Ruthless Savior

Chapter 1

LEILA

Ido not, under any circumstances, recommend moving during the winter in Boston.

Unfortunately, my circumstances mean I don’t have much choice.

“What did you pack in this, cement blocks?” my best friend, Alicia, grimaces as she tries to pick up a cardboard box near the front of the U-Haul parked—probably illegally—in front of my mom’s apartment in downtown Boston. “I work out like, five days a week, and I do not think I can pick this up.”

“Books.” I run a hand through my hair tiredly and immediately regret it, as half of my ponytail falls out around my face. Grunting with frustration, I yank the tie out and go to fix it. “A lot of these boxes are books.”

“This is when a boyfriend would be helpful, Chip. Like—one with muscles.”

Her use of her nickname for me makes me smile a little, despite how utterly shitty this day is.

She’s called me that since junior high. Kids used to make fun of my name, calling me ‘Lay’s Chips,’ and Alicia turned it into her special nickname, telling me that if we made something good out of it, the teasing wouldn’t matter any longer.

Only we can decide if something hurts us, or if we make it something of our own. You can feel however you want about something. They don’t get to decide.

I’ve hung onto that a lot, over the years. Through breakups, through other friendships gone sour, through class assignments in college that I thought were great, and my professors tore apart. But right now, today, I don’t know if I get to decide if this hurts me.

It feels, like a lot of things have lately, as if it’s out of my control.

“It was nice of your boss to give you the Friday off to move.” Alicia sets the box of books down on the curb with a huff. “At least you have the whole weekend.”

“He wasn’t too thrilled about it.” I tug my ponytail into place and reach for another box of books.

Alicia is right, they are way too heavy.

I should probably have gotten rid of half of them.

Especially since I’m not even sure my mom really has space for all of this.

The gorgeous apartment I’d managed to get approved for—right out of college on account of the finance job I’d landed—had plenty of room…

but I had to break that lease last week.

And now, at twenty-two, I’m moving back in with my mom, right when my life on my own was supposed to be taking off.

Alicia frowns. “He wasn’t thrilled about it? Chip, your mom has cancer. You’re moving in with her to help take care of her, and he wasn’t thrilled that you needed to take PTO that you earned?” She snorts. “What a fucking dick.”

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “But I’m new, you know? One step above an intern, even if they’re paying me way better.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Alicia blows out another huffing breath. “I just think they should be more worried about you— and how you’re going to balance all of this with still working full-time—”

I bite my lip. “I don’t know, honestly,” I admit. “But I just have to do my best.”

"Yeah, I guess." Alicia blows out another huffing breath, then pauses, studying my face with that expression she gets when she's trying to read my mind. "But seriously, how are you holding up? Like, actually holding up? Because you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

“Thanks,” I say wryly. I haven’t, but I don’t really want to admit it. I’m well aware of the toll all of this is taking on me—Alicia isn’t the first person to point it out, and some of my coworkers have been less gentle about it. “I’m fine”.

"Bullshit." Alicia crosses her arms. "When's the last time you went out, other than meeting me for a drink last week when you yawned into your martini three times? When's the last time you did anything that wasn't work or dealing with your mom's appointments?"

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and rub my forehead. "Alicia—"

"I'm serious. You're twenty-two. You should be going to bars and making terrible dating decisions and staying up too late watching Netflix. Instead, you're..." She gestures helplessly at the U-Haul, at the situation. "This isn't fair."

“I know.” I feel my shoulders drop slightly and grab another box. This one's lighter—probably clothes. "But I can’t do anything other than what I’m doing right now to fix it.”

"That doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

She's right, of course. It does suck. Everything about this sucks. But what's the alternative? Let my mom go through this alone? "Come on, let's just get this done. It's supposed to snow later."

Alicia sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be supporting you, not pointing out stuff that you already know and making you feel worse. It’s just—it’s hard not to be frustrated for you.”

“It’s no one’s fault. Just how things go sometimes.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, and reach for a bag of clothes.

Five hours later, as the sun starts to go down, we have just about everything moved into the small second bedroom in my mom’s apartment.

I’m sweating despite the cold, and my back is screaming at me that I’ve overdone it.

All of my stuff is crammed wall-to-wall, boxes overflowing in the living room, and unpacking it all seems like an exhausting endeavor that I don’t know how I’m ever going to find the energy to tackle. But I’ll manage. I have to.

Alicia follows me in her car—she still lives with her parents out in the suburbs, and actually has a vehicle—while I return the U-Haul. She’s waiting for me when I come out, the car still running and mercifully warm when I slide into it.

“You look upset. More upset, I mean.” She presses her lips together. “Did something happen?”

“Just had less in my checking account than I thought. It’s fine. I can still get groceries for the week.” Barely—I’m going to probably be eating 99-cent ramen, since the priority is getting food that my mom can both keep down, and that sounds good to her. But I’m not about to admit that.

There are a lot of things I don’t want to admit lately.

"You know—" Alicia drums her fingers on the steering wheel. "I could help you out. With money, I mean. I've got some savings, and—"

"No." The word comes out sharper than I intended, and I see her flinch. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. But no, I can't take your money. You’ve been saving for your own place. To move out. I’m not going to do that.”

"Chip, come on. We're best friends. That's what friends do." Alicia looks at me pleadingly. “Just let me help. My parents and I get along great. It’s really not that bad.”

“You hate living at home. I know you do.” Alicia’s parents are great, for the most part, but they’re still parents, and they’re fairly old-fashioned.

They still have opinions about how late she should be out, her hobbies, and definitely about bringing dates home.

“You were just talking about all the stuff we should be getting to do at our age and living in the city. Your parents are wonderful, but I know you want to be out on your own, just like I do. Hell, we talked about moving in together once you could manage rent every month.”

“Yeah.” Alicia bites her lip. “But it’s not as important as what you’ve got going on. And I have a few thousand saved up already—”

I close my eyes briefly, trying not to let out the bitter laugh that I know will make Alicia feel bad, even though I wouldn’t be laughing at her.

Just at the situation. “Even if I said yes, it would run out so fast that it would be laughable. You don't understand how much this costs, Alicia. The treatments, the medications, the specialists. Even with insurance, we're talking thousands and thousands of dollars. It’s insane. Literally insane. I can’t ask for your money just to watch it vanish in a matter of weeks.”

Alicia gives me a pleading look. "You're not asking. I'm offering."

"And I'm saying no." I stare out the windshield, fighting back tears for what feels like the fiftieth time today. "I appreciate it, I really do. But this is my responsibility."

What I don't tell her is that I've already explored every option.

I've looked into payment plans, medical loans, even considered a second job, though I have no idea when I'd fit it in between my sixty-hour workweeks and taking care of my mom.

I've run the numbers a hundred times, and they never add up.

My salary, good as it is for someone fresh out of college, just isn't enough.

It was plenty before this—more than enough. But not now.

“What about a raise?” Alicia ventures. “I know you just started, but under the circumstances—”

“I tried.” I let out a harsh breath. “I had a meeting with my boss last week, and I asked about a raise. Explained everything—that was when I said I needed this Friday off to move. But he said no.”

“Fucking dick,” Alicia hisses, but I see her shoulders drop, and I know she’s going to let the conversation go.

I’m relieved. I don’t want to have to keep telling her why all of her solutions won’t work—that I’ve been through them all, and short of taking money from my best friend—which I’m not going to do—all I have left is getting by on what I make.

Well, that, and one more option that I don’t plan to tell her about, because I know what she’d say.

When my boss turned me down for the raise, he handed me a business card and told me that if I called the number, someone might be able to help me with a loan. No credit needed, just assurance I could pay.

I’m not stupid. I have some idea of what kind of person is going to answer that number when I call. I also have a feeling that whatever connection my boss has to them, it’s going to benefit him more for me to take out that loan than for me to get a raise.

But I’m also desperate. Being smart doesn’t help when all the doors that could help someone keep getting slammed right in front of them. I’ve got the card in my purse still, and once Alicia has left tonight and my mom is settled in, I plan to give that number a call.

And I’m not going to tell anyone about it.