2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
LANE
After I tie the laces of Sophie’s shoes, I hand her the large ball I bought at the convenience store this morning and straighten. She’d been bugging me for a new one ever since hers blew away in last week’s thunderstorm after we left it outside.
“You’re sure you can’t stay for brunch?” my mother asks, hovering by the door. “Chance will be here any minute.”
All the more reason to get the hell out of here.
“Can’t. Sorry,” I say, feigning disappointment. “I promised Gabby I’d help her with a psych paper while Sophie plays at the park.”
Mom crosses her arm over her chest and watches me. “You’re always so busy. It would be nice to see you relax a little.”
Right. Because sitting across from Chance Lockhart at brunch is the epitome of relaxation.
I glance back to Sophie and my lips quirk as I watch her struggle to peer around the large pink ball in her arms. It’s nearly half the size of her squat frame, and all I can see while she’s holding it are two stubby legs and the halo of light brown curls that fall in wild tangles down her back and around her face.
While she may have gotten the shade of her ocher locks from her father—mine are a vibrant auburn—she certainly got her waves from me, along with all her other prominent features like her thick lashes, bright blue eyes, and full lips.
“Maybe next time, Mom,” I say, already heading out the door while I take one of Sophie’s little hands in mine.
I ignore the answering sigh behind me and guide Sophie toward the edge of the yard to the mailbox where the roof contractor was supposed to drop off my estimate earlier that morning.
I raise my head and lift a hand in a wave to Mrs. Miller, our neighbor and Sophie’s babysitter, then once we reach the end of the yard, I flip open the mailbox and find the envelope tucked inside.
“Come on, Mom,” Sophie wines, tugging on my arm.
My brow creases as I glance down at her, then back to the envelope in my hands. “Yeah, okay, we’re going.”
The emblem for Redd’s Roofing is stamped in the corner, and I say a little prayer as I open it, keeping Sophie to my right and away from the road while we walk.
Please don’t be high.
Please don’t be high.
Please don’t be high.
I remove the estimate for the new roof on the lake house and unfold it, my gaze homing in on the numbers and the amount totaled on the bottom of the page. As I read the amount, my stomach sinks.
It’s high.
“Shit,” I hiss before I remember myself and slap the paper over my mouth. “Sorry,” I mumble, “Mommy said a bad word.”
“Mom,” Sophie singsongs.
She drops the ball on the sidewalk, watching it bounce, then runs to catch up with it while my heart leaps into my throat as I envision her stumbling onto the road. “Soph! Wait until we get to the park, okay? It’s too hard to bounce it and walk. It’ll roll out into traffic.”
“I can do it.”
I sigh, not in the mood for an argument as I clutch the letter, the estimated total heavy in my hands. “I said no. You can wait a few more minutes.”
If I have to walk the two blocks to the park with her bobbing the ball the entire way, it’ll take us years to get there, and I want to be as far away as possible when Chance shows up.
When I shoot her a sharp look, Sophie once again hugs the ball.
As we walk I wonder how I’m going to manage to come up with fifteen thousand dollars for a new roof when I was lucky enough to afford the house in the first place.
It was a foreclosure. I’d fallen in love with it years ago, and when it went for sale more than six months ago, I jumped. Luckily for me, I saved every dime I received after I graduated high school, including my parent’s gift, as well as money working from home doing data entry, so I’d been able to afford the down payment.
To be fair, I knew the lake house was a fixer upper when I bought it, but because it was a foreclosure I couldn’t inspect it or go inside, so I had no idea the roof was leaking in several places. All of the wood will need replacing, along with some of the plasterboard on the ceiling, which means I can’t move in until it’s fixed, not with Sophie.
But unless they’re willing to accept Monopoly money, I don’t have extra to spare. Any money I had in my savings is long gone, and between a full course load at college, working from home part-time, and being a full-time mom to Soph, I’m spread thin as it is. If I worked more hours, I’d never see her, and on top of that the burden of childcare would lie on my mother’s shoulders because I sure as hell can’t afford to pay anyone to look after my daughter.
I groan, feeling discouraged.
I should’ve waited to check the quote until later because now I’m just going to fret over it for the entire day.
It’s times like these I wish I had waited to do adult things until I was an adult. I should’ve saved sex for when I was older, maybe even until marriage, done things right. Then I could’ve had the cute house, white picket fence with a dog in the yard, and the whole nine yards.
Instead, I’d been a doe-eyed fool. Naive. Lovestruck.
And though I love Sophie with all my heart, and I wouldn’t give her up for anything in the world, I can’t say it’s been easy. Quite the opposite. Getting pregnant shortly before my seventeenth birthday had more than a few drawbacks, and I’ve been questioning every decision I’ve made ever since.
Rather than living with my parents, maybe I should’ve skipped college until Sophie was older. Maybe I should’ve worked until she was school age, and then I could’ve enrolled in night classes. It might’ve taken me twice as long to get a degree, but at least then I’d have money and insurance.
At least then, I might not feel like I’m being run ragged from the stress of trying to do it all, though I suppose I only have myself to blame. Since having Sophie, I’ve made it a point to ask for help as little as possible. Some might say I’m independent to a fault, but my parents didn’t choose to have a pregnant teen, so the last thing I want is to constantly inconvenience them because of my mistakes. It’s one of the reasons I fought so hard to get my own place. Now I just needed to make it habitable and I’ll finally be out of their hair. They can have their lives back.
I chew my lip and mull over my options.
I can shift some money around but I still don’t have enough for the roof, and with my paltry income, it’ll take six months to save for it. As it stands, I’ve only set aside money for paint and a few extras, things I thought were necessities before moving Sophie in, and nothing more.
There’s only one way I can think of to earn more money to pay for the roof, and it’s the last thing I want to do.
I groan as I think of the student assistant position my father offered me last year. I’d turned it down, but it has remained open ever since, and I can’t help but feel like he’s holding it for me in the hopes I’ll reconsider.
The position pays well, and since I’d technically be a part of CU staff, it means I’d have access to the campus day care center, which is a free perk for all employees. Currently, I pay Mrs. Miller to watch Sophie while I’m at school, and though she gives me a criminally low rate, free childcare would still save me a pretty penny each month.
The assistant spot is flexible, too. Late afternoon practices are the only time I’d have to be there. Otherwise, I can decide when I prep the equipment and uniforms for the following day as I long as I get the work done.
Childcare.
Better pay.
Flexible.
It would be the perfect job, if it weren’t for one thing. One very big thing.
Taking the student manager spot for CU’s football team means seeing Sophie’s father every single day.
I groan as I glance down at Sophie. She tosses the ball in her arms and catches it.
I promised myself I’d have us in the house after the holidays, but if I can’t fix the roof before then, it’ll be impossible.
I’m in between a rock and a hard place and I know it.
“Look, Mommy, watch what I can do!” Sophie drops the ball in front of herself, and it bounces off the paved sidewalk, hitting a rock and careening into the yard beside us.
“That’s great, but didn’t I tell you to hold onto the ball?”
Sophie runs to grab the ball, then peers at me over top of it. “I can kick it, too!” Her little foot kicks out, the bright red lights on the heel of her shoe blinking as she makes contact with the ball and it surges forward. I wait as she chases it down someone’s driveway, trying my best to remain patient when she clutches it to her chest, and again, bounces it out in front of her.
I bend down and snatch it up, ignoring her protests when she drops herself onto the sidewalk in a pout, her little hands balled into fists and a frown pulling the soft curves of her lips.
I sigh and close my eyes. Why can’t she cooperate today? I’m stressed as it is, and if the telltale throbbing in the front of my head is any indication, I’m about two seconds away from a monstrous tension headache.
I inhale a calming breath before I open my eyes and cross the space between us. Kneeling in front of her, I peer into her bright blue eyes. “I’ll give you the ball back, but no more bouncing.”
Her gaze darts to the ball and she starts to smile, but I hold it back. “Promise? I’m serious this time. No. More.”
When she nods, I hand it over.
Great mothering, Lane, give her everything she wants and she’ll always throw a fit.
I give my inner critic the middle finger as we continue our walk, resentful at my sour mood. My nerves are worn thin already and we’re not even at the park yet. I’m so preoccupied with my loathsome thoughts on how I’ll pay for the roof that when Sophie drops the ball and it bounces off my foot onto the road, it takes me a second to react.
Sophie darts toward it and I reach out, grasping for her, but come up empty at the same time I see a flash of red—a car—headed straight for her.
Time slows and bile rises into my throat.
I lunge forward but I can’t reach her, and one thing becomes clear.
I don’t have enough time.
I’m not fast enough.