Until Nalia (Until Her #10)

Chapter 1 – Nalia

One

NALIA

I attempt to open my eyes when the alarm on my phone starts to beep on the mattress next to me, but they are so heavy with exhaustion, I can’t seem to pry them open.

Reaching one hand out from under the blanket, I search for my phone and begin tapping the screen until the obnoxious noise is cut off.

I have never been a morning person, growing up I drove my parents crazy waiting until the last possible minute to get up for school, and as an adult not much has changed.

Only now I have to be personally responsible for making sure that I actually do get up.

There is no one around to threaten me with a bucket of ice water or to come into my room a few dozen times annoying me until I’m out of bed.

When my second alarm starts to buzz, I groan and search for my phone again, then repeat that process of turning it off.

“Are you ever going to get up, Namalama?” Peeking one eye open, I look at the bedroom door and find my baby sister standing in the doorway holding a bowl of cereal in one hand and the spoon in the other.

At almost ten years old, she has mastered the art of adulthood.

I swear, some days she is more mature and self-sufficient than I am, and I know for certain that she is more mature than other kids her age.

Then again, she had a life where she had to do things on her own.

My birth mom wasn’t, or isn’t, the type of person to put anyone else above her own wants and needs.

Hence why she lost custody of my twin brother, Sage, and me when we were little.

She wanted to go out and party, and decided that at two years old, we could just stay on our own for days.

That’s how we ended up in foster care and later adopted by our parents, Nico and Sophie.

It’s also why, when I was old enough to look into my birth mom and found that she had other kids, I got in contact with her and moved back to Colorado.

I didn’t want what happened to my brother and me to happen again.

And I guess part of me wanted to get to know her.

But over the years, I’ve realized I wasn’t missing out on much with her not being in my life.

I do have a good relationship with her other two kids, who are older now and both in the military, stationed overseas.

“I’m already up, Zuri, you’re just imagining me in bed,” I mumble, and she rolls her eyes.

“That’s good since I have school this morning.”

Shit.

I’m sure she thinks I forgot.

“The doors don’t open until eight twenty-eight, kid.

We still have a long time before we have to leave.

We won’t be late.” I toss back my comforter and sit up, placing my feet on the fuzzy carpet next to the bed, smiling at her.

“You look cute.” In a pair of jean shorts and a pink and white striped shirt with frilly socks and her favorite black and white Vans on her feet, she looks like a preppy skater girl.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want me to put space buns in your hair?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

“Alright, go get your hair stuff, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” I get up and stumble to the bathroom, flipping on the light, almost blinding myself.

After brushing my teeth, I wash my face, apply moisturizer, and tie my hair into a ponytail before I shut off the light. I wander back into my bedroom, straighten my cream duvet, and fix my pillows, adding the decorative ones that I tossed on the floor last night before I got into bed.

I get dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt and walk down the hall, the smell of freshly brewed coffee getting stronger the closer I get to the kitchen.

Stepping around the corner, I find Zuri at the island with her grey and white rat, Pippin, perched on her shoulder.

I was less than happy when my parents surprised her with the animal at the beginning of summer, but much to my dismay she fell in love instantly, and I knew that there was no turning down the gift.

“I made you coffee.”

“Thanks, kid.” I pour myself a cup and walk to the fridge, taking out the creamer. It’s almost empty, actually. The fridge is almost empty. I need to get to the grocery store today at some point. I mentally add that task to the ever-growing list in my head.

Some days, I feel like no matter how much I do, there is still stuff left undone.

It wasn’t an issue when I was only responsible for myself, but now, I have Zuri to look after, so I can’t just put off unwanted tasks.

If I don’t go to the store, she doesn’t have food to eat; if I don’t do laundry, she doesn’t have clean clothes.

Sometimes the reality of having someone else depending on me can be a little too much, but I’m adjusting.

We’re adjusting. And I think that we’ve done okay for ourselves so far.

It doesn’t hurt that now that we have moved back to my hometown, closer to my parents and family I have a whole village of people who are willing to step in anytime I ask.

Or even when I don’t ask, and they see me floundering.

“Are you excited about today?” I take a sip of coffee. Hopefully, the caffeine will kick in soon, and I won’t feel like such a zombie.

“I don’t know.” She lifts a piece of her cereal to Pippin, and he takes it in his tiny pink front paws and starts to eat.

“I think it’s going to be great. You’ll make some friends, maybe even some who live in the neighborhood, and I heard that they have a play that the fourth graders can sign up for, that might be fun.”

“Maybe,” she mumbles with a noncommittal shrug of both her shoulders.

I don’t push the subject; I know she is nervous about today. First days of school are always difficult. Add on top of that not knowing anyone and that just makes it even worse.

After putting her breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, she gets back on her stool. I brush out her long blonde hair and put it into two pig tails at the top of her head then twist each of them into tight buns that I secure with bobby pins.

“Alright.” I finish with a coat of hairspray, and she picks up the mirror to inspect her reflection. “Good?”

“Yes.” She looks at me over her shoulder.

Her unusual green-blue eyes, that are the exact color as my own, meet mine as she smiles.

Our eye color is the only feature we share; in every other way, we look vastly different.

I have no idea who my father is, but with my somewhat darker complexion and dark curly hair, I have always assumed that he was Black.

I don’t know that for certain, and Sharon has claimed she doesn’t remember him, the same way she claims to not remember who Zuri’s father is.

“Did you put your lunch in your backpack?”

“Not yet, it’s in the fridge.”

“Okay,” I kiss the side of her head. “Grab it and fill up your water bottle, I’ll clean all this up.” While I clean up, she gathers all of her stuff and puts Pippin in his cage in her bedroom then meets me by the front door where I slip on my sandals and grab the keys for my Bronco.

The drive to the school takes less than five minutes, and when we arrive, she’s quiet and watchful from the back seat.

The school complex is much smaller than where she went in Colorado, which I’m hoping will help her feel less overwhelmed.

Even though today it doesn’t feel smaller, everyone, and I mean everyone, is here for the first day since this is the only day you are allowed to walk your kids to class.

After a few minutes, I find a place to park on a patch of grass where a few other people have parked and meet her gaze in the rearview mirror.

She looks nervous, and I’m nervous for her.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” She opens her door and gets out with her backpack, and I meet her at the trunk of my Bronco and hold out my hand to her, and she places her hand in mine.

As we are walking up to the school, I notice a huge lawn sign with the school’s logo, where other parents are taking photos of their kids in front of it.

“Don’t even think about asking me to take a picture,” she grumbles under her breath, obviously reading my mind.

“It’s the first day of fourth grade, of course, I’m going to ask you to take a picture.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk, and she rolls her eyes.

“Fine.” She gives in and walks to the sign, faking a smile just for me as I snap a few pictures.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” I tuck my phone away.

“Says you,” she mumbles under her breath, and I grab her hand once more and lead her towards the gathering crowd. I think I feel as awkward as she does as we join the group of parents who are all smiles and the kids who look scared with back-to-school jitters, waiting to enter the building.

Once we get past the front doors, we head up the stairs to the second floor, where the fourth-grade hall is.

We retrace our steps from a week ago when I brought her to back to school night where she had a chance to see her class and meet both her teachers.

A couple days after that, I came back on my own for a parent-teacher meeting to go over what would be happening this school year.

It was nice to kind of get to know both her teachers and find out exactly what I could expect since I’ve never had to do this before.

When Sharon was around, she took care of all this stuff.

I only had to step in if she couldn’t pick Zuri up from school.

Which became something I had to do more often than not, right before she ended up being arrested.

Once we get to her homeroom class, Mrs. McGregor greets us with a bright smile at the door and tells Zuri she can find her name tag on her desk.

“I’ll be here to pick you up after school, okay.” Not wanting to embarrass her, I touch her hair when I really want to drag her into me for a hug and not let her go.

“Okay, Namalama.”

“Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too,” she whispers before she ducks her head.

With my bottom lip caught between my teeth, I watch her wander across the room to her desk and start to unpack her bag.

When I see another girl walk up to the desk next to hers and say something that she responds to with a smile, I let out a sigh of relief.

“She’ll be okay.” Turning my head, I smile at Mrs. McGregor.

“This is the first time I’ve done this, so I think I’m more nervous than she is.”

“That’s usually how it goes.” She laughs, rubbing my arm. “She’ll be alright, and you can also e-mail me anytime if you want to check in and see how she is doing.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she tells me before she wanders to the door when another group of parents and kids come into the class.

Looking back at Zuri one last time, I catch her gaze giving her a thumbs up and she rolls her eyes like I’m an idiot but smiles shyly before she turns her attention back to the girl next to her.

Feeling better, I leave her class and dodge people as I walk down the hall.

While I’m taking the stairs back down to the first floor, my gaze connects with a man coming up on the opposite side with a boy Zuri’s age tucked under his arm.

I almost trip over my own feet when I recognize him under the beard covering the lower half of his face and the years between now and when I saw him last.

Logan Rafe played a role in every single one of my teenage fantasies growing up.

I had the biggest crush on him. All the girls did.

He was tall and handsome with dark hair, a sculpted jaw, and blue eyes that seemed brighter because of his thick dark lashes.

He played baseball, rode a motorcycle, and was always the most popular guy in school without even trying.

I was a freshman his senior year, and I still remember being heartbroken when he graduated and left town because I was sure that I had missed my shot of him seeing me and instantly falling in love.

He’s still gorgeous, maybe even better looking now that he’s lost his boyish features.

“Hey?” he greets as we pass each other, and I mumble something I can’t even make out. I feel like an idiot for being tongue-tied and an even bigger idiot when he grins. Red-faced and embarrassed, I hurry down the rest of the stairs and exit the building.

As I’m getting back in my Bronco my phone in my pocket buzzes.

I pull it out expecting it to be either Talon or Bax asking me about something for work, but instead, it’s my mom asking how drop off went.

I message her back that it was good then send her one of the pictures I took of Zuri this morning, and she sends me back a smiling heart eyed emoji.

I was scared to death moving home to Tennessee, and I wasn’t sure that it was the right thing to do for me or for Zuri after her mom went to prison.

I was worried about how she would take to my family since she had never had any kind of relationship with any of them.

I was worried about how she would feel being so far from her mom and not being able to visit, even just to see her through glass.

Even though she hated going, getting physically ill each time we went.

I was worried about a million different things, some of which I’m still worried about.

But since the moment we arrived, I’ve been reminded almost daily why it was the right move for us.

If we had stayed in Colorado, we would not have the support we do now, and I would be struggling with work and the responsibility of taking care of her on my own because there was no one that I could count on to help me out if I needed it.

Sure, I had friends, but they all had lives, and I couldn’t ask them to drop what they were doing at a moment’s notice if I needed help.

And my job was cushy, but not so cushy that my boss would be okay with me working from home if I needed to or coming in late so I could get Zuri to school every day.

Still, there are some days that I feel like a failure or like I’m taking advantage of the people who care about me. Then again, most of my life I’ve felt as if I haven’t earned the love or the second chance I got, and that I’m always letting someone down.