Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jessa
It’s four in the morning when I finally accept that I just won’t be able to sleep tonight.
I haven’t gone under once, not for a minute.
I’ve spent the whole night flat on my back, staring at a water stain on the ceiling I hadn’t noticed before tonight, running the same worries over and over.
Back in the city it’s an hour earlier, but Mrs. Petrov, my previous landlady, keeps a farmer’s hours, up before the birds with her tea and her crossword.
I should give her a call. Last night’s online search for apartments back in the city came up with nothing.
I need to move back now, not months later when there is availability.
I slip into the kitchen so I won’t wake Mia and dial the number.
She answers on the third ring. “Petrov residence.”
“Mrs. Petrov, hi. It’s Jessa.”
“Jessa, my goodness.” Warmth pours down the line, then a thread of worry behind it. “It’s the crack of dawn out your way, sweetheart. Is everything all right? Is the little one all right?”
“She’s fine. We’re both fine.” I wind the loose thread of my sleeve around one finger. “I’m sorry to call so early. I wouldn’t, only I couldn’t wait, and I knew you’d be up.”
“I’m always up. What is it?”
“The apartment.” My voice is small. “Mine. The one I left. Is it still available?”
The pause that follows tells me everything before she says a word.
“Oh, honey.” She breathes it out, gentle and sorry.
“I rented it out two days ago to a young couple, very sweet, expecting their first. They signed the lease that same afternoon.” She pauses for a moment.
“You told me the move was a dream come true. You said Mia’s new school was the best in the country.
What happened? Why’re you trying to come back? Is everything okay?”
“It is.” I swallow against the ache climbing my throat. “It is. Never mind. Forget I asked. Go finish your crossword.”
“Jessa.” Her tone sharpens with affection. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“It’s nothing I can’t sort out. I promise.” I make myself laugh, and it comes out brittle. “Give my love to Mr. Davies and his floods.”
I hang up before she can hear the panic in my voice.
So that door’s shut. I lean against the windowsill and look out at the tree line going gray with the first of the sun, and I try to add it up like the accountant I am.
I quit my job to come here. Go back, and I’m hunting for work all over again, when here I’ve already got a position waiting for me Monday with a better salary.
And an apartment in a good school district.
In Mia’s old district, those don’t come cheap or fast. Mrs. Petrov’s was a small miracle, which is why I held on to it for so long.
I let out a groan, rubbing my hands over my face. “What am I even doing? I can’t just leave.”
But I can’t stay here either. Not in this town. Not with Marcus Steele in it.
He hasn’t recognized me, so maybe I should stop expecting him to. I was nothing more than another woman in his bed. But memory is a tricky thing. We’ll keep colliding on wet roads and in playgrounds until one day it might click and he remembers me. And then he’ll look at Mia.
It’s one thing to turn away a pregnancy.
A woman on his doorstep he never has to see again, that’s easy enough to wave off.
But seeing a living, breathing ten-year-old with your own eyes looking back, knowing she’s yours, that’s something else.
I’ve watched him with a child now. I’ve seen how soft he goes around a kid.
What if he wants her once he knows? What if he decides a rich man with his name and his lawyers has more right to her than I do? What if he makes my life hell just for keeping her from him?
I push off the sill and make coffee with hands that aren’t quite steady.
I did give him a chance. I went to him. His people turned me away, and that was the end of it. It wasn’t like I’d thrown myself at him or gone out of the way to seduce him. If anything, he got me in bed. So for him to be the wronged one in this, even just in my own head, makes my blood go hot.
And yet. I take a sip of the coffee and close my eyes briefly. The girl he’s raising, that sweet gap-toothed thing, he’s done right by her. So it’s not that he can’t be a father. He can. That’s what guts me.
He is a good father.
To someone else’s kid.
I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, angry at myself for feeling this way. My daughter doesn’t lack for a father. She has me. She’s always had me. I’ve never once let her go without, not a meal, not a birthday, not a single bedtime story, and I’m not about to start now.
I let out a shuddering breath, sit down at the table, and open the laptop to hunt for jobs back home.
I can’t risk it. I can’t have him finding out about Mia. And he will find out, not today but eventually. I glance at the clock. I have to be at the office by nine, and before that I have to drive to that academy and cancel her enrollment.
I sigh and go back to the screen, knowing exactly how devastated she’s going to be, knowing I don’t have a choice.
I sip my coffee. This will work out. As long as we’re together, it’ll be fine.
“Up you get, baby. Big day.”
Mia surfaces from under her blanket one limb at a time, hair a wild dark cloud, scowling at the light. “Why?”
“We’re going on a little errand, and then I’m dropping you somewhere new while I’m at work.” I pull her uniform off the back of the chair, then stop, because she’s going to need clothes that aren’t a Crestline uniform. “Actually. Wear your jeans. The green ones.”
She sits up slowly, instantly suspicious. “Why not my school clothes?”
I crouch in front of her and busy myself with finding her socks. “Mia. About the academy—”
“What about it?”
“We’re not going to stay in Hemlock Hollow.” I keep my eyes on the sock in my hand. “I’m taking you out of Crestline. I’ll find you another school, a really good one, I promise.”
For a second, she just looks at me. Then her whole face crumples. “But I really wanted to go here.”
“I know you did, baby.”
“You said.” Her voice wobbles up an octave. “You said it was the best school in the whole country. You drove three days. You sold the good couch.”
“I know what I said.”
“They have a real stadium, Mom. With real stands.” She’s fully awake now, sitting up straight, fierce. “Coach said I’m the best he’s seen in years. He said I could play on TV someday, like for real, on a real team. He said if I go here, he’ll see me on TV one day!”
The words make me close my eyes. It feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I can’t bear her hurt.
“There are good schools everywhere,” I manage to get out. “I’ll find one with a soccer program. A great one.”
“Not like this one.” Her chin sets in that stubborn line that she doesn’t get from me. “This one’s special. They picked me. You said only special kids get picked.”
I take both her hands in mine, small and warm. “Mia, listen to me. Trust me. This is not a good idea. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have a reason.”
“You always say trust me when you won’t tell me the real reason.” Her eyes go glassy, and she pulls her hands back. “It’s not fair.”
She’s right, and that’s the worst part, so I don’t have a single thing to say. I tug the green jeans off the hook and lay them on the bed.
“Get dressed, please. We have to be somewhere by eight.”
She drags her feet the whole way to the bathroom, and the slam of the door says more than any argument could.
Downstairs, I knock on the manager’s apartment with my heart already in my shoes. Mrs. Okafor opens it in a housecoat, watering can in one hand, frowning before I’ve said a word.
“You’re up early.”
“I wanted to catch you before you started your day.” I shift Mia’s backpack on my shoulder. “The lease. I need to cancel it. We’re not staying.”
“Cancel?” Her eyebrows climb. “You only just unpacked, dear. The boxes are still in the hall.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Something’s come up.” I make myself hold her gaze. “Are you sure there’s no problem doing it this early in?”
“No trouble to me. I’ll get my deposit back from the next tenant easy enough.” She studies me, and there’s something soft and sad in it. “Are you sure, though? The little one looked so happy when you moved in. Skipping up these stairs.”
My throat tightens. “I’m sure.”
“All right.” She sighs and steps back. “Bring the keys by when you go. Such a shame.”
I turn to go get Mia from the stairwell, and I walk straight into someone coming the other way.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.” I catch the woman by the arm before she tips, and a grocery bag slips down her hip. “Are you okay? I wasn’t looking.”
“It’s fine. My fault.” She shifts both bags higher and gives me a smile that doesn’t reach the rest of her face.
She’s thin, too thin, dark-blond hair scraped back from a face that’s older around the eyes than the rest of her looks.
A toddler clings to her leg, and an older boy hangs back by the mailboxes with a backpack twice his size. “Sorry. Excuse me.”
She edges past, juggling the bags and the children toward the stairs, and I find myself watching her go. There’s something in the careful way she holds herself, in how fast she apologized, that doesn’t sit well with me.
“That’s Rachel,” Mrs. Okafor murmurs at my shoulder, low, once the woman’s out of earshot.
“Moved in a couple weeks ago. Three little ones, and her on her own with all of them.” She presses her lips together.
“Left her husband, from what I gather. He’s still back at their place. She packed up the kids and came here.”
I look at the empty stairwell where Rachel disappeared, the ache in my own chest shifting to make room for something else.
“Just like that?” I ask.
“Women don’t leave a marriage and three kids’ worth of life behind for nothing, dear.” Mrs. Okafor shrugs, but her eyes are hard. “He’s loose with his hands, that one. You can see it on her, if you know where to look. She got herself out. Good for her, I say.”
My gaze lingers, and I murmur, “Yeah.”