she felt toward Joe growing as days passed and nights dragged on, she was really beginning to loathe how something that had once brought her so much unbridled joy was now sick with unimaginable sadness.

Wren was fairing far better than the blonde in certain retrospects. The first few nights had been outright torturous, and that was putting it lightly. To give it straight, the first few nights had been actual hell on Earth. There'd been inconsolable wailing with seemingly no trigger, suffocating clinginess that prevented Taylor from so much as even going to the bathroom alone, and prolonged episodes of blankness that had been what truly terrified the blonde. But, they had seemingly — hopefully — overcome the worst. Wren was sleeping in her own bed again, she wasn't putting up as much of a fight at mealtimes (that didn't mean she was actually eating, but it felt like a small victory to no longer be enduring shrill sobs and panic attacks at the table), and she'd finally, finally, stopped staring into space like every ounce of consciousness had evacuated from her frail little body.

When the staring spells had started, Taylor had called Emily in hysterics. She'd sounded so broken down, so exhausted, and she'd been certain that her vulnerability would result in the emergency removal of her guardianship, but that hadn't come. Her memory of the last nine days was only as intact as it could be with such a prolonged lack of sufficient sleep and rest, but Taylor could almost recall how Emily had laughed soothingly at her desperation the second it had been somewhat appropriate to do so, and how she had cooed over Taylor's all encompassing concern that had truly spoken volumes for her credibility as a first time mother. The social worker, with a PhD in Child Psychology, had explained that in some cases, trauma caused the mind to shut down, and unless Wren stopped breathing, she was as safe and content as the situation allowed for her to be. That had eased Taylor's initial concern exponentially, but the guilt was still heavy and raw on her chest, and still she felt like all of this had been her own fault. Emily hadn't been blind to that self-deprecating attitude, and so she'd all but forced Taylor to run through the grounding exercises she'd initially introduced for Wren, not allowing the woman to end the call until she had her head screwed onto her shoulders and some feeling back into the tips of her frozen fingers. Wren was definitely doing better than Taylor, but what was motherhood without at least a couple of setbacks and failures.

The blonde's anxiety was hardly manageable anymore; which was definitely the reason that Tree had booked her a therapy session for the next week, assigning it in their shared calendar as a 'nonnegotiable obligation'. Where Wren didn't seem to be looking over her shoulder anymore than what was typical for her, Taylor practically lived in fear. She hadn't heard Joe come up behind her, hadn't known he was there until his hands were on her waist and she couldn't do anything to get away. She was living with the fear of it happening again; happening in a place where she and her daughter were meant to be safe. Rationally, she knew it was ridiculous to think he'd show up in New York and try something like that again, but irrationally that thought crossed her mind at least four times an hour. He knew where she lived. He knew all of the discreet access points and when her security team retreated home for the night. If he'd snuck up on her so effectively once, who's to say he couldn't do so again.

The music room had become her only source of escapism, but that wasn't to say even its tranquil interior hadn't seen changes since they'd returned from London. On top of the piano, where a vase of wilted daffodils had once sat like a prized trophy, a sleek baby monitor took up residence. The camera pointed directly at Wren's bed, the angel just wide enough to give clarity that nobody had crept through the door to hide within the darkness that fell in through the windows where the blinds were always pulled aside to reveal fresh daylight at the first instance of sunrise. Even if the alarm on the front door would go off before she had the chance to check the monitor, she needed to be certain that Joe hadn't found a way to Wren when she hadn't been around. That was the fear that kept her awake. She could manage her own assault, could move beyond the insufferable hurt that felt paralyzing at times, but the second she bolted awake at the feeling of his hands on her waistline, all she could think about was never letting that man near her daughter again.

Writing had been one of the only things that had come easily to Taylor since returning to New York — but writing had always come easily to her, and that would never change even in the throes of trauma with a terrified child to care for. She'd sat with Wren at the piano countless times, scribbling words and feelings down onto tear stained parchment with vigor, only ever peeling herself away when it got to be too overwhelming to face with innocent company clinging to her. That sense of complete overwhelm had only happened a handful of times, namely when similar circumstances had arisen, but the longer she spent searching for words to describe feelings she couldn't even name, the harder it became to push through the weight sitting so heavily on her chest.

There was a sense of escapism in the words she printed so carefully in black ink; a sense of innocence that counteracted the harrowing vulnerability she put forth without hesitation. She'd fallen into the imaginative dreamscape of a child, whether that be her subconscious attempting to ease the brutal pain that left her hallow inside, or a natural side effect of spending so many nights curled up on the couch watching films where nothing truly horrible ever happens. There was an element of make believe in the words that told the end of their passionate love affair and the struggles of finding serenity in the eye of a storm. She couldn't deny that the illusive storylines weaved together just cohesively enough to paint a carefully concealed portrait of her sorrows, but it felt sweet to know that while her truth was clear as day on the page, it wasn't so distastefully put forth for the outside world to scrutinize. Nothing about the last five years of her life had been evident. Everything had been so meticulously hidden beneath soft praises and romantic gestures that her stomach churned at the prospect of how long it had been since sincerity was just that, sincere.

Piano chords rippled through the room, a beautiful melody on the cusp of completion, the lyrics that fell over top of it not quite fit for the theme of the album, but painfully raw as they're read off a page in Taylor's notebook. Her blue eyes drift to the monitor on the lid of the instrument, blood going cold when her child was no longer perfectly in frame and peacefully asleep. She'd only just stopped playing when the door creaked open, soft footsteps padded by fuzzy pink socks sneaking into the room nearly drowned entirely by thick darkness. Her heart slowed, her fingering picking up speed again, the only indication that she knew Wren was there lying in the way she'd begun to play something older, something familiar.

As expected, Wren slowly stalked toward the piano bench, waiting patiently for Taylor to finish the song with her hands clasped together, but the blonde would never make her wait for cuddles (because that's what she'd come in here for), and halfway through Safe and Sound, she stopped abruptly to scoop the little girl up, settling her in front of the piano so that she could see how the keys bounced and danced with soft touches.

"You want to be my writing buddy?" Taylor had come to know when she could get Wren down again and when it was better to just accept the start of their day. This was one of those nights where she just had to accept that 4am was their fresh start. They hadn't been in London long, not even a full seventy-two hours, but it seemed time zones were more effective than she'd anticipated, and there had been many mornings where Wren crawled out of bed five hours too early.

Wren gave a small nod of conformation, but her attentiveness was split between the notebook on the lid of the piano and Taylor's encouraging question. Her little fingers flipped through the pages like she was looking for something specific, but Taylor had no insight as to what that could be, and instead was forced to brew in silent anticipation as her eyebrows furrowed and her blue gaze tracked the movements of little fingers. She wasn't possessive about her notebooks, she had always loved to share her ideas, but it was sweet to see Wren embracing them like her own, treating them tenderly even if her fingers moved fast and with an aire of frantic urgency.

"Cardigan?" Taylor hummed softly when Wren stopped at a page not too far back from where she was now, but at a song that she'd left unfinished and had only tried to play in full a handful of times before bailing out.

"Peter Pan." Wren nodded, pointing to the one section of the page that had a small handful of excessive scribbles and frustrated indentations from where Taylor had allowed the tip of her pen to dig into the paper. "Wendy."

"Peter Pan and Wendy?" Taylor smiled softly, not sure what her daughter was aiming to convey with her blunt explanations, but willing to listen to the sweet melody of her sleep-filled voice. If she played her cards right, there would definitely be a mid-morning nap in her semi-distant future. "What about them?"

They'd watched the 1953 version of Peter Pan for the first time a few days ago, Taylor wanting to show Wren the somewhat origin story of her new favorite fairy. It hadn't earned the Monsters Inc. stamp of approval like Tangled had, but it was clear to Taylor now that the characters had planted themselves into Wren's imagination innocently. The little girl shrugs, seemingly intimidated by the loaded question if her furrowed eyebrows and scrunched nose was any indication. "Say young lots. And Peter thinks hims a... little boy." A tiny yawn disrupts the structure of the grammatically incorrect sentence, but somehow, Taylor can see the bigger picture of Wren's simple explanation and she beams with a type of pride she's never experienced before.

"How about this," The blonde allows her eyes to skim the page if only for just a couple of seconds to remind herself of the bigger picture behind her simple lyrics before she's playing the melody she's committed to memory from weeks of repetitive play. The progression is beautiful as it is simple, and Wren hums quietly in contentment when Taylor begins to sing, sinking into the blonde's chest as she surrendered to the string of lyrics that had been meticulously fine tuned since the last time she'd heard the song be played. "Tried to change the ending, Peter losing Wendy..."

Wren craned her neck just enough to stare back at Taylor once the blonde stopped singing after the added line, allowing the new lyrical element to sink into her brain and her memory. "What do we think about that, buddy?" Taylor hummed softly, pressing a kiss into Wren's temple, her blue eyes a hazy picture of completion and chaotic distress. The child didn't seem to pick up on the latter, and Taylor was beyond grateful for her ability to pull some things over on the child.

"Like it. More." Wren pointed back to the keys, her little face contorted with seriousness that had Taylor laughing softly but easily agreeing, her fingers picking up where they'd left off to carry out the rest of the song. That single line had been all that separated the track from being complete for weeks, but it felt perfectly whole now. "Again."

Taylor laughed, shaking her head softly. She reached for the pen on the lid of the piano, clicking it once to assure the ballpoint tip wasn't retracted into the plastic casing. She handed it over to Wren, looking at her little girl with a tender smile, "Do you write in these books?" The blonde asked softly, wanting to assure her boundary was firm and known before she went any further with her concealed intentions.

"No. Tay's books." Wren shook her head, looking down at the pen in her hands with endearing confusion, little green eyes searching for an explanation from Taylor.

"Well, do you think you'd want to write in this one tonight. You wrote that line, baby. That was all you. I think you should be the one to put it down for Jack to see, hm?" Taylor combed her fingers through Wren's knotted tresses, the chestnut locks having been left down since the day before, and in desperate need of a conditioning treatment and detangling. They'd get to that later, for right now, Taylor didn't want to leave this moment.

"I can?!" The little girl lit up, and Taylor doesn't think she's seen Wren this vibrant since before they'd left for London. Her heart aches for all that had been lost on a trip that was meant to be uneventful, but there's glimpses of normalcy on the cusp of their future that hadn't been there before, and for the first time since returning home she's hopeful that it won't be much longer until they're at least partially back to how they were.

"You can. Go for it, baby." She smiles encouragingly, pulling the notebook closer to the lip of the lid, smiling softly at how little Wren looks as she wiggles forward and reaches upward, that black pen smoothly gliding over the page as little hands script a messy short sentence; 'Peter losing Wendy'. "Should we send Jack a picture? See what he thinks?"

Wren nods silently, slumped against Taylor's chest as she fiddles with the soft material of the woman's silk pajama pants, seemingly content to just sit in the quiet room as Taylor reaches for her phone and snaps a picture of the notebook, sending it off to Jack with an additional text that notes how they're going to have to think of a pseudonym for Wren because there was absolutely no way in hell Taylor wasn't crediting her on the album. She was too proud to conceal the truth, that her baby had given her the missing piece of what she'd already deemed the second track of the album — one that would be important in conveying the theme and sound to first time listeners. She also wasn't about to leak her child's name, not when she wasn't even fully hers yet, so a pseudonym was the only middle ground to stand on.

Taylor set her phone down on the lid of the piano just after the text had been sent, knowing that she'd most definitely receive an immediate response — Jack's sleep schedule was almost as bad as hers — but wanting to spend these quiet minutes with Wren while she could. She was feeling more herself than she had been in recent days, less driven by anxiety and more encouraged by genuine passion and emotion, but there was still an uneasy weight contracting around her lungs. Joe Alwyn had never been an easy man to shake. He'd captivated her thoughts when she'd been madly in love with him and his charming indigo eyes, and it seems that even in the face of unimaginable betrayal and heartbreak, she's still consumed with his presence, only now it had been painted in a light that had her queasy and stumbling for clean air to breathe. His significance would dwindle, but for now, Taylor tried not to beat herself up for only being human.

"Sad." Wren mumbled softly, little green eyes shining brightly beneath the blanket of nightfall that was slowly beginning to twinge golden. Daylight was on the horizon, but for at least another hour they had the solace of midnight skies to hide beneath.

"You're sad?" Taylor frowned, pulling the little girl around in her lap, forcing green eyes to meet blue without the distance that their position had once allowed for. She hadn't picked up on the apparent sadness that the child claimed, and even as blue eyes searched for any minuscule sign, she came up blank.

"No. You're sad." Wren huffed like that had been obvious, like she was offended Taylor had thought for even a second that her softly spoken admission had reflected her own healing journey. She was getting better at confronting her emotions, at being able to identify them as they came forth, so in her mind, it was silly for Taylor to think for a second that she was sad when clearly she was perfectly content.

"Yeah, I am kinda sad, baby." Taylor had long since stopped trying to outright hide her moments of hardships from the child, but there had been a level of maternal protectiveness to her actions since returning from London. She'd had to learn the delicate balance of allowing herself to struggle and suffer, while also being there to support and guide Wren through her own turmoil. Clearly that balance had expired, and she wasn't about to lie to a child that had only ever known deception. "Something kind of sad happened in London, and my heart still hurts a little bit because of it."

"Did you see Joe?" Taylor hates that Wren has such a negative perception of the man she'd once seen nothing but goodness in. She hates that she can't even force herself to speak fondly of him anymore. Perspective is a funny thing, because from where she sits now, in the darkness of a room covered in elements of music and escape, with a sweet little girl clinging to her pajamas and seeing right through the walls that everyone else had turned a blind eye to, she can understand why Wren has such a strong distaste for him. Wren had never known his kindness. She'd never been privy to his sweet gestures and healing phrases. She'd known only the current version of his character, and really, that was the version of Joseph Alwyn that Taylor needed to start accepting. The man she'd loved for four years had changed. The man she loved didn't exist for her to save anymore. They'd both changed beyond the point of reconciliation, even if there was never a chance of rekindling what had been left to wilt into ashes.

"I did see Joe, baby. I wasn't supposed to, but he was at the award show and he wanted to say hi." Taylor painted the picture lightly, sparing the intimate and harrowing details, not wanting to divulge into the specifics, not when she could still feel his hands on her waistline and his breath on her neck before she'd spun around to tell him to back off. Wren doesn't need to know all of that, not right now, not when she'd had to spend the majority of her life presenting as someone far older than she was. Wren got to be a child here, she was learning how to be a child here, it wasn't her job to handle the weight of Taylor's experiences, even if she was so sweetly trying to be a shoulder to lean on like Taylor had always been for her.

"He hurt you?" Wren frowned, her little eyes squinting as she tried to find any lingering bruises on the pale skin that glimmered beneath the slivers of moonlight that spilled into the room from the windows. Taylor didn't look hurt, and she hadn't looked hurt in London either, but still Wren checked her over, and Taylor didn't know whether to find the tender care that was a reflection of her own patience and affection endearing or allow her heart to break further at the reminder that Wren expected everyone to resort to physical abuse whenever they were mad.

"Inside. He hurt my heart." Taylor guided the little girls palm to where her heart was beating softly in her chest, hoping that the simple action would lead the child to believe that she was fine. "But, I'm okay, sweetheart. You're all I need."

"Can stay with you forever?" Wren's voice was always soft, Taylor thought the little girl was physically incapable of speaking any louder than what she would consider an elevated whisper, but somehow it was even softer now, and the way her little green eyes became wide with desperation only further reduced the image of her beneath dazzling moonlight. So often Taylor forgot that Wren was really only six, and that she'd been five only a handful of months ago.  She carried herself with so much maturity, spoke with such clarity, acted with such independence that it wasn't hard to overlook how little she really was. They were making small steps toward normalcy. Wren didn't harp on her grammar as much as she once did, she spoke freely and without overanalyzing her every thought, sometimes out of turn and with too much excitement to realize half of what she said was a jumbled slur of vowels and misconstrued sounds. Those were Taylor's favorite moments. When Wren was so exited that all she could do was nod along and pretend to understand. Those were the moments where Wren really was just a typical six-year-old.

Taylor smiled softly, her hands softly cradling Wren's face and pulling her in close enough to kiss. "Forever and a day, baby girl."

𓇢𓆸

February 26th, 2020

Taylor was absolutely certain that Wren was always meant to be hers. She'd had the thought in fleeting moments of vulnerability, like the first time Wren had been comfortable enough to be held in Nashville as Christmastime approached, but as the days carried on and the hurt constraining her heart lightened significantly until it was barely a flicker of light in the distance, Taylor had been reflecting more and more on that simple but horrendously heavy thought of possession. Wren was somebody else's daughter. She belonged to a beautifully flawed woman who had lost her life prematurely, but Taylor felt like she was hers.

In the thirty years that Taylor had been earth-side, there hadn't been anybody who saw her like Wren did; not even her own mother who would assuredly raise hell for her at a moments notice. Wren didn't have to ask if Taylor was okay, somehow she always knew when she wasn't. Wren didn't shy away from confrontation. If she thought for even a split second that Taylor was upset, she called it out and would press for the cause, not content until she received an answer that was believable. Even in their first days together, she'd allowed her emotions to contort her features at will, and when she was happy, god did she sport the brightest smile Taylor had ever seen, but when she was sad, her little frown and murky gaze had the power to break the coldest hearts. Taylor hadn't realized how many people in her life wore masks of fake niceties until she'd met Wren, and suddenly she didn't have to scramble to uncover the truth from slightly askew motions. Maybe it was just because of her youth. Wren hadn't learned to mask her feelings and conceal her worry yet, or maybe, that was just who she was. Taylor wanted to believe the latter.

Once again the blonde sat at the upright piano, her notebook open to a song that she'd started writing nearly a year ago, and her legs folded together like a pretzel. On her left, was the youngest member of her feline collection, his head perched contently on her thigh, soft purrs emitting from him only when he received the occasional head scratch. On her right, was Wren, who sat brightly in the same criss-crossed fashion, her little hands tightly folded in her lap as she marveled at the way Taylor was mumbling to herself in deep concentration. They'd been at it for nearly two hours, temporarily rooted to whatever magic was occurring at only seven in the morning. For the first time in weeks, their early start wasn't because of a nightmare or jetlag. Meredith had gone on an absolute rampage at only a couple of minutes after five, or that's at least what Taylor had assumed. There was no other explanation for how the eldest member of her feline collection had managed to knock over every single book on the bookshelf in the living room, waking both her and Wren up instantly. They'd laughed and giggled for minutes after finding the source of the mysterious bang, migrating into the music room after collecting glasses of water and chocolate chips from the kitchen; little fingers had been meticulously wiped clean of any and all traces of melted chocolate before they'd settled at the piano bench. Taylor could embrace the messiness of childhood without qualms, she could lean into the fun of stuffing chocolate chips into her mouth before sunrise, but she did draw the line at it becoming smudged across her instruments.

"I can change everything about me to fit in. You are not like the regulars. The masquerade revelers. Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten. Hush, when no one is around my dear, you'll find me on my tallest tip toes, spinning in my highest heels, love. Shinning just for you. Hush, I know they said the end is near, but I'm still in my tallest tip toes, spinning in my highest heels, love. Shinning just for you." Lyricism was fascinating, especially with how whimsically Taylor pieced it together. At the time when she'd first started scribbling down jumbled thoughts and melodies for this particular track, the nature of its melancholia hadn't yet been known to her. She followed the impulsive pull of her heart, even if she didn't always understand what her instincts were indicating. Eleven months ago, she hadn't known how minuscule shifts in behavior would catapult into drastic changes in character. She hadn't consciously picked up on how Joe was pulling away more frequently, or how she herself could go longer and longer without inclination to reach out as the days of subtle separation accumulated. She'd had such a one track mind of thinking back then, but subconsciously, she supposed she'd always known where their tumultuous love affair would lead. Somewhere in between the progression of acceptance that spanned a few handful of complete and incomplete tracks, there was a delicate separation between lyrics that were undeniably crafted to convey the character and raw emotion tied to Joe, and Scooter Braun, and just her wildest nightmares and personal travesties, and lyrics that reflected her delicate and vulnerable relationship with Wren. Somewhere between last year and now, Mirrorball had become something more than just acceptance of the end. Maybe it was acceptance of the bitter end allowing the freedom of innocent good, or maybe it was just the contradiction between knowing love, and loving that love knew her, all while admitting that she had learned how to be whatever somebody else wanted her to be; at least for a short while.

After nearly three uninterrupted hours of much needed concentration, a soft sneeze broke Taylor's focus. Wren looked flushed beside her on the wooden bench, cheeks twinged pink with what could've been shame, or might also have been bashfulness. Taylor laughed fondly, stretching out her fingers that she hadn't even realized had begun to cramp from hours of strain and use. Her smile trembled as she caught a glimpse of the time, an analog clock hanging on the opposite side of the room sleek in its design but sporting an element of age with its gold plated hands and bronze frame. "Bless you, sweetheart." She cooed, placing her hands in her lap now, willing herself to leave her work alone for the time being despite how electric creativity sparked at her fingertips. "Are you hungry?"

Wren shook her head, little fingers pointing toward the keys, her green eyes pleading and sharp as she silently demanded more from the woman. Taylor had explained to her the logistics of what her job entailed countless times, but she thinks that it might finally be settling in. Wren had always seemed fascinated by music, whether that be Taylor's own albums or something else that the blonde had shown her, they were always listening to something, but since returning to New York from London, and witnessing Taylor in her unrestrained creative element for the first time, she'd been practically enraptured by the process. She'd been the one to lead them into the music room that morning, and she'd willingly sat in perfect silence for three hours just to watch a song form on the tip of the woman's tongue. As endearing as that level of attention was to receive, Taylor knew that she couldn't abide by the subtly bossy request proposed in silence. She was horrible at keeping a schedule whenever creativity struck. She'd lock herself away for hours at a time without a break for the basic necessities, but Wren was far too young to be adopting those workaholic qualities, so even if she wanted to cave and play as many songs for Wren as she wanted, they really did have to peel themselves away from the piano bench for breakfast.

"No?! You're not even a little bit hungry?" Taylor teased, poking at the child's pajama covered belly, pleased to receive a shy giggle in return. She shooed Benji off of her lap tenderly, swinging Wren onto her hip without hesitation the second she was free of the cat's gentle weight. She took the stairs one at a time, savoring the cuddles she received as her little girl pouted. "We can go right back upstairs after breakfast, but growing girls need sustenance!"

"Susunants?" Wren frowned, her little head bobbing upwards at the word she'd never heard anymore. Her little green eyes squinted with uncertainty as her head tilted to the side. Her little fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of Taylor's neck, not harsh with their curious tugs and twists, but incessant with the quick movements regardless. Taylor had never had so many knots in her life, but she could never find it within herself to ask Wren to stop when it was so clearly a self-imposed grounding technique.

"Sustenance. It means that you need water and food that'll help you get strong." Taylor hummed softly, flicking the lights on in the kitchen as they entered, only having to squint at the onslaught of soft lighting for a handful of seconds before blue eyes were no longer blinded by abrupt lightness. "How about we do some cereal today?" Was that a nourishing breakfast? Not in the slightest. But, it was something that Wren adored and would always eat at least most of.

"And kiwis?" Little green eyes practically pleaded with Taylor to say yes, even if that was a request that would always be fulfilled. Wren didn't seem to realize that, always asking with the same sense of eager desperation. "And broccoli?"

"Broccoli, kiwis, and cheerios for breakfast? I think I can make that work." Taylor laughed softly, already pulling open the refrigerator doors to search for the broccoli she knew was hidden somewhere between the second and fourth shelfs. Broccoli was a new favorite food, especially when it was drowned in a side of ranch dressing. "Do you want carrots too? We have a new bottle of ranch, so you'll be all set for drowning your poor vegetables."

"Carrots." Wren parroted, her little head bobbing in agreement. It was an odd breakfast spread, not something that Taylor would've ever considered putting together on a plate, but she wouldn't fight the logic of a six-year-old who was willingly asking for foods other kids turned their nose to just because they knew they should eat it. Somehow, she'd avoided that phase and she'd strive to keep it that way, never giving any indication when she was pleased with a food request or its nutrients.

"Would you like to pick your plate? The new Rapunzel one is in the dishwasher if that's the one you want." Taylor had practically sold her soul to get her hands on that cutlery set and flatware. She'd honestly expected the search for Rapunzel themed items to be easier, but it seemed that anything Tangled affiliated had been discontinued years ago, which had resulted in her scrolling through ebay bids until she'd found something that wasn't in terrible condition. She'd also added a few other character plates and cups to their steadily growing collection, but Wren had yet to discover those items that Taylor meticulously hid from sight. She needed something enticing to offer when the little girl was in one of her anti-eating moods, it definitely wasn't because she hadn't been able to stop herself when she'd stumbled upon a seller trying to get rid of an entire Tinkerbell flatware set and early two-thousands cup collection for only thirty dollars.

For the first time in days, Wren wriggled away from Taylor's embrace without fuss or panic, bolting in the opposite direction of the blonde to pull out her new favorite plate and bowl. Taylor had to admit the plate was pretty cute, even if it had that somewhat obnoxious vibrancy to it that everything geared towards children did. It was shaped like a paint pallet and bore the image of Rapunzel waving a paintbrush, the symbolic yellow flowers scattered all around the pink background. She'd never anticipated her collection of fine china and expensive cutlery becoming hidden beneath cheap plastic and bold designs, but she found it within herself to adore the childish elements rather than harp on her foiled aesthetic. "I got it!" Wren beamed, racing back to Taylor with the bowl and plate clutched to her chest possessively.

"Good job!" Taylor beamed from where she was stood at the countertop, bags of vegetables laid out beside a kiwi she'd not yet started to cut up. She reached for Wren instinctively, pulling the little girl up onto the counter without hesitation, holding her hands out for the plate and bowl set. It had been a while since Taylor had used both of her hands to prepare breakfast, and she'd forgotten how easy it was to tear into plastic produce bags without always trying to balance a child on her hip. "We don't have anymore orange juice, buddy. But, we have chocolate milk."

"In a fancy glass?" Wren scrutinized the admission, her little nose wrinkled in disappointment, but her soft green eyes assuring that she wasn't too fussed by the lack of juice. To her little mind, she saw it as an opportunity to dig out the wine glasses that hadn't seen much usage since her obsession with the juice had festered.

"How else does anyone drink chocolate milk?!" Taylor beamed, laughing softly at the request. If she'd have known all those months ago that her attempt to ease the nervous tension separating her and Wren would become an entire routine, she might've thought differently about ever serving the child chocolate milk in a wine glass, but it was far too late to amend that decision now. She'd just have to hope Wren never learned the correct name for the glass, and didn't repeat to Emily that she and Taylor sipped from the fancy cups regularly.

"Taylor?" There was a sudden element of vulnerability in Wren's call for the blonde, and even though Taylor had been mid slice on a slippery kiwi, she stopped everything to give the child her full attention. "Miss Aunt Blake and Nezzy."

Upon returning to New York, neither resident of the Swift-James household had been feeling up to their annual Friday night dinner with the Reynolds'. It had been over two weeks now since they'd seen anyone outside of Taylor's security team, and while the isolation had been needed for both of their healing journeys, it seemed even Wren, her introverted little shadow, was beginning to miss the conversations that came with socializing. She smiled sympathetically, her blue eyes soft and tender. "I miss them too, baby. Fridays in two days, though. How about we have them over for dinner this week, yeah? You can show James your coloring books. I know you like hers, maybe you can trade a couple."

"Trade?" Wren frowned, not familiar with the concept, which wasn't all that surprising. Even when Wren had been in a school setting, where most kids were trading off lunch box snacks and pencil toppers won from the prize box, she'd been on the outskirts of the social circles that ran Kindergarten. Taylor's heart broke for the exclusion her daughter had faced in every aspect of life.

"You can give her a couple of your books, and she can give you a couple of hers. It's what friends do sometimes." Taylor explained lightly, her fingers once again working on cutting slices of kiwi.

"But you bought them." Wren frowned, little eyebrows furrowed together as she tried to make sense of the concept. Taylor had purchased every coloring book she had, why would she be okay with Wren giving away something that cost money. That made absolutely no sense to her, even as she tried her hardest to understand. "Not 'possed to give away presents."

"Not everything is a present, baby. Presents are special, like on birthdays and holidays, or when somebody was away for a long time. But sometimes, people get things just because they want them, and sometimes they get things for no reason at all. It's kind of complicated, isn't it?" Taylor smiled softly, unable to help the smile the pulled at her lips at Wren's expression of confusion. "Do you know what makes something you want different than something you need?"

"Um, yes." Wren nodded after a moment of contemplation. "Need water, and food, and Bluey, and cuddles when I'm blue inside." Taylor laughed softly at the child's perception of what a need is, but she couldn't argue with the logic that her six-year-old presented. Children did need affection, and they did need toys to stimulate their imagination and fine motor skills. Wren wasn't entirely wrong, even if Bluey, her prized companion, wasn't quite a necessity in the grand scheme of life. Additionally, Wren had taken to calling her emotions the color of the characters in Inside Out, which Taylor thought was beyond endearing. They were still working on the names of other emotions, like frustration and anxiety, but the ones that had been represented in the film they'd watched in London had basically been mastered.

"Mhm, you need all of those things to feel content, right? You remember what content means?" Wren nodded, her little eyes trailing between looking at Taylor's face, and down to where the woman was now sorting carrots and broccoli onto the pink plate. "I wanted to buy you those coloring books. You didn't need them, but I thought you might want them. They're special because I got them for you, but they're not super important. Do you understand?"

"Um. Think so." That was a no if Taylor had ever heard one, but still she carried on with the conversation, not drawing attention to Wren's obvious confusion that she felt the need to try and hide. They were slowly working back up to where they had been before London had forced them three steps back, but Taylor knew now that some things just healed easier than others.

"It's okay if you don't, sometimes it takes a little bit of time to understand things. But, what I'm trying to say, is that it's okay if you want to trade things with James and Nezzy. It's also okay if you don't."

"What if... what if I trade something that... that you, um, what if I trade something that I'm not s'possed to. Don't get trading." Wren huffed her frustration, the whine in her soft voice beyond endearing as she tried her hardest to understand the concept of giving away what had been given to her. It didn't make any sense.

"If you ever want to trade with the girls, how about you and I talk about it first. That way you can figure out what's okay to trade." Taylor could understand how this was confusing for her little girl. Wren had never been given things in life, not when she'd been old enough to remember it anyways. She was still trying to come to terms with receiving presents and random gifts, and now she'd been told that it was okay to give her things away. It would take time and patience before the concept made any sense, but Taylor was more than willing to give the girl that desired attention.

"James wants to trade?" Wren quizzed, watching Taylor retreat to the pantry to grab the cheerios she'd been initially offered.

"She might. We'll have to text Aunt Blake and ask." Taylor hummed, coming back to the island with the yellow box in hand and a gallon of milk in the other. "Austin and I traded all the time as kids. If he got something at the store that I wanted, he'd trade me for candy. When I started touring, he was still kind of little. He couldn't come with us all the time so we would trade shirts and silly things. Like one time, he gave me his favorite pen and I gave him my favorite bracelet, that way when I was too far away to see him, I still thought about him whenever I used his pen."

"So, I can trade books with James and Nezzy, and when we go to your work, they can see my books and color me a picture, and I can color them a picture in their books?" Wren questioned, leaning close to the bowls set on the counter as she watched Taylor pour the milk, always fascinated by how the liquid made the tiny little rings wiggle and float. Today was not the day to discuss buoyancy, but Taylor did have the fleeting thought to look for a science textbook that would explain the concept to her daughter.

"That's exactly it! See, you get it now, baby!" Taylor praised softly, screwing the cap back onto the milk jug and taking everything cold back to the fridge before she moved the bowls over to the table, coming back to the island only to collect the plate of vegetables and Wren.

"I get it!" Wren giggled, already deep into the broccoli and ranch, her little lips lathered in thick white dressing in a manner that had Taylor itching to grimace in disgust, but she masked the expression and dug into her own bowl of milk drowned cheerios. "Don't give James Bluey, cause I need her, but can give books cause I have lots 'n only want them sometimes!"

"There you go! We got there eventually! Do you give James your food if she asks?" Taylor, for whatever reason, decided to press the bounds child's sudden epiphany of the concept, and was rewarded with a confident little head shake and ranch covered fingers wagging in the air.

"No! Cause I need food! Cause it's susunats! And, Aunt Blake makes sure James and Nezzy and Betty have food and water and so they don't even need mine at all! But, they can try mine? I can do that? Can let them try? Like you let me try mushrooms even though I didn't like them and you didn't get mad? If I don't get mad then I can let them try?" Even if it felt like she was never doing anything right to help guide Wren toward a path of healing and clarity, there were moments like these where she knew that at the very least, she was doing just enough.

"You can absolutely let them try. And want to know a secret?" Taylor leaned in closer to the child, taking a large bite of her cheerios just to make Wren laugh. The child nodded eagerly, little green eyes pleading for more, mimicking the way Taylor had shoved a mouthful of cheerios into her cheeks until they were both beneath the kitchen light bearing features similar to chipmunks preparing for a brutal winter. "If you don't like something but James does, you can trade! James likes mushrooms, but she doesn't like broccoli. So if you both have broccoli and mushrooms, you can trade her your mushrooms for her broccoli!" Taylor posed the information like it was something sacred, even if it was just a common trade of childhood that Wren had unfortunately missed out on thus far. She and Austin rearranged their dinner plates more times than they didn't, and even if she knew it would inevitably come back to bite her in the ass when Wren started trading everything she could just because she was fascinated by the concept of sharing, she wanted her daughter to have that same whimsical joy for as many years as she could.

"Really?!" Wren marveled at the information, her little ranch stained mouth agape in awe. It was truly the simple things that amazed her, and there was something so sweet about that fact.

"Really! You want to know an even bigger secret?" Taylor couldn't help herself now. She wanted to tell Wren everything about her life and the simple mundane moments that had come and gone in the years that bridged childhood and adulthood. This was everything she'd ever dreamed of doing; motherhood was all she'd ever hoped of one day having. "Aunt Selena doesn't like sausage on her pizza, so whenever we used to have sleepovers and order pizza she would pick them off and give them to me."

"Even grown ups trade?!" Wren gasped like she'd just found out the governments most fiercely protected secret, her little fingers deep into the puddle of ranch dressing Taylor had poured onto the princess plate, a baby carrot the chosen victim of her violent dunking.

"Yes! Isn't that silly?" Taylor smiled brightly, wiping at Wren's mouth with her thumb, trying not to grimace at the temperature of ranch the pad of her finger collected that was just warm enough to be off putting. Wren was slowly becoming the typical six-year-old, even if some things would always remain obscure. She would never have the unwavering trust that most kids did, she'd faced cruelty for too long to ever get that unsuspecting innocence back, but with those she was truly comfortable with -- which for the mean time was only Taylor, but Blake was ever so slowly earning a second place spot -- she was letting her walls down more, focusing less on how to be perfect and more on how to just be happy. Taylor felt privileged to even have her trust at all.

"Silly." Wren parroted around a mouthful of kiwi, her soft green eyes alight with a spark that hadn't been fully present in weeks. Even if Taylor was still trudging through the aftermath of London, she was glad to see that Wren had apparently found higher spirits to cling to.

They finished their breakfasts over casual conversation, Taylor telling the girl stories from her childhood that had no real underlying theme, but brought smiles to both of their faces. Wren looked to be entirely enthralled by the quiet conversation, her little head bobbing with a rhythm that would assure Taylor didn't stop. Green eyes sparkled with entrancement, the only thing keeping her silent the fear of missing even one small detail. Taylor had never shared her life with someone so easily. She'd never captivated anyones attention so intensely with only stories of how she'd glue together popsicle sticks and sled directly into trees on purpose. She'd never known what it felt like to truly be heard; be seen. She knew now, and she never wanted to learn how to be invisible again.

Chapter Text

even on my worst day, did i deserve, babe, all the hell you gave me?
cause i loved you, i swear i loved you, til my dying day

February 29th, 2020

"I don't know what to do anymore, Mom." Taylor sighed, washing the bitter taste out of her mouth with an even more bitter sip coffee. She'd forgone the oat milk and sugars she'd usually stir in, unable to stomach the sweetness of its familiar taste. Her stomach was in knots, iridescent tears painting rivulets against the apples of her cheeks. It was early, not early enough for the sun to still be concealed by delicate nightfall, but still a new enough daybreak for Wren to be peacefully sleeping upstairs, unaware of the guest taking up residence in the living room.

"It sounds to me like you know exactly what needs to happen, honey." Andrea mused softly, her own mug still steaming beneath her lips, too hot to sip but just right to provide additional comfort in the cozy room. She'd flown in from Nashville on a redeye, intentionally coming to surprise Wren who she had been keeping up with routinely since December, but it seems she'd also arrived at just the right time to ease her daughter through the remnants of a breakdown.

"I just wish I could pinpoint where it went south." The younger blonde dragged her palm down her face, smearing the remnants of her blinding frustration across her porcelain skin. "Things were good. He was supportive. I'd even say he was excited even. I just don't understand."

"I've told you from the beginning that he wasn't the one for you, honey. You fell into yourself whenever he was around, whether you realized that or not. You've had this glow about you since before you could talk. You've always been my happy girl. He sucked that out of you. Kids shake any relationship, even when they're planned, even when the foundation is strong. Honey, that glow came back the second you got to be somebody's mom. You didn't need him to give you that anymore. You didn't need his permission to shine anymore, you did that all on your own with Wren. That's a lot for somebody like him to process. He lost his control over you that second that you found another lifeline." In truth, Andrea had voiced her opinion of Joe to Taylor after one of the first dinners they'd enjoyed together. It had been the early stages then, but his need for control was obvious, as was his silent possession. She'd watched her daughter wilt and change like fragile petals, but she'd known that intervention was futile. Her daughter was strong-willed, she was the all-in type. She needed to see the end for herself, and the end had finally come.

"We'd been fighting on and off before I got the call." Taylor hadn't told anyone that detail. For a while, it hadn't felt relevant, had felt like it would only further paint the bitter end in a negative light. They fought all the time, whether she egged it on or he did, but there had been something venomous in their heated words that she'd only now placed as budding resentment. They'd been growing apart since before she'd fully found herself in motherhood, and Taylor hates to think that came back to her itch for freedom. She'd been suggesting they stop hiding within the shadows of nightfall, only making seldom appearances at not only career events, but romantic restaurants and friends houses. For a while, it had felt like all that existed was what Joe willed to penetrate the walls of their fortress, but a fortress could easily become a cell, and Taylor, in less chilling words, had begun to push against the boundaries she didn't even realize had been set. "I wanted to go out more. Somewhere between Riley's wedding and Dad's birthday we stopped going out as much. I was tired of staying in. I was tired of feeling like everyday was the same routine. We fought about that a lot. He," Taylor laughed through a fresh wave of tears, tufts of blonde hair clinging to her cheeks that she pulled away with a messily cut fingernail. "He said if I wanted to go out more, I needed to stop selling myself to the tabloids so often. That we couldn't go out because I prioritized my income more than his privacy. I brushed it off. I always brushed those fucking comments off." She'd felt a lot of things since that late December night when the unavoidable end had collided with her fragile heart like a freight train, but anger had very rarely been one of those emotions. She'd dealt with the grief, with the crippling edge of insignificance that set in on her first morning as a single woman. She'd mourned their love, healed the ache of their loss, but now she was angry. Angry that for so long she'd overlooked the possession that had turned her into an object. Angry that she'd given him so much of her youth to get nothing in return. Angry that she would've given him the rest of her life had his words not cut so deep.

They continued to talk beneath muted sunbeams, Andrea allowing Taylor to brew in her anger as thick cloud cover set in overtop of New York City, marking the permanence of the murky weather. Andrea didn't try to lift her spirits, she knew that her daughter had been suppressing her emotional reaction since returning from London, she needed the freedom of expressing herself to an audience. Eventually, she wasn't so heavy tongued, mellowing with the progression of mid-morning and bringing on new topics, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

"I've been looking at a house upstate." She hummed, savoring the bitter taste of her coffee as it washed against her tongue. "Somewhere that nobody knows. Where we can just exist for a little while. I think it'll be good for Wren to have a yard to explore too. She would love spending an afternoon at the park, she climbs the banister at least twice a day and I don't have to heart to tell her not to because I know she needs the stimulation. It has a play set in the back. A slide, a couple of swings, monkey bars. There's a pool, if we stay through Spring she could get at least a couple of weeks of swimming in. I've been talking with a realtor about renting for a year or so."

"I think that would be good for both of you, honey. A change of scenery, a chance to get some fresh air. It sounds like you've already made up your mind, so what's keeping you from going through with it?" Andrea sipped her from her mug, only she wasn't drinking the same black coffee as Taylor, but rather an herbal tea that slipped down her throat with a comforting thinness.

"Am I moving her around too much? She's asking to see Blake and the girls now. She has a secret handshake with Ryan. She knows that when I have to go to the studio, we stop and get hot chocolate and donuts. It doesn't feel like I'm making the right choice for her." Taylor sighed, trying to comb through the million thoughts swirling around her brain. On one hand, it would give Wren the stimulation she desperately needed without the microscope of fame closing in on intimate moments, but on the other, it uprooted her from everything she'd only just started adjusting to.

"Honey, we moved to Hendersonville for you, and you still cried every day for the first month." Andrea smiled fondly at the memory. It was far enough in the past to see the beauty of it now, but Taylor was still in the thick of steep choices and emotions, it would be years before she could sit back and laugh about all of this. "If you stay here, she makes friends, she learns that there's more than just you in her corner, she climbs the banister instead of the monkey bars because its not safe to take her to a park in the area. If you make the move upstate, she learns that friends don't just go away, she gets to play and swim and explore, the transition to touring might not be so hard. I think you know that whatever you decide is going to come with its own set of challenges, but it could be good."

"Would you come with us?" Taylor didn't ask her mother to visit often. Her appearances were always when it worked for her, or when she needed to be a Taylor's mom for a change. Motherhood was interesting once you got past the teenage years and early twenties. Kids didn't need you as much, didn't want you around to hinder their routines and their freedom, but Andrea had learned that no matter how self-sufficient her kids were, there was always at least a handful of moments throughout the year when they just needed their mothers advice and wisdom. She'd never turn that comfort down for Taylor, especially not when she had the flexibility to uproot her own life for a couple of months and selfishly she wanted the chance to know Wren like the Reynolds had started to. "It's a five bedroom house, fully furnished, there's space."

"Of course, honey. I can get out there before you, set something up for her. Make it special." Andrea nodded acceptingly, setting her mug aside after a final sip of tea that didn't have the desired warmth to it anymore. "How is my Grandbaby?"

"She's... she's really good, Mom. Austin would love her if he ever stopped working long enough to come visit. She's silly, and funny, and kind. She has her moments, still doesn't do well with new people, but she's come so far. God, you should see her with Tree. I'm definitely going to have to worry about that when she's older. Tree came over to talk about a couple of pap walks through Lover Fest, brought Wren a little notebook and the two of them sat there trying to get me to agree. She's going to be something else once she finds her voice." Taylor wasn't aware of how her entire demeanor shifted the second Andrea pulled the focus of the conversation onto the little girl, but her mother was. That glow that she'd spent the morning thinking about had settled over her so naturally, it was like there had never been a moment where it wasn't so bright. Every day only proved more and more that Taylor was more than cut out for motherhood, she just had to stop second guessing herself so often.

"Sounds to me like she's exactly like you at that age. Forgiving the fact that you'd talk just about anyone's ear off. I had to stop bringing you out with me if I needed to be in and out." Taylor poked her tongue out at her mother, blue eyes sparkling as she listened to all the minor similarities that further connected her to Wren. She had her own perspective on those vague memories, had always been able to see that underlying pull of connection, but there was something validating to know that somebody else saw it too.

"I need more coffee, and the monster should be up soon. It's late for her." Taylor hummed thoughtfully, glancing at her phone screen for the first time since she'd padded downstairs to let her mother inside. Andrea's bag was still in the door way, the black suitcase left behind intentionally to catch the child's curiosity from the top of the staircase. It was nearly eight-thirty now, the sun fully risen though still concealed by thick clouds. It looked like a storm was approaching, which Taylor leaned into hopefully. There was always something comforting about the pellets of rain water splashing against windows.

"I'm going to freshen up. Another cup of tea would be lovely." There was a smile of amusement on Andrea's lips, the woman knowing how Taylor hated vague direction in the form of a request. She hadn't been able to help herself, and it was rewarded with an exasperated eye-roll that melted into a fond smile.

Andrea slipped into the bathroom around the corner from the living room just as Wren's bedroom door inched open, the child rubbing at her eyes and clinging onto Bluey as she descended the stairs with Benjamin hot on her heels. The cat pawed and tugged at the cuffs on her pants, his sharp nails catching in the fabric before he tugged his paw away and repeated the action. She was still tired, hardly even awake enough to find the words to shoo her antagonizer away, but she stopped for a moment to gaze at the suitcase in the entryway beside her converse that were thrown in a uncoordinated manner against the wall. It wasn't one of Taylor's, and it wasn't one of the ones Taylor had said were hers, and Emily had just come for a visit so it wasn't like she'd come by again and happened to bring it with her.

With a pout of confusion on her features that conveyed complete exhaustion, Wren trudged into the kitchen with soft footsteps, coming to stand beside Taylor with little arms raised in a silent request. The blonde was standing over the kettle, listening to the water bubble and watching as it steamed, but she'd heard Wren coming down the stairs the second her naked feet had first made contact. It was her favorite sound, and subsequently she was always on high alert to ensure she didn't miss it.

"Good Morning, Roo." She cooed softly, plucking her child up and settling her easily on her hip, one hand supporting her weight while the other removed the kettle from the stove and poured the piping hot water into two of the three mugs that were lined up on the counter. One of the mugs already had coffee in it, but the other, a creme-colored mug in the middle, had a tea bag hanging over the rim that looked as unsettling as a mesh bag of dirt would appear to be.

"Suitcase." The child mumbled sleepily, little fingers sitting heavily against an even tinier tongue, a habit that had been picked up after a few too many sleepless nights. "Going bye-bye?"

Taylor softly pried the fingers away from Wren's mouth, trying her best to break the habit before it became a crutch for comfort. Wren never seemed to mind her resistance in allowing it to happen, but like clockwork every morning consisted of the same tender redirection. "No, baby. We have a special visitor."

"Who?" Little fingers found their way beneath Taylor's shirt instead, fiddling with the gold chain of a dainty necklace that had slipped beneath soft cotton somewhere between falling asleep and reawakening. Taylor hummed at the warm touch against her skin, no separation between them. She'd miss these soft stolen moments, even on the days when it felt like five little icicles were hiding beneath her clothing.

Andrea had chosen that moment to step into the kitchen, her blonde hair tied away from her neck now and her face splashed with cold water, taking the edge off the exhaustion that threatened to shackle her down. She smiled brightly when little green eyes caught movement in the doorway, staying silent until Wren acted first, wanting to match the childs energy without startling her.

"Andie!" She giggled, pointing toward the woman with the hand that wasn't beneath Taylor's shirt, her open palm resting against the swell of the blonde's breast with the pendant clutched between warm fingers now, no longer so intently fiddling with delicate metal. "Andie's here!"

"I know, baby! Was that a nice surprise?" Taylor pressed a kiss into the little girls temple, hoisting her up higher on her hip only to reach into one of the cabinets and pull out a packet of hot chocolate powder. Tearing it open proved difficult, but like always, she managed without much of a mess to sweep up later on, pouring it into the water that steamed beneath the chilly undertone within the apartment. The window had finally been fixed, but only so much could keep away with the frigid February mornings.

"Yes! Andie's gonna have breakfast with us?" Wren beamed brightly, tired disposition slipping away as she kept her eyes on Andrea, waving shyly despite her evident excitement. Andrea smiled fondly, waving back to the child who seemed to light up at the returned gesture, but made no attempt to escape Taylor's embrace. Andrea took in that minuscule detail, choosing to keep her distance for the time being and instead of join them at the countertop, sink into a stool at the island.

"I'm going to stay with you for a couple of days. Does that sound like a good plan?" Andrea smiled fondly, accepting the mug of tea from Taylor after she'd added a splash of milk and a pinch of sugar. Once again it was too hot to drink, but the mother of two held it beneath her lips, savoring the warmth that spread through tired bones.

"Mmhmm, can come to dinner with us! Aunt Blake's gonna make noodles!" Wren beamed, so far from the child that had hidden behind Taylor's legs upon their first introduction, but remnants of her that shyness still remained, and Andrea found that to be endearing. "Can trade if you don't like noodles."

Taylor laughed at the added commentary, pouring peppermint creamer into both her coffee and Wren's hot chocolate, though she left both on the counter to cool for a couple of minutes, even though her coffee was more than ready to be sipped now. "We learned what trading was a few days ago and we're a bit obsessed."

"Yeah! Traded James my cupcake book and she traded me her Princess one! And Nezzy wanted to trade so gave me her sock 'n I gaved her mine! We match mix now!" Wren beamed brightly, snuggling into Taylor's chest when the blonde sank into the stool directly beside her mother, testing the waters on how Wren would react though the worry festering in her belly wasn't needed, because the second Wren was close enough to brush her palm against Andrea, she was holding her hand out for a high-five.

Both mothers laughed at the gesture, but Andrea did reciprocate the high-five with as much enthusiasm as she felt was prompted, which had Wren giggling into Taylor's chest as she pulled inward again, if only because she wanted to use the blonde as jungle gym and was simultaneously trying to lay gentle scratches onto Merediths head as she came by and stretched her body against the stools legs.

"Mixed match, baby. You and Nezzy have matching mixed match socks now." Taylor softly corralled Wren into one position, keeping her still as to avoid any unwanted injuries, even though the pout of disappointment she received in response was entirely pitiful.

"Yeah, mixed match! Betty's too tiny to trade with. Aunt Blake said have to wait a little more." She giggled, little fingers still fiddling with the gold pendant, soft green eyes alight with happiness but Taylor didn't miss the twinge of uncertainty hidden beneath the incandescent beam. "You bring Kitty?"

"I didn't, sweetheart." Andrea laughed softly, shaking her head apologetically. She'd talked to Wren on the phone often, either via Taylor herself calling and the little girl being around, or via Wren's own phone which was almost always in Taylor's purse because the little girl had no real interest in it. She'd seen the growth as it occurred, listened as Wren became more outward with her thoughts and excitement, but it was a different realm to watch it unfold personally. She was bubbly, full of energy, so far from the girl she'd once been, even if traces of shyness lingered around the edges. Andrea figured that was just who she was though. "She's probably getting far too many treats from the dog sitter."

"Benji likes treats." Wren nodded her head like that was the most important piece of information she could offer, and Andrea had to agree, nodding along as she sipped on her tea with pursed lips that had the little girl giggling.

"We're gonna have to look out for that, one day they might've just eaten all the treats." Andrea had said it so simply that the undertone of teasing didn't quite reach the little girl, her jaw becoming slack as her eyes warily glanced at the pantry where an assortment of treats were kept. Most were out of her reach, and subsequently out of the cats reach, but others were low enough for her to retrieve herself.

"Gotta move them." Wren craned her neck to look at Taylor, little green eyes brimming with innocent worry that had the blonde laughing softly as she smoothed back unruly flyaways.

"Yeah? But then you can't get them all by yourself." Taylor laughed, taunting the child who seemed to consider that logic before deflating, little arms crossing over her chest petulantly. "Benji won't get into them, baby. Andie's just playing with you."

"Just playing?" Wren's head snapped to Andrea, little green eyes squinting beneath the overhead light, although it was evident that just barely were there traces of playful annoyance she wouldn't quite let exist fully. Andrea couldn't help but see a glimpse of Taylor in the expression, and her heart warmed at the chance to sink into the memories of her daughter's long expired childhood.

"Just playing, sweetheart. Benji's not going to get into the treats." Andrea laughed softly, fondly watching Wren over the lip of her mug, the warm taste washing over her senses for a moment as the child seemed to mellow out, the excitement of Andrea's sudden presence no longer fueling her energy, and traces of exhaustion crept back into her disposition endearingly.

Taylor took the change in energy as a signal to get a start on breakfast before any more of the morning slipped away from them, softly coaxing Wren out of her lap and onto the floor so she herself could stand and begin scouring the kitchen for ingredients. As expected, Wren followed her around, keeping Bluey tightly pinned beneath her forearm and chest. "What are we feeling for breakfast, baby?"

"Eggies." Wren mumbled, shuffling on her feet as she glanced at Taylor with wide glassy eyes, suddenly very overwhelmed by Andrea's appearance in the penthouse apartment. She wasn't uncomfortable, no she was beyond excited, but the sudden change in pace had her scrambling to try and find anything familiar and unchanging. It was expected, though Taylor certainly hadn't anticipated the tear-filled gleam that peered up at her.

"Just eggies? Your belly doesn't want anything else?" Wren was picked up before her bottom lip could begin to tremble, Taylor's soft words distracting her from the emotions she couldn't understand nor unscramble. It wasn't a permanent fix, but it was temporary enough to get them through the morning without a meltdown. Taylor knew the second she asked what was wrong the little girl would melt into tears and any chance of getting her to eat would slip away.

Wren shook her head, burrowing her face into the darkest part of Taylor's neck, her little fingers pulling at the clasp of the necklace around the musicians neck. It was such a simple thing. Taylor had worn the same necklace for months without ever really feeling any type of pull toward it, but now every time she felt the metal shift against her skin it brought a sense of peace over her.

"Okay, baby love. Just some eggies for you." Taylor hummed quietly, turning her gaze toward Andrea, their expressions alight with the same silent understanding. This was a lot for the little girl to take in, and understandingly she was overwhelmed by what they'd thought would be an innocent surprise. She'd adjust, they'd seen just how excited she'd initially been, she just needed time to overcome the abrupt addition. Surprise visits were officially being added to the list of triggers to avoid, at least for a little while. "I've got those english muffins you like, Mom. We can do breakfast sandwiches."

Andrea had accepted that offer, if only to make Taylor's life easier. The kitchen was spacious, undeniably so, but any mother could understand the stress of cooking an assortment of dishes at the same time, especially when they only had one hand to do everything with, so breakfast sandwiches seemed the like the easiest compromise to get more than just scrambled eggs into their stomachs. Andrea had heard of the recent clinginess in great detail, but it was another thing entirely to watch Taylor navigate the kitchen like having only one hand was her typical routine. She balanced ingredients and flatware without a single item toppling onto the floor, getting the stove on and the eggs cracked without lighting herself on fire or needing to fish out eggshells. It was impressive, and the truest state of motherhood anyone could experience. Austin had been something of a velcro baby in his toddler years, and Andrea had made far too many breakfasts and lunches with only one hand to spare, her eyes having the added challenge of overseeing her bubbly and overexcited daughter as she whirled through the kitchen to chat about princesses and show off the newest picture she'd only just finished scribbling. There was a shared moment of understanding that passed between the two blondes as they caught the eyes of the other when Taylor spun around to grab a spatula, the younger blonde offering a soft smile the conveyed everything words couldn't. This was her element, her newfound safe haven. The days were hard, the nights were long, but in this moment of controlled chaos, she felt perfectly content to do it all over again each day. There would never be a word that could convey the sense of purpose motherhood bestowed upon a capable and committed woman.

Taylor fished the Tinkerbell plate out of the cabinets when the eggs had finished cooking, the english muffins still within the metal confines of the toaster hopefully becoming a pleasing golden hue, but that would only be found out once they'd sprung upwards. Wren's tiny face was still pressed into Taylor's neck, her fingers now twisting together strands of hair that framed the nape of the woman's neck, entirely unaware of the plate that had been constructed for her with a new favorite character hidden beneath cheddar cheese and yellow-hued eggs.

"Can I set you down, sweet girl? Your eggies are ready." Taylor set the plate on the island in front of the stool farthest right. It was Wren's chosen spot, the place she gravitated towards every morning, and there was something sweet about the unconscious routine. When Wren shook her head, little fingers digging into the crewneck, Taylor merely hummed her acceptance, stalking back to the stove where she dropped three sausage patties onto the same pan she'd scrambled the eggs in, though unlike the last time she'd tried to cook two things with the same pan, she didn't forget to reapply the cooking oil that kept it from sticking to the metal.

Once everything was prepared and cutlery had been grabbed from the drawer toward the large window where a potted plant slowly wilted from unintentional neglect, Taylor sank into the stool between Wren's breakfast and her mothers untouched plate, looking slightly worn down by the ordeal, though her eyes sparkled with endearment that forgave the exhaustion within her wrinkled eyebrows. Scott had never understood the complexities of motherhood. How something could be so painfully taxing, but simultaneously more rewarding than any promotion or award could be. Andrea understood, and she squeezed Taylor's hand encouragingly.

Wren had refused to be placed in her own stool, and so between mouthfuls of her own breakfast, Taylor fed the girl bites of her own with that damned Rapunzel fork that she wanted to throw across the room every time she had to wash it. The design was admittedly very cute, the handle shaped like Rapunzel's braid toward the climax of the film when she'd gone into the Kingdom with Eugene, but it was unpractical as hell when it came to a messy child who let her cutlery fall into puddles of ketchup and ranch. Without fail Taylor smeared the dressings and sauces on her fingers every time, and as it sank into the eggs the second she let it escape her grasp, she knew she'd been dealing with the partial remains of today's breakfast between her fingers as well.

"Do you want to tell Andie about the song you helped me write?" Taylor hummed around a mouthful of her sandwich, sipping on her coffee to wash away the heavy texture that had settled over her tongue. She'd definitely overcooked the english muffins, but in her defense, the toaster was new and she was still trying, and failing, to figure out the settings; which were more complicated than they needed to be if her opinion was worth anything. "You want me to tell her?" Taylor laughed softly, smoothing her hand over the child's back when a little finger dug into her ribs, further indicating that a streak of silence had settled over the child.

"You helped write a song?" Andrea didn't mind the prolonged silence, having expected it to come sooner or later, but it was still a bit unsettling to know the events that had led up to this type of emotional withdrawal. They could say Wren was making progress, could say that she was becoming what society expected the typical six-year-old to be, but there was never going to be a way to erase the pain and trauma permanently. All contributing factors considered, a bit of tears and selective silence was a healthy step toward healing and a far step away from panic attacks and sobbing like Nashville had seen.

"She did! She's been my little buddy, huh? We've been up in the music room a lot these last few weeks. We're almost finished now though, aren't we? I'd say there's another song or two that needs to be written before I can send demos out and get recording and features in order, but it's close to being finished lyrically. I'm considering a release date sometime this year, given everything goes according to plan and I don't completely change my mind about the concept. It's different than anything I've done before. It's my pain, my experiences, but it's not so directly reflective of my life. We've got characters, don't we, buddy? Augustine!" Even with her face partially hidden in Taylor's chest, her body sat sideways only so that mouthfuls of egg could be shoveled into her mouth, Taylor could see the hint of a smile on her lips, her tear-filled expression replaced with contentment.

"You gonna give Taylor a run for her money when you're older? Learning all her tips and tricks." Andrea laughed softly, though she was glad to hear that Taylor was finding a method of expression that didn't so intimately bare her heart for the public to scrutinize. An album like this had been a long time coming, but her girl was stubborn, that much was evident in everything she did.

Wren shook her head softly, which was more than Andrea had expected to receive, and the blonde laughed tenderly at the rejection of attaining Taylor's career. "Tree." The little girl mumbled, her fascination with the publicist apparently strong enough to break her stretch of silence.

"You're gonna have Tree's job? Why, so you can boss me around?" Taylor teased, her fingers digging into the little girls ribs, provoking giggles and squirms, a wide grin finally breaking across Wren's features before she schooled them again, leaning back to give Taylor her most unimpressed expression which was really just her attempt at mimicking Tree's unimpressed glare. "I saw that smile, nice try!"

"Like her notebook." Was the simple answer that followed Wren's apparent interest of becoming a publicist, "And like coloring." Taylor couldn't help but laugh at what Wren perceived Tree's job to entail, and she would definitely be texting the publicist the minor details of the conversation just to get a rise out of the woman who would rather die than have anyone assume she was growing soft hearted.

Taylor didn't have the heart to tell Wren that Tree didn't get paid to color, and that her routine of coloring pictures after meetings concluded was solely because she had the time to spare and wanted Wren to feel included in the process, even if the little girl had no understanding of anything that was discussed and combed over. "I think you'd make an excellent publicist."

Andrea had to turn away to conceal her laughter much to Taylor's amusement as her blue eyes sparkled beneath the kitchen lighting, only interrupted by a clap of thunder that had Wren scrambling back into her chest, little hands desperately clutching the fabric of her t-shirt as once even breathing hitched with nervousness. "It's just thunder, just thunder, baby. See, it's raining." And so the storm began, evident by the fierce wind that rattled barren tree branches down below and the pellets of rain water beginning to collect on the window beside the sink.

"Go away." The child pleaded, but Taylor, despite how hard she tried to believe otherwise, couldn't control the weather, and so she settled for holding the child closer to her chest, allowing little fingers to sink beneath the fabric of her top to find comfort in that dainty gold chain.

"It should go away, huh? It'll end soon, baby." Taylor didn't actually know how long the storm was expected to settle over New York for, but she could tell by the faintness of the clouds just beyond the window that it wasn't anything terrible, and in a couple of minutes, or hours at the longest, they'd be met with silence from the skies. The only thing she counted on was the gloomy weather stretching on into the evening, the light grey colored clouds looking rather permanent against the skyline. "I made you a sausage patty. You want to try it?"

Still burrowed into Taylor's chest, Wren glanced at the stovetop warily, seeing the breakfast sausage sat on the pan, though it had been placed on a different burner to avoid becoming charred and 'very yucky' as she had declared when Taylor had accidentally charred a pancake. The little girl nodded her head softly, finally glancing at her plate, seemingly only just noticing that it had a depiction of Tinkerbell in the center. She beamed, storm anxiety forgotten as she lurched forward and pulled the plate closer, little fingers pushing shredded cheddar cheese out of the way to get a better look.

"Tinkerbell." She giggled, her finger poking at the fairy's smiling face. She pinched a mouthful of cheese between her fingers, apparently content enough to feed herself now that she'd overcome that initial state of overwhelm and the thunder hadn't clapped so loudly again, merely distant rubbles that sounded more like a growling belly than anything else.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Do you want some of your hot chocolate, it's nice and warm now, not too hot." Taylor pulled the mug closer, smiling fondly when Wren dove straight in, her little face nearly covered entirely by the rim of the mug. There was a proper chocolate mustache over her upper lip when she set it back on the counter, her little tongue poking out to lick it away once she'd swallowed that first mouthful. "You gonna sit here with Andie while I get your sausage?"

Wren nodded shyly, allowing Taylor to place her in her own stool for the first time that morning as she grabbed the Tinkerbell plate and made a b-line for the stovetop, throwing what was left of the eggs on the plate and adding the sausage patty, cutting it up into little bites that wouldn't' be so overwhelming if Wren decided she didn't like this kind.

"Tay showed me how to play Hayley's song on my guitar. Gonna learn how to play new super secret song next. Gotta wait 'til it's finished though." Wren spoke softly to Andrea while Taylor prepared her second plate, the blonde sighing silently to herself at the countertop now that she didn't have to worry about getting food into the little monster. Lunch would hopefully go smoother, but at least she could rest assured that something of substance had been consumed.

"Oh yeah? What Hayley song?" Andrea smiled fondly at the quiet conversation, glad to hear that Wren was liking her guitar, even if it very rarely came out of the corner Taylor kept it in. She was far more interested in the piano, but even then she didn't ask to be shown certain chords or notes often, content with watching Taylor create magic.

"Still Into You. Tried, um, tried the other one but was hard." Wren nodded, like she'd perfectly explained the circumstances, and Andrea laughed fondly at the simple explanation and the little girls obsession with Hayley, a girl that she'd more or less begged to be her daughters friend just over a decade ago.

"All I Wanted. We haven't quite mastered barre chords, but we're working up to it!" Taylor ruffled the little girls already tousled hair, smiling encouragingly down at the little brunette. Wren was interested in learning, that was undeniable, but she was a quiet observer. Half of what she knew had come from silently watching, which absolutely amazed Taylor who'd always needed some more physical guidance when picking up string instruments. "And it's Paramore, buddy. Remember Mr. Taylor's in the band too, it's not just Hayley." Yesterday, Hayley had called Taylor to catch up, something they didn't do as often as they should but life got busy and they both knew it. Wren had more or less forced the socialization between them, but they'd both appreciated the excuse to keep in closer contact, so when Hayley called to catch up, Taylor hadn't even bothered stepping out of the room and thus, Wren had met another Taylor. Taylor York, who despite what most would believe, did not live in New York.

"Hayley." The little girl grinned with all of her might, reaching for her fork to dig into the eggs the second they were placed in front of her, shoveling them in like she'd not just eaten an entire plate before. Taylor didn't say anything, silently observing the little girl who'd apparently decided today she was hungry. "Can go see Hayley sing songs?"

"Well, Hayley's not touring right now, baby love. We'll have to wait and see when she is." Taylor laughed softly, her daughter's obsession with the Mississippi woman still an anomaly, but one that she would happily lean into. "You remember that I'm going to start touring soon? The stage you designed is almost all ready to go!"

"And 'hearsals start next week! Tree said so." Wren nodded, much to Taylor's amusement.

"Yes, Tree said so. She says a lot of things." Taylor huffed, much to Andrea's amusement. In the large room, there were two mothers, but here were also two girls that were in the presence of their mother. Taylor's mannerisms mirrored her mothers in more ways than she was aware, but her head snapped toward Andrea the second she'd heard the same breathy chuckle fall off her mothers tone like it had hers seconds prior. "Keep your two cents out of it." She teased, only furthering Andrea's amusement and the blue eyes that she'd given Taylor thirty years ago sparkled with light that hadn't been so bright since she'd restarted treatment.

Lover Fest wasn't going to be on any scale comparable to the Reputation stadium tour, hence the lesser rehearsals. It still needed preparation, Taylor would always give her utmost love and care to her projects, but there was a calmer element to the seventeen show tour, and she couldn't have found better timing to do something so miniscule. There hadn't been any specific reason for the smaller scale tour, but somehow, Taylor thinks the universe knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with anything more than what she'd already committed to.

When Wren poked at the sausage with her fork curiously, Taylor didn't comment. She let the girl explore the food at her own pace, taking only a small breath in when Wren put it to her lips and hesitantly began to chew. They hadn't introduced a new food since their first day in London, and while Taylor had ensured to mention that the sausage patty was made just for her and it wasn't anybody else's, she still feared the same catastrophic meltdown. She only exhaled when Wren hummed, tucking into the bite sized pieces at a faster pace now, not feeling the need to announce that she was pleased with the taste because Taylor had never laid out the expectation that she had to justify what she found good or not.

"Can have sausage tomorrow?" The question came from the child after she'd cleared her plate entirely, all that remained being a single shred of cheddar cheese that was apparently not up to her standards. Taylor wanted to know what was going through her head in moments like these, certain that to Wren, leaving that one single piece of cheese untouched was logical and had a very valid explanation.

"Of course, buddy." Taylor smiled softly, collecting the plates off the island and bringing them to the counter, apparently forgetting that her mother never let her do the dishes when she came to visit, or maybe it had just been foolish hope that if she acted quick enough Andrea wouldn't notice. "Mom!" She groaned when the woman snuck up beside her at the sink, her bony elbow digging into unsuspecting ribs.

"Nice try." She teased before her voice lowered just enough for it to linger just between the two of them. "Go talk to her, honey. Get ready for the day, go play her some songs. Your whole day doesn't need to change because I'm here, that's change enough for her. I'll unpack, take a shower, we can regroup for lunch."

Taylor pressed a chaste kiss to her mothers cheek before she turned back to the island where Wren had finished her hot chocolate and had apparently taken interest in Taylor's forgotten coffee, her little face hovering over the ceramic rim amusingly so, taking careful notes of the color difference between that drink and Andrea's.

"It's got peppermint creamer in it, so it tastes a little bit like your hot chocolate." Taylor hadn't meant to startle Wren, but the little girl still jumped in surprise, offering a timid smile when she realized it was only Taylor who had snuck up on her, and she didn't seem to be mad about the newfound curiosity for a drink she'd so vehemently turned her nose up at. Avoiding triggers wasn't a way of overcoming them, and so despite every nerve in her body telling her to leave the conversation there, she braved another question. "Do you want to try it? I'm all done, Andie's gonna wash the dishes while you and I get ready for the day. I was coming over to put it in the sink."

"Grown up drink." Wren frowned at the question, looking back at the mug with shining curiosity but hindered confusion. Taylor laughed fondly at the sight, nodding her head.

"It is a grown up drink, but kids can have little tastes." She clarified, knowing that she'd had more than her fare share of coffee as a curious child, but also wanting to affirm Wren's ability to advocate for her wants here. She could've said no, she redirected the child a million times a day as it was, but there truly was no harm in the act and – before she'd noticed the attention on her – Wren had seemed genuinely interested; something that was more often than not hidden beneath a well crafted mask even still.

Without just as much hesitance as she had shown toward the breakfast sausage, Wren picked up the ceramic mug with two steady hands, holding it close to her nose as she sniffed it. She knew what it smelt like, Taylor brewed a pot of that same roast every morning, but the blonde could take a minute to simply watch. She'd watched her friends become parents for years predating this moment, and though most of them had truly flourished beneath the responsibility to guide and teach, other's trembled on unsteady footing. She'd seen grown adults treat children like miniature versions of themselves, not little humans that had only just arrived in the world with absolutely no insight. She wouldn't become that parent, she'd promised herself that the day she found out about her pregnancy.

After what felt like years, because somehow Wren handled the coffee slower than the sausage, she took in a small sip, letting it sit on her tongue with a grimace tied tightly to her lips. Taylor didn't say anything, simply watching it unfold, almost certain that the child's hesitance was somehow tied to the last placement she'd just barely survived. Eventually, the grimace of uncertainty melted into a shy grin, her throat bobbing as she finally gathered the courage to swallow it.

"It didn't have yucky drinks in it!" The child gasped in astonishment, and Taylor's stomach twisted into knots at the brightly spoken words. She forced herself not to react, all but willed the years of media training to pay off. "Yummy!"

"No, baby. No yucky drinks for you. Not until you're at least eighteen and begging me to go to Mexico." She held her hands out invitingly, open palms facing the ceiling as much of an invitation as Wren needed. She leaned forward on the stool, arms raising instinctively, her underarms being grabbed in a hasty movement that ended with her perched on Taylor's hip.

Miraculously they made it to the sink without the coffee being spilled, Wren insisting on holding it while Taylor held only her empty mug and Andreas. Taylor was ninety percent sure that was just so that she could steal another sip before it was dumped down the drain. She didn't miss the look of sickness across her mother's face, her insight a harrowing thing to have in the current moment. Taylor merely managed a wry smile for a couple of seconds before it was slipping off of her lips, the weight of that innocently constructed sentence hitting her like a bullet wound.

"Let's go get you showered, monkey." Like nothing was weighing on her, Taylor smiled brightly towards the child, blunt nails scratching at baby soft skin over thin bamboo pajamas; which hardly ever saw the light of day, Wren always preferring the ones with characters from local stores, but somehow she had won the battle last night.

Taylor's ensuite bathroom had practically become Wren's main bathroom, so the blonde didn't have to search the house for the child's necessities, having duplicates of everything already sorted through the room. She stripped out of her own pajamas easily, helping Wren out of hers when it became clear that arm holes and body holes were easily confused for one another. They moved through the motions silently, the child finally having the time to decompress and reflect on the poorly gone attempt at a surprise. She leaned her weight against Taylor, humming quietly as slender fingers massaged deep conditioner into her roots. The water was just warm enough to cause goosebumps when she stepped out from beneath the stream, but her favorite towel with a yellow duck head hood was soon wrapped around her body. She loved the bathroom in Taylor's room because her towels hung on a steaming rack, and they were always so snuggly when the blonde wrapped them around her tightly.

She was placed on the countertop with the same silence to revel beneath, allowing her hair to be brushed and swept up into a ponytail that was then carefully weaved into a braid with a hundred tiny sections that all came together. Taylor had been doing a lot of fishtails on her own hair, and naturally the chid wanted to match. She hummed contently when Taylor finished, throwing the chestnut hair over her shoulder before her hood was pulled back up into place, warming the tips of her ears that had stared to shiver exposed to the chilly room filled with thick steam.

Taylor pulled her own hair up into a similar style braid, brushing both of their teeth before she dared to speak and rupture the peace that had settled so evenly upon them. "You got kinda overwhelmed for a little bit, huh? Andie coming was a little overwhelming?" Taylor named the feeling for what it was, not bothering to water it down with an alternative like scared or upset. Wren would never learn to identify different feelings if Taylor called them all by the same simplistic name just because it was easily to understand the first time she was asked. "You felt like there was too much going on, maybe?"

Wren nodded softly, her little lips beginning to quiver as she stared back at Taylor through the mirror. "Like Andie." She tried to explain weakly, and Taylor's heart broke a little at the sight, absolutely certain that was the cutest and most pitiful desperate explanation she'd ever heard.

"I know you like Andie, being overwhelmed doesn't mean that you don't. It can be frustrating when you expect things to happen one way, but something else messes everything up. Were you expecting to come downstairs to just me?" Taylor knew that she was, but she wanted to see Wren through the an explanation of why she had felt the way that she did, and it was easiest to do that from the beginning.

When she received another nod, little green eyes wide and pleading with her to understand her reaction hadn't been anything negative, she braved another question, fully aware of how much she was throwing at Wren today. "Did seeing Andie make you a little bit frustrated because you didn't know she would be here and you thought maybe our morning would change?"

Wren didn't seem to have an immediate answer to that question, but Taylor hadn't expected her too. It was a far large task of comprehension then someone her age was typically given, but she knew that with patience Wren would be capable of finding an answer. They'd talked about Taylor's frustration toward Joe nearly everyday for the last week, the brunette wanting to understand why sometimes Taylor cried but said she wasn't said or necessarily mad either. Wren had learned that sometimes you cry when you're frustrated, and that frustrated feels like when you can't reach the orange juice in the fridge without help even though you really want it. Wren understood the feeling of frustration well after that had been explained to her.

"Yes." She whispered, playing with the corner of the towel where a crumpled tag was sewn on with coarse thread.

"You were so happy Andie was here, but then you got frustrated. When we feel a lot of things at once, or hear a lot of sounds, or see a lot of lights, it feels like when you play with your all of your stuffies but then we have to clean up but there's so many on the floor you don't know what to pick up first; like there are too many things going on a once. Is that maybe how you felt inside?" Taylor ran her hand over the child's hooded head, smiling softly to reassure the anxiety written clearly across her face.

"Yes. Andie never sleep over before. Never had a sleepover before. Didn't know what to do." Wren answered softly, only further reminding Taylor that there were still things the child hadn't experienced or didn't remember from when she'd been only two and a half with a 'normal' life. It was bittersweet to think that at six years old, Taylor still got to witness a first sleepover.

"I should've told you Andie was coming, huh? That was a very big surprise, not just a little one like your new Tinkerbell plate, hm?" She frowned sympathetically when Wren nodded slowly, unsure of how to approach Taylor taking responsibility for her misstep. "I'm sorry, monkey. I'll tell you next time, okay?"

"Okay." Wren accepted the apology, but by the winkle of confusion etched into her eyebrows, Taylor could tell she couldn't understand why she was being apologized to. It reminded her of all those months ago on in Nashville, where she had apologized for not having everything in life figured out, when she'd asked Wren to be patient with her as she learned. She was still learning, still making mistakes, but the promise to better was as sincere as it was the first time.

"I'm always going to apologize when I make a mistake, buddy. We apologize because we don't like that we've done something wrong, not because we're in trouble. I don't like that I thought you would like this surprise and didn't consider how it would affect your expectations for the day, and I'm serious about doing better for next time. I'm always going to apologize." Taylor couldn't stress the importance of that first and last sentence enough, but Wren seemed to believe her as it was, a soft smile washing across her lips as she wriggled around to attach herself to Taylor's torso, little fingers twirling the end of her fluffed out braid softly. "Let's get you dressed, cuddle bug."

Taylor got dressed first, seeing no reason to trek across the hallway in only a towel when they had to travel through her bedroom regardless. She'd thrown Wren into the center of the bed with just enough cation to ensure no heads were bumped on the headboard, the little girl laughing as the mattress bounced beneath her weight. The storm outside the windows was still raging on, the rain fall become heavier as minutes ticked by, but thunder seemed to stay toward the outskirts of town where Wren couldn't hear it so loudly. She bounced her gaze between the rivulets racing down the windowpanes and the closet where Taylor had picked out joggers and a crewneck, not too fussed with setting out a more wearable outfit when the day's plan only consisted of hiding away from the weather and prying eyes. They hid away a lot, but there was always the freedom of leaving together if they wanted to, something that hadn't been so easily agreed upon for years.

Taylor had only gotten the crewneck situated over her torso when Wren leapt off of the bed and raced over to the window, her little palms pressing against the glass as she closely inspected the raindrop races that were taking place, little fingers tracking the movements of one specific raindrop as if she'd declared her favorite player. Taylor watched it happen fondly, getting herself ready without interruption not common practice these days, but she took full advantage of it whenever she could. Perfume was the last box to check on her mental list, and as discretely as she could manage, she sprayed her neck and wrist, somehow avoiding the proposal to share, something that hadn't happened in days.

When she was ready to take on the day, Wren seemed content with being pulled away from the window and allowed Taylor to guide her across the hall to her own bedroom without a fuss. Her raindrop had won the race, and she'd been sure to tell Taylor that as the blonde was digging through dresser drawers trying to find an acceptable selection of pants to choose from. Wren did better at making her own choices when she only had a couple of options to consider, and so every morning Taylor went through the motions of picking out weather appropriate options and laying them out for the child to sift through without indication of her own preferences. Unsurprisingly, Wren picked out the leggings with little white and pink daises on the knees, her current obsession anything with flowers or princesses. The Sulley phase was long behind them now, replaced by Rapunzel and Tinkerbell and just about anything that had a frilly appearance.

Wren picked out a beige t-shirt shirt with a sketch like portrait of Rapunzel and Pascal on the front, her little smile wide and bright as she pulled at the hem of the top to look down at the design once it had been situated over her head without tousling her braid any. Her fingers traced the purple words with interest, piecing together that it said 'best day ever' once she'd stopped trying to read it upside down and just sounded out the letters as she recognized them. Taylor, as promised, had ordered her new clothes, most of which featured Rapunzel in some degree, although a couple of the options had their own fun pattern and design on them. Wren didn't think she needed any more than she already had, but Taylor had said that she needed options, and not everything was suitable for winter in New York, even if spring was on the cusp of settling in and the stretch of cold days would melt away into warmth in no time. Apparently having only four long sleeved shirts wasn't acceptable though, but Wren never liked wearing them anyways, so the addition of four more hanging in her closet seemed kind of silly. They were still on the hunt for a Rapunzel dress, but every time Taylor went online to browse the Disney website, the size Wren needed was always sold out. Taylor was getting ready to just buy the next size up, knowing she'd more often than not need to purchase it anyways.

"Is Rapunzel your new favorite?" Taylor laughed softly as she picked out a pair of purple socks with pink polkadots all across them, sitting Wren on the edge of her bed so that she could slip them onto tiny feet that got cold easily.

"Um, think so." The child offered a curt nod of agreeance, something that she'd been doing more and more of recently, much to Taylor's amusement. She didn't have anything else to consider as being so important, and so menial questions like 'Who's your favorite princess' and 'What's your favorite color' were treated with the utmost level of attention and seriousness. Or, as much seriousness as a six-year-old could muster at least. "Punzel's your favorite?"

"Ariel's my favorite, baby." Taylor laughed endearingly, absolutely sure that nobody had asked her which princess she adored since she'd been seven years old. It had come out naturally in conversation over the years, yes, she'd had an entire costume party on New Years Eve the year before where'd she'd directed her friends to come as their favorite characters from childhood, but it hadn't been so innocently asked with no outstanding motives in decades. It was nice to be asked simple things again.

"Like Ariel too. Like 'Punzel more though." Wren nodded, little fingers still tracing the design. "You need a Ariel shirt. Then we can both wear favorite princesses!" Wren beamed, her little head snapping upward at the idea, hope blossoming beneath her light eyes as she grinned excitedly. It seemed Taylor was always buying something these days, but she wouldn't trade the happiness that came with packages being delivered for the world.

"I think you're right, baby love! We'll have to look online tonight. Should we get you an Ariel shirt that matches, or should we only match because we're both wearing our favorite princesses?" These were the kinds of conversations Taylor wanted to have for the rest of her life, but she knew that eventually they'd stop happening. She hadn't asked her mother who her favorite princess was in years, let alone if she wanted to get matching character shirts. She made a mental note to ask the woman later on, guilt slowly creeping into the bones as she considered that Andrea might miss these conversation just as much as she knew she was going to.

"Um, I can wear this one sometimes, but think we should match too. Cause then, cause then when we match, we can show Aunt Blake." That seemed to make the most amount of sense to Wren, and for a second Taylor stopped to consider that Blake was brought up in conversation so often solely because she'd been the only person outside of Taylor's immediate family that she had met, and had subsequently been the only one to show her endless kindness and acceptance. The blonde tries not to let that revelation weigh on her heart, promising to introduce Wren to more of her friends and family as the months passed. Wren's entire world really was only her and Blake, and with as well as that had been going, Taylor knew that she could start other introductions, namely, finally figuring out a time to connect with Hayley in person and introducing Wren to her childhood best friend.

"We can absolutely show Aunt Blake, I'm sure she'd love it! Maybe we can show Abigail and Hayley too, they want to meet you too." Taylor smiled brightly, sighing in relief when Wren didn't seem to sink into herself at the invitation, her little head bobbing up and down with vigor.

"And can show Andie!" Wren beamed at the prospect and Taylor reciprocated the sentiment, daring to ask if they should get Andrea a matching Ariel shirt as well. "Yes! All three can match! Can get Andie a 'Punzel shirt too, just in case she likes her more." Taylor knew her mother had never seen Tangled, but she didn't tell Wren, merely nodding along to the suggestion with enthusiasm.

"That's a great plan, baby love. Should we look for some now, or do you want to head into the music room? I've got a new song I want to show you." Taylor's eyes sparkled with light, and eagerly Wren nodded at the second suggestion before a gleam of contemplation settled over gentle jade eyes.

"Andie's here." She frowned, little fingers wriggling together as she fidgeted with her knuckles and cuticles. Taylor kept the little girl nails as short as they could be, having learned that if she didn't, Wren would claw at the skin of her palms until they bled. Emily wasn't worried about the habit, but Taylor had been trying her best to redirect the anxious energy. The blonde plucked the plush giraffe off the bed, placing him in Wren's lap, pleased to see that without any verbal direction little fingers immediately sought to twist and pull at his comically large ears.

"Our day doesn't change just because Andie's here. We're gonna hang out until lunch, just us, how does that sound?" Taylor asked softly, receiving a timid nod of acceptance in return. She smiled fondly, guiding the child down the hallway until they reached the music room where Wren's guitar was still laid down in the center of the room, placed there yesterday afternoon when they'd finished going over different chords just in time for James to repetitively knock on the front door.

Taylor didn't have to tell Wren to pick it up and put it back where it belongs in the corner of the room, the little girl was racing over to do it on her own, bearing a bright smile when she joined Taylor at the bench with her hands already folded around the giraffe's neck and away from the keys. Taylor laughed at the sight, but nodded for her to climb up and take up the space next to her. Without Benji taking up a fraction of the bench, they weren't huddled so closely together, and Taylor could allow her elbows to relax as she settled her fingers on the keys.

"After you went to sleep last night I figured a melody for the song I was telling you about, the one about Augustine and her silly friend. You'll have to tell me if you can spot anything special. Sounds like a plan?" Taylor had spared the significant details of the tracks concept, not particularly wanting to explain infidelity in full to her still innocent-minded shadow, but otherwise unable to keep the creative lightness to only herself; well Blake knew as well, seeing as she'd run through the songs content with the woman in a stolen moment beside the stove as they were plating up the kids servings of tomato soup and grilled cheese.

"Got it!" Wren nodded brightly, soft eyes still transfixed on the black and white eyes. Taylor assumed she was memorizing the placement of her fingers, entirely captivated by the process that was making music. The giraffe was her second witness to the start of the song, and even if her eyes were trained on the keys, the notes still not familiar enough to glance around without error, she was almost certain that in her peripheral vision little fingers were keeping with the steady rhythm against the soft plush belly filled with stuffing.

"Betty, I won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom but I think it's cause of me. Betty, one time, I was riding on my skateboard when I passed your house. It's like I couldn't breathe. You heard the rumors from Inez, you can't believe a word she says most times. But this time, it was true. The worst thing that I ever did was what I did to you..." The song was beautifully crafted, meticulously pieced together over many weeks and hours. It still needed fine tuning, there were words scattered throughout the bridge that didn't quite meet her expectations of its desired innocence, but the bones were laid and they were good. When her fingers slowed down, not fully stopping, she looked down at Wren, not having to ask if the little girl had picked up on what was so special, the smile on her face was telling enough.

"My names in it! And Betty, and Nezzy, and James! But that's my name too so we share!" Wren only spoke up when she was certain Taylor wasn't going to sing anything else, her little green eyes bright and brimming with disbelief.

Taylor hadn't intentionally incorporated Ryan and Blake's children, but she'd felt pulled to honor not only Betty, but Wren in this project. While nobody that wasn't of importance to her knew about her biological daughters near existence in the world, a few hundred million people knew about Wren in some vague capacity, and she wanted to protect what she could of the little girls privacy while the ball was still in her court. She'd chosen to incorporate James only because it was a common enough name and the letters had placed themselves on the page before she'd even really noticed her fingers moving with vigor. Only when Betty and James had both been laid out on the parchment did she realize the unique opportunity presented to take the heat off of her own personal affairs and turn them onto Blake and Ryan's. Their children's names were public knowledge, even if they also kept the intimate details of their affair as parents private and away from tabloids. That had been what her hushed conversation with Blake had been about, and the woman had all but given her immediate stamp of approval, not even bothering to consult Ryan like Taylor had suggested she do.

Taylor had her own opinions of Colin James, Wren's failure of a father, but as much as those five letters were a reflection and representation of him and his legacy, it was all that Wren had left of her mother; outside of a handful of pictures and the few home videos that were safely stored in a fireproof lockbox in her closest. There was the baby blanket and the original Sulley shirt hung up in Wren's closest too, but none of that was as meaningful as legally sharing a last night. No matter how Taylor felt about Colin James, she would never take away or attempt to change Wren's perception of her biological family. She wasn't even sure Wren really remembered them anymore, her one off comments growing fewer and farther between as the months carried on and the time apart became longer.

"It is, buddy! It's not your first name, that's only for our friends and family to know, but it's still a little piece of you that I can think about whenever I sing this song! Is that okay with you?" Wren nodded eagerly, unable to stop herself from wiggling in excitement on the piano bench, much to Taylor's amusement.

"My name!" The little girl bellowed once again, seemingly unable to believe that Taylor had actually chosen to incorporate her into the album. She knew that Taylor's music was a permanent thing, there was no changing lyrics after it became a song, and for some reason, that had been what truly solidified her permanent residence with the blonde. Taylor wasn't leaving her. She's written her into a song that would exist for hundreds and hundreds of years. She wasn't leaving, and Taylor wasn't leaving, and they really would be together forever and ever. "Can stay forever!"

Taylor didn't need to ask what that added remark had been in reference to. She'd seen the looks of uncertainty in recent weeks, they'd mulled over the specific details of Wren's residence a large handful of times too. Taylor didn't have to ask, she already knew, and her heart swelled with affection at the genuine elation that laced the finally grasped acceptance of uncircumstantial belonging. "Yeah, baby girl. You can stay with me forever. You're going to stay with me forever."

"Forever and a day!" Wren echoed the words Taylor had whispered to her a few hundred times, but this time with certainty that didn't waver and a smile that didn't melt. The blonde truly felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest her pride and overwhelming affection too much to handle at once.

"Forever and a day." She whispered, tears brimming in her eyes if only because she was so content and filled with warmth she didn't know how else to react. Taylor skillfully patted her eyes dry without the little girl noticing, not needing to force her brightest smile as she turned her attention downward again, it came naturally and with unbridled fondness. "What song next, Ms. Wren? The choice is all yours."

Chapter Text

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die,
i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

March 11th, 2020

Andrea hadn't stayed in New York City for as long as she'd initially anticipated, but her time in the skyrise penthouse had been beyond rewarding for the short string of days that she was present. Wren had warmed up to the idea of sharing her space with the woman after Andrea had called both her and Taylor downstairs for lunch that first afternoon together, only, they couldn't find her in the kitchen when they'd finally descended the stairs five minutes later and turned the corner. The evidence of her labor was strewn along the countertops in the form of dirtied knives, empty lunchmeat packages, and juice box wrappers. Wren had been puzzled by the sight, firstly because she didn't even know they had juice boxes, and secondly because Andrea had definitely been downstairs when she called for them. Taylor hadn't seemed confused for even a second, although her heart had fluttered within the confines of her ribcage and she'd had to force herself not to cry on the spot.

They'd searched for Andrea in the living room, in both downstairs bathrooms because that had seemed like a good enough place as any by Wren's logic, until the only room left unsearched downstairs was one that was frequently untouched and forgotten about. Taylor wasn't sure Wren had ever even been inside the room she didn't often visit. It housed a spare couch and entertainment center, and the random trinket that Taylor felt compelled to purchase, but had no vision of where to display elsewhere. That had been the room where they'd found Andrea. She'd spread a blanket out on the floor, one that Wren had seen in the living room countless times but never used, claiming that the ones with pink flowers and princesses were the softest and while that logic was definitely flawed, Taylor never pushed back. There were three lunch boxes all neatly zipped up on various corners of the cozy blanket, two of which Taylor had owned for years and often brought along to meetings or rehearsals if she wasn't in the mood to order food or hadn't previously arranged catering. The third was new, and it sported a collection of princesses that Wren adored with Rapunzel right in the center in her light purple dress with pink lacing. Wren had found out that this was something Andrea did for Austin and Taylor in the summertime, when school was out but her children were clearly missing the routine of school days and packed lunches. Even if Andrea only stayed for four days, they'd had a total of three 'school day lunches' as Andrea referred to them as.

It had been a little over a week since Andrea had left for upstate New York, going to tend to the house that Taylor had decided to rent for the upcoming year and oversee the construction site that would eventually become an in-house studio. It wasn't a lavish project, no walls needed knocking down or major altering, but Taylor did need someone more qualified than herself to sort out the electrical work that needed to be done, and she'd decided to go forward with the instillation of sound pads. The house was spacious though not overly grand, and while she'd gotten away with midnight music session without waking Wren thus far, she didn't think she'd get so lucky when incorporating full vocals. Plus, they would decrease the risk of unnoticed echoes and sounds getting picked up by the microphone and implemented into the album.

Andrea had taken a good amount of their belongings up to the house already, though the rooms were by no means close to barren as Taylor further sorted through outfits and necessities on the floor of the hallway, sat directly between her room and Wren's while the little girl buzzed around the apartment with Meredith, the cat seemingly interested in playing today as she chased after a plush mouse toy Taylor had purchased years ago. They'd be heading up the house today, and from what she'd seen of the girls initial reaction, Wren wasn't phased by the distance that would soon separate her from James and Inez.

Taylor had broken the news of their temporary move over dinner on Andrea's last full day in the city. It was safe to say that she'd been worried for nothing, because the second she'd mentioned that there was a playground for her to climb on and enjoy whenever she wanted, the child had immediately asked if they could go right then and there. Taylor knew that Wren didn't fully understand what was happening even if she said that she did, but she'd tried her best to explain that it wasn't permanent, that they'd still be leaving for tour in April and only coming back to visit the house sporadically between visits to the city and Los Angeles as well, but that was a far larger task of comprehension than Wren was capable of grasping without living it.

She was folding yet another tiny jacket when footsteps padded up the stairs and a little body collided with her back, slim arms wrapping around her neck as Wren giggled manically, her head hanging over Taylor's just enough for their watercolored eyes to connect. "Hi!" The little girl beamed brightly, bouncing on her toes as she stepped on Taylor's left thigh, somehow managing to wiggling herself into the blonde's lap that was decorated in unfolded clothes and new toothbrushes for them both.

"Hi, baby." Taylor laughed softly, hardly having the time to wince from the sudden pressure and weight on just one of her thighs before Wren was snuggling into her chest and offering a tight hug. Taylor reciprocated the embrace, throwing the jacket aside to refold later on, content to take a little break if it meant maintaining Wren's wild energy and spirit. She wasn't sure what had gotten into the little girl who hadn't sat still for any longer than a minute once her eyes had opened for the day, but she didn't mind the lively energy that bounced off the apartment walls. "You having fun with Mere?" The reminder of the cat had Wren bolting up to her feet again, giving Taylor nothing but a nod of confirmation before she was dashing down the stairs once more.

Taylor shook her head with a fond laugh, looking over her shoulder just in time to see Wren leap over the last three steps and land on the hardwood floor with an infection shriek of laughter. She really should nip that habit in the bud before it lead to sprained ankles or far worse, but for the time being, she couldn't bring herself to interfere with the pure joy radiating off of the child who grabbed yet another toy from the basket of cat toys pulled into the center of the room and dashed around the living room like a maniac, Meredith hot on her heels.

Taylor hummed contently, getting back the last suitcase that needed packed. Ideally, they had everything they needed to make the house in upstate New York feel like home for a short while, but Amazon was a marvelous tool to utilize if she'd happened to forget anything of importance. Each and every one of Wren's stuffed animals had been packed in their own suitcase which was already loaded into Taylor's personal car, something that Tree had heavily frowned upon but didn't outright shame. It was always risky for the woman to drive herself anywhere, especially because the windows weren't as heavily tinted as they were in the security issued SUVs, but Taylor had wanted this transition to feel as normal as possible for Wren, and what better than a little roadtrip up north to truly seal that element of normalcy. The only stuffed animal that hadn't been packed away was Bluey, and he sat beside Taylor on the hardwood floor solely so that she remembered to bring him along if Wren forgot. That would be the ultimate casualty. Amazon could bring her many things, but it couldn't bring another Bluey. Or, it could, but it wouldn't be the same well loved and worn in stuffed companion. The poor guy was looking a little worse for wear on the hardwood floor beside the musician. His head wasn't so full of stuffing anymore, looking somewhat deflated and lopsided as it caved in at weird angles, and the soft blanket that took the place of where his body would've been had it been a typical stuffed animal was beginning to pill from the sheer amount of wash and tumble cycles it saw in a week. That damned stuffed animal was her worst enemy, and often she found herself having to sneak into the childs room in the dead of night to wash away the evidence of the week before Wren woke and realized they'd been separated. He wasn't so blue anymore, the color washed out and faded now, but he still had that endearing charm to him, maybe more so now than ever if only because his physical state was an example of how truly valuable he was.

They had a four hour drive to Whitesboro ahead of them, but it was still somewhat early in the morning and Andrea had already warned Taylor that the electrical crew was still at work securing sound boards, and would probably only finish sometime after one, so the woman didn't worry about the time constraint she'd unintentionally set for herself. It was still hard to slow down somedays. She craved the constant hustle and bustle of her career, that had been all she'd known for over a decade, but she was getting better at realizing that not everything had to be so quick and punctual in life. If they got to the house before six, that was reasonable enough for Taylor to call it a day well spent. She'd cleared out the fridge entirely, most of what had been packed away getting eaten over the span of the last week for breakfasts and easy dinners, but other things had either been given to Blake — like the princess string cheese Wren had tried her best to finish but couldn't quite concur entirely — or thrown away. The cabinets and pantry had seen the same treatment, although most of what Taylor stored in them wasn't so easily perishable, and didn't have to be eaten within a matter of days or weeks. They had only enough in the house to have what Wren called a snack lunch, so Taylor already anticipated having to stop along the way to pick up a proper meal for her kid, even if that proper meal was really just McDonalds.

Emily had also been informed of the move since Taylor finalized the lease, and the woman had been more than pleased to hear about the acres of land obtained for Wren to explore. She arranged a visit for sometime next month before tour started, and Taylor had been sure to mark that specific day in her calendar so she didn't have a heart attack when somebody knocked on the door at an unexpected time. Nobody but her closest friends and immediate family knew about the house, so unexpected visits would definitively have alarm bells going off. The house itself was admittedly rather lavish in comparison to what the typical person owned or rented, even if to Taylor it was a mild comparison to her other properties, but the land was what made it valuable. It sat on a seven acre field with winding paths concealed within trees currently barren from winters harsh assault of cold, but would turn lavish and vivid as springtime set in. She couldn't wait to explore those trails with Wren, almost certain the little girl will love the freedom to just be outside even in the lingering cold.

When she'd finally gotten everything up off the floor, she assured that all the lights and electronics they would be leaving behind were turned off and unplugged, before hauling the comically large black suitcase down the stairs with huffed breath of evidence struggle, Bluey pinned between her ribcage and her forearm. Wren stood still in the middle of the living room, watching Taylor with a cheeky cheesy grin on her face that doubled in size when Meredith pawed at her ankles, apparently still interested in the game of chase Wren initiated.

"Nope! No more chase right now! You and I need to settle what's for lunch." Taylor could see the itch to bolt rising on Wren's face even if her own eyes were squinted as she tried to manage the weight of the suitcase on the last stair, finally able to set it down and utilize the four wheels screwed into the bottom, but wanting to avoid putting holes in the hardwood from an abrupt impact.

"Aw." Taylor had never been met with that defeated reaction before, and her lips curved into a fond smile as she finally got the suitcase situated on the floor, shoving it toward the couch without much care for where it ended up. Wren looked absolutely ridiculously in the middle of the living room dressed in black sweatpants and one of Taylor's hoodie, her hair wild and unbrushed with evidence of their breakfast still painted against her upper lip, her little bottom lip jutted outward in disappointment. Taylor was absolutely certain that nobody had taught Wren how to pout like that, and it was solely the child's natural reaction to being told she couldn't keep playing.

"Come pick out what you want for lunch and you can get right back to playing with Mere until it's ready." Taylor amended, smiling fondly when Wren shuffled towards her with a frown of defeat settled across her lips, little hands reaching for the stuffed animal the blonde had practically been babysitting all morning. "Make sure you grab him before we leave, we don't want him getting left behind." Taylor passed him over with a gentle reminder, and Wren nodded solemnly as it reached her tiny ears, her little eyebrows furrowing in concern as her eyes trailed over the blue companion.

Meredith followed the duo into the kitchen dutifully. The cat that was no longer a kitten feeling sociable for a change, and Taylor couldn't help but wonder if the feline could pick up on minuscule tells that she hadn't yet learned. The three cats who roamed the apartment saw everything she wasn't able to. They watched Wren in the dead of night when she herself succumbed to much needed rest, they stalked Wrens every move around the apartment when they felt so compelled to be near her radiant energy; it wasn't unreasonable to think they'd grown attuned to her subtle shifts in vibrancy, even if she seemed more outward and exuberant than Taylor had ever been privy to witness. It was almost unsettling to have witnessed such chaotic behavior all morning, like something far bigger than excited energy was at the root of Wren's free spirited pace. Taylor hadn't gone a day without anticipating another shoe to drop in weeks, but something about this specific worry that climbed up her spine was so fragile and thoughtfully placed, it almost brought warmth over her fingers that felt frozen by the grasp of anxiety overcoming her nerves. For the first time since mid-February, Taylor's worry was rooted solely in Wren. Joe was the farthest that he'd been from her mind since their catastrophic split. It felt freeing in an unexplainable way.

Taylor scooped Meredith up when the felines claws threatened to leave marks on Wren's concealed ankles, the leggings admittedly thick to combat the weather stiff with a harsh chill, but still thin in comparison to the thermals she'd thrown into one of the already packed and shipped off suitcases. While there was no intent to harm in Meredith's incessant actions, Taylor still feared the response that would come if she drew blood. The cat made a sound of discontentment in the blonde's arms, not outright hissing like she'd taken to doing in recent years, but a far ways from purring her approval at the embrace. For some reason, that unsettled her more.

Despite feeling like she should check in with her kid, Taylor bared a bright smile that near perfectly concealed her rising concerns. "We've only got what's left in the pantry, buddy. If you get hungry on the way to the new house you tell me and I'll get you something, yeah?" Taylor knew the chances of Wren telling her she was hungry were slim — in all of the months they'd been together Wren had only ever admitted to being hungry twice if not promoted first by Taylor suggesting a meal — but still she reaffirmed the safety of her company, hoping that one day it would stick.

"Still have Mac 'n Cheese?" The little girl hummed beside her, fingers carelessly playing with the fraying tag sewn into her stuffed companions silk edges. The blue color wasn't as vibrant, but the fabric softener Taylor favored had loosened the material even more than it had originally been. Wren never stopped running her fingers along the silk edges, spare the times her fingertips dug into nearly matted fuzz.

"I think so, baby. You want to come scrounge around with me? We might still have some of those seaweed packets you liked." Taylor inclined her head toward the walk-in pantry, listening to Wren's naked feet pad against the hardwood floor as she followed wordlessly, her energy apparently significantly depleted now that she was relatively still. Something was definitely bothering the girl, but Taylor had the inkling that this was just one of those things that needed to come out in its own time.

Much to Taylor's amusement, the second they'd been tucked away in the pantry, Meredith no longer in the musicians arms but curled up soundly beneath Wren's chosen island stool, the little girl was climbing the shelves like a rock wall, green eyes searching for the sea salt seaweed Taylor had introduced to her one afternoon.

The microwaveable macaroni cup stood out easily, the last of its kind but identifiable by deep blue and bright orange hues. She didn't buy it often, but something had compelled her to add it to the shopping list sometime last week. She grabbed pretzel rods and a protein bar for herself, needing only something small until they arrived in Whitesboro where fresh groceries awaited them per Andrea's confirmation of the delivery. It would be far later than acceptable to eat dinner once she actually got the ball rolling on dinner, but some things were worth minor sacrifices.

"Got it!" Wren bellowed, her voice echoing back at Taylor as if refracted off of the white painted walls of the pantry, the thin oak shelves only adding to the skewed depth of her words.

Wren ripped into the packet of seaweed before her feet were even firmly on the floor, the only indication that she was in fact hungry being the speed in which she shoveled them into her mouth with childishly uncoordinated fingers. One day, Wren would feel comfortable enough to invite herself to snacks without prodding, one day she'd feel safe enough to pester Taylor about hunger and cravings until the blonde caved. They weren't there yet, even if she was fairing seemingly well with mealtimes as they were now, food was still a subject deeply rooted in trauma Wren couldn't understand. They'd get there eventually, though.

"We only have water, but I saved you a strawberry flavor packet. Do you want some of that in your 'Punzel up?" Taylor often strived to correct the little girls grammar and mispronunciations by exemplifying the correct usage and consonant order in her own carefully constructed sentences, but some of Wren's undeniably adorable quirks had become intercal components of her own speech. 'Punzel was the newest one. Rapunzel felt wrong rolling off her lips, even if that was the Princess' correct name.

"Pl— Yes." Her daughter was polite to a fault, but Taylor hadn't been able to ignore how she avoided the word please like a house on fire. She hated to think that Wren had said it enough in her last four years of life to cover a lifetime of niceties; probably when she was begging for reprieve while shackled to the ceiling of a blood stained and splattered garage. Taylor detested when those memories and thoughts crept up on her. It still felt wrong to construct her own conclusions of what had happened to Wren, but she was a worrier at heart and otherwise unable to stop herself from attempting to complete the puzzle assembled in front of her with more than a few missing pieces.

"Okay, monkey. Go get in your seat, I'll have your Mac 'n Cheese ready soon." Taylor bid her off to the island with gentle direction, nodding more to herself than anyone else as Wren shuffled her way toward the high stools. The little girl had to claw her way onto the black cushion, and Taylor took careful not of the discombobulated fashion of the movements. Wren was so poised, so beyond her years of maturity, but her fine motor skills were perfectly average developmentally. It was a truly harrowing sight.

True to her word, Taylor had the little girls lunch ready in under four minutes, settling it onto the island with a plastic spoon already shoved within the disposable bowel. She'd warned Wren of the heat that was visibly wafting off of the orange-toned noodles, and Wren seemed beyond content with her seaweed for the moment to adhere to the soft reminder of needed patience.

Taylor split the flavor packet in half at the counter, pouring most of what was pinched between her fingers into a tall glass for herself before dumping only what was left into Wren's cup. She didn't worry about ingredients and sugar intake often — she'd extended the idea of ice cream for breakfast more than once of her own fruition — but some restrictions came naturally, and for whatever reason, flavor packets were where she drew the line of freedom. Wren was none the wiser at the island, mouth shoved full of enough seaweed to rival the New York shorelines.

"It should be cool enough now, baby love." Taylor settled at the island, already with a hand outstretched into the bag of lightly salted pretzel rods. She'd always found this specific brand too salty, but there was something addictive about the thin rods that always had her buying more. It had been the greatest find when she'd stumbled upon the lightly salted version on the grocery services website, and it had simultaneously been the moment where she'd realized there was no point in denying adulthood. Pretzel snacks and french press coffee machines genuinely excited her now. There was no lingering impasse that could be countered by age. She wasn't nineteen anymore, she was thirty with a child and more houses of her own than anyone of sound mind needed. She had both feet firmly planted just beyond the outskirts of marvelous youth. For the first time, that thought didn't make her sick with grief and nostalgia. "We're going to say byebye to the apartment when you're all done. If we don't hit much traffic, you might even have some time to play when we get to the new house."

There were lights out back, only within the parameters of the auburn stained picket fence, but that gave enough comfort for the blonde to encourage nighttime play. She'd already had the fleeting thought of making outside play a pre-bedtime ritual whenever they were in Whitesboro. It might quell some of the nightmares; Emily had said exercise may have that effect.

"Go now!" The energy was back, if not slightly muted only because of Wren's fear of slipping off the stool and plummeting onto the hardwood floor. Taylor had only discovered that worry a few days ago. It wasn't much of a drop from her perspective, but she'd had to take into consideration that her girl was tiny — only thirty-six inches — and the stool itself was taller than her.

"We have to eat first, baby love." Taylor cooed softly, reaching over to mix the mac 'n cheese together, holding a spoonful out for Wren to wrap her lips around. The little girl did so obediently, but Taylor wasn't so sure that she'd even chewed a single noodle before forcing the small mouthful down her throat with what looked like a pained and challenging swallow. "You're excited to play outside? Maybe you feel a little restless, like if you sit down the whole wide world is gonna start moving in slow motion?"

She'd been trying to introduce new complex feelings as naturally as she could whenever she noticed them, and she'd definitely describe Wren's energy as a characteristic of restlessness. She wouldn't be surprised if the little girl felt sick to her stomach with excitement, but that was a topic of emotion to discuss at a later date. Wren answered her question without another mouthful of cheesy noodles and a wild nod. "Never played outside since school!"

"You haven't played outside since school?" While the corrected grammar was there, that hadn't been what Taylor laid heavy emphasis on. Her concern was derived from the lack of exposure to other people and childhood experiences. It shouldn't have been surprising, Wren had said Adrianna's reasoning for pulling her out of school was because staff was inquiring too critically about the child's consistent long sleeved-wardrobe. She was naive to think they'd extend any insight to the public when eyes were already in their direction. Taylor knew firsthand that guilty people were the ones who worried most. Her belly filled with sinking dread. Had Wren ever even played at an actual park? She hadn't with Taylor. Had she unintentionally fed into the belief that her kid wasn't allowed to play outside?

"Nu uh!" Wren spoke with barely contained excitement, her words attempting to paint an image of innocent disbelief, but her inability to grasp the weight of her trauma only further shackled Taylor. "Didn't need to go to the park a'cause could play at school! S'what Adrianna said! But, then didn't go to school anymore and didn't go to the park a'cause my spots were ugly and Timothy said had to hide them! I don't have spots anymore! Can play 'gain!"

Taylor had to swallow the nauseating feeling in the back of her throat as she listen to Wren rattle off a simplified explanation of her inability to be a normal kid. She still didn't fully understand what had been done to her, and it felt like throwing salt against a slowly healing wound to describe the logistics of physical abuse now. That would be a conversation for when Wren got older; when she could grasp the weight of the title and understand that it hadn't been her fault in any capacity. For the first time, Taylor truly dreaded Wren getting any older than she was. "Bruises, baby. Timothy meant bruises when he called them spots." Even his name felt like ash against her tongue as she clarified what she could. "You don't have anymore bruises, but even if you did, you'd still be allowed to play outside. Bruises can be pretty yucky, huh? Sometimes they're yellow and green and sometimes they're purple. We didn't go to the park because it was too cold outside, not because I wanted to hide you until you were all better. Do you understand?"

"Um, yes!" Wren was seemingly unfazed by the discussion of injury, her little mouth shoved full of macaroni noodles as she wiggled contently on the padded stools. "I'm all done." She decided after a fourth mouthful, the packet of seaweed empty beside the disposable bowl, the strawberry flavored water left untouched.

Taylor didn't fight the decision to stop eating. Wren had to learn the tells of her body in her own time, even if Taylor knew she'd definitely be hungry within the next two hours after having only pop tarts and chocolate milk for breakfast. "Go get your shoes on, baby love."

"Have to put shoes on?" Wren pouted at her side, apparently in the mood to challenge authority which was a refreshing change of pace. Taylor over mulled the question, ultimately finding no reason to fight over something so trivial when they'd be tucked into her most sensible car for hours of the afternoon anyways.

"You don't have to put them on, but I need you to grab them from the hallway and come put them in my bag." Taylor conceded, and without further instruction Wren was slipping off the stool and sprinting toward the foyer, sock covered feet padding against hardwood. Once she was certainly out of eyesight, Taylor dropped her head into her hands, an exhausted sigh slipping off of her lips. How do you tell someone who thinks everything that happened to them was normal that it wasn't at all — that it was the farthest thing from normal and the closest thing to unfathomable cruelty. Taylor didn't know. She'd have to ask Emily how to brave the topic, sure that the woman had at least a few tips on the matter, but that wasn't going to be for another couple of years. Taylor's job was to get her to a place where she could mentally handle the reality of her past, not further dogpile her with things she wasn't old enough to understand fully. What Wren knew for now was enough. She knew Timothy and Adrianna should've never hit her. She understood to an extent that it was wrong; that it wasn't her fault. She knew Taylor would never hit her, nor let anyone around who would. That was enough for now.

Taylor had pulled the cup of unfinished macaroni toward her chest just as Wren came barreling into the room once again, her crocs held in both hands as she beamed with pride. She was always searching for praise and assurance that she'd done good. That need for validation hadn't subsided any since their first few weeks together, but it didn't worry Taylor. She'd been the same way as a wide-eyed and eager child. It was endearing to see that Wren sought out the same validation, though Taylor would ensure she never sacrificed her wellbeing to earn it the way she had unintentionally done.

"Good job, monkey!" Taylor praised, spooning what remained of the noodles into her mouth despite the slight uncomfortable bulge of her cheeks as she chewed. Wren giggled manically at the sight, which had been the goal. "Greg's gonna come pack the car while you and I clean up the kitchen. Is there anything else you can think of that you'll want while we're gone? We won't be back here until the end of April." Taylor hadn't intended to implement her security team in the moving process, but Tree had dissuaded her from doing everything herself while still in the city. It posed too much of a threat to the location of the new house if anyone caught her making multiple trips outside with luggage and kitten carriers, and she hated that she understood the risks. She hated that even when she tried to give Wren normalcy, there were still elements of lavish comfort that couldn't be disarmed for even a couple of hours. She was beyond thankful for her wealth, never taking her paystubs for granted despite how easy it would be to accept the high numbers as normal now, but sometimes it reminded her of how far she'd fallen into stardom. She couldn't give normal in the ways she wanted. She couldn't give cross country road trips like Andrea had been able to when her dreams of Nashville had been only weekend-long getaways to Music Row. She couldn't give hours long mall excursions, or impromptu neighborhood walks, or lowkey grocery store runs. She couldn't give so much, but on the opposite side of the coin, she could give so much more than most people could sacrifice in a lifetime.

Wren seemed to mull over the question, little head tilted to the side as she pondered what else could be missed while they were away. She still struggled to accept that she was allowed to have wants here, even if they were unpractical and somewhat odd, but Taylor would never stop offering the freedom to express her desires even if most times it was met with uncertain shrugs or silence. "Can bring my guitar?"

Taylor's face lit up at the question, and she nodded without a moment of hesitation, already up on her feet and stalking up the stairs two at a time to retrieve the well-loved but rarely used instrument. She didn't want to push her interests onto Wren, but with each day that passed, she was certain music creation was becoming more of a shared hobby than a flotation device only activated in the center of panic. She returned downstairs with the case thrown over her shoulder just as Greg knocked twice on the center of the door. She called for him to come inside, smiling warmly when he laid his eyes on the unoccupied kitten carriers beside the front door. "I can wrangle the terrors while you get a handle on the little devil currently shoving her face in the bowl on the counter."

Taylor's eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she followed his gaze to the kitchen, only a sliver of the room visible from their vantage point, but Wren had framed herself perfectly between the two walls, and just like he'd mentioned, her face was pressed into the bowl and Taylor could only assume she was licking at the cheese sauce still coating the sides of the microwaveable plastic.

She didn't know whether to laugh or be absolutely disgusted, but Greg seemed to find easy acceptance of the odd display and allowed himself the rare chuckle. "It's been a while since I've seen anyone so devoted to some Kraft Mac 'n Cheese. Makes a guy glad he didn't start over when the nest emptied."

Taylor often forgot about Greg's family. The guy wasn't as open as Chad, who often talked about his wife and kids if only in sparse detail and when holidays were approaching. Greg had two kids with his now ex-wife, both of whom were only a decade or so younger than Taylor if she remembered correctly. She smiled fondly at the chance to just be a parent for a couple of seconds, and found herself laughing along too.

"Wrenny!" She laughed softly when the child further pressed her face into the bowl, her nose now shoved within the plastic and assuredly coated with thick orange sauce. Greg's laugh followed her into the kitchen, but it became only a memory as soon as he set off to wrangle Benjamin into the padded carrier. "What are you doing in here, bug?" Taylor laughed amusedly when little green eyes shot upward to meet blue, the evidence of her innocent chaos smeared across cheeks, lips, and... apparently her forehead.

"Yummy!" Wren grinned, standing with her little sock covered feet on the black padding of the stool, throwing herself at Taylor before the blonde could warn her to be careful. For someone that's so scared of falling, she certainly does make it easy for that to happen, but Taylor finds herself grounded in the fact that Wren wholeheartedly trusts that she'll catch her before the hardwood could even try. "Mere told me to."

"Oh, Mere told you to? Is Mere the boss now?" The cheeky attempt at deception was new, and most definitely something picked up from one of the many movies they'd spent the last week introducing themselves to. Wren gave nothing but a cheesy grin — Taylor was well aware of the double meaning — and allowed herself to be carried to the sink, sat on the ledge of the counter as Taylor grabbed a paper towel and wet it beneath the faucet. "You're a little cheese monster!"

"Roar!" Wren bubbled with innocence that hadn't been so outwardly expressed ever, her little hands extending towards Taylor with her knuckles bent just enough to assume they'd intended to take the shake of sharp claws. Taylor bristled with laughter, one hand on the back of the child's head while the other smothered her with the damp paper. Or, one hand holding the back of the child's head while the other lightly swiped at the sauce, but to Wren those details were synonymous. "No more." She huffed, attempting to turn her head away, only to figure out why Taylor was grabbing her head so gently. She couldn't squirm away no matter how fiercely she tried, much to the blonde's amusement.

"If you don't want your face cleaned, then maybe we shouldn't shove it in the Mac 'n Cheese. You've got it on your ear, buddy!" Taylor laughed softly, only throwing the paper towel away once she'd dramatically dabbed it against the child's freckle dusted nose.

"Up." The child demanded with a betrayed frown taking up space on her little lips, even tinier hands already digging themselves into the neckline of soft cotton clothing. "No more cleaning."

"If you stop getting icing and cheese all over your face, then I'll agree to your terms and conditions, but until then, we're cleaning your face." Taylor laughed softly, already toting the child through the kitchen with ease. She balanced the six-year-old on her hip, putting the pretzels bag in the pantry and throwing away the evidence of their hardly nutritional lunch. She sighed as she realized they'd have to make a stop by the trash shoot in the hallway before they made it out to the car. She grabbed the comfort item off the island before she left the kitchen with the mostly empty garbage bag in hand, brows creasing when she spotted Chad in the living room seemingly trying to trick Olivia into climbing into the carrier. Meredith and Benjamin were already gone from the foyer, as was the suitcase and Wren's guitar. "Greg couldn't get her could he?"

"Don't ever let him hear this, but I think he's scared of her." Chad chuckled from his position on his hands and knees, finally securing the cat enough to zip the carrier without risk of sharp claws trying to retaliate.

"She scratches him once and it's a lifelong fear." Taylor snorted, the image of her six foot four body guard with enough muscle mass to punch through a brick wall running away from a temperamental feline more than amusing. They all had their flaws, even if Greg's was a tad more funny than it should've been.

"You want me to take that out for you? I'm gonna tail you about halfway. Tree's insistent." Chad smiled apologetically. He was one of the only full-time guards that always treated her with normalcy no matter the company present. He could be serious and gruff, she'd seen that side of him countless times, but he was much more personable than he was professional. It was a welcomed change of pace. Greg let her be just Taylor, but he was never just Greg. Chad let her be just Taylor, and when he could offer it, he let himself be just Chad.

"I've got it. This one likes to pull the lever." Taylor laughed softly, jostling Wren on her hip which provoked shy giggles. They were still working up to being comfortable around others, even if she saw Greg and Chad more times in a week than she did Blake and the girls. "We're definitely going to have to make a stop at McDonalds. Tail me until this one decides she's hungry?"

"You got it, boss." Chad nodded, standing from the center of the living room with the carrier in hand. He stopped just ahead of Taylor in the foyer to extend his fist slowly, a silent exchange that he and the other members of security threw back and forth whenever appropriate to show such intimate fondness without appearing unprofessional in front of long lens cameras and mobs. Wren shyly bumped his first with his, her little face hiding in Taylor's neck the second she'd completed the task, but Chad was almost certain he'd seen a ghost of a smile across her lips. "See you later, Mini Boss. Give blondie hell!"

"Chad!" Taylor scolded through a fond laugh. She'd unintentionally snuck up behind the man on a few rare occasions when he was taking phone calls from his kids, all three of whom were somewhere near Wren's age though she knew the youngest was only a few months old, and had heard him extend that same phrase of endearing chaos that often left his wife exasperated if the cheeky smile on his lips was any indication of her end of the conversation. She'd send a care package to the family as soon as she had a minute to breathe, but with the change in climate, not only policial but health-related, that didn't seem like it was coming anytime soon. She'd just spoken with Tree about potentially postponing Lover Fest if things continued to head south, but that was still off the table for the time being.

"Mothers. Always so adamant against raising hell." If he wasn't a grown man more than two times her body weight, she'd have been confident to say he left the apartment with a giggle, but she'd merely chalked the sound of laughter up to a breathy chortle in her mind once he was gone.

"No hell raising. I still have ten years before you start deliberately going against me." Taylor mumbled more to herself than to Wren, but the little girl giggled at the whispered commentary anyways, her green eyes peaking out from their hiding spot as she bared a wide grin. It was then that Taylor noticed how one of her top teeth moved ever so slightly with the pressure of her tongue pressing against it. "Let me see your teeth, baby love."

Wren smiled cheekily, only further proving what Taylor initially suspected. She smiled widely herself, squeezing the little girl tight to her chest. "Your tooth's wiggly, babes?" She questioned softly, wanting to know if the little girl had even realized that or if she'd been blissfully unaware. Santa may have a complicated history, but the tooth fairy was an even playing field that Taylor had the luxury of constructing however she wanted.

"Mhm." Wren nodded her little head, seemingly not confused by the loose state of her baby teeth, but not overly excited like most kids were when a visit from the tooth fairy was on the cusp of occurring. Taylor had to remind herself that even if Wren had no prior expectations for how losing teeth would go, there had never been any anticipation built on the suspense of finally growing into older childhood. "See?" The tooth didn't move much as Wren shoved her fingers in her mouth and gave it an experimental shove, but it did move slightly.

"Do you know what that means?" Taylor smiled widely, her blue eyes soft and alight with excitement that hadn't been so intensely felt since she herself was a child earning money and secret nighttime visits. Wren shrugged, an answer that meant she definitely knew what it alluded to, but wasn't confident in the promise of it actually happening. "The tooth fairy's gonna stop by for a visit soon!"

"Might not." Wren countered, breaking Taylor's heart into a million pieces.

"I'm sure she will. We'll have to wait and see though, hm?" Taylor hummed softly, taking one last glance at the apartment before she was moving the both of them toward the entryway. Wren's shoeless feet bounced against her hip with every step she took, reminding her that while it wasn't always conventional nor typical, there were still undeniable elements of innocence and wild carelessness that took place within the child's mind. Taylor made a mental note to keep cash on hand at all times — she usually did, but giving a six-year-old a hundred dollar bill felt like overkill even for her —, and to order a few little trinkets that could be left alongside the money. Andrea had always done that for her and Austin. She'll never forget the one morning she'd woken up to five dollars beneath her pillow and a box filled with glitter and rainbow colored guitar picks on the nightstand.

"Wait and see." Wren shrugged impassively, her head lulling onto Taylor's shoulder as she blonde adjusted her hold on the tightly tied garbage bag. She cursed beneath her breath when she remembered her purse filled with all the essentials sitting on the island in the kitchen, and swiftly went to retrieve it before they could really leave the city behind.

"Say bye to the apartment." Taylor stopped in the doorframe to look back at the space that was meticulously put together, appearing as though nobody had lived it in at all, even though they'd spent the better portion of two months and some odd days within its walls. Wren waved softly, her little voice carrying through the echoey halls before Taylor closed and locked the door and their next adventure began.

𓇢𓆸

Taylor had traveled with Wren before, each and every time being a long drawn out ordeal no thanks to the large body of water that separated the United Kingdom from America. They'd handled seven hour flights without fuss, but she'd been on edge the entire drive up North. It was without need, of course. Wren had barely made a peep in the backseat as she sketched in a notebook Taylor hadn't seen in quite a couple weeks, her little tongue poking out as she concentrated on the finer details that evaded the blonde's eyes naturally. She'd only piped up when Tree had called an hour into the drive to ask how things were fairing for the duo. Her little greens eyes squinted in amusing scrutiny as she sounded out the letters on the touchscreen at the front of the car, being confronted with the fact that Tree wasn't really Tree at all, but apparently Trina. She hadn't asked for the Happy Meal that now sat on the floor entirely picked over, but she'd been more than happy when she dug through the box to find a Pixar keychain in an impenetrable plastic baggy. Taylor had had to dig her nails into the tough material at a red light more than halfway to Whitesboro, her blue eyes peeled to ensure that the car next to her hadn't noticed her actions nor identity before she handed it back to the child and explained that the red car was called Lightning McQueen. That's when they'd decided their movie of choice before bedtime would be one from the Cars series.

Other than that, Wren hadn't made a single sound; aside from the way her belly had rumbled with hunger at the two hour mark, hence the purchase of the chicken nugget Happy Meal that was properly stomped over now as Wren shifted her position for the umpteenth time, understandably becoming restless just as Taylor was. Chad had been the one to order the meal while Taylor stayed parked in the shadiest spot she could find in the parking lot. They hadn't gotten out of the car, but Taylor had reached back and freed the child from the chest restraints while they waited for the arrival of her food. They'd been on the road against fifteen minutes later after saying goodbye to Chad until April rolled around. He'd be on call, same as Greg, but the house in Whitesboro was off the beaten path and behind a winding trail of gravel; nobody was finding them even if they wanted to, but preparation for the worst was second nature at this point in her career.

It was a couple of minutes after six when Taylor pulled off the gravel path and onto a recently paved driveway, punching in a code at a large brass gate before nothing stood between them and the house that practically glowed beneath falling sunlight. The sky was twinged orange, clouds sparse but wispy overhead. If the wind wasn't howling as it blew through barren branches, there would be no indication of uncomfortable cold beyond the interior of the car. Wren wriggled impatiently, her eyes wide and pleading for escape as she grappled with the harness around her chest. They'd updated her booster seat to a proper car seat for the drive. It might've been overkill, the child was six, but Taylor rathered safe than sorry in the event of a catastrophe occurring. It proved useful in containing the small tornado however, because no mater how intently Wren battled with the harness, she couldn't free herself from its confines.

"Out!" She bellowed, straining against the chest restraints when it became obvious she wouldn't be able to do it herself. Her hands shoved the sketchbook aside, pencils clattering against the cat carriers that were on all over the car. Meredith was in the passenger seat, Olivia on the back drivers side seat, and Benjamin on the drivers side floor. Taylor had never seen an outburst so frantic, but there were no etches of panic on the child's face as she puffed her cheeks out comically. She'd heard Blake detail how hard it was to remain neutral during explosive tantrums, and she finally understood why. She wanted to smile fondly at the child's blatant display of frustration as yet another thing kept her from her goal, but she'd somehow managed to mask her amusement.

"I'll get you out in a second, baby love. You've been so good back there, give me a minute to turn the car off." Taylor's voice was calm and even, but all that seemed to do was frustrate Wren more. The child shook her head, flailing her limbs in all directions as she demanded freedom.

"Out!" It was a shrill shriek of a demand, one that had Taylor wincing in the drivers seat. Had Wren been thinking clearly, she would've immediately settled at the physical reaction from the blonde, but Taylor knew a child so young could only keep themselves composed for so long. They'd been in the car for nearly five hours, and unlike the flights to London, there weren't any chances of stretching legs and stealing cuddles.

"I'm coming, sweetheart." Taylor breathed deeply through her nose, turning the engine off in the same breath as she'd promised freedom. The cold came flooding into the car in seconds, no longer being combatted with active heat pushing through the vents. That seemed to only further upset Wren, her little legs kicking against the car seat as she wailed. Taylor didn't know whether to scold the child for her violent expression of understandable frustration, or console her before she could panic about the developmentally appropriate outburst. The only thing keeping her head above the water was the knowledge that this was normal. Wren was supposed to be throwing tantrums. It was abnormal that she hadn't already.

Taylor was out of the car in seconds, Wren's door opened in less than a minute, but the frustration only bubbled farther when Taylor didn't immediately reach for the five point harness keeping her confined. Her little hands slapped against Taylor's bicep and torso, tiny feet hammering against the back of the passenger seat as she reveled in her sobs. "Out! Out! Out!" She wailed, cheeks flush and damp with tears.

Taylor drew a sharp inhale through her teeth, blue eyes immediately seeking for green only to find glassy orbs that looked too dark to belong to her daughter. This was normal. This was normal. If she told herself that enough times, maybe her heart would stop racing. "We do not hit. Our hands are not for hitting."

She hadn't meant to sound so stern, but she was highly aware of the bite to her tone as it slipped past her lips and startled Wren into paralyzed silence, ragged breathing escaping the child's lips as she spluttered over coughs and choked whines. Her little eyes had never been so full of fear, and Taylor hated that for the first time ever, that fear was a direct result of her actions.

"No belt! No belt! Sorry! I sorry! No belt!" The words cut Taylor's heart into a million pieces, her racing heartbeat the only sound she could hear as her blood turned cold with dread. She'd fucked up. She'd fucked up. She'd fucked up. Everything they'd built was gone. She'd fucked up.

"No baby, no belt. No belts here. No belts." She abandoned the task of searching for the little girls jacket and shoes, scrambling to unclasp the harness with fingertips that prickled with anxiety. She was a fucking screwup. She'd fucked up so bad. The only house Wren knew was the Tilghmans. The only thing she associated with houses were punishment and fear. She'd been blind to the hope that this would be a fresh start for them, but Wren hadn't understood that this wouldn't be another apartment when she'd brought up moving. Wren hadn't understood that Taylor was only trying to project her voice over the shrill cries and sobs, not terrify her into submission.

"No hurt! No hurt! I sorry! No hurt!" The child was tense in her arms, stiff as a board as she resisted the urge to melt into Taylor's chest and cling to the comfort that her toned arms once provided. Taylor had to swallow the nausea rising in her throat for the second time that day, hyperaware of the fact that little green eyes were staring straight past her at the garage like she was transfixed by the white panels. She should've explained this all better. She should've explained everything better. "I'm sorry!"

"Hey, hey. Shh. No hurt, no belts. I promise. I promise. You're safe, buddy. It's Taylor. It's Tay Tay. No belts." Taylor's voice trembled with her own fear as she gently tried to console her frantic and panicked daughter, beginning to pace the driveway as she attempted to direct Wren's attention away from the garage. She should've known that would be a trigger. She should've thought ahead. The worst thing she could've done in the face of a trigger Wren hadn't been exposed to since December was react in a way that she'd never done before, and that's exactly what she'd done. She'd never raised her voice, and she hadn't even really done that now, but the strain of sternness that had overcome her was still something new. The car seat was new, the house was new, the long drive to even get here at all was new. She'd handled everything so horribly. "Look at me, Wrenny. Look right at me, only at me. Would I hurt you, princess? Would Taylor hurt you?"

She knew that the answer had the potential to break her heart even more, but still she found the courage to pose the question as a grounding technique anyways. Before this moment, Wren was confident Taylor would never hurt her. She had to hope that that trust hadn't been so fragile it had broken entirely. It felt like hours before Wren shook her head in the negative, her little green eyes still glossy, but no longer twinged with clouded darkness. Wren's eyes searched Taylor's features. She memorized the freckles on the bridge of the blonde's nose that were barely visible at any time of year, especially not in the dead of winter. She memorized the soft blue eyes that looked back at her, the curve of plush lips as they forced a weak and apprehensive smile. The stiffness slowly dissipated, being replaced by eager tightness as little limbs wrapped around Taylor and clung desperately to the sweater barely keeping her warm in the cold.

"I s-sorry, Tay!" Wren hiccuped on another cry, this one sounding far less charged by frustration and more by desperation to be believed. Taylor exhaled a shaky breath, her own hands becoming firmer as she held Wren tightly. Maybe things hadn't been ruined, but they'd definitely changed. She never wanted to be on the receiving end of Wren's terrified gaze again. She couldn't be.

"You're okay, sweet girl. Tay should've told you what was happening. She should've explained better. I should've done better." The blonde couldn't help but keep pacing, only aware of the front door opening steps away from her car when Andrea's blonde hair caught her attention. She shook her head softly, blue eyes locking with blue. It was a moment of silent understanding, and Andrea retreated into the house just as quickly as it had come to be at all. "Nobody's going to hurt you here. There are no belts here; no handcuffs. You're safe. You're safe, Wren."

The child whimpered, digging her face into the darkest parts of Taylor's neck while little hands slid beneath layers of clothing to search for the pendant and heartbeat she knew to ground herself within. Taylor didn't flinch when cold skin brushed against her, managing a weak chuckle as she helped Wren untangle the delicate chain and acquire easier access. "No go byebye."

"You're not going bye-bye. You're never going bye-bye." Taylor pinched her eyes shut tightly, no longer wanting to stare at the muted palette of watercolored hues strewn between clouds. Her head tilted back just enough to feel the harsh breeze against her cheeks, and with as much patience and restraint as she could muster, she pulled all of her broken pieces together to seem alright to the child that knew her inside and out.

"No." Wren shook her head, little green eyes peaking up from warm security to find blue orbs always speckled with stars. Taylor's eyes glimmered beneath any lighting or no lighting at all, Wren knew that well, but they didn't shine as brightly now. She'd broken their sparkle. "You no go bye-bye."

"I'm never going away, baby love. It's you and me, that's my whole world. I wrote that line before I knew you, but everytime I hear it all I see is your little face. That's my favorite thing, you know? Turning old stories into new ones. Turning bad memories into good ones. I have a hundred songs that all I can picture whenever I hear them is you, even though they're technically about something, or someone, else. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I walked away from this; from you. You're my whole world." Taylor spoke with sincerity, her voice cracking as she tilted her head back to see Wren's face. Her cheeks were still damp with the evidence of tears, her nose still flush from frustration she couldn't put into words. Taylor had a sinking suspicion the garage had been the straw to break the camels back.

"Love you more than Bluey. And I love him l-lots." Wren hiccuped over the last word, still wound up from her episode. Taylor wondered if she'd ever had a meltdown with the Tighlmans, surely she had. She'd not even been three when the placement had happened, and three-year-olds were notoriously temperamental. She hated to think that Wren had learned to be scared of expression her overwhelming emotions so young.

"I love you to the moon and back, but I'd go even further if you asked." She wasn't sure where she'd heard that line before, maybe from her mother, maybe her Grandmother, it didn't really matter, all she knew was that it had Wren's green eyes wide with amazement, all traces of fear dissipated. "You're going to be okay, buddy. Maybe not today, maybe not next week, but one day you're going to be okay. I promise I will make sure that you're okay."

"Okay when you give hugs. Feel warm inside like prickly flowers." Wren nodded her head like that was the most reasonable explanation of her feelings, and Taylor understood what she was trying to convey perfectly, her own chest and stomach always filled with that slightly nauseating sensation of absolute adoration.

"I'll give you hugs forever then." Taylor pressed a kiss to Wren's temple, her eyes fluttering closed as she held her lips against flush and clammy skin. "I'm sorry I raised my voice at you, buddy. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Taylor?" Wren frowned, little fingers resting contently on the swell of the woman's breasts, the bra she'd forgone wearing allowing no separation to come between their skin. Taylor really needed to try skin on skin with her little shadow. Blake had recommended it upon hearing of the little girls habit of slipping her hands beneath any fabric no matter how soft. Tonight seemed like the perfect night to give comfort as much as she could. "Don't wanna be like Timothy."

"You could never, ever, be like him. Sometimes we forgot that our hands are for being nice, and that's okay. You're little, sweet girl. It's okay to not always know how to handle your emotions. It's my job to show you how to handle them." Taylor's heart was absolutely decimated after the emotional day they'd had, but Wren seemed to have bounced back at least partially. The blonde could only hope that this afternoon wouldn't haunt their future. "Let's get you and the kitties inside. We'll check out the playset as soon as I get them in the bathroom." Taylor pressed another kiss to the child's head, desperately hoping that everything would turn out.

Chapter Text

now i'm in exile, seeing you out
i think i've seen this film before

March 31st, 2024

All things considered, life had been good. With the passing of weeks, the mid-afternoons were growing warmer, and the trees that framed the property were becoming less and less barren. The air was crisp with a lingering winter chill, blades of grass and large windows gleaming with pearls of condensation beneath golden daylight that brightened the interior of the Whitesboro house. The occupants, for the first time in weeks, remained asleep despite the essence of sunrise drowning their bodies in warmth. In one room, a mother slept alone, laid flat on her back with one hand over the scarred over tissue where a chemo port had once gone. In another room, a mother slept with company, laid flat on her back with the weight of a child against her chest.

The days had been slow, the nights had been even slower, but somehow they were surviving through the now officially declared global pandemic. Taylor's tour had been cancelled entirely, tornados had ripped through Nashville, and everything had been shut down. The breakdown on the driveway had amounted to nothing more than a few raindrops splattering against an ocean. There had been no hesitant withdrawals, no need to rebuild trust, but there had been nightly sleepovers, and there had been more consistent pushing back against the boundaries. Little ears didn't always listen when they were told to come in from out back, tiny hands didn't always retreat when limits had been established over homemade sugar cookie intake. They were finding their groove, setting personal expectations for the other, each toeing the line at certain points but navigating the challenge anyways. Andrea's presence had been wonderful thus far. She stuck to herself most often, but they always ate dinner together, and sometimes she was up before the sun making breakfast for Wren to wake up to.

They were all finding ways to navigate this unknown circumstance, but there were moments of defeat where Taylor still felt shackled to the isolation of her relationship with Joe and the evasion of interaction throughout twenty-sixteen. There always seemed to be something keeping her from her full potential, the last few years consisting of rotating handcuffs. Most days that passed were fine, and she could fully embrace the time spent with Wren and her mother without outstanding obligations, but some were harder. Those were the days where she and Wren spent hours watching old movies and doing just about anything to help the hours move faster.

They'd played an absurd amount of scrabble but a reasonable amount of rummikub, made just about every kind of cookie that existed for them to recreate, and had already abandoned their hobby of painting blank canvases ordered in bulk from Amazon. They were flying through things to do during the day, but there was hardly moments of complete boredom that passed through the house. Aaron Dessner had been added to the album, exceeding more than just collaboration on a couple of tracks now, and Wren had become impossible to corral inside even when the sky darkened with nightfall. She'd yet to brave the garage where Taylor said there was a surprise waiting for her, but the playset out back had become her favorite escape as she worked up the courage to trust that not all garage floors were blood stained.

Emily hadn't visited in person, the woman was stuck in Arizona with family that she'd been visiting at the time of the lockdown, but there had been more than a couple of zoom calls to check-in. Wren still didn't trust that the woman wouldn't take her away at her first misstep, but Taylor could tell she was at least comfortable enough to make conversation on her own now. She tried her best not to linger whenever it was clear Emily wanted to ask Wren the mandatory questions she asked every time she visited, but the downstairs was admittedly rather echoey and even when she retreated to the kitchen, voices still carried and pieces of conversation reached her ears and touched her heart.

Things had changed, to put the events of the last three weeks simply, but Taylor knew that it was for the better. Every day was a new opportunity to discover something about Wren, and every night was a chance to reflect on how she would always be wanted even if they'd both grown immensely since December. She can remember Joe saying she'll move on from this season of life the second Wren overcame the trauma that haunted her. That had felt like a punch in the gut when blue eyes had read over the text to immediately follow their separation, but it couldn't have been more wrong. There was still trauma, still deep scars that needed coddling, but there was more childish freedom as well. They fought over clothes, and coming inside from the cold, and taking showers before bedtime — they fought about bedtime. Wren was never pleased when Taylor dragged her upstairs by the ankles and swung her into the center of large bed in the master bedroom, and she was quick to make that known with her huffing and puffing and tiny folded arms until eventually Taylor offered cuddles as a mediator and the tiny brunette with a growing attitude problem melted into the blondes chest before crashing out entirely. Taylor thinks she loves that moment more than she'd ever enjoyed feeling needed after a nightmare. She loves the back and forth exchange, she loves the way her boundaries are tested if only in sly suggestions to postpone bedtime for another movie or warm cookie, and she loves the way that Wren is becoming acclimated to life with her after five long months of just going through the motions.

All of this to say, neither one of them had brought up the conversation that had passed while on the floor of a hotel room in London. Taylor had caught herself fumbling over that dreaded title a handful of times, but Wren hadn't seemed to fall back on it even once. It was becoming more natural to think of herself as Wren's mother, and that terrified her just as much as it lit a spark in her belly. Wren didn't really remember Sarah James anymore. The few memories she'd shared were now eternally entrusted with Taylor to remember, and the blonde would do that gladly, but she still waded through guilt for taking on the role another woman had been so overjoyed to fit into, and she waded through the guilt of not being able to keep her own baby safe and alive for just nine months. Andrea had offered the insight she could, but nobody that Taylor knew personally could relate to losing their own biological child and making a home for somebody else's. This was her own unique experience. Taylor was really growing tired of accumulating unique experiences.

Days ago now, the unedited phone call between Taylor and Kanye had leaked across all social platforms, and that had been the one ounce of genuine good that brought Taylor's focus away from worrying about boundaries with a child that was hers, but wasn't really hers at all. She'd put out a meticulously crafted statement, and otherwise ignored the onslaught of media coverage that jumped at the chance to discuss something different than rising death counts, but Tree had been informing her of a certain Kardashian's pushback. It didn't phase Taylor. She had bigger things to worry about now, and there was no denying the evidence that had found the light of day, even with Kim Kardashian's weak attempt to once again shift the narrative.

Friends had kept in contact, but even that was becoming sparse as everyone tried to stay afloat in this new normal. Blake tried her best to call at least once a day, but having three kids at home to entertain and keep out of chaos proved difficult, and Hayley was once again in the throes of a depressive episode that lingered with a vengeance. Selena was home with her sister, soaking up the time they could spend together uninterrupted, and everyone else that Taylor knew was busy trying not to drown in the still waters. Now was a horrible time to have devoted their entire lives to entertainment and personal connection. Everyone was drowning when this was an easy enough tide to swim in. Taylor knew she was beyond blessed to face this challenge so comfortably, and more than a couple multi-thousand dollar checks had found their way to fans that had posted about their hardships as unemployment rates skyrocketed and death counts doubled, tripled, and quadrupled all by the second. She was doing everything she could to simultaneously give back and keep herself sane, but again, all things considered, things were going fairly well.

The stillness that settled over Whitesboro didn't last much longer, little fingers twitching against satin pajamas as sunlight woke those that remained contently asleep in the upstate New York town. Taylor had been awake for a while, despite what her features conveyed, content to lay still beneath Wren's weight as she felt each inhale the child breathed against her sternum. She didn't crack a smile when little green eyes fluttered open and a little hand tightened around the neckline of her button-up sleep blouse, she didn't give any indication of being aware of Wren's awakening, loving to see how these soft stolen moments played out without her immediate attention. She couldn't always pull one over on Wren, the child was scarily attentive, but when she could, it was a gamble between whether little fingertips would prod her cheeks until blue eyes fluttered open, or if she'd be content to snuggle up close until Taylor woke naturally.

Today was apparently a morning where attention was demanded. The blonde tried not to huff as the child straddled her torso, allowing her weight to crush Taylor's bladder as she leaned in close, little fingertips prodding at pale cheeks that were tickled by unruly blonde curls. There seemed to be contemplation in her advances, hesitant pokes landing on the tip of her nose, as if she wanted Taylor to be awake, but didn't want to be the one to do the rousing. Eventually, impatience won, and the tiny girl huffed as she poked harder, bouncing on the woman's bladder because she knew that was a sure fire way to get Taylor awake and out of bed.

"Okay, baby. Okay." Taylor winced, blue eyes snapping open as she braced her hands on the child's thighs, putting an abrupt end to the bouncing that made her body feel like an old trampoline. "I'm up, I'm awake." She further commented, rubbing at her eyes only when she was sure taking her hands off the child wouldn't amount to more impatient wriggling.

"Been asleep for like... ever." Wren huffed, snuggling into her chest with that fucking blue stuffed animal squished between their bodies. Taylor had needed to salvage him from a puddle of mud yesterday afternoon, and the tears that ensued as little green eyes watched him flail around the washing machine had nearly given her the strength to say he was never allowed outside again. He was slowly becoming her worst enemy, and she swears on her life that she worries about his safety more than Wren's.

"I was asleep for six hours because someone kept asking questions about cookies at two in the morning." Taylor huffed back, slowly straightening out her position on the firm but welcoming mattress, resting heavily against the headboard with Wren draped across her torso, little fingers fiddling with fallen blonde curls.

"That was me!" Wren giggled, still not able to read the heavy sarcasm that fell off of Taylor's lips. The blonde smiled fondly at the innocence that wrapped around their near silent moment in bed, her fingers tugging through knots in the child's hair softly. She'd slept on it damp, and though there was no denying that the locks were pin straight, the middle had a slight crimp to it from how she'd fallen asleep.

Taylor chuckled breathily, "Yeah, I know it was you, baby love. You gonna do that again tonight? Can I at least have a heads up next time?" She teased, fingers digging into unsuspecting ribs as she riled up the little girl that always seemed to have an abundance of energy now that she was properly sleeping through the night. Taylor was more than ready to trade out slow tear-filled mornings with exuberant energy and unrestrained giggles, even if she desperately wanted more than six hours of uninterrupted rest.

"I dunno! My brain wanted to talk 'bout cookies last night! Cookies for breakfast on the slide?!" It seemed she still only wanted to talk about cookies, and Taylor couldn't help but laugh fondly. She — according to Wren at one in the morning — made the bestest chocolate chip cookies in the whole wide world, but they'd definitely be better if rainbow sprinkles were added on top.

"With sprinkles?" Taylor assumed that hadn't just been a suggestion derived from delirium, and she was proven right, because the second it slipped off of her lips Wren was bouncing on her lap again, eager to start their morning as she started back at blue eyes with wide eager green.

"And icing! With extra chocolate chips!" She pleaded, hands thrown into the air as she bubbled with excited energy that would definitely be run off by mid-afternoon. Yesterday, Taylor had found her asleep on the play-set, curled up on the wooden boards as she attempted and failed to use Bluey as a pillow. They'd definitely be implementing nap time today, even if Taylor had to drag her inside kicking and screaming. There hadn't been any kind of panic like the way her chest had flared with nauseating worry when she'd called for Wren from the back porch and received no answer, unable to spot the whirlwind of purple fabric that was always zipping around the equipment.

"You're pushing your luck." Taylor scoffed in amusement, her blue eyes sparkling as she finally climbed out of bed and situated Wren on her hip, moving into the en-suite bathroom without hesitation. Wren wriggled away from the embrace just as Taylor closed the door behind them. Andrea didn't frequently enter the bedroom, but in the event that she needed something, it was closed as a precaution of modesty. Wren was comfortable with the woman, they'd become best friends in the last three weeks, but she was still just as skittish and shy as she'd been upon first introductions. Taylor was starting to think that was just who she was until she warmed up. "Hop in the shower, baby girl." She directed as she pulled down her bottoms, desperately needing to pee after all the bouncing on her bladder.

"Took a shower last night." Wren frowned in confusion but didn't outright protest, her little fingers stripping off layers of clothing before they fiddled with the knobs within the shower. She knew how to make the water warm, even if she frequently made it too cold to withstand the temperature for longer than a few minutes. Taylor never commented on the way she shivered, but did amend the temperature whenever she'd finished doing what she'd started before Wren climbed in. She was slowly implementing responsibility and routine, getting Wren acclimated to doing things on her own like other six-year-olds were. "I'm not dirty."

"You're not dirty, but your hair is a mane." Taylor laughed softly, moving toward the counter as she washed her hands and began the simple steps of her skincare routine. "Twist the knob, baby. You can use the hot water." That was as much as she commented on the temperature, and Wren hummed as she turned the knob, standing beneath falling droplets that were slowly becoming less uncomfortable.

"Not gonna run out, right?" She asked eventually, her little head tilted backward as she allowed the perfectly spherical droplets to fall against her face. It was a simple question, but it held a heavy weight. Taylor didn't think they'd ever be fully rid of Timothy's influence.

"Nope, it's not gonna run out. Is that why you always make it cold?" Taylor had showered and bathed Wren nearly every day since December, and she'd always used hot water to do so. She wondered what had convinced the child she couldn't do the same when showering on her own.

Wren only shrugged at the question, giggling as she gathered handfuls of water before throwing them against the tile walls. She still needed direction for how to properly conduct showering, her thoughts wondering as she got distracted from the task at hand, but that's exactly what Taylor was standing watch for. "Wash your body, silly goose."

"Okay!" Wren giggled, grabbing the blue loofa from the hook on the wall and the strawberry body wash with Elsa's face printed on the label. The amount of soap she squeezed out was outrageous, but Taylor let her explore ratios patiently. One day, they'd stop going through body wash so quickly, but that was not in the cards today. "Bubbles!" She giggled when she dragged the loofa down her arms, watching the pasty limbs become decorated in foamy suds with fascination.

"Bubbles mean you're doing it right!" Taylor cheered from the countertop, her eyes watching Wren through the mirror as she took a brush through her curls and straightened them out before pulling them up into a ponytail. It was getting warmer now, and if they were having breakfast outside, she wanted as much off her neck as possible. She knew that breakfast on the slide would quickly become a game of chase, and sweaty curls would only hold her back from enjoying the freedom of quarantine.

"I'm all done!" Wren giggled, turning off the water once she'd assured every last bubble was rinsed off her body and had been swirled down the drain. Taylor hummed softly, stepping away from the sink to wrap the child up in a towel warm from how the sun fell through the window. The little duck hood still absolutely drowned her face in yellow fabric, the soft yellow material still wrapping nearly twice around her body. She was a tiny thing, but god had she grown.

Brushing teeth was a difficult affair now. The tooth that had been discovered as just barely wiggly at the start of the month was barely hanging on by a thread anymore, but Wren was absolutely horrified at the prospect of Taylor pulling it out herself, so impatiently they both waited for it to fall on its own. Taylor didn't think she was ready to see a gap tooth smile staring back at her, but she wanted that magical excitement for Wren even if it meant unavoidable growing up.

"Wanna wear my 'Punzel dress." The little girl chimed from the countertop, sat as still as she could manage staying as Taylor worked baby lotion into her skin.

"You wore your 'Punzel dress yesterday." In truth, she'd worn that Rapunzel dress every single day since it had come in the mail, only taking it off at bedtime because she'd realized — after insisting — it was not the most comfortable sleepwear option. The thing was absolutely tattered from becoming snagged on tree branches and sliding down dirt dusted slides, and Taylor was certain it was one midnight wash cycle away from absolutely disintegrating. Blake's girls were definitely princess obsessed, but Wren seemed to eat, sleep, and breathe everything Rapunzel. "It's warm outside. You can wear your new 'Punzel shirt, and I won't even make you put your jacket on." This was her life now. Bargaining with a six-year-old.

"Punzel dress and no jacket." Wren nodded like that had been the posed ultimatum, and Taylor sighed amusedly as she found herself agreeing with her bossy shadow. There was no harm in the outfit even if Taylor was genuinely wondering why she'd packed any other clothes at all. The only potential risk was it ripping down the seam line before the backup arrived; which it was set to be waiting on the front steps in three days, but that felt like just enough time for catastrophe to strike without immediate remedy. "When are the flowers gonna be alive again?"

"Soon, baby love. Two months at the most." Taylor laughed softly at the terminology used, not having the heart to tell Wren that the flowers that died didn't just magically come alive again when the weather warmed, but were instead replaced by new ones born of the same seeds. "Why are we so interested in the flowers?" Wren had asked the same question yesterday at dinner, only she'd looked to Andrea for the answer knowing the woman tended to a small garden in Nashville when weather allowed growth.

"Cause then we can have real 'Punzel braids." Every day had consisted of the same hairstyle for the child; a single braid thrown over her shoulder with a purple hair tie securing the soft ends until inevitably it came unraveled and the child ran free with chestnut locks flowing behind her in all directions. Taylor had also added more hair ties to her Amazon order. They lost them faster than she lost pens in her music room.

"You've got two more months to wait. Think you can hold on until then?" Taylor laughed amusedly, brushing through the little girls hair after she'd made an extravagant display of ridding her head of the thin duck hood.

"I guess." The little girl huffed, but at least the answer wasn't a flat out no like it had been when Taylor asked if Wren had the patience to wait for the cookies to bake the week prior. "Does Mr. Scott like chocolate chip cookies?" And they were back to cookies.

"He does, baby." Taylor laughed at the mention of her father, not sure when Wren had started referring to him as Mr. Scott but beyond fond of the title each time that she did. "Aussie likes chocolate chip cookies too, but his favorite are oatmeal raisin."

"Andie likes those!" Wren bubbled with excitement at the similarity, little green eyes wide as she allowed Taylor to mess with her hair and weave it into a braid without complaint. "Taste like 'nola bars."

"They do kind of taste like granola bars." Taylor had to agree, even if the comparison was slightly far fetched being that oatmeal raisin cookies were undeniably sweeter and softer. "You like granola bars though."

"Yeah, but cookies are cookies! Don't want 'nola bar cookies, Tay." Wren's little nose scrunched at the mere suggestion, her eyes full of disbelief that Taylor would ever try to insinuate she'd like oatmeal raisin cookies if she just gave them a chance. She'd taken one bite from the first batch they'd made and promptly demanded chocolate chip cookies be made next, because apparently sugar cookies needed friends to sit on the counter with and oatmeal raisin just wouldn't make good company.

"Well let's get us both dressed so that we can make some non granola bar cookies then." Taylor laughed amusedly, once again carrying the little girl into the master bedroom and throwing her into the center of the bed. She didn't receive huffs and whines in return this time, rather the room filling with light giggles as Wren clambered onto her knees, the towel discombobulated around her body but somehow hanging on.

Taylor got dressed in tight fitted biker shorts and a random t-shirt that she'd thrown into a suitcase without much thought when she'd been packing up the city apartment, foregoing a bra because what was really the point if the only people she saw were her mother and her daughter. The shirt had collected a mixture of paint and grass stains since the first time she'd worn in it Whitesboro, but that only made it cozier as she settled the hem against her thighs, pulling at the wrinkles in the short sleeves. The Rapunzel dress was a mess of fabric on the floor, having been thrown there last night after a rather difficult bath routine. Wren was pissed off that Taylor made her come inside before the sun had even fully hidden itself behind less barren trees, and she'd made that evident as she stripped in the center of the room and stomped toward the tub. Taylor had needed to busy herself in the closet pretending to search for pajamas so she wouldn't laugh in the child's face as Wren huffed and whined about how she'd been playing. They were finding a groove, finding normalcy. There hadn't been any explosive meltdowns, but there had been a major increase in tiny feet stomping against hardwood floors.

Once the both of them were dressed and Bluey had been collected from the bed, they made their way down into the kitchen where Andrea was already sat at the island nursing a mug of tea. Wren had learned that while the woman was just as enthusiastic about coffee as Taylor was, it wasn't something she could drink a lot of anymore because she was only just starting to get better from cancer. Andrea had explained cancer too, and Wren had been astonished to hear how brave Andrea was.

"Hi Andie!" Wren giggled, squirming out of Taylor's embrace so she could ambush the unsuspecting woman with a hug. Her little arms barely wrapped around the woman's waist, but Andrea thought it was one of the best hugs she'd ever received, spare for the memories of her own children hugging her at various stages of their childhood and lives. "Tay and me are gonna make cookies for breakfast! And we're gonna eat them on the slide with icing and sprinkles!"

"Cookies for breakfast, huh?" Andrea laughed, pulling the child up onto her lap when Wren made it clear that she had no interest in helping Taylor search for all the ingredients and appliances they needed for the task at hand. "That sounds special, honey. Did you have sweet dreams?"

"Yes! Dreamed 'bout cookies!" Wren giggled, leaning into the woman's chest and away from Taylor as the musician sat a cup of water on the island in front of her. "Orange juice?"

"You're already getting cookies for breakfast, humor me please." Wren wasn't really sure what that meant, but Andrea pushed the cup closer to her body and so reluctantly she agreed to drink it, only because usually Andrea was the one getting her out of obligations enforced by a bossy Taylor, not adding silent encouragement. Despite her initial protest, she guzzled down the liquid like she hadn't consumed anything more than air in weeks, shaking the empty cup in her hands when it had been effectively drained. She was a proper fish when it came to downing drinks throughout the day, which eased Taylor's concern of dehydration and the anxious spiraling over what could happen if Wren became faint while at the top of the play-set. Her life and priorities really had changed since November of the year prior, but she wouldn't go back to what had been for anything.

"How'd you sleep, honey?" Andrea, always worried about sufficient rest, wasn't blind to the way that Taylor moved sluggishly through the kitchen like she'd stumbled into bed late after a too-long award show. The blonde rolled her neck out, joints cracking as she strained to reach the mixing bowl for the kitchen aid placed on the highest shelf in the top cabinets. She didn't know why she even put it away anymore.

"Tay's grumpy." Wren giggled, sucking on the purple straw despite no water remaining in the cup, her attention scattered between the slowly fading princess design and Taylor's long curly hair. She loved when Taylor left it curly, and she'd been doing a lot of it recently.

"Tay's not grumpy. Tay's tired because someone woke me up by using my belly like a trampoline after not going to bed until two in the morning." Wren only giggled more at the rebuttal, her little green eyes shining with pride as she looked back at Andrea with a crooked grin.

"She's talking about me!" She announced like it wasn't obvious, but to her, it wasn't. She really did not understand the use of sarcasm, and somehow that made it funnier to both Andrea and Taylor who watched her with the same sparkling blue eyes.

"I figured, sweetheart." Andrea laughed, pressing a kiss into the little girls temple just like Taylor always did, but like that day in the mall when Andrea had sunk to the floor and wrapped her up in a tight embrace, it didn't cause the same ripple of butterflies in her tummy. Nothing could ever compare to Taylor's hugs and kisses. "She is kind of grumpy." Andrea whispered into Wren's ear, but it wasn't really a whisper at all, and while Wren was distracted, Taylor took the opportunity to flip her mother off, her hands automatically reaching for the coffee pot afterward.

"Tay's gonna make oatmeal raisin cookies if you two are gonna be mean." Taylor only barely managed to hide her grin as Wren gasped, little green eyes wide and pleading as her head shook from side to side widely.

"No 'nola bar cookies! Chocolate chip!" She exclaimed, green eyes brimming with tears as she pleaded, the only indication that Taylor had taken the joke too far. They were finding a balance, setting a rhythm, creating a groove, but Wren was still only six and didn't quite grasp the concept of verbal teasing all the time.

"I'm only kidding, Wrenny. Come here, come help me." Taylor amended with a soft frown of unspoken apologies, crossing the kitchen to collect her now emotional daughter in her embrace, cuddling away the fear that her cookies wouldn't be made. "One more cup of water and I'll get you some orange juice. That sound like a good plan?"

Wren nodded, laying her head down on Taylor's shoulder as she allowed her body to be toted through the kitchen like an accessory. The fridge was stocked with all kinds of ingredients and leftover meals, yesterday's dinner of spaghetti and meatballs already boxed up on the second shelf right beside the egg carton.

Taylor filled Wren's cup with more water before handing it over to her child who sipped on it slower than she had before, but still made a reasonable dent in the liquid by time Taylor had also grabbed the butter and the eggs. Wren didn't always put up a fight about drinking water, but on the days that she did, Taylor waved the white flag without much fuss. Once everything from the fridge was gathered in their arms — Wren insisting on holding onto a stick of butter that felt slick beneath her fingertips — they moved back to the countertop where Taylor had already pulled down all the dry ingredients they needed to complete the perfected and memorized recipe. The child was placed on the countertops like she always was, her little heels pattering against the cabinets as she swung her legs and peered into the bowl as Taylor measured out flour and sugar, butter and vanilla extract, chocolate chips and rainbow sprinkles. Everything that could kick up into a cloud of dust had been poured by the musician, but what was safe to let little uncoordinated hands spill in was left for Wren to do. She grinned widely when she completed the task at hand, her little green eyes beaming with pride that Taylor hoped would always remain, but realistically knew that eventually it would dissipate. There wasn't an adult in the world that buzzed with radiant pride whenever they poured chocolate chips into a baking bowl, but still she held out hope that Wren would never lose that innocence.

"Good job, goose." Taylor smiled encouragingly, switching the kitchen aid on before she absentmindedly reached for the child's water cup, stealing an unreasonably large sip that had Wren giggling into her hand. Taylor doesn't know when it started, but every morning she and Wren traded sips of their drinks like children. Expectantly the little girl tilted her head to the side when amusement had passed, waiting for a comfortably warm mug to be passed into her embrace like clockwork. "It's different today. It's okay if you don't like it." Ever since London, that had become a common phrase, but they'd yet to have a catastrophic meltdown, so Taylor would continue saying it even if the words felt like dead air on her tongue.

The mug of choice was one of the new ones Andrea had ordered when she realized how few they had thought to bring upstate. The apartments had a fair share of designs, some more elegant and obviously expensive, while others were momentous keepsakes and gag gifts. This particular mug fell into the gag gift classification, and Wren grinned cheekily as she stared down at the image of a young Taylor photoshopped overtop of an American Flag. Andrea's humor regarding aspects of Taylor's career was something neither girl ever tried to understand.

Wren's nose scrunched up as she sipped the coffee, but Taylor had learned that meant neither that she liked something nor hated it, it simply meant that she was trying something new and preparing for the worst. The worst evidently wasn't going to come, and when the mug was eventually pulled away from tiny pink lips by an outwardly amused blonde, Wren hummed in satisfaction. "Like it." She declared, licking at her top lip like Taylor always did when she drank from open top cups.

"I can tell, Roo. I was worried you were never gonna come up for air." Taylor laughed, stealing a sip of her own before she placed it down on the stovetop and got to work at measuring our parchment paper and aligning it on a gold coated metal pan.

"Have to breathe." Wren frowned at the unfamiliar commentary, little eyebrows furrowing as she tilted her head in confusion, soft fingertips tapping at the counter absentmindedly as they waited for the dough to combine.

"It's an expression. I meant it as, you were taking such a long sip without swallowing I thought you might never stop." Taylor laughed softly, smoothing over the momentary lapse of confusion. Wren still didn't seem like she understood, but she merely shrugged it off and returned her gaze to the mixing bowl, watching as flower and brown sugar slowly combined.

When the cookies were finally in the oven, where they would remain for nine minutes or until they looked done enough, Taylor retreated to the pantry where she sifted through the odd baking supplies they'd thought to stock up on and pulled down a premade jar of icing, deciding that chocolate would most definitely pair the best with todays choice of cookie. They might not have ventured into making their own icing just yet, but still she threw it into the mixer just to watch it get fluffy and airy, nearly doubling in size like she'd heard was expected. When it was done, she handed the mixing attachment to Wren, having already decided she wasn't going to harp about sugar intake today. The school year had concluded for her daughter, the days were slow and the nights were uneventful, and there was no harm in indulging in treats when there was nothing else to seek comfort from. They'd have ice cream for lunch if Wren insisted, but that was only if the child thought to further press her luck without influence. Taylor was lenient, but she still didn't want to wrangle a six-year-old on a sugar high if she could evade it.

Wren licked the mixing attachment clean, wiggling on the counter as she savored every last spec of chocolate icing. At one point, Taylor thought she was trying to fit the entire thing in her mouth, looking entirely focused on her task as she rolled her tongue over every nook and cranny thrice over. Only when she handed it back to the blonde did it get discarded in the sink, clattering against the stainless steel exterior as it fell from between calloused fingertips. Like every time the child was given any kind of icing, her face was undeniable evidence of indulgence. Wren had learned to run away the second Taylor reached for the faucet with a paper towel in hand, and so while the blonde was distracted with assuring the water wasn't too hot, she slipped off of the counter and bolted toward Andrea.

"Oh no, chocolate monster. I'm not saving you this time. Go get your face cleaned up." Andrea laughed, the sound coming up from her belly as she gently set her hands on Wren's shoulders and guided her back toward the sink where Taylor stood waiting expectantly, an amused smile pulling the corners of her lips taut.

Taylor held the back of the child's head firmly as she dabbed and scrubbed at chocolate icing, making sure to exaggerate the process if only to annoy Wren, who huffed and wiggled in place as her face was wiped clean against her will. "I swear, I'm going to start wrapping you in cling wrap before I let you anywhere near any icing." Taylor sighed in playful exasperation, dabbing one last time at the child's nose before she let her pull free.

Wren scrunched her nose up at the blonde, little lips jutting outward as she made her distaste for the suggestion known; it wasn't the first time Taylor had made that same empty threat, and yet the child took her seriously every time it fell into the air. Taylor returned the nose scrunch petulantly, reaching her hand out to tickle the child's belly and dismantle the budding attitude directed at her. The day that stopped working would be the day Taylor showed the child just how petty she could be, whether that was sound parenting or not — it definitely was not, though it would be all in good fun. Even if it wouldn't work in a couple of years, it did work now, and Wren dissolved into giggles as she squirmed away, stumbling back into Olivia who had chosen that very moment to circle her ankles like some kind of guard dog.

"Hi, Dibbles!" She grinned, practically melting into the floor and becoming a pile of brown hair and purple fabric as she welcomed the cat into her lap. Taylor smiled fondly at the sight, watching her daughter fondly, and very softly, scratch beneath the cat's chin with three fingers. Olivia wasn't a large cat by any means, but somehow she managed to make Wren look even smaller.

When the cookies were pulled out of the oven, golden brown and just slightly underdone, Wren was appalled to find out they couldn't decorate them right away, something about the chocolate icing melting right off the top if they didn't wait a couple of minutes for them to cool down. She reached her arms up for Taylor, still on the floor of the kitchen but no longer with Olivia to keep her company. Taylor abided the silent request, melting into Wren's body wrapped around hers as they slowly stepped around the kitchen, blue eyes closed in reflection while green remained open albeit heavy. They were definitely be a nap in the little girls future, but the longer she went without knowing that was for the better. Taylor mumbled softly beneath her breath, familiar lyrics said like spoken word as she danced around the kitchen quietly, wondering how many years she'd have where Wren fit perfectly against her chest like this. She was already on borrowed time; Wren was the size of someone half her age, this was already a luxury to have the chance to experience, but selfishly Taylor wanted more than just the last couple of months. She wanted a lifetime where the easiest way to comfort her daughter was merely to pick her up and shield her from the world. She wanted eternal innocence for Wren. She'd seen enough hardships and the adult world was just as cruel.

"You're gonna stay my baby forever, right?" Taylor cooed softly beneath the gentle illumination of refrigerator light, one hand searching for the bottle of orange juice they'd had delivered while the other kept a secure hold on her little girl. Her little girl. It was getting easier to say that without even thinking twice about it.

Wren nodded softly against Taylor's neck, little hands beneath cotton material as she fiddled with a gold pendant warm from constant meddling. Taylor pressed a chaste kiss to the little girls temple, carrying the orange juice back toward the counter where an empty cup remained beside a similarly empty mug. She didn't bother putting the orange juice back in the fridge, leaving it on the counter beside the bowl of rainbow sprinkles.

"Slowly." Taylor passed the cup over to her daughter with a pointless warning. She'd have to refill the cup in a matter of minutes, she accepted that weeks ago, but still she tried to prevent the inevitable; even if there was another two bottles in the fridge in the garage that Wren was entirely unaware of.

"Tay have some." Wren mumbled, little teeth biting down on the tip of the straw as she looked to Taylor expectantly. The woman laughed softly but obliged, grabbing one of the many other character cups that lived in the cupboards, knowing the choice would make Wren laugh. She wondered how much of this her girl would remember. Wren was still young, still subject to so much change. Taylor didn't remember much from when she was six, aside from the odd vague memory with no specific end or start. She'd already begun to forget Sarah and Colin James, she already couldn't unscramble the beginning of her life with the Tilghmans; was all of this going to become subject to the same fate as she grew and experienced more? These moments and the ones that had come before would undeniably shape the person that Wren became, but would she specifically remember cookies for breakfast and long days of being chased around outside laughing until her belly hurt and she panted with flush cheeks.

In that moment, Taylor had the fleeting desire to document more of this chapter of life. She had home videos and photographs to look back on, which she frequently did. Wren had home videos from Sarah, but that wouldn't be enough when she inevitably reached her teenage years and wanted a better understanding of what events had shaped and contributed to her growth. Taylor had been holding back from capturing memories in fear of it all disappearing overnight, but she refused to let that fear influence her any longer than it already had. Wren was going to want videos and pictures; she was going to want videos and pictures.

"Mom?" Taylor turned to look at Andrea, blue eyes soft and unbelievably delicate as she swayed from side to side with a tight grip on Wren. "Can you run upstairs and get my camera? It's on the shelf in the spare bedroom with my guitar and the keyboard."

Every picture she had of the child was on her phone, and while there were easily hundreds of them — that she constantly found herself scrolling through after the girl was in her — they felt impersonal somehow. She'd grown up in the age of bulky cameras and physical photography, even as an adult she captured all the best moments of her life with digital and polaroid cameras, but she'd been holding out on sharing that same intimacy with Wren. She wouldn't hold out anymore. She'd give her daughter everything, even if it was only for a short while.

Andrea smiled softly at the gently spoken question, leaving her mug on the island as she retreated from the kitchen, not having to ask why Taylor needed the camera she rarely pulled out anymore; she already knew. Andrea had been wondering when her daughter would stop psyching herself out over the permanence of this situation and just enjoy the time she was promised. It seems Taylor had finally gotten a handle on her anxieties, even if it had taken five months to do.

Just as Taylor was turning back to Wren, the child's face screwed up into a mask of discomfort, her lips immediately pulling away from the straw as little hands flung up to hold the lower-half of her face, green eyes full of fear as they searched desperately for Taylor's in a panic.

"Hey, hey. Let me see. Let me see, baby girl." She'd been only Taylor with her mother seconds prior, but all at once she had become somebody's mother. She'd never understood how the friends she'd watched become mothers had learned to entirely shift their focus around so quickly, but she knew now. There was no way to encapsulate the blood chilling fear and determination to stay level-headed that consumed her within the same second, it was just another thing that became instinct. Firmly she pried little fingers away from tightly pinched lips, blue eyes remaining steady and focused with green as she pressed against her daughter's chin and opened her mouth. The problem was obvious in the form of a blood soaked tongue and a glimmer of white hidden just beneath the crimson surface. "Your tooth fell out, buddy!" Taylor gently fished it out of the child's mouth, reaching for a paper towel that she was quick to bring to the child's face, holding it softly against the slowly bleeding wound.

Wren didn't know whether to laugh or cry, the unexpected discomfort of it falling out of place as she nibbled on the straw of her cup had been unsettling, even if it was barely a second of recognition. She gazed down at the tooth between Taylor's fingers, a gleam of excitement in her eyes, but her lips trembled with emotion that didn't quite match her intense stare.

"You weren't expecting that, huh?" Taylor cooed softly, setting the bloodied tooth on the counter — a safe enough distance from the ledge so it wouldn't fall — before she picked her daughter up, holding the back of her head comfortingly as she began to rock rhythmically. "You're okay. You're so brave." Taylor kissed the side of her head, softly turning to face away from the wall when she caught sight of her mother in her peripheral and couldn't contain the smile the blossomed across her lips. This is a moment more than worthy of being the first one captured. "You want to smile at Andie, baby?" Taylor pointed toward her mother, just barely aware of the way Wren smiled shyly before a blinding flash went off.

Wren smiled more genuinely after Andrea lowered the camera, realizing what had just happened when Taylor reached for the device with eager wiggling fingers. She pressed through buttons that Wren had never seen before naturally, and within seconds a picture filled the screen with little imperfections. Taylor was smiling widely, her blue eyes were entirely focused on Wren but so obviously full of love and light. Wren was a somewhat fuzzy mess, but that just made it better, because through the natural grain were vibrant green eyes and a shy, crooked and bloody, gap-tooth grin.

Taylor didn't know Andrea had been standing behind her the entire time, capturing the entirety of the moment in perfectly imperfect stills. Most of them made it nearly impossible to see Wren's face, but her little feet dangled off the edge of the counter, her little hands held tightly at Taylor's pajamas as she tilted her head back, a sweetly styled braid falling over the one shoulder that was visible on top of a purple and pink frilly sleeve with an abundance of glitter. They were perfect, and she already wanted to change every background she could amongst her plethora of devices.

"I wanna do it." Wren mumbled sheepishly, green eyes gazing up at Taylor with hope. The blonde smiled widely, taking the blood soaked paper towel away from her daughter before she passed the camera over, pointing at the buttons Wren needed to understand before she did anything. "Down." The child demanded, dropping her weight which she had learned was the easiest way to get free if Taylor wasn't instantly complying with her demand. The blonde groaned when the brunette became deadweight in her arms, abiding by the request and slowly lowering naked feet onto cold hardwood. "Smile with Andie."

"Did you know you're bossy?" Taylor snorted, but was already abiding by the direction given to her, padding across the kitchen until she could throw her arm around her mothers shoulder and lean her head in close, offering Wren her cheesiest grin though she doubted the child took notice. Her little eyes were squinted critically, her tongue poking out from between pink lips as she analyzed the settings on the camera but eventually pressed down on the button Taylor had told her would take the picture. She grinned when it flashed, running over to Taylor, expectantly handing her the camera so she could see what it turned out to look like. "I did it!" She grinned when Taylor flipped through settings until the picture was on the full screen, Taylor and Andrea both wearing the same bright smile with blue eyes that seemed to glow beneath the flash.

"You did do it, baby!" Taylor scooped her up once again, if only to lay an obnoxious amount of kisses onto her little cheeks. "Let me see that smile again!" The blonde encouraged, grinning widely when Wren did, her little gap-tooth grin one of the most adorable things Taylor had ever seen in her life. "You're gonna be my own little Jack-o-Lantern pretty soon." She teased, laying a cold finger on the slope of the child's nose, unsurprised when it scrunched up challengingly. "Should we go finish those cookies now?"

"Yes!"

𓇢𓆸

Hours later, Taylor watched from back porch as Wren flung herself across the monkey bars, little converse covered feet wild and uncoordinated in the air as she tried to repel herself forward even more, her tiny hands holding tightly to the green bars. Taylor's heart lurched every time she witnessed the act of careful stupidity, but even if Wren had come away unscathed thus far, she would always worry about the possible alternatives. Her expression melted into one of exasperation when blue eyes searched the yard, coming across blue fabric laid in a heap against muddy grass. Another midnight wash cycle was apparently in the cards for her tonight, and the pending stuffed animal adventure ban was feeling temptingly good on the tip of her tongue as Wren fell from the monkey bars and dropped down directly on top of him, further sentencing him to a night of endless spinning and drowning in suds.

"Wrenny! Five more minutes, baby!" She called out to the child, the sky twinged with deep violet hues the only indication of how long the little girl had been outside for. Wren stopped in the middle of the yard, green eyes squinted with challenge, before she bolted toward the slide and climbed it with a surprising amount of speed for someone so tiny.

The five minutes came and went faster than even Taylor would consider fair, so silently she added another five onto the mental countdown as she watched Wren laugh to herself, the princess dress somehow adding to the scene as it got caught on the edges of evenly cut wood but didn't slow the child in any capacity. She was a whirlwind of energy, climbing from the slide to the rock wall and back to the slide like she had it all perfectly planned out, but really was just doing whatever she could to seem busy so Taylor wouldn't call her inside. It had definitely been more than ten minutes when Andrea appeared on the back porch, a knowing smile on her lips as she held onto a wooden spoon stained with sauce.

"You know, if you ever want her to actually come inside, you're going to have to tell her that." She laughed softly, leaning against the doorframe as she allowed her eyes to track her granddaughters movement, unsure if she'd ever seen someone so content with being outside for so long. Taylor and Austin loved playing outside as wide-eyed children, but even they trickled inside of their own volition not even a handful of hours after begging to be let out.

"I thought she would've been over this by now." Taylor admitted softly, her eyes still following Wren as she scrambled back to the monkey bars, still trying to learn how to get all the way across without losing momentum. Her little arms didn't help the struggle, the swinging motion of her body not always enough to get her close enough to the spread out bars to keep going. "The stroller I ordered was delivered when you were upstairs sorting laundry. I think we're gonna try a hike again tomorrow."

They'd tried to hike the week prior, and while Wren loved it, especially when Taylor proposed they look for special rocks and lost treasure along the way, her little legs weren't exactly capable of making it the entire six miles back home. Taylor had ended up carrying her through the remaining three miles of the trail, and that had only annoyed both of them. Wren wanted to be put down every other minute to dig into the dirt and find whatever was glimmering beneath sunlight — usually it was coins, sometimes it was buttons that had somehow fallen off of clothing — and Taylor wanted to just get home, the muscles in her biceps and back undeniably stronger than anyone expected on first glance, but not well-toned enough to continuously be putting down and picking up a wiggling six-year-old. The stroller was a saving grace, and impatiently she'd been waiting for it to arrive so they could explore the trail together some more. There was only so much she could do on the play-set that was not built for someone dinner height.

"She'll love that." Andrea hummed softly, her eyes still watching Wren, able to see the flush of her cheeks from the porch. For someone that played so hard all day, she put up quite the fight at bedtime. Andrea had the nerve to laugh softly every night while Taylor was actively trying to tame a grizzly. "Give it time, honey. She's never been allowed to come outside whenever she wants. She's got a lot of lost time to make up for."

Taylor, despite trying to get Wren down for a nap, had not been successful. The child had somehow managed to talk her way out of sleeping when the blonde had approached her by the slide, and thus had been outside for nearly ten full hours, forgiving the times she'd run inside screaming at the top of her lungs, 'I have to go potty!'. They'd practically shoved lunch down her throat on the back porch, because coming inside was what Wren considered the end of the world even if all Taylor made was ham and cheese sandwiches cut into hearts and butterflies that could be eaten in minutes.

"She'd sleep out here if I let her." Taylor hummed quietly, watching Wren slowly begin the approach the porch steps, her hands hugging Bluey tightly as she resigned from her day of adventures. If Taylor was surprised, which she definitely was, she didn't let it show on her features as she smiled at Wren encouragingly. "You ready for dinner now, munchkin?"

"Owie." The child pouted when she'd climbed the last step, apparently not abandoning the play-set because she was tired, but because on her last pass down the slide, which Taylor had turned her head toward Andrea just as she'd gone down, she tripped over her own two feet and had tried to catch herself with soft palms. If Bluey wasn't already in need of a wash, he desperately was now that Taylor recognized the blood stains on his soft fabric. "Fell."

"I see that, buddy." Taylor frowned, softly trailing her gaze over Wren, not coming up on any substancial injuries on visible skin. Getting down on her knees, she softy pried the child's hands away from the comfort item, frowning softly at the evidence of a scuffle tainting once unblemished palms. Tiny rocks had embedded themselves in her palms, and one particular spot at the side of her wrist had apparently been cut into if the trail of blood was any indication of injury. "We'll get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"Didn't mean to hurt Bluey too." Her bottom lip trembled as she glanced down at her beloved stuffed animal, his fabric splattered and stained with her blood in Taylor's hands. She'd only wanted to hug him, and now she'd ruined him.

"Bluey will be okay, you didn't hurt him. He just needs a nice bath and then he'll be good as new. How about you go inside with Andie, and I'll throw him in the washer so you can have him at bedtime tonight?" Taylor smiled softly, brushing blades of grass and rocks off of her daughter's palms, glad to see that they were otherwise unscathed. The only damage that had come from the tumble had been a minuscule cut to her wrist, and that was an easy enough fix with a couple of damp paper towels and a bandaid.

"Want you." Wren shook her head, tearful green eyes pleading with Taylor to stay as she stepped closer and threw herself at the blonde, little sobs falling off of her lips as she felt the warm blood slowly drying on her skin. She hadn't felt blood drying against her skin in months, and the reminder of all the times that had come before this were slowly crushing her lungs.

"I'll throw Bluey in the wash then. Tay can get you all cleaned up, yeah?" Andrea smiled softly, leaning down to gently take the stuffed animal from Taylor, her eyes watching Wren intently. "He'll be as good as new in an hour or so. You're so brave."

Wren didn't feel brave. She felt trapped in memories that didn't leave her alone even when she wanted them to. Andrea didn't linger, stepping inside the house where the heat was still on and the lights in the kitchen casted yellow-toned illumination against walls and appliances. Taylor softly scooped the little girl up, smoothing black wild waves that had fallen out of the braid she'd waved that morning. "You're not there, baby. You're here with me. Just breathe. In through your nose, hold it, baby. Good girl, keep holding it. Let it out, all of it. Good job, sweetheart."

"Handcuffs." Wren whimpered, her little green eyes trained on the wound still slowly bubbling with blood even as she was taken inside and set down on the counter beside a metal strainer filled with penne noodles. "Made me bleed. Don't wanna be bleeding!"

Taylor didn't answer right away, busying herself with a paper towel at the sink, getting it just damp enough to wipe away the trail of blood that wasn't quite fully dry against porcelain skin. She dabbed it against the cut, softly shushing whines of discomfort from her daughter as she brushed away dirt and tiny jagged rocks. "All done. It's all done. No more blood." She assured before bending down to search for the first aid kit she'd thoughtfully placed in the cub board beneath the sink. She pulled a random bandaid out of the red padded box, knowing the only ones she'd purchased would bring a smile to her daughter's lips without fail. She placed it over the cut, pressing a firm kiss into the plastic padding out of instinct. She'd never had to kiss cuts or scrapes, never had the chance to teach Wren that her kisses could heal wounds, but here it was, and it had never felt so earned.

"Ariel." A little voice filled the kitchen, green eyes trained to the bandage that concealed the cut from visibility. Ariel in all of her glory adorned the plaster, her soft pink dress and red hair easily identifiable even if her tail would've been a more timeless design.

"Yeah, baby love. She's gonna keep you company until your owie's all better. That sound like a good plan?" Taylor asked softly, tying the little girls hair away from her face with an elastic that had been tight around her wrist since mid-morning. It was the same routine every day. Wren would come inside, fuss about her hair being in her face as she tried to eat whatever dinner Andrea made, and Taylor would tie it back before there could be tears shed. She loved this little routine, even if was mundane.

"Yes. Can go play again?" Wren peered out the window by the sink where nightfall had firmly taken up residence across the sky, the violet hues now inky with blackness that extended far beyond the point of visual range.

"We're gonna eat dinner now, busy bee. If you promise to come inside when I say it's time, I'll let you out for a couple of minutes before bath time." Taylor was fully aware of how she sounded, talking to Wren as if she were a puppy learning commands, but she supposed it wasn't far off from reality. Wren beamed a bright smile, the tears and panic no longer a ripple in the water as she nodded her acceptance to the proposition. "If it's nice tomorrow, how about you and I take another swing at the trail? I got you a special stroller so you don't have to dig your heels into my belly anymore when you want down." Wren giggled sheepishly at the reminder. Before she'd learned that dropping all of her weight on Taylor was a sure fire way to be placed down, she'd discovered that if she dug her little shoes into the woman's belly then she'd be able to wiggle away easier. Taylor always looked grumpy when she did that though.

"Sorry Taylor's tummy." Wren giggled, leaning forward to press innocent kisses into the soft fabric covering her belly. "Tay?"

"Yes, sweet girl." Taylor smiled softly, cold hands framing her little girls cheeks as she tilted her chin, forcing green eyes to meet blue. She hadn't expected to be met with teary eyes and a wobbling bottom lip, but upon Wren's face was the depiction of utter affection, and understandably her girl didn't know what to do with all that love squeezing at her heart.

"Love you lots." She sniffled, looking majorly confused by the rush of emotions she'd had a grip on mere seconds ago. Taylor would be lying if she said she didn't also get caught up in that overwhelming vortex of love and care from time to time, because she did, and she could understand immediately how it left someone feeling so helpless and empowered at the same time.

"I love you too, my little busy bee. So, so, so much." Taylor sealed the display of affection with a kiss to the child's temple, savoring the contact of soft lips brushing against sweat and dirt dusted skin, even if the combination on her tongue was beyond vile.

"To the moon and to saturn?" Wren gave a cheeky grin, knowing full well that she wasn't supposed to say anything about the lyrics jotted down somewhere in a notebook upstairs.

Taylor attacked her with tickles, a wide grin on her lips as she wrangled Wren into her embrace and left no inch of skin untouched by her affectionate torment. "You're not supposed to say anything, stinker!" She laughed, blowing a raspberry into the crevice of the child's neck just as Andrea came back into the room, her smile bright but equally soft as she stopped to witness the tender moment passed between mother and daughter.

"To the moon and to saturn!" Wren bellowed through giggles, tiny hands pushing Taylor's face away as she panted for breath between laughs.

"Go wash your hands, stinker. Just for that you can help me put the dishes away." Taylor teased, dropping the child onto her feet and sending her off toward the sink where a little plastic baggy kept residence, her missing tooth somehow forgotten about until now.

"What do we do with it?" Wren frowned, looking back at Taylor even though her hands were lathered in a mountain of sweet smelling suds, the warm water falling against her fingertips but reaching no other part of her skin.

"We put it under your pillow and in the morning, you get to see if the tooth fairy came." Taylor beamed, stepping behind the child and guiding her through the motions of washing her hands, even if Wren didn't really need any extra help. She nodded curtly at the explanation, green eyes squinted with disbelief despite it. "She'll come, baby love. I know she will."

"She's nice?" Wren, although having loved the experience of Christmas, still wasn't too sure about these magical creatures sneaking in the house when she and Taylor were asleep. It seemed dangerous, and she was ever the judgmental skeptic.

"She's very nice. I met her one time, you know?" Taylor smiled brightly, effectively captivating Wren who hung onto her every spoken word with wide green eyes. "She looked a little bit like Tinkerbell, but she was wearing a yellow dress. She had pretty blonde hair and blue eyes, and she was trying super hard to be quiet so she didn't wake me up, but then she dropped a couple of coins and I saw her. You're not supposed to see them, but she knew it was an accident, so she laid me down, and she told me to sleep, and that she was very proud of how brave I was." In truth, Andrea had been the woman that woke Taylor up after scrounging around in the darkness of a Pennsylvania bedroom trying to differentiate a quarter from a nickel. It had truthfully been the end of her run with the tooth fairy for the twelve year old, but that moment had been something special. Unlike when Austin found out that Santa wasn't real and had dissolved into tears, Taylor smiled knowingly, reaching out for her mother's hand as if to convey that the inevitable would've come anyways. Taylor could only hope she had years to play pretend before that moment came for Wren.

"Did she know your name?" Little eyes had never looked so innocent, filled with hope and disbelief as she listened to Taylor relive the night a piece of her childhood had died. It was rather sad to think of it as such, but it was the honest truth even if she could chalk it up to sound whimsical and magical for her daughter sake.

They continued on with the conversation through dinner, where Wren found out it was hard to bite into garlic bread with a tooth missing. She'd been nothing short of an animal as she shoveled noodles into her mouth to make up for the difficult experience of biting through toasted bread, somehow smearing sauce across her nose as she asked a million questions about all the whimsical creatures that visited throughout the year. Easter was approaching, not even two full weeks away anymore, and Wren had been pleased to know that unlike everyone else, the easter bunny didn't come inside. According to Taylor, who had been talking about easter for weeks but never fully divulging on the specifics, he left a trail of plastic eggs outside in the yard for Wren to find, some of them full of candy while others had money and little toys, and at the end of the hunt, there'd be a basket waiting for her. That sounded nice. Wren decided that she was excited for Easter after that.

"Outside now?" Wren asked once plates had been loaded into the dishwasher and the countertops had been restored to their original state of organization. Andrea laughed at the question, looking at Taylor with an unreadable expression that had the younger blonde rolling her eyes.

"You have half an hour before we're gonna unload the dishwasher and get you in the bath." Taylor nodded, sending her daughter off into the night air that had a crisp chill beneath its breeze, but not without turning the lights on outside, illuminating the play-set and bringing the glitter in the purple costume to life as it glimmered with each step Wren took.

"That girl has got you wrapped around her pinky." Andrea laughed softly, still drying her hands beside the sink, framed by slivers of moonlight that fell through the window.

"I know." Taylor groaned, pulling open the fridge with an overdramatic grumble of annoyance. She sifted through the shelves until she came upon the gallon of milk they'd opened yesterday, pulling it out with a lazy hand. "Trust me, I know."

"It's cute, honey." Andrea smiled as if she had a few million things at the tip of her tongue, but could somehow only encapsulate them in those three simple words. "That little girl needs someone to be so in love with her that they find a way to hang the moon. I've seen you wear a lot of hats over the years, but honey, this is by far the best one yet. It suits you. It really really suits you, and, these last few days- You've shined, Tay. I haven't seen you shine like that years. Being here, it just, it fixed something in you that I didn't even realize was broken. And god, I'm so sorry, I didn't notice. I don't even think you did. Stop questioning yourself so much. You've got this all figured out. More than I ever did."

Taylor's eyes, an exact carbon copy of Andrea's, brimmed with tears as she looked between her mother and the princess cup she'd filled with milk. Her hands trembled, her mouth dry as she tried to wrap her head around the praise and reassurance that had been so abruptly dropped on her shoulders. Her mother had found softer things to focus on since the reemergence of the cancer she fought hard against. She'd found lighter things to harp on, Taylor knew that, she'd been wrapped up in conversations about socks and types of seedlings before, but for some reason she'd never expected to hear such genuine reassurance slip off her mother's lips unprompted. She breathed out deeply, her thoughts trailing to Betty's passing. That's what had broken her.

"I don't think I realized how much losing Betty killed me inside. I flushed my baby down the toilet, and it seemed like everyone around me was fine; Joe was fine. I just, I thought I had to be fine too, so I was. I wasn't fine though, Mama. I don't think anything has ever hurt me the way that losing her did. I don't know who Betty would've grown up to be, but sometimes I just hold out hope that she would've turned out even half as good as Wren. I'll never stop feeling Betty's loss, I don't think that's possible, not for me at least, but having Wren here, getting to be her Mom, getting to watch her grow and learn and change; it doesn't hurt as much anymore. For the first time in years, it's not something that I think about everyday. I didn't have anything to move onto after Betty. Joe wanted to act like I was never pregnant, but my body had changed and my heart had changed, and every time I sat down to pee, for months I remembered what it felt like to physically feel her leave my body. Wren, god, she just healed something in me that I thought was going to remain broken forever. I brought up adoption the other week; asked Emily what that process would look like; if I even qualified at all. Mama, that little girl is mine. I know she's not Betty, I know nothing I do will ever bring her back to me, but that little girl is mine. I'm looking at a nine month legal period to make that official. I just- I knew what I wanted the second she let me help her the first time, but I was terrified of her slipping through my fingers. This system, it's broken, it fails kids like her every day. But, she's not going anywhere, Mom. You know what Emily said when I brought it up? She laughed and said it's about time, that she's had the paperwork drafted since last month. That in all her years doing this job, she's never seen the kind of bond Wren and I have. It's fast, and it's unconventional, but that's my entire life. I was trying so hard to do this like a 'normal' person, but nothing about my life has been normal since I was sixteen-years-old, and nothing about her life has been normal after Sarah died. I just, knowing that nothing can take her away anymore; for the first time since they told me I was miscarrying, there's not been this pressing weight on my chest anymore. But you're the blueprint. Everything I'm doing for her, everything I've done, it all comes back to what you put into me. I've thanked you a million times for sacrificing all that you did, for pouring your all into me even when you had a divorce to settle and a life to uphold, but I never quite understood just how much you gave until I was the one giving everything I had. Thank you for being the best. For showing me how to love so selflessly. Thank you for still giving me everything." Taylor hadn't meant to lay everything out there, but Andrea had unknowingly fit all of her broken pieces together, and once she'd started talking, she hadn't been able to stop herself from getting everything off her chest. Betty had broken her. That loss had destroyed her from the very core of her soul, but Wren had fixed that hurt, and Wren had shown her that happiness does outlive pain if you survive long enough to see the full circle. "She's going to be mine, Mom. Forever."

"This is more than I ever could've imagined for you, Tay. You surpass my wildest dreams every day." Andrea chuckled softly, shaking her head as she dabbed at her eyes, finding humor in their matching tear-filled expressions. "You've come so far from the little girl that never stopped talking my ear off, but I can still see her in you. She'd be proud of everything you've built."

"She'd be appalled that I've had a six-year-old for three months and haven't shown her how to hot glue popsicle sticks together. You don't have to lie." Taylor laughed softly, their emotional moment closing on the image of six-year-old Taylor up in their attic in West Reading meticulously placing sticks of wood together. Neither could deny that if that little knew about Wren, she'd be beyond perturbed that wooden castles had yet to be taught. Her values had been so innocently misplaced, but they both knew she was a girl whose heart of gold hadn't been broken by the world yet.

"You better get moving with that chocolate milk." Andrea teased, eyes still wet and glistening but no longer filled with regret. "She's gonna be pissed off if you call her inside and it's not ready yet."

"She's going to be pissed off regardless. My little nature bug."

Chapter Text

A tale that becomes folklore is one that is passed down and whispered around. Sometimes even sung about. The lines between fantasy and reality blur and the boundaries between truth and diction become almost indiscernible. Speculation, over time, becomes fact. Myths, ghost stories, and fables. Fairytales and parables. Gossip and legend. Someone's secrets written in the sky for all to behold.

April 12th, 2020

Taylor never understood how magic just slipped away as life carried on. She'd thought of it like a necessary sacrifice. Trading innocence for wisdom. She'd seen the gleam in her mother's eyes for years whenever holidays rolled around, but even then she'd never truly understood how people moved on from magic and make-believe like the ache of losing the world at your fingertips didn't linger. She misses when the world had been at her fingertips; when the hardest things had felt possible if she just tried harder. Taylor's entire perception of magic had shifted. At thirty years old, she sat on a green swing, blue eyes bright beneath glimmering moonlight as she shared what was left of the memories of magic in her heart. She'd always thought that children were born believing in magic and make-believe. She'd always thought it was something you had to lose to truly live.

She was wrong, and somehow it had taken her three decades to realize that believing in magic was a taught practice, not a sacred birthright. Magic was folklore. Everything in life with enough affection behind it was folklore. The way she loved Wren so impossibly; one day that would become folklore too. There was delicate beauty in the realization that every step she took would have the potential to outlive her infinitively. Everything she put effort into creating would become reality, even if only for a short while. Everyone outgrew the endless boundaries of fantasy, that was fact, but not everyone let it fall away so entirely that they missed the way it used to feel like fresh air on warm skin. For the first time since she'd realized Santa Claus was just her mother and father extending generosity toward innocent naïveté, she felt alight with the promise of magic beneath her fingers and endless potential at every corner she turned to. There was a delicate balance between believing in magic and being the magic, but they weren't so dissimilar at all if she allowed herself to strip back the belief that as an adult, she had to be clinical; calculated.

"Are you eating what was in that egg?!" Taylor laughed at the sight of her mother concealed by midnight skies, only visible by the gift of the waning gibbous moon sparkling overhead. Her hands held a plastic yellow egg and a Reese's peanut butter cup, evidence that somehow she'd managed to seek out the one candy she adored without tampering with the eggs scattered around the yard without reason. "There's some inside for you!"

"Oh, you never noticed one missing." Andrea rolled her eyes fondly, finishing the candy with a satisfied hum. "It tastes better this way." Taylor didn't have an argument for the last minute explanation. For whatever reason, candy did taste better when it was concealed by an element of innocent belief, something she'd not had the liberty of experiencing since the last time her mother had set up an egg hunt for her and Austin as children, sparing the one time a few years back, but even that had been different. They'd known who laid out the eggs, been fully aware of their mother's heart-felt labor. Magic changed with time, but it was still there if you looked beneath what glimmered on the surface.

"You ate my candy?" She chose to focus on the first comment, blue eyes squinted critically as she tried to figure out a time when there had been one less egg in her basket, but like Andrea had so mischievously proclaimed, she came up empty. It wasn't the candy that mattered at the end of the day, even if there had been one less chocolate to dive into; it was the memory of being so unbelievably loved and poured into that eggs were scattered around the yard regardless of what filled them.

"Oh, honey. Did you never figure out why the Easter Bunny always brought so many almond joys even though neither you or Austin liked them very much." Andrea laughed endearingly, a hand splayed across her belly as her skin jostled with the movement of her diaphragm. Taylor's jaw fell slack as she absorbed the information and sifted through hazy memories of childhood, vaguely remembering that every Easter her bucket overflowed with shiny blue wrappers. "Dad and I had a system. He bought the candy, I filled the eggs. Even when things weren't perfect between us, he always came home with my favorites."

Taylor smiled softly at the reminder of her parent's sacrifice. They didn't have to keep things amicable, they had every right to never speak to each other again after the divorce had been finalized, but they never separated themselves anymore than was reasonable to heal wounds and mend hearts. She had always admired the strength that it had taken to do right by her and Austin as they were growing up, but now she had a deeper understanding of what it entailed to keep things civil between an ex. She wouldn't have had the strength to stick by Joe, and her belly twists into knots just thinking about the possibilities of what could've been.

"I know that look." Andrea confronted tenderly, her blue eyes gleaming with maternal understanding and sympathy. "It's not worth your time. What happened is already done, and what didn't happen can't be written no matter how many narratives you create. You were dealt impossible cards, honey. You've suffered enough. Leave it be, move on." Andrea knew that was easier said than done, but she spared the advice anyways.

Taylor looks around at the scattered plastic eggs thrown all across the yard, an indecipherable feeling rising in the pit of her belly as she turns her eyes to the window just above the porch. The room is dark, the curtains pulled back but even moonlight forbids her from stealing a glimpse at walls that are painted a delicate shade of blue. They'd been that way upon renting the house, and without consideration she'd known that would be Wren's bedroom. She hasn't had the urge to check on the girl in days, content with the assured promise that the house is secure and she's sleeping soundly with an ensemble of stuffed animals to keep her company, but there's a desperate itch beneath her bones to check now. She needs the peace of mind that comes with watching Wren breathe with her own two eyes. It's the only way she'll be able to stomach the grief of not being able to give her everything. She can give all of her love, spare all of her energy and attention, but she's not capable of giving her a father. Not right now anyways. She's never felt guilty for that, but sitting beneath the realization that Andrea had swallowed her pride and welcomed Scott into her life as a friend unsettled every nerve in her body.

Taylor knew that there had been no ill-intent laced within Andrea's reminiscing of the past, but the heavy weight of her last sentence had shaken something in her that she hadn't even known was loose to start. She'd never thought twice about being a single mother — technically that had always been the plan for after she'd gotten her license — but she and Joe had always banked on navigating the journey together, even if on paper Taylor was the only temporary guardian. She'd long since accepted that things with Joe were over for good, she'd made peace with that chapter of her life, but being confronted with the truth, that she was truly in this journey alone, just dug up everything she'd been too distracted to see beforehand. Wren didn't need anyone else outside of Taylor, but Taylor had always hoped to have someone on her team. She wanted good-cop bad-cop moments, she wanted late night laughing over whatever tantrum had ensued before bedtime, she wanted someone to sit on the living room floor with her and stuff a wicker easter basket.

She loved that it was just her and Wren, but for a minute all she felt was grief for what she would never have. Even if she found someone else, someone who loved them both equally and genuinely, roles had already been established. All that she could do was make peace with the failure to meet her expectations and find contentment with where she was instead.

"We should probably turn in for the night." The itch to check on Wren was insatiable, but the words rolling off of her tongue weren't just a poorly executed way to escape the company she found herself suffocated beneath. A yawn pulled from the bottom of her chest, arms stretching overhead as the late night finally began to set in. "Little eyes are going to be opening in less than two hours if Christmas was any lesson to learn from."

"I've missed these late nights." Andrea smiled wistfully, heading toward the steps with Taylor in tow. There were only a couple, nothing compared to the cliffs in Rhode Island, but they still made the house feel elevated as the musician took one last glance at the chaotic backyard. There were eggs on nearly every inch of grass, some hidden within crevices of the play-set while others were tucked into odd tree branches. It was definitely overkill, but there were only so many first holidays to experience. The basket left on the railing of the porch tied everything together, and a frilly pink and purple bow completed the design from where it hung beneath where a wooden nameplate was fastened to the handle with beige twine. "Get some rest, honey. I'll see you bright and early." Andrea laid a kiss upon Taylor's cheek before disappearing inside, leaving her daughter to lock up and turn out all the lights before heading upstairs herself.

Wren had slept in Taylor's bed every night since they'd moved in just over a month ago, but tonight she'd fallen asleep in her own room without fuss, too excited about the Easter Bunny's anticipated arrival to realize she'd absentmindedly headed to her own room after bath time instead of Taylor's bed. The blonde hadn't made any kind of celebration out of the small step forward. She'd merely kissed her daughter's head and sat with her until she fell asleep, counting each muted imperfection that dusted the bridge of Wren's nose as minutes passed by. It felt like she was always thinking the same thing, but as she snuck out of the bedroom and headed for the kitchen where hidden gifts and treats needed to be dug up and arranged, she'd had the fleeting realization that progress was still being made even if it looked different now.

She pushed the door open with a soft touch, smiling softly at the sight of her daughter sound asleep. She'd somehow managed to wiggle out from beneath all of her blankets since Taylor had gotten her down, laying on top of the comforter in a position that didn't look comfortable yet was still amusing to see. Her hands held tightly onto Bluey, her little face pressed into a pillowcase adorned with silver stars and pastel pink planets. Taylor had no idea why she'd picked that pattern when they were going through different websites for bedding, but it remained one of her favorites if only because Wren constantly pointed out Saturn like she knew the best secret in the world. By some miracle, Taylor had managed to convince her kid only wore princess clothes that Easter pajamas were the best choice for the night, and so on her tiny body was a pair of soft pink pajamas adorned with white bunny heads.

Admittedly, Taylor didn't know what to do with herself now that she had her room back to herself, even if it only lasted the night. She stalked across the hallway with leisure, turning the lights on only because she could do so without waking up her daughter. It had been a month since she'd gotten ready for bed with the privilege of overhead lightning, and as much as she wanted to keep the nights of endless cuddles forevermore, she took full advantage of her spontaneous isolation. She washed her face and brushed her teeth without having to keep an eye peeled for curious fingers digging into things they weren't supposed to, and she managed to settle into a comfortable position without the plastic eyes of a stuffed animal digging into her ribs. It was a night of miracles, because without any tossing or turning, she managed to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows.

She'd been right to say Wren wouldn't sleep past five in the morning, because at four-fifty-seven on the dot, little feet were pattering against the hardwood floors creeping quietly toward Taylor's bedroom. The creak of the hinges didn't rouse the blonde from sleep, neither did the mattress dipping beneath Wren's weight as she climbed onto the bed and crawled closer to where Taylor was sprawled out on her back, her lips parted just slightly while blue eyes remained hidden beneath pale eyelids that fluttered every couple of minutes. The child was a ball of radiant energy, her smile wide albeit sheepish as she situated herself on the musicians belly like she'd been doing every morning. Her little hands were practically icicles as they poked at Taylor's cheeks incessantly, her soft whispers drowned out by the way Benji meowed in the doorframe like he'd been convinced to be moral support.

Taylor groaned softly, not even opening her eyes as she pinned Wren to her chest and rolled onto her side, keeping the little girls eager eyes away from the window where the sun would begin to rise in a small handful of hours. "Sleep, baby." She mumbled, a yawn pulling through her chest as she tried and failed to get Wren to settle into the large bed. "We're getting up, aren't we?"

"Yes." Wren whispered back, her little face pressed against Taylor's as she smiled widely, practically vibrating now that she had the musicians undivided attention. "It's Easter!" She bellowed, squeezing Taylor's cheeks between her frozen hands, her smile infectious as she squirmed, trying her best to be patient.

Taylor smiled fondly, giving up on catching anymore sleep for the time being as she instead sat up with Wren still hanging off of her torso like a tiny monkey. The little girl squealed with giggles as she was plopped into Taylor's lap, their watercolored eyes intertwining for a silent moment of mutual excitement to be passed between soft hues of blue and green. Taylor broke first, laughing softly as she leaned forward to pepper the top of Wren's head in kisses. "Can I convince you to have breakfast before we look for the Easter Bunny's surprise?" She knew the answer would be an adamant no, but still she pressed her luck anyways.

"Nu uh." Green eyes squinted critically, absolutely appalled by the suggestion of waiting any longer than she already had. There wasn't a clock in her room like there was in Nashville and New York City, but Wren figured she'd already been awake for a couple of years trying to be patient and wait for Taylor to come get her like she did on Christmas, but eventually the excitement won and the prospect of waiting even longer seemed like a nightmare.

"Let's go then, buddy." Taylor laughed softly, crawling out of bed with Wren perched on her hip like every other morning in Whitesboro had consisted of. The little girl just couldn't keep herself still beneath moonlight however, her tiny feet kicking excitedly at Taylor's sides while her little fingers fiddled with the chain of a gold necklace intently. She was undeniably buzzing, and the excitement falling off of her body was innocently addictive. Even if she'd just barely gotten two hours of sleep, Taylor felt content to start their day before sunlight had even fallen upon the East Coast at all.

They made their way down the hall to Andrea's chosen bedroom, and subsequently the only other bedroom on the top floor of the house. There was an office beside Wren's bedroom, and a full-bath right beside Taylor's, but the two other bedrooms were downstairs settled beside the stairs and on the opposite end of the house entirely. It had made the most sense for the three of them to stay upstairs together, and the other rooms had quickly turned into child black-zones. There was the possibility of virtual interviews in Taylor's future, with the pandemic related death count still increasing and quarantine being further extended, it was looking like those in the industry were being expected to adapt rather than survive, and not only did that impede on Taylor's carefully obtained privacy, but put Wren's general safety at risk. One bedroom had been meticulously transformed into a general interview space. There wasn't anything grand about it, but it would do in the event that she had no other option. The other room, however, had come to house a piano and a small collection of string instruments. It wasn't her music room, that was upstairs in the room meant to act as an office, but there wasn't a chance in hell Taylor was conducting any form of visual content in that sacred space. Etches of Wren were everywhere inside. From the bookshelf that was decorated in black and white sketches and vibrant coloring pages, to the pictures printed out and framed in antique pieces all across the walls. Wren could come and go from the music room whenever she pleased, Taylor would never tell her that she couldn't, so compromises were made and thankfully Tree had no objections when the plan had been discussed over a Zoom meeting two weeks prior. The woman was a fierce protector, Taylor had seen that firsthand countless times, but times had changed and the blonde knew without having to ask that Wren was Tree's top priority now whenever she had reason to be concerned for the little brunette tornado.

Wren squirmed in anticipation the second Taylor pushed the bedroom door open and revealed Andrea tangled up in bedsheets, peacefully asleep as she breathed deeply yet evenly. Taylor flipped the switch on the side of the wall, dousing the room in abrupt bright lighting that effectively woke Andrea without unnecessary startling. Well... they'd almost woken her without any sudden sounds or movements, but it seemed Wren had no sense of an inside voice today. "Andie! It's Easter! Gotta get up now!"

"If she wasn't up before she's certainly up now, buddy." Taylor tried to muffle her laugh by digging her face into the little girls shoulder, blue eyes filled with entertainment as she watched shock wash over her mother's dazed features before it melted away into fond understanding. The blonde was out of bed in seconds, leaving the sheets and comforter a tangled mess as she stepped closer to Wren, her eyes bright and full of excitement.

"It's Easter, is it?" She teased, fingers digging into the little girls belly before she adjusted the pajama shirt over soft skin, concealing any inch of tummy that had been previously visible.

"Yes! It's Easter! Gotta go! Gotta go! Bunny might've come!" Taylor was apparently moving too slow, because within seconds of the admission falling off of Wren's lips in a barely decipherable jumble of uncontainable anticipation, she was wriggling free and all but sprinting down the stairs two at a time with sock covered feet. She never slept in socks, and Taylor definitely didn't put them on her when wrangling her into bed the night before. The thought of Wren trying to get ready on her own was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. How many Easter's had she gotten herself dressed and ready for and had only been disappointed? The sleepless night didn't matter anymore with that heavy question on the forefront of her mind.

"Slow down, buddy! Wait for us!" Taylor laughed, but knew that Wren wouldn't be able to let herself outside even if she tried. The child-lock on the sliding glass door was nearly impossible to figure out, and if only to add to the difficulty of opening the door at all, the top latch was placed inches above where Wren could reach without pulling a chair over to the door. Still, Taylor had a feeling that little fingers would be able to figure it out if they tried hard enough today. There was no standing between an excited child on a holiday that promised candy and presents.

"I'm waiting!" Wren giggled, standing in a kitchen stool when Andrea and Taylor finally made it down the stairs and into the dimly illuminated room where daybreak was just barely on the cusp beyond closed windows. "I can't wait anymore!"

"Oh, you can't?" Taylor questioned with a deep frown, amusement sparkling beneath her eyes as she reached for the child and pulled her off the stool, not even able to encapsulate how far her heart had lurched at the sight of her up there so giddily unaware of the danger. "But, Andie needs tea and Taylor needs coffee. Can you give me five more minutes?"

"Four minutes." She compromised, even though she had no concept of time and couldn't quite read the analog clock on the wall without Taylor's help just yet. She'd never know if they were inside for the promised four minutes, or another half an hour. Taylor was blissfully aware of that fact as she stumbled toward the coffee pot and pressed the light grey button on the side, having been smart enough to have already measured out the water and grounds the night before and gotten it all set up. The kettle would be what held them up, but distraction came naturally to her now.

"What's that?" Wren frowned, little eyes trained on a box that was placed on the center of the island that she'd apparently missed upon her chaotic entry. It didn't look like the boxes Taylor had delivered all the time, it was white and looked pretty with a pastel purple bow keeping it together.

"Why don't you open it and find out." Taylor grinned encouragingly, placing the little girl on her feet, giving permission to clamber up onto a stool — the right way this time — and dig into the first present of the day before five-thirty in the morning.

"Is it from the Easter Bunny?" She quizzed, little fingers pulling at the ribbon with delicacy despite the eager grin on her pink lips. She was still apprehensive about ripping into presents, and Taylor had learned to find that simple quirk endearing rather than harp on the trauma that had caused the learned reaction.

"It's from Aunt Blake, Uncle Ryan, and the girls." Taylor already knew what was inside the box. She'd needed to send Blake sizes and measurements weeks ago when she'd gotten a cryptic text about height and preferred colors. The blonde actress hadn't been able to keep her lips sealed upon receiving the confirmation of her order, and Taylor's heart warmed at the tradition they'd unintentionally started for their daughters who had become like sisters over the last few months together. She knew Wren was missing Inez and James, she could only hope this would ease some of that hurt that nobody had a way of fixing right now.

"Nezzy!" Wren cheered brightly, tearing into the box with a faster speed now, though she assured the ribbon was entirely pulled away before she ripped into the sturdy cardboard box and revealed a beautiful mess of different fabrics and patterns. It was a patchwork dress, and while it was chaotic, it was seamlessly pull together by coordinating colors and designs. The bottom was frilly and made from the same strip of purple fabric with white embellishments, while the skirt was an array of different fabrics, some pink and sporting multi-colored designs, while a large portion in the front and back was a green-beige mix, adorned with little hyperrealistic rabbits and flowers. The top of the dress looked to be cut from a t-shirt, its stripped design further accented by the dark purple sleeves and neckline. Wren gasped, pulling it out of the box with pleased excitement. "We can put it on now?!" She pleaded, holding it tightly to her chest, her favored stuffed companion falling to the floor as priority shifted.

"It's still chilly outside, baby love. We can put it on after breakfast." Taylor grinned, smoothing her hand over the crown of Wren's head, absentmindedly taming the flyaways that were more or less under control but still proving stubborn despite the hairstyle they'd chosen last night to hopefully dissuade bed head from impeding on timeless pictures. Taylor didn't really care what Wren looked like, her heart was rooted in the making of memories not appearing perfect, but still she tried to keep them both somewhat presentable. These pictures would last a lifetime, there was no shame in wanting to look somewhat reasonable. She was painfully aware of how she sounded like every other mother in America whenever a picture worthy holiday rolled around, but she wore that title proudly.

"James and Nezzy and Betty are gonna match?" Wren grinned, unable to contain her excitement as she squirmed and wiggled on the chair, gasping in delight when Andrea set a cup of orange juice in front of her that she hadn't even noticed was being poured into her Rapunzel cup. The cup had been through the war in recent weeks. From being outside for hours, being knocked off the slide and the ledge of the porch, thrown in the dishwasher and all around the house, it was beginning to look less like a Princess cup and more like a standard purple color, but Wren still loved it all the same, even if most of the flowers had been scratched and rubbed off and Rapunzel's face was sporting some major damage from the last time it had clattered to the ground from the top of the play-set.

"They are, but not yet. Aunt Blake's gonna make them wait until after breakfast too." Taylor wasn't even lying, as easy as it would've been to do so. Blake was relatively laid back, but she could be meticulous about outfits when it mattered, and letting three kids run wild in boutique dresses when chocolate and sticky breakfast syrups were involved was never going to fly. She also knew that unlike Wren, all three Reynolds children were definitely still asleep in their respective bedrooms. They weren't immune to the excitement of a special holiday, but they'd never known anything less than a day filled with magic and excitement. Wren, on the other hand, had too many years to make up for.

"I can see eggs!" Wren gasped in delight when little green eyes stared intently out the back door, needing to squint to see past the reflection of the kitchen on the glass doors, but just barely she could make out scattered eggs and bright colors. "He came!"

"He did?!" Taylor matched her excitement, pouring milk into her coffee before she passed the gallon to Andrea, both woman trying to move faster as the child's patience deteriorated before their eyes. They'd give her credit where it was due though. Both women knew how hard it was to subdue excitement as a child and in a child.  "It's a good thing we're all ready to go then! You wanna put your shoes on or is that gonna take too much time?"

"Too much time! Gotta go now! Come on!" Taylor's question had been entirely rhetorical, but Wren hadn't seemed to grasp that as she slid off the stool and made a sharp break for the sliding glass doors, bouncing on her toes as she pressed her hands to the glass and tried her best to see out into the yard as she waited for Taylor to undo the double latch keeping her from the surprise.

Taylor dropped the tiny pair of crocs that Austin had purchased months ago at the child's sock covered feet, beginning to understand why socks had been slipped on before Wren had woken her up. It was a clever trick, but not enough to get her to agree to a shoeless adventure. Wren huffed, sliding her feet into the shoes just as Taylor reached up to undo the second latch. The door hadn't even opened all the way before Wren was sprinting out into the silent night and trying to pick up as many eggs as she could hold without them all clattering to the ground.

"Are you going to tell her you have a bucket to put them in?" Andrea laughed softly, her eyes trailing toward the two plastic buckets on the porch beside the steps that had been meticulously placed the night prior. Wren hadn't noticed them, nor the main Easter basket that was still sitting pretty on the ledge of the railing waiting to be torn into by curious hands.

"I want to see how long she'll try and hold them all." Taylor laughed softly, sitting down on the last step to watch Wren race around the backyard, holding more eggs than she'd anticipate tiny hands being able to, but only because she'd started using the hem of her pajama shirt like a makeshift basket. Eventually, Taylor couldn't hold out anymore, sure that if she left it up to Wren, the child would be shoving eggs down her pants before she even thought to ask for a bucket. Taylor had to remind herself that Wren didn't know what to expect today, and a bucket was probably the last thing she anticipated to be given. "Buddy!" Taylor called for her, trying to mask the surprise on her face when Wren came racing over to her without fuss, a wide nearly euphoric smile on her pink lips.

"Look Tay! I got them!" She grinned excitedly, the material of her shirt stretched thin as a pile of plastic eggs threatened to fall over the flimsy barrier created by bamboo fabric and tiny forearms.

"You did! Put them in the bucket, baby. This way you can grab more." The buckets were adorned in different designs, but Taylor knew without having to see the child's reaction that the purple bucket with a yellow handle would be Wren's favorite. It was Tangled themed — because of course it was — and just barely larger than the second bucket that was concealed by shadows despite the sun slowly rising overhead.

"I can get more?!" Wren gasped, her eyes dancing around the backyard as she took in the sight of the multi-colored eggs. From her perspective, there were thousands of them, and the thought of them all being for her was just slightly overwhelming as she stood beneath Taylor's gentle gaze and the not-warm-enough sun.

"You can get them all. They're for you." Taylor smiled brightly, excitement genuine as it spread across her face and entirely dismantled the pause of overwhelm Wren had momentarily fallen victim to. "When you fill this bucket up, there's another one, okay? And if they don't all fit, we can find something else to put them in until you want to open them all and see what's inside. Sound like a good plan?" Taylor knew that all the eggs fit into the two baskets she'd ordered, she'd made sure that they did, but little hands could be uncoordinated and so she covered every possible base imaginable to ensure nothing had the potential of pushing Wren over the edge of excitement into mortified panic.

"Okay!" Wren agreed easily, dumping all of the eggs she'd already collected into the basket that Taylor was holding out to her. It had seemed like so many when they'd all been piled up in her arms, but they just barely filled a quarter of the bucket once they'd settled and fallen into any open spaces. That was as much incentive to keep going as anything else, and without so much as a goodbye, Wren was racing back out into the yard to collect everything she saw; this time with the handle of a bucket tightly between her fingertips.

Wren didn't seem to have any kind of plan for how she wanted to collect the eggs. Instead, she weaved in and out of crowded grass, picking up handfuls in one spot before she darted to another, leaving eggs scattered around at her feet that she would have to backtrack to pick up later. Taylor didn't interfere with the chaotic process, content to sit beside her mother on the back steps and watch her daughter fall into her own world of imaginative adventure as she climbed the play-set and collected the plastic eggs with elation wherever she saw them. For the first time in weeks, there was no mesh material getting snagged on edges of wooden planks or tree branches, and something about that felt incomplete. Taylor hated the Rapunzel dress, but she loved it just as much as she didn't. Motherhood was weird, and Taylor knew better than to try and understand the very thin line between hatred and adoration. They must've been outside for an hour, or something close to it at least, because when Wren finally came rushing back to Taylor with the first bucket filled and one egg shy of overflowing, the sun was cascading upon their skin in warm streaks, and the child's face was flush with sweat. Wren heaved for breath as she skidded to a stop in front of Taylor, her little gap-tooth smile eye catching as she grinned anxiously.

"I filled it up!" She beamed, her green eyes searching for the second bucket Taylor had mentioned, but ultimately she found something better to shift her attention to. In her hunt for another bucket to inherit, she'd finally found the main basket that Taylor had spent weeks telling her about. According to Taylor, sometimes it was only filled with candy, but sometimes it had other presents and gifts inside. There was no right or wrong Easter basket, the Bunny just brought whatever he thought the child would like. Wren had been skeptical about that. Unlike Santa, there was no letter that needed to be written, and from her memory, she'd never been visited by the Easter Bunny before, so how could he know what she liked and didn't like? That skepticism had dissipated in seconds, if only because there was a bright pink bubble wand sticking out of the basket and that seemed like the best possible gift to receive. "Look! Can I open it?! Please, Tay?!"

Taylor's eyes trailed over to the larger basket on the ledge of the railing, her blue eyes alight with similar excitement. She'd been wrong for so many years. Magic didn't simply go away. It changed and it grew and the bounds of its existence narrowed significantly, but it still existed if she let herself feel its warmth. Without hesitation, Taylor nodded eagerly, abandoning what remained of the egg hunt for later on in the day. She set the bucket already filled with eggs aside, not wanting it to be kicked over accidentally, before she was beckoning Wren to follow her up the stairs. Andrea stood in the corner with Taylor's camera pulled up to her eyes, snapping pictures of the exchange that neither Taylor or Wren asked for, but would be grateful existed in years to come.

Taylor pulled the basket off the ledge and set it down on the wooden planks of the porch, content to sit beside Wren as she rifled through the contents at an impossible speed. There had only been a thin layer of cellophane wrapped around the basket, and that had only been secured by an orange ribbon loosely pulled into a bow, so the second that it was moved out of the way, Wren was pulling out everything her eyes fell upon. There was nothing individually wrapped, and that seemed to further motivate the young girl who couldn't keep her hands still for longer than a couple of seconds as she marveled at the gifts she'd received with a gratefulness Taylor still hadn't found a way to convey at thirty-years-old. The bubble wand had only been the tip of the iceberg, and as Wren kept scrounging through the items placed meticulously within the wicker basket, she discovered a chalk set, a six-pack of bubble solution, and a bubble machine that was admittedly one of her favorite things if the shriek of excitement she'd let out upon finding it at the bottom of the basket was any indication. Even as she set those things down beside her, there seemed to be a never ending supply of more. She grinned eagerly up at Taylor when her hands found a translucent blue cup that was both a soft shade of delicate blue and deep royal blue. It was hard to tell what color it was meant to be, Taylor would say that it looked almost purple beneath the slowly warming sunlight, but what Wren focused on was the collection of Princesses around the base of the cup. It included nearly everyone she adored, from Jasmine to Cinderella to Belle to Pocahontas.

"Can we put orange juice in it?! Right now!" Wren bounced excitedly, passing the cup over to Taylor with an eager grin on her face as she wrung her little fingers together in anxious anticipation. Taylor had no reason to protest, but as the one who put the basket together, she knew that Wren would very quickly find another cup that potentially trumped her initial interest in the one she'd already discovered. It was Easter, their first Easter together, Taylor's first Easter as somebodies Mom, if two cups of orange juice came to be the tone of the day, who was she to fight it.

"Right now?! Like, right now?!" Taylor was up on her feet in seconds, rushing into the house at a childish pace. Andrea bellowed with laughter as she watched her daughter entirely abandon her granddaughter on the porch, but that was quickly replaced by her being abandoned on the porch as Wren chased after Taylor giggling manically.

"Come on, Andie!" Wren squealed with laughter from the kitchen, sounding breathless and riled up more than she had already been. Andrea could only imagine what was happening inside, but if it was any image like the one she'd witnessed last night, Wren was hanging upside down off of Taylor's shoulders letting the blood rush to her head as she swayed and giggled.

When she entered, Wren was in fact upside down, but unlike the routine they'd somehow created for bedtime, she was folded in half over Taylor's shoulder, her arms hanging down past the blonde's waist as she kicked her feet and squirmed against the tight hold, her smile wide and addictive as she panted for breath; a result of continuous laughter and Taylor's shoulderblade digging into her diaphragm. "I'm upside down!" She giggled, informing Andrea of her current state as if it wasn't openly obvious.

"I see that, monkey!" Andrea laughed, once again raising the digital camera up to her eye as she captured a shot of Taylor rifling through the fridge, one hand holding onto the child's legs while the other reached for a bottle of orange juice that was on it's last leg. The stash of orange juice in the garage was depleting quickly, but they'd have enough to make it through the day if Taylor could convince her child that apple juice was just as good of a substitute. The battles Taylor faced now looked different than the ones she'd spent the last decade of her life going against, but these were undeniably her favorite. "Come here!" Andrea was itching to get her hands on Wren, and so without warning her daughter, she pulled Wren into her arms and settled her evenly on her hip, looking quite proud of her accomplishment if the gleam in her blue eyes was any indication of success.

The cup was filled in only a handful of seconds and promptly handed over to the child that squirmed in uncontainable anticipation. Taylor had thought ahead when she'd been stocking the wicker basket and had already washed everything that could be sipped out of or worn. If Wren noticed that Taylor didn't make her wash the cup first, she didn't say anything about it.

"Does it taste even better now?" Taylor grinned, brushing stands of hair out of Wren's face, smiling at the sight of her daughter so content in her mother's arms. They'd become best friends, always seeking each other out either to go beneath Taylor's nose and indulge in cookies after she'd specifically said no more, or simply to enjoy each other's company. It was sweet, and while the pandemic showed no signs of ending anytime soon, Taylor was already mourning these stolen moments.

"Yes!" Wren giggled, wiggling down from Andrea's embrace so she could race back out onto the porch where the basket remained on the wooden planks, not yet entirely picked through. "Come on!"

"The Princess demands our presence." Taylor grinned softly at her mother, pressing a chaste kiss to the woman's cheek before she stepped out into the backyard, shivering slightly but unwilling to let the chilly weather deter her from the memories being made. It wasn't as cold as it could've been for a mid-April morning in Upstate New York, but that didn't mean it was comfortable by any degree. The sun was slowly bringing warmth to Whitesboro, keeping its promise of being in the mid-fifties by late afternoon, but for the time being, it was still only a couple degrees warmer than an even forty, and both Andrea and Taylor were feeling it. "Go ahead, bug." Taylor smiled encouragingly as she resumed her position on the planks, crossing her legs as she gently began to organize everything that was sprawled out around them chaotically.

Wren didn't need to be told twice, and at the same pace as before, she pulled out a purple nightgown that resembled Rapunzel's dress identically, forgiving minor details that the child didn't notice was missing. She gasped, holding it out to Taylor, immediately wanting it on her body but unsure of how to make that work when she was already dressed in long sleeves and long pants. Taylor, ever the mastermind, had barely even blinked at the challenge presented to her in the form of hopeful puppy eyes and a timid smile. She got the nightgown situated over Wren's pajamas as comfortably as she could, laughing at the sight of her daughter spinning around on the porch in rubber shoes, mixed matched socks, and two pairs of pajamas.

"Smile, baby!" She hadn't checked her phone since being woken up, but she'd been highly aware of its presence in her pocket the entire morning. She'd been fighting violent mental wars, wanting to commit to this moment with Wren without any semblance of distraction, but equally desperate to capture every single expression on her daughter's face as it came and went. The sight of Wren beneath golden sunlight and just barely pink skies was too cute to ignore, and so without much pressure, she snapped a handful of pictures before sliding her phone away.

"Another cup!" Wren gasped when her tiny hands found another princess cup with a silicone straw. Taylor wouldn't call herself a helicopter parent, but she did have a heart attack every time Wren clambered up the play-set with her Rapunzel cup in hand. The odds of the child falling while drinking from the hard plastic straw were slim, but the fear of it happening anyways and puncturing her soft-pallet was crippling. Taylor could only have hope that this replacement was good enough, and would put an end to her daily anxious spiraling. "It's got 'Punzel and Ariel! Look! 'Punzel and Ariel and Tiana and Aurora! Look, Tay!" Jackpot. Taylor could only think to pat herself on the back as Wren fawned over the minor detailing on the cup, her little fingers pointing out every character and sidekick that adorned the peachy-pink translucent base. The blue cup was between her crossed legs, and as if she'd just remembered she now had two cups in her possession, Wren gasped with anticipated indecision.

Taylor didn't let that indecision fester. Today wasn't about moderation and patience, it was about magic and family and innocence. Well, it was about a lot more than that, but she'd long ago decided that she wasn't interested in focusing on the religious aspects of the holiday. Her life was too high-profile, her career was too demanding. She'd rather focus on being with family on these special days than feeling guilty for how rarely she ever made it to a church service anymore. "Should we find something to put in this cup too?" She suggested, entirely shocking Wren who could only manage an excited nod, having not expected to be allowed two drinks at once. Taylor always made her finish what she had first, something about it being wasteful usually coming up shortly after.

"More orange juice!" Wren bellowed excitedly, picking up the first cup to take an exaggerated sip. Taylor could only shake her head fondly, picking herself up off the wooden planks to make a second trip into the kitchen. She didn't leave without Wren this time, something that the child apparently found boring because she'd declared an abrupt countdown of 'three, two, one! go!' before sprinting ahead and laughing maniacally.

"I'm definitely going to regret so much sugar." She muttered beneath her breath, but nonetheless sprinted after her daughter who would assuredly tear apart the kitchen searching for the orange juice if she was left to her own devices for any longer than a couple seconds. Andrea's laughter followed Taylor as she stumbled into the kitchen, just barely getting to the refrigerator before Wren. "I win!" She declared petulantly, poking her tongue out at Wren when she paused to crane her head backwards, stealing a glimpse at the first blue cup which was practically entirely drained. She was definitely going to regret so much sugar, but she reached for both cups anyways, only putting the orange juice away when they were both filled and sealed.

"Double orange juice!" Wren giggled, taking possession over the cups once again only to shove both straws in her mouth at the same time, gulping down the liquid with surprising coordination as she widened her eyes at Taylor, marveling at the familiar taste that washed over her tongue twice as potent as was typical. "Yummy!"

Taylor smiled fondly at her kid, somewhat amused that orange juice was her favorite part of the morning and not the collection of presents outside waiting for her to break into them. She hadn't expected anything less from Wren, but it still fascinated her that someone so little with no real sense of meaningful gratitude could enjoy the simplest of indulgences over new toys and candy. She laid a heavy hand on the top of her kids head as she passed by, heading straight for the coffee pot with bleary blue eyes. The early morning was beginning to weigh upon her shoulders, but it was an easy enough fix if she could steal a couple of quiet moments with only a fresh mug of coffee to nurse. The first one was somewhere forgotten about outside, probably sitting on the porch steps beside the bucket of plastic eggs, but even if she found it, there was no possible way that it was any warmer than the air outside, and that didn't exactly sound appealing when Taylor's fingers were frozen and pale.

Wren didn't seem to mind the pause in their morning of presents and excitement, clambering up onto the island stools to watch Taylor intently as she sipped from her cups with a steady rhythm. Andrea laughed at the sight of her switching between pink and blue straws meticulously, like she was trying to finish the contents of each cup at the same time. Whatever mental race she was engaging gave Taylor just enough time to finish half a mug of coffee without interruption, her back pressed against the countertops as she gazed fondly in Wren's direction, their soft eyes locking together every couple of seconds and pulling a smile onto rosy lips. She was somebody else's daughter, somebody else's flesh and blood, but she was Taylor's entire world, and that had to count for something. Taylor was sure that it counted for something.

"Should we have cinnamon rolls for breakfast?" Taylor quested after a moment of silence passed through the kitchen. Andrea had made cinnamon rolls a tradition on every holiday morning, and Taylor had been trying her best to keep up with it even if she didn't always make them from scratch like Andrea had routinely done. They'd had cinnamon rolls on Christmas, on their birthday, on Valentine's Day. It only felt right to crack into the premade dough today and celebrate the first Easter they had the privilege of celebrating together with sugary pastries.

"Yes! And carrots. 'Cause Bunny's like carrots." Taylor scoffed amusedly, shaking her head in fond exasperation at the odd request, but she couldn't find any reason to dismiss the suggestion. Carrots and cinnamon rolls were an unforeseen breakfast spread, but if it would make the little girl happy, who was it really hurting; besides Taylor's tastebuds that is.

"Cinnamon rolls and carrots it is. Should we finish opening your basket from the Bunny first?" As if she'd sudden remembered about the wicker basket outside, Wren nodded vigorously, slipping off the island stool and sprinting toward the siding glass door where Andrea stood with folded arms, her face a canvas of endearment that Wren didn't entirely understand. The smile on the woman's lips was wide and unbelievably bright, but her eyes gleamed with tears that suggested she was upset. Wren frowned, coming to a complete stop in front of Andrea as she assessed the display of contrasting emotions.

"Are you sad the Bunny didn't bring you a basket?" Wren asked softly, the two cups of orange juice pinned to her chest carefully, her little hands not quite able to hold both of them at the same time without the firmness of her torso to keep them immobile. "We can share my bubbles."

"That is a very generous offer, but I'm not sad, buddy. I'm happy. I'm so happy that I get to be here with you." Andrea cupped the little girls cheeks, leaning forward to lay a kiss on her temple. She didn't reflection on her experience with cancer often. It was still something raw that hadn't been given enough distance to overcome the trauma of the ordeal, but she was thankful that she'd survived as she looked between Taylor and Wren now. She couldn't imagine leaving them behind before she'd ever gotten the chance to truly know them both. She'd known Taylor her entire life, it was almost silly to insinuate she'd only just meet her, but there was an undeniable shift in her daughter; like she'd finally reached her full potential. Andrea would've never known what she would've missed if things hadn't turned out okay.

"We can still share my bubbles." Wren shrugged impassively, grabbing onto Andrea's hand to lead her outside where the air was finally beginning to show the approach of spring. The leaves that had grown back rustled beneath the current of sharp wind, but in moments where it was still, when the sun didn't have to fight against the remnant of heavy winter, it was warm enough to just take in the freshness that settled around Whitesboro.

"Do I get to share these bubbles too?" Taylor poked into the conversation as she stepped outside, both hands twisted around the porcelain mug as she tried to siphon the warmth of its touch into her bones. Wren glanced back at the blonde, an indecipherable gleam in her bright eyes.

"No. We can share my chalk. Need to show you how to draw a star." Taylor scoffed at the slyly uttered insult, the corners of her eyes creasing as flush lips broke out into a lopsided grin. Wren wanted to know every minuscule detail about the woman's career. Her new tactic for delaying bedtime was asking a million different questions about costume designers and producers or really anything she could think of that would stall being put to bed. It was inevitable that Taylor had shown her the more lighthearted tweets and posts she'd made in correlation to her albums, but she'd gravely underestimated how offended Wren would be at her display of messily drawn stars from a Tumblr post back in 2019. She'd figured Wren would laugh about their wonky execution, but the child had been so appalled by their appearance that she'd only whined and sleepily told Taylor they did not look like stars. She brought them up at least once a day.

"My stars are fine." Taylor rolled her eyes, poking the child's stomach in mock annoyance. Or, she'd attempted to poke at the child's stomach, but all she'd really done is brush the pad of her finger against layers of soft fabric.

"No. Your stars look like... like not stars!" Wren wasn't budging on her opinion, little green eyes narrowed critically as she stared back at Taylor with what could only be named as exasperation. They'd been through this same conversation at least four times in the last week, and every time Taylor defended her artistry while Wren tried to dispute even calling it such.

"Open your presents, bossy pants." Taylor shook her head laughing, unable to keep herself from betraying the steel front she'd been trying to uphold. It was beyond petulant to fight with a six-year-old about stars, especially when they were rather terrible in execution, but Taylor found herself doing it anyways.

"You're bossy pants." Wren huffed as she sank into the wooden planks, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. They'd been tiptoeing the invisibly set boundaries for weeks now, seeing what was too much and what was just right. Wren still couldn't quite grasp the concept of sarcasm, but she'd been taking to Taylor's petulant remarks without difficulty. It never failed to make the musician bellow with genuine laughter whenever an attitude was thrown her way. Most parents hate back talk, but Taylor's not most parents, and Wren isn't most kids, and to them, this was progress. This was getting just a step closer to normalcy.

"Damn right I am." Taylor quipped, blonde eyebrows wiggling. Wren laughed at the sight, trying to mimic the expression only to realize she didn't know how to raise more than one eyebrow at a time, which prompted a very dramatic pout and a deep laugh. "Do you want to see what else the Bunny brought?" Taylor brought their focus back to the Easter basket on the wooden planks, her blue gaze soft and unassuming. She was intentionally leaving the choice up to Wren. It wouldn't be surprising if the little girl was feeling somewhat overwhelmed, and — like Taylor had been having to remind herself — they had no time constraint to appease. If opening the rest of the basket and collecting all of the eggs needed to be shelved until later on in the day when Wren had had the time to process and reflect on the mornings activities, there was nothing permitting that decision from playing out. It was Wren's best interest first, not appeasing societal expectations of doing everything at once as quickly as possible.

Little feet shuffled on the porch, drawing closer to the blonde as sunset spread warmth across blades of grass just beyond their reach. The familiar weight of a child sinking into Taylor's lap pulled another genuine smile onto her lips, and without needing to ask, she pulled the basket close enough for them both to reach. The same excitement was shown as before, but the movements came slower as Wren settled deeper into Taylor and allowed her to take the lead. She gasped when the last item was pulled out of the basket, a smile curling the edges of her lips upward as she reached forward to take possession of the smallest beige stuffed animal she'd ever seen. It fit within the palm of her tiny hand, two plastic eyes somewhat lopsided on it's pinky-nail sized face.

"It's a tiny bunny." Wren mused, a silicone straw between her teeth as she slurped up what little juice remind in her second cup.

"It is." Taylor fawned over the miniature stuffed animal, brushing two fingers down its soft coat. "What are you gonna name him?"

"Um," Wren paused to think, little lips pursing as she fell into deep contemplation, never releasing the straw from between her teeth. Taylor could already imagine how many replacements they'd go through within the next couple of months — her weekly Amazon checklist was somehow growing every day. "Grey." Eventually came the hummed response, little green eyes focused on every microscopic detail they could spot, eventually settling on the street of grey fuzz right between the stuffed animals plastic eyes. Taylor couldn't have thought of a more fitting name.

"Welcome to the family, Grey." The blonde mused playfully, stroking the bunny with two careful fingers, uncaring that it couldn't actually feel the sensation and she didn't have to be so gentle. It just felt right to be cautious toward the tiny creation.

"Andie, look at Grey." Wren held the little stuffed animal up to the light, smiling her gap-tooth smile that never failed to brighten the older woman's day. Andrea cooed respectively, playing into the imaginative world that Taylor had enforced instinctively.

"He's very cute, sweetheart." Andrea praised, smiling fondly as she sank into one of the chairs at the outdoor table. The metal was cold beneath the backs of her thighs, but the tan cushion against her back soon accommodated for the chill as it reflected the warmth the rest of her body was radiating.

"Can we open the chalk?" Wren peered back at Taylor with hopeful green eyes, smiling successfully when Taylor nodded and reached for the package that resided only an arms length away. Wren was dishing out colors the second it was open and laid out in front of her, assigning all of them three individual shades and declaring they could share the rest.

𓇢𓆸

Two hours had come to pass since sidewalk chalk had been torn into and distributed evenly. By some miracle, Taylor had corralled both herself and Wren into the en-suite bathroom shower to get ready for the day whilst Andrea busied herself in the kitchen with breakfast. The premade cinnamon rolls in the refrigerator would live to see another week of uneventful stillness, having been pushed aside in disgust by the slowly aging woman with silver roots. In all of the years that Andrea had been making cinnamon rolls on Easter — Christmas was an entirely different story — she'd only ever used the Pillsbury dough once, and Austin's disappointed reaction had dissuaded her from ever taking the shortened route again. It was an easy enough distraction on Christmas when there were mountains of presents and snowflakes to focus on, but it had become an unspoken rule in the Swift household that Easter was an all-out event. That being said, Taylor hadn't put up a fight when Andrea had insisted on making homemade cinnamon rolls whilst she and Wren got themselves situated in colorful dresses and silk bows.

That had only taken an hour, and so after bounding down the stairs in their respective Easter outfits and bows, because Wren had insisted they coordinate hairstyles, they'd headed back outside to finish decorating the porch in drawings. The bubble machine the Easter Bunny brought had been filled with the appropriate AA batteries, and so the backyard was filled with pastel dust clouds and iridescent bubbles when Andrea stepped through the sliding glass door with a hot-to-the-touch tray of cinnamon rolls.

Wren was sprawled across the wooden planks on her belly, the tip of her little tongue poking out from between her lips as she filled in the smallest section of a heart with pink. Her upper lip was smudged with chocolate, further evidence of her indulgence caked beneath her fingernails that had recently adorned blue paint. Andrea was hardly surprised by the sight, but still she hadn't been able to fight the chuckle of amusement when her eyes fell upon Taylor. The blonde was in a similar position as the brunette, only her knees were folded beneath her body and she hunched over with a level of flexibility that Andrea hadn't obtained in years. The only indication of her equal guilt was the faintest smear of chocolate on the corner of her lips, which she seemed to be entirely unaware of.

"Had a little bit of chocolate, did we?" She hadn't been able to resist the lighthearted taunt, her eyes flickering between Taylor and Wren who laughing mischievously beneath their respective breaths. Upon closer inspection, there were three orange wrappers spread between their bodies, which would explain how chocolate had become pressed up into soft nail beds. Wren had split the third piece of chocolate down the middle, and as endearing as the sentiment was, Andrea was glad she'd missed out on nail-marked peanut butter coated in sun-warmed chocolate.

"No." Taylor denied the accusation, shooting a wink in Wren's direction when the little girls green eyes shot to her in confusion. Andrea scoffed back a laugh, only seeing a seven-year-old Taylor in front of her, being blissfully reminded of the days when she'd try her hardest to get Austin to lie with her. It had taken years of practice and annoyed reprimanding before he'd stopped throwing her under the bus immediately.

"It was yummy." Wren answered anyways, not understanding the implication of Taylor's wink. She wiggled to her feet, racing toward the table with eager green eyes and a growling belly.

"We have to wait for them to cool down a little bit." Andrea explained fondly, brushing her hand against the little girls back as she fixed the hem of the dress absentmindedly. Wren looked adorable with her hair curled at the ends and a lavender bow keeping only a few pieces secured out of her face. Her eyelids were dusted in the faintest traces of silver glitter, and it looked as though her lips had once been thickly coated by some type of shimmery lipgloss. "Why don't you finish up with your chalk and when you're done, breakfast will be all ready."

"Okay!" She agreed easily, not having to be told twice about the state of her sketch. It wasn't anything impressive, it was honestly rather mundane when considering what she was capable of, but it added just enough to the porch that Andrea thought it was perfect. It was meant to rain later on in the week, but for however long it lasted she'd soak up the image of it in perfect condition.

As promised, by the time Wren was satisfied with the heart, breakfast was ready and Taylor had already plated her both a cinnamon roll with extra icing and a handful of baby carrots. She clambered up onto the patio seating with vigor, practically buzzing as she eyed the globs of vanilla icing pouring down the sides of the fresh pastry, but she'd managed to restrain herself as Taylor and Andrea each grabbed one of her hands and whispered a prayer she wasn't at all familiar with beneath their breath. Taylor had explained the night before that sometimes she and Andrea prayed over their food, or sometimes, they just prayed in general. It hadn't been an introspective discussion on religion. Despite being firmly rooted in her religious beliefs, Taylor didn't find herself actively practicing much anymore, and she wanted it to be Wren's decision if she ever chose to practice at all. She wasn't privy to whether Sarah and Colin practiced religion, or if they prayed on religious holidays, or if they'd even had Wren baptized. It felt wrong to impose her own beliefs on the child so far into her life, even if she was Taylor's own to guide however she pleased.

"You can eat now, baby." Taylor laughed softly, meeting Wren's eager stare when she'd reopened her eyes. A breeze trailed through the backyard every so often, but for being so early in April, it was beautiful weather to enjoy without thick jackets and multiple layers.

Wren had eaten her way through two cinnamon rolls and an interesting amount of carrot sticks when she finally pushed her plate away and huffed in satisfaction, little green eyes peering curiously out into the backyard. She didn't want to pick up the rest of the eggs just yet, that felt like too much to handle, but the green slide was practically calling her name as sunlight glimmered off of the textured surface.

"You want to go play for a little bit while Andie and I clean up?" Taylor brushed her fingers over Wren's head, reaching across the table to fuss over her daughter who looked both half-asleep and ready to take on the world. Wren nodded her head, green eyes flickering to blue as she searched for permission. "Go ahead. I'll come out help you get the rest of the eggs later, yeah? The Easter Bunny went a little bit crazy."

"Bye-bye." Wren was flying out of her chair in seconds, racing toward the play-set without a care in the world, the tails dangling from her bow dancing in the breeze as it swept beneath the thin silk material. Taylor smiled fondly, reaching over to steal the last carrot on Wren's plate once the child was far enough way to not realize.

"Today going how you thought it would?" Andrea knew that last night had been a lot of her daughter to process, but she'd given her the space to breathe and collect her thoughts before checking in. If Taylor was still bothered by the realization that she was truly in this chapter of life alone, it didn't weigh on her features, but deception was one of her favorite coping mechanisms no matter the audience she played to.

"Better." She mused, her voice soft as she stacked Wren's plate on top of hers, reaching out to grab Andrea's as she rose from the chair, wanting to take the conversation inside before little ears could pick up on misconstrued pieces. "We got through Christmas fine, but it was a lot for her. And, I didn't do anything big for Valentine's day, this is the only other major holiday we've celebrated together, so I was expecting some kind of meltdown. She seems to be okay, though. I'm definitely not using all of those eggs again next year, that's for sure." Andrea chuckled at the mention of the still scattered eggs, just barely refraining from sending her daughter an I-told-you-so look as she situated herself at the sink, washing the dishes as Taylor passed them to her. "Last night. I've accepted that Joe and I are over, but it just crept up on me that it really is only her and I in this. I know we have you, and Dad, and a hundred other people, but I think you understand when I mean when I say that's not the same as having a partner to share these moments with. I'd been so focused on keeping things normal for her, on getting us back to some kind of routine, that I didn't realize how much I was losing by walking away. I'm okay with it though. I'm okay with it being just me and her, whether that's only for the next couple of years or for the rest of my life. I'd pick her over anyone, especially him."

"It doesn't hit you until it does." Andrea hummed insightfully, scrubbing at the pan she'd baked the cinnamon rolls in once Taylor had transferred what remained of the pastries into a Tupperware container, leaving it out on the counter knowing they'd break into it at some point later on. "Your father and I contemplated divorce for a couple years before we went through with it. It didn't hit me that we'd be sharing different moments with you until Austin asked to stay at his place on championship weekend. That was months after the fact, but we'd still been doing most things together that it just never dawned on me that ending our relationship also put an end to some of our experiences as parents. You're doing a good job, honey. That little girl doesn't know what she's missing, and she never will."

"She deserves two parents, though." Taylor sighed, stalking toward the other side of the sink where she meticulously hand dried the cutlery, needing something to busy herself with as she brewed in her conflicting turmoil.

"She deserves love. You and I both know that having two parents isn't always as great as it seems. As long as you love her, which you do, then you're giving her exactly what she deserves. If anybody else were in your shoes, you'd be the first to tell them how well they're doing. Give yourself that same grace, honey." Andrea nudged Taylor's hip with her own, a smile conveyed of pure maternal warmth stretching across her lips. Taylor always came up with a loss for words whenever that gleam of unconditional admiration was cast upon her.

"It's—" She frowned when her phone rang from across the kitchen, effectively cutting off whatever bullshit excuse she was about to give Andrea. She dried her hands quickly, her frown deepening when she recognized Emily's contact flashing across the screen. "Hello?"

She'd been hearing from the woman more and more lately, and while she wouldn't go so far as to call them friends, they did share an interest in prioritizing Wren above anything else. Emily had a handful of other kids beneath her care, and Taylor didn't question for a second that they all saw the same treatment. "Taylor, I'm sorry to be calling you today. But, I have some news on the status of your adoption request. If now isn't a good time, I completely understand and I can give you a call back sometime tomorrow, but I just couldn't keep the news to myself."

Taylor was absolutely certain that her heart stopped beating the second 'status' and 'adoption request' registered in her thoughts. It had taken a handful of seconds to connect, the rest of Emily's apologetic explanation falling upon deaf ears as her blue eyes went wide and she flailed the hand that wasn't holding her phone to her ear around in dramatic circles, wordlessly capturing Andrea's attention. The woman turned around at the sink, thinking eyebrows furrowed in question. "N-No! Now's a good time. We just finished breakfast, Wren's outside playing. Now's a good time." The words felt like a jumbled mess on the tip of Taylor's tongue, heavy and hot as they all fell out at once.

"I know I gave you a nine month wait estimate the last time we spoke, but the family law judge in Nashville that I submitted the appeal to just signed off on the request. I'll save you the entire spiel for now, but because Colin James had already terminated his parental rights prior to your emergency placement, the state classified you as Foster-to-Adopt. Basically, that means it's a lot less paperwork that needs to be issued back and forth, and your request was approved yesterday. If everything goes according to the timeline I've been given, I need you on a Zoom with the judge on May Fifth to finalize the adoption." Taylor was hearing Emily, but she didn't think she was hearing her at all. In an instant every thought that had been racing through her head all morning had quieted. There was no buzz of anxious insecurity, no self-deprecating commentary that played on a loop, no cynical whisper that reminded her how easy it would be for all of this to fall between her fingertips. All at once everything had gone quiet, and for the first time since she'd known she was in love with the little girl swinging from the monkey bars just beyond the window, Taylor felt like she could actually breathe.

"I-I can do that. Yes. Yes. I'll be on a Zoom call May Fifth. She needs to be there too? Of course she needs to be there too, I know that. We talked about that already. Y-Yes! Yes. Okay. May Fifth. I got it. I get it." Taylor wanted to hit herself for choosing this moment to eat her foot. She had a million things to say and absolutely nothing at the tip of her tongue all at once, and the broken sentences she hardly managed to stutter out gave more insight than she would've liked. "Is it too soon to tell her? Is there still a chance my request can be denied?"

"No. No, it can't be denied. She's yours, Taylor. The second the judge signed the request she was yours. You can tell her however you like, whenever you feel it's appropriate, but I would suggest explaining everything first. Explain adoption and how it works, give her time to understand it, and then tell her. There are a couple of children's books I'd recommend reading to her, so it's not something scary. The process looks different now, obviously. Usually, I'd be coming around for another inspection, making sure everything was up to date and reasonably stocked, but that's not possible, nor permitted right now. I don't have all of the information for how the next couple of weeks will look yet, but I'll be sure to update you as soon as I do." Emily's voice was impossibly soft as she filled Taylor in on everything that she knew, and the blonde couldn't help but recognize that this may be one of the last times that they speak. Emily's entire job was to find a permanent home for Wren, there was little should would need to do after everything was finalized and made legal. It was a bittersweet realization to grasp for Taylor as she stood beneath beams of bright sunlight.

"Thank you." Taylor hated how her voice cracked on the last syllable, she hated how she devoted her life to words and unfathomable definitions and yet she could think of nothing else to say, but she spared no time to penalize herself for the display of vulnerable emotions as her chin quivered with a wave of emotions she couldn't unscramble. It was peace, comfort, fear, panic, all rolled up into one overwhelming wave of excitement, and as it crashed upon her heart and mind only seconds delayed, she felt like a little kid experiencing true magic again. She felt like everything she'd ever thought she loved about Wren had just doubled. She felt like magic was real again; not just a diluted extension of what had once been felt so immersively during immersive childhood. "Seriously, Emily, thank you."

"I've been saying it since my first visit, Taylor. I've never been so sure of a placement working out. You did all the heavy lifting. There's no reason to thank me. Enjoy your Easter, I'll keep in touch." The line disconnected after that. Emily had come to learn that if she didn't hang up, Taylor would ask her a million questions that she already knew the answers to. It was endearing, yes, but she needed to learn how to trust her instincts. Emily had no doubt that she would only flourish beneath the challenge.

"Why was Emily calling?" Andrea had an idea, but it felt cruel to ask if her thought hadn't been the reason, so she peered at Taylor with soft blue eyes that entirely dismantled the front she'd been upholding. In an instant she broke down, sobs racking her body, but unlike the utter devastation that she had faced in recent weeks and allowed Andrea to be witness to, there was no trace of distraught in her silent cries.

"My a-adoption request was approved. The court date is May Fifth if e-everything goes according to plan." Taylor explained over hiccups, pulling her calloused palms down her face as she attempted to wipe away all evidence of tears. She'd need to splash a decent amount of cold water across her flush skin before she faced the child running around outside, but for the current moment, she just let herself exist beneath Andreas's watchful stare that was melting into something softer by the second.

"Oh, honey." Andrea was across the kitchen in seconds, pulling Taylor into her embrace like she was only a small child, not a woman who had just been told she was finally, finally, going to be able to call Wren her daughter and mean it in every sense. "I'm happy for you, Tay. You were meant to be that little girls Mom."

Taylor dug her face into her mother's shoulder, breathing heavily as she replayed the conversation with Emily. May Fifth would mark five entire months since she'd met Wren, but somehow it felt like a lifetime ago and only yesterday that they'd been introduced to each other. She'd been twenty-nine. Wren had been five. She was thirty now. Wren was six. She'd spent months tracking their ages, their growth, their changes, all because she'd been terrified of forgetting the small insignificant details of this reality ever fell away from her grasp. It wouldn't. It couldn't anymore. They wouldn't stay thirty and six forever, but Taylor had the fleeting thought that these ages will forever be amongst her favorites — if only because at thirty years old she had the privilege of finally calling herself someone's mother.

Chapter Text

isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me

April 15th, 2020

Although not always did they align, when they did, the seasons had an introspective way about reflecting life. Or maybe, life and everything else that existed, was all connected in some undiscovered way. Maybe everything that had ever been created was rooted in the same fundamental foundation, and everything — seasons and feelings alike — was more connected than humans wanted to believe. Maybe, the invisible string theory flourished beneath the surface of everything that ever was, only discoverable if reflection was earnest and true.

Taylor had spent a long couple of years feeling as unstable as East Coast seasons. Her uncertainty came in waves, but when trees were barren and blades of grass were brittle beneath heavy cold that wouldn't budge for even an hour to allow genuine warmth to exist, she felt like just another natural being going through inevitable change. She found herself in that same position now. With her legs covered by thin bedsheets; with a picture book held open between slim fingers, she felt like the embodiment of Spring settling into New York state just beyond the window her blue eyes trailed across absentmindedly.

Days ago now, because for as slowly as time passed while being cooped up, it was equally as fleeting, Emily had emailed Taylor an extensive list of expectations to keep in mind and books to read that mentioned adoption in some variation. Minutes blurred into hours and then before she knew it, or was ready to accept it, weeks had passed since March and May was nearly upon her. This time with Wren was precious. For the first time, Taylor could confidently say that the both of them were settling in okay and that things were going well. There was no additional condition to note. There had been no nightmares, no subconscious responses to unknown triggers, no need for coddling or patient understanding as big feelings were unpacked and discussed at length. They'd finally found a balance; a sacred routine. Wren slept in her own bed now. She showered in her own bathroom (with Taylor's supervision). She said please when it was needed and she'd been getting closer to the garage door every day.

Just last night, she'd stood outside of the garage for ten minutes. There had been no traces of fear in her neutral expression; no display of anxious uncertainty. Taylor hadn't meddled. She hadn't offered reassurance that whatever existed behind the white painted oak door was safe. She'd come to learn that some things had to be conquered alone. This was just another one of those things that didn't require company. Just as Wren was learning to trust herself and her instincts, Taylor was learning how to be okay with taking a step back and allowing independence to blossom. But, that wasn't what she focused on now. With a children's book between her fingers and another one laid down on the nightstand, she'd finally found the courage to tear into the Amazon packages she'd relieved a handful of mornings ago.

"Mama?" Wren peered up at Taylor with sleepy green eyes, the freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose and the rounded apples of her cheeks substantially darker than they'd been in the dead of winter when they'd first met. She was curled up beneath thin sheets, her head resting on Taylor's ribcage as she siphoned any ounce of warmth she could from the body she draped herself across comfortably. Taylor didn't mind tiny cold fingers brushing against her belly as they slid beneath the thick fabric of her crewneck, she didn't mind how every time Wren shifted deeper into the mattress, frozen feet brushed against her shins. She felt oddly grounded by the physical reminder of Wren's presence.

And That's Why She's My Mama was one of the books higher up on Emily's email of suggestions. Taylor hadn't bought them all, Emily had very explicitly mentioned that she did not need twenty-seven books about adoption even if she was a millionaire, but she had chosen the upper five on the list. This had been the first that she'd grabbed from the stack of them in her closet. It looked cute enough beneath dim lighting, with average illustrations and short sentences between the pages. It wasn't anything different than all the other picture books they'd accumulated over the months, but it felt different between her fingers. It felt like she was holding a tangible element of her near future, like somehow, this book could change everything.

"Yeah, buddy. It's a new one." Taylor's breath had caught in her chest at the utterance of four simple letters falling into the silent air between them. It wasn't her time to be called Mama yet, she forced herself to remember that, but it would come someday — hopefully soon. For now, the only thing implied by Wren's sleepily muttered question of parental titles was confusion, and Taylor could pretend to be okay with that for as long as it took.

"Can we still read Goodnight Moon?" Wren frowned, glancing across the dimly illuminated bedroom to search for the well-loved book. It was on a floating shelf secured to the wall by bronze studs, right where Taylor always left it before she either crept out of the room or returned to her own where Wren was already asleep. They'd started reading it before bedtime a couple of weeks ago. It felt wrong to suddenly just stop.

Taylor couldn't rush this. She couldn't just throw away their nightly routine because change was approaching and she wanted Wren to be prepared. She couldn't let her own impatience fracture what had been so beautifully created. So, she smiled softly down at Wren, combing her fingers through chestnut hair. "Of course. I have another new book here too. Should we save it for tomorrow?"

"Three books tonight." Wren shook her head, fighting off a yawn as she curled further into Taylor's side, little hands claiming tight fistfuls of black fabric. Any other night, Taylor would've laughed and shaken her head. She would've reminded Wren that she got at most two bedtime story picks. Tonight wasn't most nights

"Three books it is, bug." Compromise was healthy, even if Wren didn't know the weight of that decision yet. It had been hell keeping the approaching adoption from her, but this wasn't something Taylor could do without preparation. Her entire life was subject to legal changes in the next few weeks, but Wren's entire life was too. They were in this together. They'd make these sacrifices and compromises together too. This had to go smoothly.

"Read now." A little voice once filled with patience and innocence huffed irritably. Bedtime had already been pushed back, a long-running game of scrabble higher priority, but the consequences of that decision were unavoidable and apparent now as Taylor managed a grumpy six-year-old wearing only her shirt as pajamas.

"I have a special someone who helps me through the day. She is my mama and that's how it shall stay. In the morning I need help with my teeth and my hair. She makes sure I don't miss any spots and brush everywhere. After mama helps me get ready for the day, she waves to me and blows a kiss, so I can learn and play." Her voice is soft as it fills the bedroom, steady as she reads over that one word time and time again. Wren remains quiet, dutifully following the words as Taylor comes upon them. If there's anything going on in her head, it's not apparent across her exhausted features, but Taylor certain that she felt her snuggle closer as she turned the fifth page. "There are times when I fall down, and it can really hurt, but Mama's there to kiss my boo-boos and wipe away the dirt-"

Wren wiggles against Taylor, her finger laid against the multi-colored picture as she looks up with bright green eyes, apparently fascinated by the similarities between the illustration and the last few weeks that she'd been able to spot. "You do that."

"I do." Taylor's voice feels uncomfortably thick as she smiles down at her little girl. She tries to swallow the discomfort that pools in her belly, but her mouth is dry as she smacks her lips together unsuccessfully. Wren's getting it. Taylor knows that she's getting it, and the hope that begins to rise as she continues reading is almost strong enough to entirely dismantle her worries — her misplaced worries. She doesn't dwell on the connection, doesn't insinuate the deeper meaning, doesn't allude to anything more. It's not her decision to make on whether she becomes Mama, and even though the thought is bitter at the forefront of her mind, she knows that even if Wren never calls her anything besides her name, she is someone's mother. She doesn't need a title to know that she's someone's mom, but god does she want it. "Before going to bed, mama and I sing and read. She tells me I'm her biggest dream and I agreed. Then she softly sings.... 'Baby, Baby, I love you. I'll be here through and through. Mountains, deserts, rivers blue. There's no place I wouldn't cross for you.'."

"Like my song better." That wasn't exactly what Taylor expected to hear as she turned the page, but a fond smile slips onto her lips regardless of the initial surprise. She looks down at the child whose little green eyes are barely even open anymore, a warmth pulling at her heart that nothing will ever replicate sufficiently.

"I like your song better too, bug." She laughs beneath her breath, the sound light and painfully genuine as it falls into the still silent bedroom. The cats had been locked out, distracted by Andrea who had mentioned breaking into a new bag of treats. Their company wasn't always disruptive during bedtime, save for the nights when Benji wanted to play and didn't take a hint that it was time to calm down, but she'd not wanted to take any unnecessary changes. She needed this to be special, just her and Wren. The uncharacteristic silence was still unsettling though.

With further shuffling, Taylor smiled softly when a little head came to rest over her diaphragm, listening intently to the steady beat of her heart. She brushed her fingers over Wren's hairline, allowing herself a minute to simply take in this moment and allow everything else to fall away. She hates putting Wren to bed. She hates being awake for hours and not having the liberty to talk to her daughter and get to know everything little thing about her, but bedtime is her favorite, just like early mornings are her favorite. There's no way to encapsulate how it feels to be the first person sought for when little eyes open, nor is there a way to adequately describe the rush of adoration to creeps up like a stray wave when tiny fingers grip tightly onto fabric before they loosen.

"All around the world, there are mamas everywhere. They take care of their little ones with tender love and care. So even though we may look different, she loves me every day, and that's why she's my mama in every single way." Taylor closed the book softly, her fingers trailing across the laminated front cover, hovering overtop of the four letters she wants nothing more than to hear being directed at her. Wren shuffles farther into her side, a yawn pulling from deep within her chest that forces her eyes to water and her nose to scrunch. Her hands never loosen their grip on Taylor's crewneck. "What did you think about that one? Should we add it to the library?"

"We look different." Wren hummed, the words muffled by thick fabric that was pressed against her face. "Have pretty eyes."

Taylor smiled fondly at the compliment. Her entire life had been filled with compliments about her eyes, and for a while she'd agreed that they were something special with their untainted vibrancy, but they'd never compare to Wren's. There was an entire forest hidden beneath eyes that shone brighter than emerald gemstones. "You have the prettiest eyes, baby love."

"They're green." Wren disagreed with the statement, and as if to amplify the emphasize of her refusal to agree, little fists rubbed at thick eyelashes, desperately trying to fight unavoidable rest.

"You know how I used to live on a Christmas Tree Farm?" Taylor hummed, shuffling to set the picture book aside, focusing her attention solely on Wren who definitely wasn't making it through a second book, let alone a promised third. Taylor didn't mind, they had more than enough time until May to talk about things at their own pace. "The trees start growing before Christmastime. They start out as tiny little twigs, but then they grow and grow and grow until they're big and tall and perfect for ornaments. You know what color they are, baby? Green like your little eyes. But, yours are better, huh? When you're outside and it's sunny, there's this tiny little ring of gold around your iris, and when you're happy, they're so bright they're even greener than Christmas Trees. When you're sad, they get super super light. Your eyes are beautiful. Your brown hair is beautiful. Your cheeky little smile is beautiful. Your freckles are beautiful. Your heart, that's my favorite thing about you, and that's beautiful too. Everything about you is beautiful, my girl. My beautiful, beautiful girl."

"You got blue eyes like Bluey." Wren yawned again, surrendering the fight as she sunk deeper into Taylor, no longer trying to keep her head propped up toward the blonde or track her words with attentive little eyes. Her hand reached out absentmindedly, little fingers brushing across blue fabric from where her beloved stuffed animal was situation beside her. "Why didn't the Mama's look like their babies?"

Maybe they wouldn't have to push the conversation as far off as Taylor thought. Maybe, she'd just been given the perfect opportunity to lay the foundation of what was to come out for Wren to scrutinize and break apart organically. "Well, you know how your Mommy went to heaven and so you went to live with Timothy and Adrianna before you came to me?"

"Oh. Was about 'doption?" A yawn disrupted the little girls question, but Taylor smiled fondly at her inquisitive nature. She didn't know why she'd been so nervous about approaching the topic. Wren had spent the last four years getting told that someday, she would be adopted, and she wouldn't have to bounce between foster homes anymore. Everything had already been laid out for her to understand, but there was something different about it happening to her instead of occurring around her. She'd only seen the inside of two foster homes, some would call that a fortunate turnout, but Taylor wasn't blind to what that entailed. Ivanna had other children in her care, just like Emily did. While Wren probably couldn't remember being told about those other kids and their placements or adoptions, Taylor knows that in some capacity, she'd been exposed to the finality of foster care. It was her turn to experience it now. It was her turn to be able to say that she is somebody's daughter; not just a foster kid.

"Yeah, bug, it was about adoption. But, it was also just about mama's and their babies. Not everyone's Mama grew them in their tummies, but that doesn't mean they're not mamas." Taylor brushed her fingers across the little girls cheekbones, absentmindedly connecting the splotches of tan that dusted her skin. "You know what I think? I think kids who get adopted are lucky. They get to have two families, even if they don't see their first family anymore. They're still loved by twice as many people." That was a loaded reflection, but it was true enough in the right context. She would never insinuate that Wren — or any other child — was lucky to have ended up in foster care. She knew that in most cases, children ended up in the system due to abuse or neglect in some capacity, but Wren wasn't most cases. She had a mother that loved her; a mother that would still love her if she hadn't lost her life so prematurely. She also had a father that loved her until he couldn't. Taylor would never understand why he'd chosen to throw in the towel instead of fight for her, but in the home videos she'd seen, in the pictures she'd held, in the stories she'd heard before memories blurred together and faded, Colin James had been a worthy father. Undoubtedly, Wren would grow up to question how loved she possibly could've been by Colin, and Taylor would allow her to feel however she needed to feel when that point in time came around, but for now, when feelings were still innocent and comprehension was still limited, she saw an opportunity to enforce something good. Wren had handled enough bad and worse, she deserved to see a slimmer of positivity in the choices that had been thrust upon her.

"Taylor?" Wren mumbled, twisting in the bed until she was practically on top of the blonde. There was no chance of Taylor escaping to her own bed tonight, but that was perfectly okay with her as she pulled Wren closer to her warmth. "Are mama's still mama's when their babies go to heaven?"

Taylor's breath caught in her throat, her eyes glossing over as her thoughts flickered to everything that could've been. She'd long since stopped saying what should have been. Betty was a part of her, even if she'd never been fortunate enough to hold her little hand or kiss her tiny face. She'd been here, on this earth, with Taylor even if it had only been for a short couple of weeks. Nobody could say that she hadn't been here. Nobody could say that for thirteen weeks, Taylor hadn't been a mother to her own biological child. "Yeah, bug. Even if babies go to heaven, their Mama's are still mamas. I'm still Betty's mama."

"What if— What if babies stay here, but Mama's go to heaven. What happens then?" Taylor glanced down at Wren with glimmering blue eyes, her heart heavy as she saw her daughter for what she was — a collage of broken pieces so beautifully put back together, but something was still missing.

"You're still someone's baby, just like I'm still someone's mama. Heaven doesn't mean that an entire part of our identity just goes away in the blink of an eye. All that it means is that when it's our turn to go to heaven, we have familiar faces waiting for us. Your Mom is up there, baby girl. She's waiting to give you the biggest hug, but she wants you to take your time. She has forever to wait for you." Taylor didn't want to think about Wren joining Sarah. She didn't want to think about losing another baby before she got the chance to love them for her own forever.

"Can have... more than one mama?" Another yawn, this time a deeper, longer, breathier one that pulled from all the way down in the child's belly interrupted her question. Taylor didn't know how many questions Wren had left in her. She was sure her daughter could ask a million more, but she was already running on borrowed time as she fought to keep her little green eyes open and her words coherent.

"You can have more than one mama. Sometimes people have two mamas that are married to each other, and sometimes people have a mama and a step-mama, or, sometimes little kids like you lost their mama, and they found another one. You can have more than one mama, baby girl. Nobody's going to get mad or upset if you do." Taylor's blunt nails crept beneath the soft fabric of the child's stolen sleep shirt, dragging them down pale skin lightly as she spoke. Wren hummed something incomprehensible, her little lips too tired to move in the ways that they needed. Taylor mumbled softly in response, pretending like she'd understood the sleepily made comment. "Close those pretty eyes, angel girl."

Despite her best efforts, Wren fell asleep against Taylor's chest, holding fistfuls of black fabric possessively. Her breath fanned across the porcelain skin of the woman's neck, hot as it brushed against her and further shackled her to the mattress. She slipped down the headboard contently, sealing her fate for the night as she reached for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed, draping it against herself. With one last glance at the nightstand, she turned the small lamp off, drowning the room in blackness.

Taylor couldn't say she fell asleep anytime soon after darkness had plunged the room into stillness. She'd laid awake without purpose for hours, marinating in her anxieties and desperations with equal unease. Only after midnight did she succumb to the same dreamless unconsciousness as her daughter, their exhaustion irradiating the foundation where imagery blossomed into fantasy and illusion. Very rarely did Taylor fall into sleep with enough energy remaining to dream. She kept moving until she couldn't anymore, laid awake until her eyes closed instinctively. She's sure that one day she'll find a balance to maintain her ever suffering sleep-schedule, but for now, she's perfectly content with silent dreamless nights.

When the sun rose over Whitesboro hours later, casting radiant beams of earned daylight across painted walls and wooden floors, there was a certain warmth to the air that felt dauntingly unsettling. Wren was nowhere in sight as Taylor came to, her warmth long replaced by emptiness. The bedroom door was closed as blue eyes searched to find any indication of life, and the fleeting thought that Andrea had come by and collected Wren so that she could continue sleeping crashed over her like sun-warmed waves somewhere deep in the caribbean islands.

The floorboards were frigid beneath warm feet, every ounce of comfortable warmth slowly falling away from Taylor as she threw the blankets aside and stood beneath the lingering chill that hadn't quite been fully overtaken by the eerie warmth that seeped through windowpanes. Clammy hands pulled through unruly blonde tresses, forcing knots to smoothen and kinks to straighten. The hair-tie on her wrist was soon pulled off, being twisted between slim fingers and voluminous curls as Taylor tugged her hair up and off of her neck, sighing in relief when the air hit the nape of her neck and promptly drowned her body in shivers. There was nothing quite like surrendering to the early morning cold after a night spent so contently tangled up between blankets and beneath bodies. She didn't mind the goosebumps and shudders that followed her through the hallways, embracing them with an introspective lightness she hadn't been able to grasp in the months that had led up to this moment, keeping in mind that she'd miss these chilly mornings when Spring fully set in over New York.

She could hear Andrea and Wren downstairs, their conversation light and accompanied by melodious laughter and shrieks of delight. She had half a mind to join them that second, but the pressure in her bladder kept her from bounding down the stairs in search of their company. Rubbing at her eyes, Taylor pushed the heavy door open with her shoulder, just barely managing to step over Benji who had chosen that exact moment to circle her ankles and purr contently. She barely managed a soft smile down at him before her phone caught her attention. Laying face up on the nightstand, she hadn't put it on the charger last night, and the spec of red in the upper-righthand corner had her groaning. A dead phone felt so trivial now. She had bigger problems than a recording deadline now, larger responsibilities than contract release dates, but the thought of missing an update from Emily had her stalking over to the bedside closest to the windows to plug it in for at least a handful of minutes while she relieved her aching bladder and got herself somewhat cleaned up.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the green notification tab on the screen, Tree's contact the only one splashed across the chaos of business emails and personal announcements; her Amazon order would be delivered by noon, she'd just have to keep Wren occupied so she didn't notice the lack of orange juice until then. The eerily felt warmth came back to Taylor in seconds, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she read over the single text that had come to follow a missed call and voicemail at five in the morning.

Trina
Call me when you get the chance and little
ears aren't around. Munchkin.

Munchkin. Taylor's breath caught in her throat as she read the text over and over again, trying to convince herself that she wasn't actually seeing what she knew she was. After Wren had been placed with Taylor in Nashville and their location had been leaked in late December, she and Tree had established a code word for anything that related to the child in any professional capacity. It was more or less a way to manage the risk of a security breach leaking any sensitive information, but Taylor had hoped they would never find themselves using it. In retrospect, that desperate hope had been humorously foolish.

With shaky hands, Taylor allowed her body to sink into the mattress, unable to bear her own weight as worse case-scenarios played through her mind like a glorified highlights reel gone south. Anxiously she typed in her passcode, hardly realizing that she'd been holding her breath until the dial rang twice before being abruptly cutoff by Tree's even and stern voice. It washed over her like choppy waves in the Atlantic, a stark difference from the easeful waves of what she'd thought was the Caribbean sea. "There's no need to panic." Was the first thing that registered in Taylor's mind, "I'm going to give you a minute to breathe, and then we're going to talk about it, because I know that you're panicking."

"I'm not panicking." Taylor hated how weak she sounded; breathless and strung out on nerves she couldn't control. She hated how easily her heart could be tampered with now. She'd always worn her heart on her sleeve, had always bled glitter and rhinestones at every and any misstep, but her heart was physically outside of her body now and there was no defense for that. So long as Wren existed in this beautifully tragic world beside her, she'd never be fully guarded from the media storm that chased her down every dark alleyway. "Just tell me what's going on. Mom came and got her this morning but I only have about twenty minutes before she starts tearing the house apart trying to find me." As endearing and true as that statement was — Taylor's shocked Andrea even managed to keep her occupied for this long — she didn't need little ears walking in on this conversation. She didn't need Wren to think that — whatever Tree had to say — was in anyway her fault. She assuredly would think just that if she heard broken pieces of a larger conversation.

"A publication site caught wind of your foster status and reached out for commentary. They don't know a lot, but they do know that she's six, from Tennessee, and you're looking to adopt soon. We can send a cease and desist, or we can pay them out. They're small, hardly reliable. A story like this coming from them would be insignificant, but given what you've shared, all that it would take is one person with a platform to have it splashed across every tabloid in the country by next week. They requested we comment by the seventeenth." Taylor's blood ran cold in an instant, the color draining from her face as she took in Tree's words and turned them over in her head time and time again. Something felt off about the suddenly discovered knowledge of her foster license. She didn't want to jump to conclusions, didn't want to let her hurt persuade her judgement, but everyone who mattered to her in some capacity had known about her license for years. She'd anticipated this happening years ago when she'd first made the decision, yet somehow, she found herself facing it now; in the middle of a global pandemic that kept her well hidden. Something about this just wasn't adding up in her head.

"Did they mention anything else about her? Anything that you didn't think was relevant?" She bit nervously at her nails, hardly phased by the taste of blood on her tongue as she chewed at the already raw skin of her cuticles and reopened old wounds that had only just started to close. Her foot tapped an anxious beat on the hardwood, but the cool touch of waxed oak hardly registered in her mind.

"Does sparkling apple cider mean anything to you? I didn't think anything of it when they mentioned you celebrating the placement with sparkling apple cider. The cite is notoriously unreliable, Taylor. That's the only other piece of information I'm seeing that gives any kind of personal insight to your situation. A lot of what they sent over is just the typical bullshit to distract from the fact that they don't actually know anything." Tree's voice came through the line steadily, but there was a distance in her tone that told Taylor she was scouring the email, searching for any indication of missed information.

"I'm going to fucking kill him." The nervousness she'd felt so intensely was suddenly replaced by blinding anger, and despite the growth she'd seen since accepting the end of her reign beside Joe Alwyn, she found herself cursing him out like the wound was still fresh and bleeding, rising from the bed to pace the master bedroom with a hand tangled tightly in her hair. "Martinelli's Sparkling Apple Cider. It was fucking Joe. I— We— Wren and I went out to get wine and sparkling apple cider on New Years. I told her about how Austin and I used to drink it every New Years as kids and we went out to find some for her. I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"You need to take a breath. You have a little girl downstairs that doesn't know anything is wrong. You keep screaming and she's going to figure it out." It had been years since Trina Paine had been only Taylor's publicist. They weren't on a daily conversation basis, there was still room for professionalism to create boundaries, but they cared deeply for one another and that had been proven time and time again. Taylor had gone to bat for Tree just as wholeheartedly as Tree had gone to bat for Taylor. There was an expectation set that as her publicist, Tree bailed her out of scandals and media storms, but so often did she go the extra mile to truly check in with Taylor and sympathize on a personal, emotional level. Taylor didn't have to see Tree to know that the woman was holding her temple between icy fingertips, a glaze of anger tainting her evergreen eyes. She didn't need to see Tree to know that she was clinging to professionalism with a white-knuckle grip. "You're sure that it was Joe?"

"I'm sure, Tree." Taylor pinched the bridge of her nose, breathing through her mouth as she recalled the last night that she'd ever slept in the same house as him. She felt dirty just recalling how his organic laundry detergent had lingered on her skin for what felt like days after leaving for New York. "Wren had a panic attack, I took her upstairs before anyone had even seen us come in through the back. He came upstairs after midnight pissed off that I 'couldn't even pretend to be interested in him in front of all of his friends' and knocked the bottle over when he reached for my hand."

Tree's breathing was heavy on the other end of the line, her silence stretching beyond a handful of seconds until it became minutes. Taylor could only imagine what she was doing, but the clicking of a keyboard was audible if only slightly. "Legally, I have to have solid confirmation from the source that the information came from Joe. If we pay them out and draft an NDA, I can have a cease and desist on Joe's desk by next week. He'll have to adhere to the terms of the NDA within a month of receiving it."

Taylor's mind falls back to the night she'd received Joe's signature on the NDA; she falls back to all that had been burned and dismantled as a means of attaining it at all. His hands on her waist, his breath just barely there against her shoulder blades, his smirk smug beneath blinding lights. That had been the night she'd lost everything he'd given her. Every bittersweet memory that had saved even a semblance of his character had been plunged into near-frozen water, and they suddenly hadn't seemed so bittersweet anymore. The afternoons when he'd fight with her endlessly over the uncontrollable bounds of her career and subsequent global stardom, the nights when she'd follow him aimlessly only to feel like a luxury accessory; somehow she'd seen the good in those moments. She'd seen how he fought for her attention, never letting her status deter him from seeking her isolated focus. She'd seen how he led her through crowded streets, never dropping her hand, never leaving her side. The manipulative control, the paralyzing possession; without context, without the privilege of hindsight, toxicity had looked charming. As she paces the floor, fingers tangled into hair, she hates how there's nothing left within her to even try to redeem his lingering memory. She's tired of Joseph Alwyn. He's lost her for good now.

The clause of the NDA was clear, printed in pristine black ink on almost every page. In the event that the agreement was broken by the contracted party, they'd be subject to substantial financial penalty or legal action depending on the impact and information leaked. If Tree talked the publication site down, if she got an NDA drafted and willingly signed, there would be no lawsuit, but there would be compensation. Taylor hadn't realized it before, she hadn't been far enough removed to see the greater picture, but Joe had been playing a game since early January. He weaseled his way in only so that he knew she was falling apart without him. The texts that had followed their initial split, the way he'd chosen to sneak up behind her and lay his hands on her skin like he still held ownership over her body, the way he'd let her heal, allowed her to move on, only to find another way to sacrifice her wellbeing — she saw the game now, but she wasn't in the mood to play back. He'd get to keep his connection to her; the last thing she wanted was giving him what he wanted — which was her attention and the attention of the media by her accord — but she'd hold firm on her negotiated terms. He wanted to act like he held the cards, then she'd be the one to remind him that he was bound by her. She'd been beneath his thumb for years, it was refreshingly liberating to have the upper hand now; it was invigoratingly empowering to be able to claim justice for her daughter. He'd used Wren as an easily attainable scapegoat far too many times, and she'd put an end to that indefinitely the second Tree had solid legally binding confirmation.

"Let me know how it goes, if there's anything I can do to help, yeah?" She couldn't let the hurt and the anger affect her entire day, that would be allowing him to win, to still wield control over her life. So, with as much restraint as she could muster, Taylor allowed the weight of his betrayal to fall away from her and onto Tree. If there was anyone she trusted to handle this as efficiently as she could herself, it was Trina Paine, and that was comforting.

"What you can do is focus on your life. He's taken enough from you, don't let him take this time with Wren too." Taylor could hear the wistful smile that was pulling at Tree's lips, the little girl her weak spot no matter the conversational topic. Her own heart warmed at the mention of her daughter, this time in her own context and not tainted by Joe's mention. She already missed her little shadow, even if the morning was still young and she'd held her throughout the night.

Before she could respond, little feet padding across hardwood caught her attention, and the smile that was just barely ghosting her lips spread into a wide grin, all traces of panic and anger forgotten as she craned her head to watch the heavy door open fully. Wren stood in the doorway in an outfit Taylor had only seen in pictures since the early nineties when it had been hung up in her closet back in Pennsylvania. The tie dyed shirt with crocheted ruffles and sleeves fit her perfectly, the purple shorts somewhat big as they reached just a couple inches above her knees. She laughed amusedly, shaking her head as she beaconed Wren over with a soft wave of her fingers.

"Hi, baby. You want to say hi to Tree?" Since attaining the hat of motherhood, picking the little girl up with only one arm had become second nature to Taylor, and she did so with ease as she stood beside the windows, her blue eyes trailing out past the expanse of trees to watch the gravel road wind far beyond what was capable of measuring from a distance. She smiled softly at the endless nothingness, trees and grass fields all that surrounded them for miles, but just beyond the gravel path was a little town with sweet little shops and endless possibilities. It was peaceful.

"Hi Trina!" Wren bellowed, pulling the phone away from Taylor's ear so that she could see Tree's contact picture, giggling at the pissed off expression on the redheads face that had been captured in a moment of vulnerable oblivion. Tree did not know the picture existed, and Taylor wanted to keep it that way. Ever since finding out the woman's name wasn't really Tree, she'd refused to call her such, and if Tree minded, it wasn't obvious or mentioned.

The woman laughed on the other end of the line, Taylor switching the call to speaker just as Tree greeted the little girl back with fond attentiveness. "Hello, Ms. Wren. How's my littlest assistant doing?"

"Andie told me to come save Tay. She was saying fuck." Wren shrugged impassively, laying her head down on Taylor's shoulder, tiny fingers twisting into blonde tresses. Taylor cursed all the time, mostly at the cats when they knocked something over in the middle of the night or decided to weave in between her ankles at the last possible second. They'd more or less established the rule that Wren could say the same words Taylor did, but only if she knew how to use it properly and only if Taylor was with her. Unfortunately, she picked up how to use fuck in a sentence within the first week of Taylor letting it slip. Still, the blonde snorted in amusement at hearing such a tiny thing say something so vulgar without second thought. That would definitely bite her in the ass as Wren grew up, but for now it was harmless.

"You saved me. Good job." Taylor smiled affectionately, her nose wrinkling as she pressed a kiss to Wren's temple and guided them both toward the en-suite bathroom. She needed to get ready for the day, and if Wren's grip on her hair and shirt were any indication of her mood, she wouldn't be doing it alone so there was no point in even trying to set the little girl down. "Say bye-bye to Tree, she has to go color me pictures for work."

"Taylor-" Tree's sharp rebuttal was cut off by a loud giggle and a chorus of 'bye-bye's' from Wren, the line disconnecting the second the child had made her peace with the conversation. Taylor laughed amusedly, receiving an eye-roll emoji from the ginger seconds after she closed the bathroom door and settled Wren on the counter.

"Andie said to tell you to stop shouting fuck so loud at eight in the morning." Wren hummed absentmindedly, kicking her feet against the cabinets beneath her as Taylor peed. The blonde scoffed lightly, blue eyes rolling as she stood up and stalked toward the sink, jutting a playful finger out at her daughter who recoiled with loud giggles, watching with focused green eyes as Taylor rubbed sweet smelling soap into her palms and rinsed them off beneath lukewarm water.

"I'll talk to Andie, but you've hit your fuck quota for the day. No more grown up words." Taylor said pointedly, smirking in fondness when Wren nodded acceptingly though also trying to hide a cheeky smile behind tiny palms. She knew what she was doing, even if she technically had permission to say the word as long as she was being nice. Taylor was just thankful she hadn't taken to saying motherfucking asshole — that was a long story. One that involved a bottle of grape juice and a white t-shirt.

"I miss Trina." Wren deflated on the counter, sad green eyes trailing across Taylor's expression as the musician brushed her teeth, toothpaste pooling near the corners of her lips as she hunched over the counter. "We can see her soon? And Nezzy and Uncle Ryan?"

After rinsing her mouth out, Taylor turned toward her little shadow, an apologetic grimace crossing her face. The reality was, nobody knew when they'd be able to get together again. Nobody knew if they'd ever be able to get back to how things were at all. She didn't even know how to process that herself, let alone explain it to Wren who'd already lived in isolation for more than half of her life. "I hope so, baby love."

"When's Chad coming back?" Wren's head tilted toward the side, her eyes full of innocent curiosity, the bigger picture at large unable to truly sink in. Taylor had told her about the pandemic, she'd explained that lots of people were getting sick and it was too dangerous to see friends and family until everyone got better, but there was only so much that a six-year-old could grasp. There was even less that a six-year-old could tolerate, but Wren was hanging on okay for the most part, even if she was expressing her boredom and irritation more and more often. Taylor couldn't say she blamed her.

"As soon as it's safe." Taylor couldn't help but think how ironic it was to say her security team would be back when it was safe. This was the safest she'd been in years, the lack of security only going to show how safe a global pandemic was for international sensations like herself, but still she thought that it felt almost eerie to no longer have someone tailing her every move. "Why don't we paint our nails, yeah? You've got a pretty shirt on, we can make them all different colors to match!"

"Your shirt!" Wren beamed, brightening significantly as she pointed down to the old tie-dye t-shirt on her body, a proud smile on her lips as she wiggles, suddenly remembering the origin of the outfit. "Andie said so!"

"It was my shirt, baby love." Taylor nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. After she'd lost Betty, she'd all but given up on her lifelong hope of ever having a child to dress in her old clothes and share her childhood traditions with, but slowly she was seeing those buried aspirations through, and she was beyond thankful that it was Wren she got to share these sweet moments with. "It's yours now though, and I think it looks very pretty on you."

Wren blushed, her eyes flickering down to her fingers as she glowed beneath Taylor's compliment. The blonde laughed softly, digging under the sink for the nail polish she'd ordered a handful of weeks ago. They had every color imaginable, some with chunky glitter, some with coarse. She didn't even need to ask Wren which ones she wanted, the child always chose the ones that sparkled the most beneath sunlight. "Should we do all the colors?"

"Yes!" Wren exclaimed, already shoving her hands out for Taylor to hold, having cemented this routine to memory after the first time they'd gathered in the bathroom and decorated their nails. She'd learned how to paint her own since then, but she always thought Taylor did a better job. "Can we listen to Rapunzel?"

Taylor's eyes snapped up to meet Wren's, her expression neutral but beneath the mask of composure was a whirlwind of wild emotions that had her heart beating with vigor. "You want to listen to Rapunzel?" She clarified, sucking a sharp breath in when Wren nodded like nothing was out of place with the question.

"Yes. The flower songs." She hummed reaching out for a bottle of nail polish while Taylor grabbed her phone, pulling up the Tangled album and scrolling through the track list until she found Healing Incantation, a song that was on repeat most days even though there were nineteen others to pick from.

They didn't talk as Taylor painted Wren's nails, alternating between colors until there were no tiny fingers left to coat. She smiled fondly when Wren insisted they match, and silently allowed the little girl to make a mess out of her cuticles as she layered on globs of glittery varnish. Eventually, once nails had dried and Taylor had gotten dressed for the day, they made their way downstairs where Andrea was cooking a traditional breakfast spread. Even that was quiet, all three of them content to just sit with each other as cut into sausage and eggs, bacon and biscuits. It wasn't long after breakfast when Wren raced outside, and despite everything Taylor wanted to talk to Andrea about, she had a scheduled call with Aaron and Jack to attend, and so with the knowledge that her soon-to-be daughter was being watched over for the early afternoon, she retreated upstairs and into the room that housed her instruments and recording booth.

𓇢𓆸

Taylor exhaled sharply, pulling the headphones off of her ears as she reached out to fix the microphone in front of her face. She was already nearly done recording Folklore, only a handful of songs remaining untouched to tackle at a later date. There was something telling her to keep writing though, a desperate yearning in her heart that she couldn't ignore entirely. It was unconventional to be recording an album in the middle of a global pandemic, even more obscure to be planning a second one before the release of the first, Taylor knew that, she felt it deeply, but she found herself unable to stop as she escaped from the world she lived in into one of hopeless romanticism and peace. It was healing, and that was what she needed as the world burned just beyond her fingertips. How she could be finally meeting her happy ending while millions of others suffered, she couldn't make sense of it, but she tried not to feel guilty for having everything she'd ever dreamed of wanting within reach.

Jack and Aaron bore satisfied smiles when her blue gaze fell upon them on her laptop screen. Jack was set up at his soundboard, Aaron at a cozy corner of his house with a rustic guitar in his lap. The atmosphere was admittedly very peaceful, but not the one she craved to have in this moment of connection. Each of them missed the collaborative connection that came with creating music, and while this was as close as they could get to togetherness, there was an unmistakable heaviness to their vast separation. Aaron was in Hudson Valley, Jack in Manhattan. They were so close, barely four hours from one another, and yet disease and insufferable hatred and riots separated them indefinitely. It felt too heavy to bear, but there was no way to escape.

A muffled crash came from Aaron's end of the call, his soft eyes flickering somewhere off screen before an exasperated sigh rolled off his lips and he set the guitar down at his side. Not only did he have a new baby, a precious bundle only a few months old, but two other kids that had no structure and an odd sense of displacement to tackle as life changed without their consent. Taylor could only sympathize with the distraction that was happening around him, an understanding smile on her lips.

"Ingrid, no! Leave Mimi there!" His voice pulled her from her trance, his tone panicked and thin as he raced off screen, returning seconds later with a bundle of soft yellow fabric tucked within the crease of his arm. Taylor beamed at the sight of the infant, his heart clenching as she thought about Wren, wondering what imaginary worlds her own daughter was running through out back. "Sorry, Ingrid's in a 'I want to hold the baby' phase."

"You're okay." Taylor laughed, shaking her head as she waved at the baby, innocent eyes wide as they looked around the room but failed to make sense of all that they saw. Mimi was just a blob in Aaron's embrace, too young to even hold his head up himself. She would never know what that stage of motherhood looks like, but for the first time, it doesn't bother her in the slightest. "How are things going? Run out of toys to entertain them yet?"

"We ran out of toys three weeks ago. We're practically living off of random cartoons and sidewalk chalk now." Aaron dragged his palm down his face, exasperation evident but only partially felt. His lips pulled into a grin, his feelings just as indifferent as Taylor's. They were aware of how lucky they were to be both home with their children and monetarily comfortable. They both took in every day with the same uplifting optimistic attitude, but there were moments when the unwavering negativity happening just outside of their reach caught up to them and it was nearly impossible to ignore just how harrowing and isolating this experience was. They wouldn't wish these weeks with their kids away, but neither could say they'd ask to live this experience again. "Robin!" Aaron called, a little boy stumbling into frame, his cheeks flush and hands dirty as he beamed a bright smile that was only partially visible to both Taylor and Jack. "Wash your hands, dude. Mommy's in the kitchen."

Robin was a blur seconds later, racing off to the kitchen where Stine was undoubtably cutting up another snack for the two older kids to dig into before lunch. It was already dawning later in the afternoon then Taylor had thought possible, the time on the clock telling her she'd been off in her own fantasy for a handful of hours, even if it had only felt like minutes. Even if she couldn't be in the same room as Jack and Aaron, she was glad to note that the escapism provided through lyricism and melody hadn't entirely evaporated too.

"How's your rugrat?" Jack questioned, his fingers still lazily fumbling over different buttons on the soundboard, but his attention was almost solely on Taylor. His smile was wide and encouraging, drowning the blonde in endearingly felt warmth as she was given the opportunity to share insight on who Wren was becoming right before her eyes. This feeling would never get old.

"She's good! She's probably throwing herself off the monkey bars, right now. But yeah, she's good. We're good. I don't think I've ever been better, honestly." Taylor can't fight the grin that's pulling at her lips, her blue eyes bright and unbelievably pure as she falls into a mindless rant about everything and nothing, telling Aaron and Jack about Wren and the upcoming adoption, her mind trailing farther and farther from the heavy reality that someone she'd given so much of her youth to had tried to stab her in the back with the one thing she'd hoped would remain untainted.

"We've gotta get the kids together when all this settles down. Her and Ingrid would do their worst together." Aaron laughs softly, his eyes shining brighter than a million fireflies in an enchanted forest as he thinks about his own daughter. Taylor's never been able to comprehend that glazed expression, but it's one that comes across her features often now.

She's about to agree, about to invite Aaron and his family out to Holiday House whenever this pandemic sees its end when a clap of thunder in the distance catches her attention, her smile twinging with worry as her eyes trail toward the door. "Fuck, I've gotta go before my kid gets herself struck by lightning."

"Go save the baby!" Jack cheers, his smile wide and full of lightness, not minding the early end of their session. Aaron bears the same understanding smile, waving her off as she disconnects from the call and races down the stairs, managing three steps at a time, knowing that Wren's either entirely unphased by the low rumble of thunder in the distance and pouring rain or absolutely petrified on the playset with no in between.

She frowns at the sight in front of her when she rounds the corner to the kitchen. Andrea is standing in the doorway, calling for Wren to come inside with a towel already in her hands, but the child that she knows is a good listener has seemed to forget everything she's been taught in recent months. Wren springs from the slide with a radiant skip, her hair soaked and her clothes sodden, but she pays no mind to the howling wind that ripples through tree branches, instead deciding to race toward the rock wall steps that are slick with frigid rain water, entirely ignoring Andrea who looks to be wearing an expression of both fondness and exasperation.

"It's time to come inside, baby!" Taylor takes the towel from her mother, blue eyes soft as she meets Andrea's gaze, silently confirming that she's got it from here. "Wren!"

"I'm playing!" The child calls back, evidently frustrated by the incessant call of her name that comes from the house. She doesn't even turn to look at Taylor, her figure retreating farther and farther from the house as she clambers up the slick steps and spins around on her tip-toes, head thrown back as she undoubtably tries to catch the water in her mouth. Taylor doesn't even have the patience to grimace at the sight, too focused on trying to get Wren somewhere safe as another rumble of thunder cracks overhead, coming closer and closer to where they reside, a flicker of lightning brightening the sky seconds later.

"Wren, come here!" Taylor tries again, shaking her head as her daughter finally turns to face her with strands of light brown hair clinging to her cheeks. She's flush faced, as she always is when she's left to run to her hearts content, but that's the only indication of heat, the rain washing away the sweat that had once clung to her brows.

"No, Mama!" Wren whines, clambering onto the slide which has basically become a water slide since the rain started coming down, puddles of water at the end splashing into the air as her body meets it with force and speed. Taylor's entire world stops turning for a minute, her heart hammering in her chest as those four letters repeat on an endless cycle, echoing in her mind like a harmonized symphony. This isn't the moment she'd expected to hear it in. She hadn't anticipated it falling from pink lips so soon, but it feels raw and earned and right, and she hates that she can't stop to fawn over the vulnerability that seeps from both her heart and Wren's. Instead, she forces her thoughts in order, licks at her lips, and tries to keep her patience as another lick of lightning strikes down not far from the house, touching down in a field that houses nothing but an abandoned tractor and grass.

"Wren!" She calls, her hands settling onto her hips as the child she's spent the last four months loving unconditionally blatantly ignores her. Taylor wonders if she even realizes what she said; she wonders if she'll ever say it again. "Wrenley Noel!"

Little green eyes snap toward her, wide with hesitant compliance as she scrambles down the steps and races across the grass with sheepish shame tinting her cheeks a soft shade of peach. As she comes to stand in front of Taylor, she's pulling at her knuckles, her chin tucked to her chest as she shifts her weight between right foot and left foot, looking entirely unsettled by the rare strictness that's schooling Taylor's features. The mother doesn't crack beneath the guilty expression she's receiving, telling Wren to take her shoes and socks off at the door before she's stepping forward and wrapping her up in the towel, bringing her back inside where Andrea's standing at the stove, overlooking a kettle of boiling water with a mug placed not far away on the counter.

"Sorry Mama." The little girl whispers sadly, laying her head down on Taylor's shoulder as she allowed her body to be carried up the stairs without fuss. She shivers, the color slowly draining from her lips as the cold wet sensation seeps into her bones. "Cold."

"I know you're cold. We're gonna get you warm." Taylor hugs her tighter to her chest, her mind an unorganized maze of conflicting feelings. The tension she'd felt at the hands of Joe has disintegrated entirely, but what's replaced it is somehow even more difficult to grasp. This moment is delicate, fragile beyond what she can comprehend. If she steps wrong, Wren may never allow her heart to be so open, but if she fails to meet the expectation to teach wrong from right, then she'd be failing the one job that's more important than anything. "You were having fun out there, huh?" She asks eventually, pushing Wren's bedroom door open with her hip, stalking over to the dresser filled with pajamas and random articles of clothing that don't have a home in the closet across the room.

"Mmhm. Slide was super fast. Like Lightning McQueen." Wren mused softly, her fingers tangling into Taylor's hair, fiddling anxiously as she peered up at Taylor with murky green eyes. "In trouble?"

"No, baby." Taylor sighed softly, deciding that a bath would be more effective than just drying Wren off and trying to manage her disheveled brown tresses. She grabs the first set pajamas she can find, choosing a pair that would combat the chill crawling up the child's spine while also accommodating for the Spring heat that lingers by windows and doorframes. "But I need you to listen next time. Do you know why Andie and I were asking you to come inside?"

"No." Wren frowned, shaking her head as Taylor carried them toward the bathroom down the hallway, flicking the light on with a featherlight touch. "Got to play in the rain last week. Wanna play now."

Taylor sighed, smiling fondly as she set Wren down on the counter and turned her attention toward the sterling silver faucet, letting the heavy stream fall over her fingertips as she tested the changing temperature until she found something that wasn't quite hot, but was definitely more than lukewarm. She didn't reach for the bubbles like she typically did, wanting this to be done and over with so they could get lunch into their bellies. "Lightning can hurt you. Remember when we played with magnets for your lesson?" Taylor asked tenderly, stripping the child down and throwing the wet clothes into the sink to he dealt with later. The day she didn't have to do multiple loads of laundry a week would be one of the best days of her life.

"Mmhm. Magnets attract and repel!" Wren beamed, her eyes bright as she recalled the science lesson she'd needed to have Taylor help her with. It had only taken an hour for her to truly get the concept, and after that she'd flown through the questions about magnets and magnetic attraction.

"Well, metal is kind of like a road for lightning. Your play-set has teeny tiny metal pieces keeping it together, so it's super dangerous when it's stormy outside. I like my Wrenny in one piece, I don't want a Wrenny explosion outside. Got it?" Taylor pressed a kiss to the crown of the girls head, carrying her over to the tub once her hair had been somewhat brushed through and detangled. She wasn't going to bother with a cute hairstyle and outfit, the day had already seen the most action that would come, and there were low chances of the storm clearing out before nightfall, so an afternoon in doors was the perfect opportunity for pajamas and messy hair.

"Got it." Wren nodded, settling into the water that came up to the middle of her torso, her fingers immediately making waves in the stillness, splashing softly to entertain herself whilst Taylor lathered shampoo into her scalp. "Mama?"

"Yeah, baby love?" Taylor doesn't think she'll ever be normal about that simple title being directed at her. Her heart does a flip every time it falls off of Wren's lips, but the little girl doesn't seem to think there's anything substantial going on. There isn't really. Taylor's known for months that she was meant to be this little girls mom, she can only imagine how long Wren's been mulling over the title, unsure of whether she'd be allowed to use it or if it even applied to her at all. Last nights bedtime story had clearly done the work Taylor couldn't, and she couldn't even find it within herself to hate that a picture book had been what fully sealed the fate of this beautifully constructed relationship.

"Andie mad?" Wren genuinely feared upsetting others, that had been apparent since the first morning they'd spent together and she'd done everything she could to avoid stepping on toes or making herself 'too big', but there was something sweet about her fretting over Andrea's feelings toward her. One day she'd learn that it would take a lot more than a tantrum for anyone to truly be mad at her. Taylor herself didn't even know what bounds had to be tested for her to be anything but fondly smitten with the little girl. She'd find out one day, that was certain, but for now, there was nothing her little girl could do to momentarily change the way her heart hammered by simply looking in her direction.

"No, Andie's not mad, baby. But, I think you already know that you owe her an apology, huh?" Taylor hummed softly, rinsing the shampoo out of her child's thin hair as softly as she could, the detachable shower head her favorite possession. There was nothing she hated more than having to wash Wren's hair out with a cup, it always led to soap filled eyes and pained whines.

"Mmhm." Wren nodded, giggling softly when Taylor's fingers dug into her neck and tickled her teasingly. "No!" She squealed, water sloshing over the rim of the tub as she squirmed away.

"Oh what? But I thought the tickle monster was due for a visit." Taylor continued to torment the little girl, chasing her wriggly body with wiggling fingers that sought out the most touch sensitive spaces on the child's neck and torso. Wren's laughter drowned the bathroom in light, her squeals and shrieks like music to Taylor's ears despite the fact that she'd spent the morning making real music. It was funny how something so little could be changed and redefined over and over again when love had space to bloom and grow.

"No! S'not! No tickle monster!" She panted for breath when Taylor eventually relented, a cheeky smile on her lips as conditioner was worked through her hair and Taylor made careful note to avoid poking her in the ear like she'd done when lathering shampoo through her roots. She washed her own body while Taylor got her pajamas ready at the counter, growing bored of the bath without bubbles as she splashed lazily at the water, trying to practice the patience that Taylor was always preaching about. "Out please." She pouted after what felt like hours, little arms raised in Taylor's direction as desperate green eyes pleaded with her to wrap things up.

"Let me rinse your hair out first." Taylor directed softly, grabbing the detachable shower head once more as she tenderly guided all of the product out of silky soft hair. "There. Now we're all done."

Wren practically leapt out of the tub, hardly giving Taylor enough time to even wrap her up in a towel before she was latching herself to the woman like a desperate baby koala, her face pressed into the blonde's neck as she sought warmth and comfort, a yawn pulling from her chest as she snuggled in close, always moving fingers pushing past her lips to rest on her tongue as she suckled. Taylor didn't have the heart to redirect her, the conversation with Tree sneaking up on her like it had been doing all day. Just as she thought things were turning themselves around, Joseph Alwyn had an annoying way of reminding her that her life was far more complicated than she was equipped to handle at various points.

"You're tired, my love?" Taylor rubbed the child's back, softly swaying beneath the bright lights in the bathroom, the only thing on her mind being how right it felt to hold Wren like this. Her daughter nodded simply, curling farther into her chest as she rubbed at her eyes, overcome by a wave of exhaustion that she typically didn't let herself feel so early on in the day. She knows that a nap is in her little shadows near future, and for once that's not just her naivety talking. "Too tired to have a yummy grilled cheese?"

Wren shook her head, a smile pulling at her lips at the promise of having grilled cheese for lunch. Taylor said she'd turn into a grilled cheese if she kept asking for it so often, but that hadn't happened yet so she wasn't too worried about it. "And orange juice?"

"Well you can have orange juice, or we can make milkshakes with extra sprinkles and whipped cream." Taylor grinned, laughing softly when Wren nodded frantically, trying to wiggle down from her embrace and undoubtably make a b-line for the kitchen. "We've gotta get you dressed, buddy! Wait a second."

"Want a cookie dough one! Like we made last time! And— and! Want the rainbow sprinkles cause those are better!" She rambled through the process of getting her dressed, soft green eyes bright though exhaustion was visible around her pupil. Taylor could only hope that Wren actually taking a nap for once wouldn't mean the absolute destruction of her finally settled and amended sleep schedule. She'd been fighting with the child for weeks about needing a nap after playing so hard and for so long, but now that she basically had it secured, she couldn't help but find something else to fret over. The joys of motherhood.

"Okay, bug." Taylor could only laugh at Wren's excited rambling, pulling her brown hair up into a bun at the top of her head to avoid water dampening the back of her pajamas. "All ready now."

Wren didn't waste a second, sprinting out of the bathroom with only contagious giggles as a map to follow as Taylor trailed behind, cleaning up the countertops and draining the bath water before she picked up the drenched articles of clothing and brought them downstairs with her. Wren was already in the kitchen and chatting Andrea's ear off by time Taylor had thrown the hand-me-downs into the washer and collected Bluey from the dryer where he'd lived for the last handful of hours. His fur was no longer warm, which Wren would be displeased by, but at the very least his blanket body was no longer sporting vivid grass stains and mud.

"Look who I found." Taylor dangled the stuffed animal by his floppy left arm, flaunting his refurbished appearance although Wren had not a care in the world on whether he was covered in dirt stains or pristinely clean like he was now. The little girl gasped, darting across the kitchen to collect him in her arms, the soft edges of his blanket body being pressed against her cheek within the first three seconds of her taking it back.

"He's not warm." She pouted, her green eyes trailing up to meet Taylor's with nothing but betrayal written within them. Taylor could only laugh, having anticipated that immediate response. She didn't have to sneak Bluey away in the middle of the night anymore, though only become Wren had come to realize if she let Taylor wash him during the day, she'd get him back sometime before bed and he'd be warm and 'super super cuddly'.

"That's because someone wanted to play in the rain. He's been waiting for you." Taylor laughed softly, sweeping Wren up off her feet and bringing her toward the freezer where two different types of ice cream remained. She pulled both of them out before opening the fridge, letting Wren grab the milk from the shelf because that was her newest obsession. She liked to help, and in her head, grabbing things from the fridge was apparently the 'funnest' way to do so. She was still disappointed that Taylor wouldn't let her chop things up with the butchers knife she'd developed a strange fascination for, but a pouty six-year-old was a lot easier to handle than a six-year-old with only nine fingers. "Did you say sorry to Andie?" She double-checked, glancing between her mother and Wren.

"Mmhm." Wren nodded, smiling proudly as Taylor returned the gesture, patting her bottom in silent praise. "Andie said she doesn't want a milkshake. Can I have two?"

"Nice try." Taylor laughed amusedly, setting the ice cream on the counter and motioning for Wren to set the milk down right beside it. "You get one milkshake, but you can try mine."

"Okay." Wren deflated, allowing her body to be placed on the counter without complaint. She watched eagerly as Taylor grabbed two tall glances, wiggling in place as two scoop of ice cream made their way into her cup before a decent amount of milk was poured over top, rainbow sprinkles being thrown in before Taylor reached for one of the longer spoons in the silverware drawer. "I can mix it!" She bellowed, reaching for it eagerly.

"You mix yours while I start making your grilled cheese, okay?" Wren nodded, tongue already peaking out from between her lips as she got to work on her milkshake, being overly cautious to ensure nothing spilt over the rim. Taylor had grown up making them this way. She fondly remembered the days when she and Austin would walk home from school and the first thing they'd do was throw their backpacks down and race into the kitchen, digging into whatever ice cream Andrea had picked up that week.

Taylor kissed her head before she turned around, smiling thankfully at Andrea who had already grabbed the frying pan for her. They spent most of their days in the kitchen whenever Taylor wasn't held up in the spare bedroom crafting art to share with the unsuspecting world. Some days they talked for hours, other days they nursed mugs of coffee and tea, or glasses of ice water and sweet tea, while engaging in quiet matches of scrabble that usually ended with Andrea shaking her head in defeat. It felt nice to just exist in a communal space with good company again.

"She's gonna crash." Andrea laughed, glancing back at Wren who was vigorously mixing her milkshake together, but every couple of seconds her head lulled to the side and her eyes fluttered shut for just a few seconds to many to be intentional. It was a mystery to Andrea how she could fight the exhaustion for so long, she'd seen Wren zip around the backyard for hours on end but in moments of stillness on the swings, she'd been on the verge of sleep undoubtably, but that only lasted seconds before she was up and racing around again.

"She stopped moving." Taylor snorted, glancing back at Wren after returning the yellow American cheese to the crisper, buttered bread already in the pan. Since giving Wren an outlet for her energy, Taylor had learned the trade trick in both exhausting Wren and keeping her awake long enough to get ready for bed. Most nights, the child fought bedtime like any other six-year-old, but if Taylor played her cards right, she'd have her practically asleep before she even hit the pillow. "Tree's on damage." She kept her voice low, but between sizzling butter and metal clanking against glass as the storm continued to rage outside, there was no way Wren was paying attention nor could hear the conversation at hand. "London Boy tried to out the placement."

Ever since London, Taylor had avoided mentioning Joe around Wren whenever she could, and thus she'd had to get creative with alternative titles. London Boy was as unoriginal as it was obnoxious, but at the very least Wren remained peacefully unaware and Andrea had been effectively clued in. "Tree's livid."

"How are you?" Andrea's expression was a canvas of wry disheartenment, her blue eyes twinged with sorry and sympathy as she gazed at her daughter, finally unable to see all the broken pieces in her outline, but fearing their premature return as Joe Alwyn continued to use her heart like a playground.

"Livid. Pissed. Homicidal." Taylor's quiet anger had returned, but like before she forced it beneath the surface, refocusing her attention on the grilled cheese she'd neglecting to flip. She grimaced at the toasted edges, already knowing she'd have to eat it herself because Wren wouldn't even glance in its direction. "I'm fine. Not really, not at all actually, but I know Tree has it handled. We're following NDA conditions. He's an asshole, but he  won't sacrifice his career to make my life hell. I just hate that he was willing to jeopardize the safety of a kid. My kid. The man I gave the best and hardest years of my twenties to wouldn't have even dreamed of doing that. It just hits me randomly that there really isn't anything redeemable left in him."

"Oh, honey." Andrea didn't even know what else to say, her heart beyond saddened by the unending drama that surrounded Joe Alwyn. Taylor smiled tearfully, shrugging off the sympathy as she flipped the second grilled cheese, plating it seconds later.

"Go get in your spot, Roo." Taylor directed softly, carrying both plates of grilled cheese over to the island. Andrea had already eaten, but she joined them at the island either way, content to listen to Wren talk about whatever adventure she had embarked on outside, all while keeping an eye on Taylor.

After lunch had been cleaned up and milkshakes had been finished, Taylor grabbed a blanket from the couch and corralled Wren outside. It wasn't often they utilized the front yard, it just felt natural to gravitate toward the back, but ever since she'd realized Wren would fall asleep to the sound of rain if she knew the thunder couldn't hurt her, she'd been wanting to take her daughter out to storm watch. They cuddled up on the swing toward the end of the porch, shielded from the rain that fell in every direction around them. Wren was curled up tightly on Taylor's chest, little green eyes watching lightning brighten the sky with vibrant colors before everything became muted again. Taylor rocked the swing evenly, content to sit out here for as long as she could just holding Wren close. It wasn't long before the little girl was asleep, one hand holding tightly onto her stuffed animal while the other fisted Taylor's t-shirt, her grip tight despite the way her lashes fluttered with every inhale. Taylor allowed herself to breathe for the first time since Tree called, her eyes content to watch Wren sleep as the wind failed to penetrate the heavy blanket draped across her lap.

Mama. She was finally someone's mama.

Chapter Text

does a scorpion sting when fighting back?
they strike to kill, and you know i will

April 22st, 2020

In the days that had passed, Joe Alwyn had shown his truest of colors. The deep blue that had once felt like golden warmth after a hurricane now felt reminiscent of a mid-winter polar plunge. Teeth chattered, lips quivered, bones ached. There was no redeeming what had been lost to hatred, and suddenly, half a decade of shared fantasies and created magic became nightmares wrapped in barbed wire that glimmered so addictively Taylor couldn't help but reach out for its weight beneath her fingertips. She'd been burned, and broken, and bruised, and while that had been tragic, while that had tested her strength, she now knew what it felt like to be completely unmade by hands that had promised to always be a reliable foundation to rest on. Every memory of Joe felt like a million pricks of a poisoned needle straight to the heart, but Taylor reached out for the familiarity of those tarnished memories anyway, binding herself to the pain of his memory washing over her like sacred new beginnings.

In the days that had passed, reconciliation had fallen through her fingers. This wasn't how she wanted things to end up — with a check for nearly a million dollars sitting in her dresser drawer and a newly blocked contact to avoid at all costs — but it's where she found herself anyways. Best intentions only got her so far when the perception of angry woman was so historically rooted in the possession of evil. She'd gone to him seeking peace, seeking to forgive all of his mistakes, to amend what sliver of connection kept them bound together eternally in the mind of the media storm, but he'd heard the hitch of anger in her tone, felt the curse of judgement as she prattled on about how sacrificing her daughters safety was — to put it bluntly — a dick move. He'd felt immobile beneath the weight of a powerful woman's rightful anger, and so the last standing bridge had been burnt, and contact had been cut. Taylor Swift would not be hearing from Joseph Alwyn again, and Joesph Alwyn would not be so foolish as to poke the bear who had fed him for five entire years again.

Since Tree had called to confirm Joe's involvement on the nineteenth of April, Taylor hadn't been able to sleep. She'd spent the first night pacing floorboards, blonde hair tangled between her fingers as she pulled and tugged and twisted, unable to put distance between her body and pain that felt like a last vice. She'd crept through hallways, circled furniture, tempted the pleasure that would come from unbroken knuckles hammering into sheetrock and drywall until bones cracked and skin bled. She wondered what she had done that made her deserving of such incessant betrayals. For a moment, she wondered what length of sacrifices would be the trade that ended suffering. Would her life need to end for even a moment of peace? Was there peace in whatever came next for her? It seemed all that she was earned in life after years of earnest devotion was pain, and suffering, and betrayal. But then the floorboards had creaked beneath additional weight, and the promise of hope, and goodness, and connection overweighed the heaviness of what felt like eternal solitude and loneliness. She'd swept Wren off her feet at two in the morning, holding her close as she whispered soothing promises of safety beneath the blanket of nightfall that shackled them both to harrowing nightmares. In an instant, guilt pooled in her belly, hot and sickly and uncomfortable beneath the surface. For a moment, she'd contemplated her death, scrutinized her inability to be loved, cursed her ability to find the worst men and love them entirely. Taylor was tired, more than just physically, but she would never be too tired to love her daughter enough to heal them both. So, she'd brought Wren into the kitchen, gotten her a glass of water and a cookie from the sheet pan on the counter, and then she'd taken the child to bed and promised that when morning rolled around they'd make biscuits and pastries and act like nothing wrong had ever been imparted on their fragile hearts. Even when it felt like she only lived to endure tragic pain, she'd suffer a thousand cursed fates just to make sure her daughter never learned to feel the same way.

The second night had been less melodramatic, and Taylor finds herself still wrapped up beneath its comfort as sunlight streams in through open blinds and reaches out to brush against the strings of her guitar, drowning them in golden light that only partially heals her scorned heart. The second advance to healing comes at nearly seven in the morning. Jack and Aaron are strings deep into the bridge of a song that doesn't feel like it fits on Folklore — not that anyone knows that's the name of the album— but keeps the same indie folktale spirit alive within the chords and progressions. They can't hear the door squeak on its hinges, nor can they hear tiny feet pad across the hardwood, but Aaron catches Taylor's inclined head, and his lips pull into a friendly smile when chestnut brown hair sneaks into frame before an entire little body joins Taylor in the rectangular box on his screen. He doesn't stop playing, seconds away from a new addition that's been hours in the works, but his eyes lighten, and his strums don't feel so professional anymore. He's playing for Wren, for the little girl that's draped across Taylor's lap still half asleep but watching him closely, and he can't help but think about his own daughter that sleeps soundly in the bedroom down the hall.

"I like that!" Taylor's inevitably the one that dismantles the warm silence that had fallen over them, her smile tired but alight with contentment as she combs her fingers through Wren's hair, her guitar now placed beside the desk where her laptop and notebook lay strewn across every inch of wood. "We're gonna keep that."

"Hi, Rugrat!" Jack beams at Wren, finally looking up from his strings to notice that the child has joined their session, her green eyes blinking blearily every few seconds before she presses her face into Taylor's neck sheepishly. "Nice bedhead!"

Wren only huffs at his advances for a conversation, turning her face farther into Taylor's neck as her fingers twist into the worn fabric of a t-shirt that has more holes now than it was initially purchased with. She fiddles with a larger hole just beneath the nape of Taylor's neck, her little fingers working to make it bigger as she shoves one and then two into its tight opening. The faded logo on the front is hardly even distinguishable anymore, but for whatever reason, it's remained in the woman's frequent rotation.

"It's Aaron and Jack. You know Jack, he lets you watch Rapunzel when I'm busy, remember?" Taylor coaxes her out of her shell softly, pointing to each man individually, putting names to faces like she'd been doing for months. She'd initially planned to visit the friends she had scattered around the country and larger parts of the world when she was on tour, and she'd been preparing Wren for such, but life has a funny way of throwing wrenches in her plans. Taylor supposed that was for the better. Wren still wasn't ready to experience the more hectic seasons of her life.

Wren turned her head toward the camera, if only to analyze Jacks appearance before she turned back to Taylor, whispering soft beneath the morning light, "Needs to cut his hair." Taylor laughed breathily at the quiet admission, her eyes creasing as she took in the child's gentle commentary. She'd seen Jack through multiple phases of life, through buzz cuts and grow outs, thick circular glasses and only contacts, but this was by far the most drastic of appearances. His deep brown hair came down toward his ears, disheveled and thick as it crimped at the occasional odd angle. She couldn't disagree with Wren's assessment, and she wouldn't if only to bust Jack's balls. That was practically their thing.

Taylor doesn't even try to mask her amusement, her eyes creased with a lightness that neither Jack nor Aaron had seen until now. Jack had been around Wren, but there was something different about being merely a fly on their walls; there but not really there at all. Despite her initial shyness, Wren looked so much more at ease as she snuggled up close to Taylor, and Taylor... well Taylor looked like she'd finally figured out who hung the stars every night. "Bug says you need to cut your hair. I'm inclined to agree. You look like a caveman with whatever you've got going on now."

Wren dissolved into giggles at the sly remark, little hands covering her mouth as she turned her face into Taylor's shoulder once again, her entire body vibrating with laughter as she peaked out to glance at Jack's reaction. Aaron's smile was wide as the conversation died down to allow innocent giggles to take center stage, his eyes darting between Jack's isolated call box and Taylor's. The man with thick circular glasses and an unappealing haircut gaped at the screen, his firewood brown eyes sparkling with fiery amusement that only Taylor could decode with merely a shared glance. It had been weeks since a session had been filled with such friendly banter, their collective moods reflective of the chaos happening outside of their reach. But, Wren was unaware of the political wars and discrimination happening outside her window, and her radiant joy brought hope back to all three adults who were lucky enough to witness it.

Somehow, the conversation started with criticism of Jack's appearance and ended with Taylor picking up her guitar again, balancing Wren on her lap at the same time like she'd been doing for months. It was slightly uncomfortable — her child was tiny, but she was well past the length of an infant — with her limbs strained to both keep Wren in place and reach the delicate strings secured to the neck of her instrument, but like it was the simplest thing she'd ever done, Taylor began to strum the familiar chords to a song she'd never anticipating holding so much space in her heart. Aaron and Jack followed suit, current projects momentarily on pause as they played a song that would eternally remain within the world even after they left it behind. That was the beauty of music, that was the message beneath Folklore whether Taylor knew it or not. Everything that she created would live to serve generations beyond what she could even imagine. Every song that she crafted, whether her heart was scripted in black and white on the page or sprinkled in between character names and plot-lines, would continue to exist even beyond her years. The lessons she grew from, the pain she overcame, the love she learned to embrace, it would all serve as a guide for whomever stumbled upon it with enough care to truly take it in. Taylor didn't have everything figured out in life, but she was certain of her purpose, and that had always been to heal and empower.

"Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound." She sealed the song with a kiss, her fingers coming to a stop seconds after Aarons, her smile warm as she looked down at Wren, who was utterly beaming from inside to outside as she sat beneath the serenade. Her eyes glimmered like pearls beneath the sun, fresh from the mouth of an oyster and far from cruel age that tarnished the slick untouched surface of itsit'sbeauty. One day they wouldn't shine so bright, Taylor knew that, but she could hope that life would be kind enough that she didn't loose her spark entirely. Taylor could only hope that Wren wouldn't need to seek out the same mission of self-exploration as she had. "Why don't you go brush those teeth and when you're all done we can make breakfast. It's been a while since we made Andie pancakes."

"Chocolate chip Mickeys!" Wren grinned, giggling in excitement when Taylor nodded her head in amused acceptance of the suggestion. She didn't waste a single second, slipping off the musicians lap as soon as the guitar was out of her way, and booking it across the hallway into the bathroom where her new toothbrush awaited its first adventure. Wren was the only kid Taylor knew who begged and pleaded to brush their teeth eight times a day whenever she got a new toothbrush, but Taylor would take the win for what it was, even if Wren was the weirdest kid she knew by a long shot.

"You've said she's doing good, but it's different to see. That's not the same kid who sat on my couch and barely said seven words in the span of six hours." Jack noted the second Wren was out of earshot, his firewood eyes tracking Taylor's motions as she began to clean up her work space, blunt nails scratching across her forehead after she shuffled a pile of papers in order, the smudged black writing indication enough that there were ideas beneath the surface she hadn't shared with either him nor Aaron yet. The prospect of even more untouched brilliance excited Jack beyond what words could convey, his partnership with Taylor something sacred even in times of separation.

"Yeah, yeah." Taylor sighed reflectively, her head tilting to the side as she smiled, teeth biting down on her lower lip as she recalled the last two months from memory, and how they'd started off so terribly rocky she'd thought she'd made the worst mistake of her life moving them to Whitesboro. Kids were resilient, everyone said it, but there was something empowering about watching Wren overcome everything she was well within her right to fear and avoid. "She's come out of her shell. You wouldn't believe the fits she throws. Almost got herself struck by lightning the other day because she wanted to keep playing in the rain. I must've called her in five or six times before she actually came. I had to pull the full name card, I felt like such a mom."

"Well, you are her mom now. Or what, fourteen days 'til it's official?" Aaron laughed beneath his breath at Jack's interrogating, his shaggy hair swaying ahead of his eyes as he ducked his head down to adjust the frets of his guitar. Jack was definitely the more lively of the two. Aaron was the quiet brooder who offered heart wrenching demos whenever the need for therapy was being danced around. That's how they worked. Jack fit her manic highs, Aaron molded himself to her depressive lows. It was the groove they'd fallen into, and all three of them thought it worked seamlessly. Or, at the very least it worked well enough to complete an entire album from their own individual corners of the state.

"Thirteen, actually." Taylor smirked at the fact that the number somehow always appeared whenever she needed a sign that she was on the right path. There was thirteen days between her and legally being Wren's mother. Only thirteen days.

"On that note, I hate you. Tell Mama Swift I said hi, and tell Mini TS she needs to cut her hair!" Jack flickered from the screen before he disappeared fully, leaving Aaron and Taylor to laugh in his absence. The blonde was just about to extend her own goodbyes when Aaron chimed in, his soft eyes somehow even softer as they allowed professions to fall away from their shoulders and shared a single moment beneath the rising sunlight as parents and nothing more.

"If you need anything, Stine and I are here for you and her however we can be. Ingrid's got a couple years on her, so I've been where you are in some capacity." His smile is delicate, twinged with nostalgia, and Taylor can only assume that he's reliving the eight years he's spent being somebody's father. She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of this newfound connection. She hasn't felt seen like this since she'd been a shiny new toy for the industry to break down, but there's something softer in the way she finds camaraderie in those that have their own tiny humans to raise and protect.

"Thank you, Aaron." Taylor can't help the way she tears up as she glances back at Aaron with a million different feelings squeezing at her heart. Relief, resentment, hope, anxiety. Somehow Taylor feels every single thing at the same time, but she doesn't fight the overwhelming weight, merely lets it crash against her and tether her to this moment in time. She wants to remember every little thing about how the days leading up to the adoption felt, but she knows with time, all of these precious stolen flickers of personal growth will fade away until all that remains is the glorified highlight reel. She's okay with the way time passes and steals what it deems unimportant, but while she has the capability to remember everything, she's not keen to waste a single second.

Taylor wraps things up with Aaron just as Wren races through the hallway, her little naked feet slapping against the polished hardwood as she blazes a trail for Taylor to follow from the bathroom down to the kitchen. The routine they came to Whitesboro with has practically fallen through her fingers, but she loves these sporadic stolen moments where she and Wren just align so perfectly. There's no pressure to adhere to any deadlines, no lingering promise of travel and instability. It won't last forever, eventually the world will begin to spin again with or without the weight of a life-threatening disease to be mindful of, and she'll be right back in the center of organized chaos planning her days out by the minute, but for now, for the time she has left, Taylor wants to live every second of life's impulsively to its fullest extent.

She smiles softly when she pulls the bedroom door open fully, stealing a glance in the direction of Wren's bedroom where it looks like a tornado had ripped through the drawers and basket of stuffed animals. From where she stands, there's at least six different sets of pajamas in a crumpled mess on the floor, and every stuffed animal she's ever acquired since moving in with Taylor in strewn along the floor in a meticulously organized mess. Taylor can only imagine what wild adventures Wren had set out on before she'd come to find her, but she doesn't have the heart to clean it up and interrupt a quest that most definitely hasn't been completed yet. One day the floors won't be so cluttered with things. One day she won't fold and refold a million different outfits and pajama sets. One day she won't have the privilege of witnessing imagination at its purest. She knows all of this, she's lived every avenue of growth and maturity in her own lifetime, it's Wren's turn to blossom beneath silent love and acceptance. Even if it's a mess; it's a mess Taylor wants to live in.

She knocks on Andrea's door, peaking her head inside when her mother calls out for her with a breathy chuckle. Ever since she'd been old enough to understand the concept of privacy, Taylor had knocked on her parent's door three times exactly before entering. It was something of an unconscious routine, not anything she thought twice about, but Andrea always answered the call with a breathy laugh and fond smile. Taylor understands why now. Andrea doesn't see her when she finally peaks her head into the room, blonde curls falling over blue eyes from the way her necks inclines just slightly, but rather, the eight-year-old version of her that exists in some fragment of life's timeline.

"Roo asked to make you breakfast last night. It's a surprise." Taylor's lips curved into an amused smirk as she filled her mother in on the plans for the morning, not quite adhering to the surprise element of breakfast that Wren had proposed last night. What the little girl didn't know wouldn't hurt her, but what Andrea knew would change the way she reacted. The blonde nodded, a smile on her lips as she laughed.

"Dad used to come in and tell me when you and Austin were up to no good in the kitchen. I'm glad you've seen yourself through the full circle moment now." Andrea quipped, her eyes falling back down to her lap where a blanket wasn't yet fully crocheted. She'd always been one for sewing, but she'd picked up how to crochet while undergoing chemo, and if Taylor had to guess who the blanket was for, she'd take one look at the shimmering blue fabric and say it had Wren's name all over it,

Taylor had long since figured out that Scott always ratted her and Austin out whenever they destroyed the kitchen to make Andrea a 'surprise' breakfast, but hearing it for herself was somehow a different experience — one that brought childish spite back to her blood and twinged her cheeks pink youthfully. Her blue eyes narrowed challengingly, her chin inclining even more as she petulantly stuck her tongue out at her mother before closing the door and returning to her quest of finding Wren before the little girl could get her hands on the eggs and attempt to carry all half a dozen to the counter by herself.

"If you're doing something you're not supposed to, now's your chance to stop and wait for me!" Taylor called out as she descended down the staircase taking one step at a time, a cheesy smile on her lips as the soft clattering in the kitchen came to an abrupt stop within seconds. She knew Wren like the back of her hand at this point — which was something she did not take lightly — and could tell when quiet was too quiet. If the eggs hadn't yet made it to the island, she was certain that coffee grounds littered the countertops like fresh powder.

The second she rounded the corner, Taylor was bombarded by a tiny person running full force at her, little hands grabbing at the first inches of fabric they could claim. The gap-tooth smile she'd been staring at for weeks somehow brighter than it had ever looked beneath the lights in the kitchen, sparkling green eyes trailing toward the counter before a painted pointer finger jutted out in the same direction. "Look! I did it all by myself!" Just as she'd anticipated, the countertop was covered in a thin layer of coffee grounds, but the pot was on and nothing smelt like it was burning, so Taylor merely smiled with pride as she grasped Wren's hands in hers.

"Good job, monkey!" She praised affectionately, laying a kiss to the crown of Wren's head before she smoothed out a wrinkle in the sleeve of her dress. The replacement costume was up in Taylor's closet, hanging seamlessly on a metal hanger behind sweaters and t-shirts, only to be taken down and tapped into action when major catastrophe struck. Somehow they'd yet to have the original dress disintegrate at its seams, but that was undoubtedly coming soon. The dress had seen better days weeks ago, and was now on borrowed time if the holes and tears in the mesh layering were any indication of worn down quality. "You still want to make Mickey pancakes?"

"Yes!" Wren beamed, racing around the kitchen like a chicken with its head cut off, only barely managing to step over Benjamin who'd chosen the worst moment ever to bolt across the hardwood and between her little feet. "And eggies! And bacon!"

"We're going for the full spread this morning, huh? You're a hungry little monster?" Taylor, by some miracle, had managed to sweep Wren up into her arms just before the child could collide with the sharp corner of the island. Every day Taylor got closer and closer to buying a pack of rubber stoppers to soften the blow, because one day Wren would run out of luck, but it was yet to be needed so it fell away from her mind like it always did when Wren settled comfortably against her hip. The princess dress was irritably scratchy against Taylor's forearms, but she barely paid it any attention as she stalked toward the refrigerator and pulled out the slew of ingredients they'd need for the task at hand. The package of bacon was already torn into, just enough left for this mornings breakfast, and so another package was added to the bottom of her mental grocery list. Somehow, there was always a list. She didn't remember needing so much when it was only herself in a house, but full shelves and drawers was a welcomed change. Somehow, Taylor was still picking up on the subtle changes that had come since she'd become someone's mother.

"Yeah, because I'm growing!" Wren giggled, showing off her loose tooth as she squirmed in Taylor's arms, trying her best to put distance between her ribcage and incessantly wiggly fingers. Taylor had been telling her for weeks that she was growing, even if Wren didn't fully believe that fact because her clothes still fit and her hands were still smaller than Taylor's, but she did love to use it as a rebuttal for anything that seemed even slightly related.

"Can you stop growing? I thought we agreed you'd stay my baby forever." Taylor exclaimed pointedly, though not without her typical dramatics, both eyebrows raised as she set Wren down on the counter beside where she'd haphazardly thrown everything else they needed for breakfast. The child grinned, her tongue poking at the tooth next to the open gap, forcing it forward if only to remind herself that it was loose at all. Taylor couldn't wait for the day that it fell out, unabashedly charmed by the gap-tooth smiles she'd receive until new teeth grew in. There was just something so endearing about two missing front teeth.

"No, Mama!" Tiny hands covered pink lips, concealing giggles though only barely as laughter slipped between fingers. "I'm gonna be big like you! And I'm gonna have lotsa pencils."

"A lot of pencils, huh?" Taylor didn't even know where to begin with trying to figure out why pencils were suddenly the most important thing to Wren, but she smiled anyways because of all the things that could've possibly come out of her kids mouth, she's not at all surprised that pencils won the race. Wren had said weirder things, like the week before when she'd so very happily told Taylor her elbows were squishy. The blonde still didn't know what that meant, or whether she could take it as a compliment.

"Yeah-huh, because then I won't have to sharpen mine all the time! Gonna have so many! Like a bazillion!" Christmas was still months away, but Taylor made a mental note to order more pencils for her little artist. With context, it wasn't too odd of a comment, but she still shook her head in amusement.

"Well, you'll always be my baby. You'll just be my baby with a bazillion pencils." Taylor poked the tip of Wren's nose, something she did frequently now that she'd come to realize every time her touch lingered for even a second, Wren went cross-eyed in an attempt to see whatever nail polish Taylor wore. This time was no different. Little green eyes crossed amusedly, attempting to steal a clear glance at the polish that adorned blunt nails. She'd been insistent that they match, and days later, the evidence of that decision was still vibrantly visible with any minor motion. "Your eyes are going to get stuck like that, ya nut."

"Nu uh. 'Cause you do it to Andie all the time." Taylor had nothing to say to the cheekily uttered remark, so instead she settled on sticking her tongue out at the child like the mature mother she had become. Wren shrieked with giggles, her heels drumming an uneven beat on the wood beneath her as Taylor turned toward the stove, pulling out two different frying pans and the stovetop griddle she'd once thought she'd never find a use for.

"I need you to do a special job for me." Taylor hummed halfway through mixing up the pancake batter, craning her neck so that she could steal a glimpse at Wren, who had busied herself with counting the eggs in the carton as she mumbled a song to herself.

"I can do it!" Taylor hadn't known how much she would love this stage of childhood until she found herself thrown into it. She'd loved everything that had come before it — the phase of endless cuddles, the phase of desperate clinging, the slow dance between being comfortable and toeing the fine line — but she had to say that this was by far her favorite season yet. Wren was eager to help with anything she could, and was always more than pleased when she managed to succeed without any help from somebody else. This season of finding independence had brought nothing but bright smiles and confidence, and she'd be devastated when it eventually slipped away like everything in life did at some point.

"I know you can do it, bug." Taylor laughed softly, turning on her heels to grab Wren from the island, only to turn right back around and place her on the countertop beside the bowl filled with pancake batter. "The chocolate chips are all the way up there. Think you can get them down for me?"

"I can! I can!" Wren bellowed with excitement at the challenge, clambering to her feet on the marble countertop with as little grace as was expected. The princess dress certainly didn't help with her coordination, which was why Taylor had positioned herself directly behind the child in the event that she slipped off the edge. Wren never stopped putting herself in dangerous situations, but on the opposite side of the same coin, Taylor never failed to encourage her finding them. She'd rather be there to catch Wren when she fell (no pun intended), than have her sneaking around in the shadows and ultimately hurting herself. "I got them!" Wren cheered, sinking down into the countertop with the bag of milk chocolate chips held tight to her chest.

"Thank you, baby." Taylor kissed the side of Wren's head endearingly, hardly minding the flyaways that tickled her nose. She guided little hands in the process of pouring some into the bowl, heaving learned not to trust Wren's self-control whenever chocolate was involved. After a sufficient amount had been poured overtop of the batter, Taylor extended a handful of chocolate chips to her eager sous chef. "You get five. That's it."

"I can get six 'cause I'm six!" She rebutted cheekily, a wide grin on her pale lips as she kept her tiny palm open and extended toward Taylor and the bag of milk chocolate morsels. "Please."

Taylor rolled her eyes exasperatedly, but fished out singular chocolate morsel for Wren, dropping it into her palm with an exaggerated sigh. "I mean it, no more after that. Got it?"

"Got it!" Wren giggled, shoving the entire handful of chocolate into her mouth in one go, however the damage had already been done and the evidence of sweetness was smeared along the ivory skin of her palm. Before Taylor could reach for the roll of paper towels on the counter just an arm span away, Wren was licking it off with a satisfied hum, poking the tip of her tongue between the gap in her teeth as she smiled proudly at Taylor. "Yummy."

"You're a mess." The blonde laughed through a grimace, pulling the child's hand toward her so she could now wipe away a saliva chocolate mix. Wren remained unfazed, little fingers sneaking into the bowl of batter and pulling two chocolate chips off the top of the mountain that hadn't yet been mixed in. "Wrenley."

"Wanna share with you." Wren huffed beneath the scolding, holding one of the morsels out to Taylor while keeping the other for herself. She grinned when Taylor accepted the offer, giggling like a little devil as she pulled her shoulders up to her ears and happily chomped down on the chocolate chip. "No more, Mama."

Taylor rolled her eyes amusedly at the scolding, her heart fluttering like it always did — and always would — at the title that fit at the end of Wren's direction like it was always supposed to be there. "No more, Wrenny." She said pointedly, blue eyes sharp as they settled on her mischievous child. Every new day that came and passed revealed more and more of the girl's sparkling personality. She was sweet, unbelievably so, but she had a fire to her that burned so brightly Taylor hoped nothing would ever succeed in snuffing it out. "Are you going to help me mix?"

"Uh huh!" Wren wiggled closer, tiny hands gripping the silicone spatula with little cat paws littered along the black handle. She mixed the batter with strict focus, her little tongue poking out from between her lips as she narrowed her watercolored gaze, studying the way chocolate chips sank into beige batter. "You can make them Mickey heads now?"

"Almost! We just have to spray the pan." Taylor guided her through the process, but allowed Wren to be the one who sprayed both the stovetop griddle and frying pan. While she was occupied with making sure every inch of the metal surfaces were sufficiently coated in cooking oil, Taylor scrambled four eggs in a bowl, setting it off to the side before little hands could attempt to pick up the bowl of batter without assistance. "Why don't you get Andie a mug for her coffee while I make the Mickey heads."

"Okay!" Wren chirped, crawling across the counter (despite Taylor telling her at least once a day to not do that) to reach the cupboard where all of their mugs resided in a disorganized cluster. Over the months that had passed since the lockdown had been put into place, they'd begun to accumulate tacky mugs that were honestly god awful, but gave at the very least an ounce of amusement on days when everything felt claustrophobically repetitive. "Can Benji fit in the cabinet?"

Taylor's head snapped toward her child, blue eyes frantic and she looked between Benjamin and Wren. The youngest of her cats, who was still as obsessed with Wren as he had always been, had jumped up onto the countertop, butting his head against Wren's ankle as he purred contently. "Do not put Benji in the cabinet."

Wren merely giggled in response, reaching for a mug on the highest shelf. It was one of the newer editions, pristinely white as it glimmered beneath sunlight that flittered in through the white-trim windows, aside from the portrait of a dalmatian that covered the center front. Wren had thought it held a striking resemblance to Kitty, and so naturally it had found its way into Taylor's Amazon cart. When it was placed on the counter, green eyes looked expectantly toward the blonde at the stovetop, eager for another task to complete.

"What's next, hm?" Taylor hummed, looking away from the griddle to set her eyes on Wren. The strips of bacon she'd laid out in the frying pan sizzled and bubbled, grease popping every couple of seconds as it cooked. They'd been going over how to the basics of kitchen etiquette, and Wren always thrived beneath Taylor's questions. "Before we can eat, what else do we need?"

"Plates!" The child giggled, standing up on the counter once again so that she could reach the plates that were stacked in the cupboard above the coffee pot. She pulled down three plastic plates, all of which had some kind of character displayed in the center, before clambering down from the countertop and racing toward the island. She put her plate down in the middle, setting Taylor's to her left and Andrea's to her right. Those had become their permanent seats, and a meltdown would be had if anything tried to disrupt that sacred routine. She grabbed silverware next, running through the mental checklist Taylor had run through with her countless times. The cutlery that ended up on the island was a chaotic mix of children's silverware and the more refined adult type, but what really made Taylor smile was the steak knife set down beside her plate which Wren claimed was for the butter.

"Good job, baby!" Taylor cheered, turning around with a serving plate in hands, bacon and pancakes stacked evenly across the ceramic dish. The eggs were placed on the island in a separate dish, and without hesitation Wren dipped her fingers into it and shoved whatever she could grab between her fingers into her mouth. Taylor could only roll her eyes. It didn't matter how many times she told Wren to wait until they'd all settled their plates, little fingers proved to be both impatient and impulsive.

"Can go get Andie now?!" Wren was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, little green eyes wide and pleading as she looked across the island at Taylor.

Taylor waved her off amusedly, watching as Wren raced towards the stairs without a moment of hesitation, only slowing her steps to graze her fingers along Olivia's spine before she carried on with her adventure; everything was an adventure to her, everything was still fun and exciting and filled with new discoveries. She'd come so far, Taylor couldn't believe it some days, but there was still so much to heal and mend and patch back together again before either one of them were entirely okay. Healing took time. Healing came in waves. But, where they were at was as good a place as any. Taylor was more than okay with the season of life they found themselves in for the time being.

With Wren momentarily distracted by collecting Andrea for breakfast, Taylor got the last of everything situated. She poured both herself and Andrea mugs of coffee, lightening their color with milk and sweetening the deal with a spoonful of granulated sugar, before she stalked toward the refrigerator and pulled out the pitcher of orange juice she'd moved to the lowest shelf -- no pulp, obviously. Wren would have a meltdown with there were pulp in her favorite drink. Once that had been poured into a cup for Wren, she situated herself at the island, waiting for the echoes of eager footsteps to march their way through the upper level of the house.

It came cascading down the stairs a minute later. Wren had a tight grip on Andrea's hand, leading the way as she tackled the stairs two at a time with her prized stuffed companion tucked between her bicep and chest protectively. Andrea had gotten dressed in the time that it had taken them to make the breakfast spread, her blonde hair that was still growing back weaved into a traditional braid and thrown over her shoulder like it typically was. She hadn't lost all of her hair when she'd been undergoing treatment, but it had seen a rough patch with incessant breakage and incurable dryness. She and Wren weren't the only ones that had grown and changed and healed since early December. Andrea had grown and changed and healed too. She wasn't a woman sickly with cancer anymore. She wasn't a woman freshly conquering remission. It was a breath of relief to look across the room and see a radiant glow on her mother's pale cheeks. Taylor hadn't seen her shine this brightly since before the diagnosis.

"...and I made you coffee all by myself. Mommy didn't even help a little bit!" Taylor caught the tail end of the conversation, and she could only imagine that Wren had been talking Andrea's ear off upstairs. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the title that slips off of Wren's lips so naturally. She hadn't been referred to as anything besides Mama yet, but somehow hearing Wren call her Mommy warmed every nerve in her body until her veins buzzed with electric energy and adoration. If there was only one thing in life that she could be absolutely certain about, it was that she loved that little girl with her entire heart and soul. She'd burn entirely continents before any further harm could come her way; repercussions be damned.

"Oh, Mommy didn't even help a little bit? You did it all by yourself?" Andrea's smile was bright, unbelievably so, and blue eyes sought to meet blue in silent fondness. It seemed Taylor wasn't the only one still unbelievably infatuated with Wren and her ever strengthening confidence. She was a skittish little thing, shying away from anything she deemed to be even remotely too loud or intense, but she was wild and careless and so perfectly sweet with her endless energy and desire for physical contact. Even though Andrea had been witness to the leaps and bounds of progress she'd conquered since leaving behind TriBeCa, it would never fully wash over her that the little girl that had flinched at footsteps and the mere thought of being in trouble, was now a little girl who rambled endlessly whenever she was too excited to contain herself and constantly finding chaos. Wrenley James had finally realized that she could be herself here. It had taken nearly five months, but she'd finally realized that she was safe to just be a kid.

"Yeah! All by myself 'cause I'm big now! Gonna be bigger than Mama and I'm gonna have a bazillion pencils and a kitty cat. But only one kitty cat, 'cause Mama says three kitties maked her a cat lady and I'm not a cat lady." Wren grinned with pride, swinging her and Andrea's intertwined hands until they reached the island. She detached herself with eagerness, clambering up onto the bar stool with radiant excitement. Taylor laughed softly, reaching out to help her onto the stool when it became clear that she wasn't putting Bluey down to make the transition easier for herself. "Bluey wants eggies, Mama."

"Oh, Bluey wants eggies too? How about he shares with you." Taylor laughed softly, scooping out a small portion of eggs for Wren and setting them on the plate. The least deformed pancake found its way onto the dish too, and then a piece of bacon. She could always have more, Taylor had all but drilled that into Wren's head, but they'd also been talking about not taking more than what you were sure you could eat. Even if Wren would never go hungry again, it was still a fundamental concept that every parent had the obligation of instilling within their child. Or, it was a fundamental concept to Taylor who had been raised the same way. Taylor wouldn't be surprised if Wren asked for another pancake only so that she could pick out the chocolate chips like a highly trained surgeon with a scalpel.

Wren seemed content with the suggestion of sharing what was on her plate, humming contently as she watched Taylor pour a decent amount of syrup overtop of her pancakes. The stuffed companion as placed on the counter with tender affection, tiny fingers patting his deflating head before they tucked into the breakfast foods on her plate. Andrea laughed endearingly as Wren managed to smear syrup across her face with only the first bite, filling her own plate with food after Taylor had taken her turn. It was a quiet meal, filled with soft comments from Wren and gentle redirection from Taylor, but nobody felt the need to fill the silence. They'd long since abandoned the days of lively and continuous chatter. There wasn't much to discuss anyways.

When breakfast had run its course, Wren an impatient wiggling mess on the stool between Andrea and Taylor, the silent fell away from the kitchen with lightness. "You're a mess. How did you get chocolate in your hair?"

"Um, cause it was yummy?" Wren answered the question with a question, her little green eyes narrowed as she contemplated whether that was the correct response or not. Taylor laughed amusedly, shaking her head as she reached for the paper towel to her left, bringing it up to Wren's face before the chid could squirm away. "No, Mommy!"

"Yes, Wrenny." Taylor rebutted, holding tightly to the back of the child's head, trying her best to make the process quick and efficient, but Wren's wiggling and whining only dragged out the process of chocolate and syrup being wiped away from porcelain skin. "If you stop moving I can do it faster." Taylor teased, pulling the napkin away once she was satisfied with Wren's chocolate free face smiling back at her. Her child only giggled in response, reaching for the cup of orange juice with indifference, already beyond the recent endeavors despite the fight she'd put up.

When breakfast was finished, all of the plates cleared and put away and the countertops wiped down, glittering beneath the stream of mid-morning sunlight that came in through the windows and sliding glass door in beautiful ripples of golden warmth, Taylor and Wren found themselves in the living room with mugs of chocolate milk and a movie on the television screen. Andrea had returned back upstairs to finished the blanket she'd started the week prior, and while Wren would've preferred to be outside, the wind was unforgiving and harsh outside the windows, swinging branches in every direction. There was no sign of rain, no indication of anything on the weather radar Taylor constantly checked, but it still wasn't a safe bet to prance through the strong breeze. So, Taylor had turned on one of the Christmas movies Wren had loved back in December, and they'd decided to have their own little Christmas in April. It didn't matter to Wren that there were no glimmering lights or twinkling candles, nor the fact that instead of snow outside there were fallen branches and a slowly warming atmosphere. She and Taylor had gotten dressed in respective red and green outfits, they'd made chocolate milk and poured it into their most festive mugs (which really weren't festive at all, but Taylor adored the season of imagination and creativity Wren was in), and they'd cuddled up close for Eloise at Christmastime, but not without exchanging presents beforehand. They'd spent an hour rushing around the house, collecting anything and everything they could think of that would make their day just a little bit brighter. Wren had given Taylor a collection of rocks and a pair of socks from her dressed, and Taylor had pulled a few random items out of her closet that she'd been hanging onto for occasions like this. Well, they weren't specifically stored in the back of her closet for impromptu Christmas celebrations, but for days when Wren just could do the same things she'd already been doing for weeks. There were bracelets on the coffee table at their feet, pears of plastic and translucent elastic littering the carpet beneath the table to prove their dedication to the craft, and on the couch beside them was a new stuffed animal that had already been deemed Wren's best friend. As their afternoon dragged on, Taylor found it harder and harder to keep the news of the adoption to herself. She'd been finding it near impossible for days, but each time she stole a glance at Wren, her little tongue poking out as her green eyes bounced between the bracelet she was contently stringing and the movie she still seemed to adore, it became a pressing weight that Taylor just couldn't manage any longer.

She hummed softly as she strung a handful of beads onto her own string, reaching for the colors that she knew were Wren's favorite. Her eyes flickered to the screen every time she heard a door slam, a faint smile on her lips as she watched Nanny stand in the middle of a lavish hotel apartment flustered beyond belief as the garland she tried to hang fell to her feet each time Eloise left to cause trouble. She'd always thought it was funny, but having her own kid now, knowing the frustration of never getting anything done or right because little hands got in the way or destroyed the entire thing, it just hit her differently. Everything hit her different now.

Her fingers hadn't tied thin string in years, but it was like muscle memory as she placed the last bead and hold the two loose ends between her fingertips. She weaved them into a knot with precision, finishing just as Wren had completed her own. They turned to each other with matching smiles, the movie no longer something of interest as they both seemed to bounce with anticipation.

"I made you a bracelet!" Wren exclaimed with excitement, elatedly proclaiming what Taylor had already figured out. The blonde beamed regardless, brushing her palm across the little girls cheek as her eyes watered with fondness. How could she love somebody so much that it caused her physical pain? How could she adore somebody so little with her entire heart that just the sight of her caused tears? She would never know the answers to those questions, and that was perfectly okay with her if it meant she always felt this way just by simply having Wren at her side.

"And I'm sure it's absolutely beautiful, but can I talk to you first, baby love? I think you're going to love it." Taylor held onto her tiny face, feeling the warmth that radiated against her palm. Wren leaned into the contact with a content hum, her green eyes searching Taylor's expression for any indication for what she could possibly want to talk about, but all that she found as she looked into vibrant blue eyes that matched the coast of the more serene tropical island was affection. Wren still didn't know how to handle being looked at so intimately, and so there was no surprise that came to strike Taylor when she smiled shyly. "You know how we read that book about Mama's the other day? And how we read that book about adoption last night?"

"Mmhm. Do we have another new bedtime book?" Taylor loved how much Wren loved literature. Through the process of creating folklore — which was officially in editing — she'd been at Taylor's side, inquiring about the larger words placed between lines and the grander concepts of the albums general lyricism. Taylor had always thought that there'd be nobody who understood the deeply personal connection that writing created quite like she did, but then Wren had come around and she'd understood that connection the first time she'd ever seen Taylor seriously pick up a pen in New York. Maybe it was because Wren was creative in her own right. She spent hours of the day with her sketchbook in hand even still, and everything she created had a story, whether it was an original story or not, that was always changing, but there were times she brought Taylor pictures that had come from nowhere but her own imagination and memory. Taylor loved to think that she wrote the stories and Wren illustrated them. She loved to think that they were two sides of the same coin; that they completed each other in complimenting ways.

"We can definitely find a new one somewhere around here, but that's not it." Taylor didn't know how to say what she wanted to. She didn't know how to put everything that she feels so intensely and all-encompassingly into one simple question. It doesn't feel simple, but she knows that it is. She knows that she's overthinking all of this and no matter how she asks, Wren will be ecstatic. She's already somebody's mother. She's already Wren's mother. She doesn't need a piece of paper and the recognition of a judge to tell her that. Nothing changes aside from the fact that Wren becomes hers legally. But, everything changes. There won't be a middle man anymore. Emily won't come by for visitations and check-ins. She won't need to clear any international or state travel. More importantly, she won't have anyone to ask questions to. Nothing changes. But everything that Taylor's been standing so confidently on falls away, and she's not sure if she can rise to the challenge of being out on her own so entirely. It's a silly thought. One that she knows holds no real weight. But the thought of failing Wren, the thought of adding more trauma to this innocent little girls plate; it paralyzes her with agonizing fear.

Wren waits patiently, like she can tell that Taylor has more to say but doesn't know how to put it into words. Taylor doesn't know how she's so perfect with her long lashes and green eyes. She doesn't know how someone who has been shown so much unimaginable pain is still so kind, so gentle, but as she looks at Wren, as she feels the skin of her little cheek beneath her palm, she knows that somehow she found the purest soul that's ever existed. She's biased, undoubtably so, but she knows that everyone who knows Wren will agree with her on one thing; she's special.

Taylor pulls the little girl into her lap, needing to feel the weight of her body and the warmth of her genuine love. She exhales softly, blue eyes unbelievably soft as she analyzes how much Wren has grown and changed in only a handful of months. It's sickening to think that even so little as a year ago, she'd had no idea this precious bundle of love and kindness existed. A year ago, she'd been intertwined with grief and addiction. She'd been addicted to the pain of loving Joe and all of his faults. She'd been blinded by the addiction. Too blinded to see that she was losing herself as he lost her. A year ago, she'd loved a man that didn't even see her, but now, she loves a little girl that sees every good and bad thing that makes up her entire existence, and somehow, she loves her anyways. "How would you feel about me being your Mama forever? About making that official?"

The little person in Taylor's arms had never felt so tiny. For a moment, it's like Wren isn't even in her lap, but then she realizes that little green eyes that glow beneath radiant sunlight and twinkle beneath delicate moonlight are brimming with tears that look like stars, and she realizing that little lips that aren't quite pink but are so far from being any shade of red are trembling with emotion that she understands and feels herself. For a moment, Wren exists in her heart and her body and her mind, and then in a single second she exists everywhere. She's in the kitchen, in all of the cups and plates that fill cabinets. She's in the living room, in the blankets and stuffed animals that take up space on the couches and chairs. She's on the staircase, where toys and shoes are stacked on every step in. She's in the music room, in the pencils and guitar picks that are places on oak shelves and the lid of the piano. She's in Taylor. She's in her heart, and she's in her mind, and her smile is in her veins, keeping her going even when the world feels like it's spinning so far from the axis it belongs on. She's everywhere and she's nowhere, and she's in Taylor's lap and she doesn't know how she's gotten so lucky to find her in a world thats full of deception and pain and anger. Little green eyes stare back at blue, filled with tears that have so many explanations. "My Mama forever? Forever and ever?" Taylor teases her. Taylor tugs at her braids and scrubs her face for too many seconds when it's covered in icing and syrup and chocolate, but she doesn't lie. Taylor makes her go to bed, and she makes her come inside when it's raining, but she always tucks her in tight, and she gets her changed and warm. And when she has a bad day, Taylor hugs her and holds her. Even when she's naughty; when she yells because she doesn't know what else to do, when she hits because that's all she's ever seen done, when she probably doesn't deserve it, Taylor loves her. Taylor loves her like she's always been her mama. Taylor loves her like she'll always be her mama, but Wren likes the sound of forever as it rolls off of Taylor's lips. She likes the sound of forever as she realizes that Taylor wants to adopt her, wants to give her a home; a real one, a forever one.

"Forever and ever and a day. Just to make sure that I'm your Mama until nothing else exists in the world." Taylor wipes the tears off of Wren's cheeks with a watery smile, and when she pulls her hands back, when she finally finds her bearings again, she reaches for the bracelet on the coffee table and holds it out to Wren. It's tiny in the palm of her hand, but it's perfect. The beads are like crystals between her fingers, various shades of blue that mesh so seamlessly like they're a portrait of the clearest ocean somewhere undiscovered, but what ties them together is one single word. "It says daughter. You're already my daughter, already my baby, but I'd really like to make it official if that's alright with you."

Wren dissolves into tears, quiet sobs falling off of her lips as she nods her little head and falls into Taylor's chest, wrapping her arms around the blonde's neck tighter than she ever has. She doesn't say anything, she can't say anything with the way she chokes over tears and sniffles, but she doesn't need to. The tight grip she has on Taylor's red pajama top is more than enough to convey more than words ever could. They've never needed words to understand each other, and they don't need them now. Taylor slips the bracelet onto the tiny wrist of her daughter, and she marvels at the way gold letters glimmer beneath the sunlight that spills in through windows. The sun is setting, the day is ending, but an entire future has just been sealed in a wordless moment. Night is near, darkness is approaching, but Taylor has never felt so alight with the possibility of endless adventure and company. Blue eyes trail across the room, taking in every minuscule detail of the space that they've turned into a home since March, and on her last sweep across furniture, in a last second decision, she searches the coffee table where Wren had put her bracelet down. Every insecurity she'd let herself be fearful of falls away when four letters catch her attention. They'd sandwiched between pink and purple and blue beads, all of them like slivers of hope made tangible, and they stare back at her like they're the perfect ending of a long and heavy chapter. She'd made Wren a bracelet that said daughter, she'd put her feelings into plastic beads like she'd done when she was a child with wild ambitions that felt just out of reach, and Wren had done the same. They were so alike, so reflective of the other's best traits. Taylor had been so controlled by her insecurities and worst anxieties, but as she hugged her daughter, as she soothed the sobs that fell off of little lips, she wasn't anymore. She had no reason to be afraid, no reason to be so critical. However life turned out, whatever they faced, they'd do it together. They'd been doing it together. Bridges had been burned and pages had been turned and discoveries and reflections had been made and in the face of unavoidable reinvention, she'd finally discovered the impact of genuine happiness. She knew one thing as she held Wren to her chest and rocked them both with gentle comfort; Wren was her daughter, her baby, her reason for getting up at the turn of a new day, and she would never take that lightly. They'd been hurt, and burned, and scorned, both apart and together, but she'd die before anything came to harm her daughter again. A scorpion stung, but she'd bite. She'd burn worlds and wage wars for the little girl that had finally given all of herself to Taylor to protect and cherish. She'd love Wren the way she deserved to be loved, and she'd never stop celebrating the privilege of being allowed to love her like her own. For thirty years her love had been tolerated. It had been walked over and abused, but she'd found someone who looked at her like she hung the stars, and she vowed to learn how just to assure she was never amongst the people who had done the same to her daughter. Her daughter. In thirteen days, Wrenley Noel James would be hers forevermore. In thirteen days, she'd be Wrenley Noel Swift.

folklore.