Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
The acknowledgment, casual as it was, settled something inside me. I took a sip of coffee, stealing glances at her over the rim of my cup. The overhead lights couldn’t diminish the vitality in her face, the strength evident in every line. This woman had raised our daughter alone, had built a life without me, had somehow managed to remain the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“I meant what I said earlier,” I said, my voice dropping lower. “I’m not going anywhere this time. Whatever happens with the transplant, I want to be part of Brynn’s life. If you’ll allow it and she wants it.”
Lavender’s fingers tightened around her cup. “And if I said no?”
“I’d respect your decision. But I hope you wouldn’t.” The raw honesty scraped my throat. “I’ve missed too much already. Admittedly, it was my own fault, but I’d like a chance to be a friend to her. To give her another layer of protection.”
She studied me, searching my face for something. “You’ve changed.”
“In some ways.” I held her gaze. “Not in others.”
Her lips curved slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the girl who’d once held my heart in her hands. Who still did.
“We’ll see,” she said finally, but the edge had softened in her voice. She reached for her coffee again, her fingers brushing mine across the table. This time, neither of us pulled away.
Chapter Six
Lavender
I sat in the hospital parking lot, engine idling, hands frozen on the steering wheel. I’d gone home briefly to get me and Brynn some more clothes and to pay the rent, and had gotten a huge surprise. The red and white eviction notice still burned in my memory like an afterimage from staring at the sun. Three months behind. How had I not noticed we were three months behind on the fucking rent? The dashboard clock blinked 4:37 PM. Barely three hours since I’d left. No one would be expecting me for at least another hour so I could wait before I went inside. I wanted to go back to Brynn’s side, but I couldn’t seem make myself turn off the ignition, couldn’t make myself move.
Three hours to Columbus and back round trip. Three wasted hours to discover we had nowhere to go once Brynn was released. The memory replayed itself, an endless loop of humiliation. Standing in the apartment complex parking lot, confused by the new lock on our door. A dozen faded notices hanging in tatters on the door. Knocking on the building manager’s office, the pitying look on his face as he handed me fresh copies of the paperwork.
“We sent all the legal notices, mailed and posted on the door, and I tried calling you multiple times, Ms. Calloway.” His voice had been professionally sympathetic. “I told the boss your kid was real sick. He gave you an extra month, but the owners are ridin’ him to move someone else in.” He patted my shoulder awkwardly. “I’m sorry, little lady. I can’t do much, but I can let you and your girl stay with me until you find a new place if you need. Lord knows you helped me enough when my Sara passed.”
I’d nearly broken down then. All I’d done for him was make sure he had supper each night. The only thing the man could safely cook was coffee. If it was instant. And the tap water was hot. He’d once nearly set his own apartment on fire when he tried to recycle unpopped microwave popcorn kernels.
He said he’d gotten the storage company to “waive” the first month’s fee for holding my stuff. I figured he’d paid the fee himself. He’d asked after Brynn and wished her well. I’d said my goodbyes because I knew I’d never see that place again. Even if Brynn made a full recovery, if we were moving, we’d move closer to Cincinnati.
Maybe.
Panic threatened to pull me under as my mind skittered over the mental math I’d been avoiding the past hour and a half. Three months’ rent at nine hundred dollars. Plus late fees. Assuming I wanted to keep the apartment, which was unlikely even if they hadn’t already signed a rental agreement with someone else. Hospital cafeteria meals. Gas for the three-hour round trips between Columbus and Cincinnati. The meager paychecks from my remote work stretching thinner and thinner as the work I could reasonably commit to and complete in a timely manner dwindled.
My knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as the reality crashed down. We were homeless. The word echoed in my skull, bouncing off the walls of my denial until there was nowhere left for it to hide.
I pressed my forehead against the cool plastic of the wheel, trying to breathe through the panic clawing up my throat. How could I tell Brynn? What would Knight think? The shame burned worse than the fear. I’d failed. At the one job I had. Keeping a roof over our heads should be the bare minimum I did for my daughter. Instead, I’d gotten so self-absorbed I’d let important things go. Things I couldn’t afford to let go.