Chapter Two
Her feet hit the pavement, and for a second, she swayed. Jade had been on her feet for twelve hours. She had done coffee refills, handled burnt fries, and some annoying customers who snapped their fingers like she was part of the furniture.
Her back ached in a steady, dull line, and her wrists felt like they’d been twisted too many times in the wrong direction. The smell of grease clung to her skin no matter how hard she scrubbed at the diner sink.
She exhaled slowly and started walking. Jade hit one block, then another.
The neighborhood didn’t change much from day to night. It was still the same cracked sidewalks, the same flickering streetlights, the same buildings that looked like they’d been forgotten halfway through being repaired. Paint peeled like scabs, and windows were patched with cardboard.
Her legs felt heavy. Each step dragged just a little more than the last. She kept going, because Jane would be waiting. That thought kept her upright, barely anyway.
Jane was only a year old, too young to understand why her mother kept leaving, why she came back smelling like oil and exhaustion instead of warmth. She was too young to know what it cost Jade every single time she stepped out that door.
Jade swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in her eyes. Mrs. Rochford was watching her tonight again. The old woman had been kind, in that quiet, no-questions-asked way. She took Jane in like she was something precious instead of something burdensome.
Jade paid her what she could, always feeling like it wasn’t enough, always seeing the way Mrs. Rochford tried to wave off the extra few dollars. Jade never let her. Dignity was a fragile thing. She clung to it where she could.
Jade tightened her grip on her bag as she turned the corner onto her street. Derek was supposed to help. The thought came uninvited, bitter as it settled in her chest. He left town three days ago.
She could still see him standing in the doorway, half in, half out, like he’d never really belonged there to begin with.
“Where are you going?” she’d asked, Jane on her hip, her voice already tight with the answer she knew was coming.
Derek hadn’t even looked at her properly. The jerk had just shrugged, like she’d asked what time it was.
“Out,” Derek said.
“For how long?” Jade questioned.
He paused. “None of your business,” Derek snapped, tone careless yet sharp.
Jade tightened her jaw. “You said you’d help with rent this month,” she pointed out.
“I said I’d see,” he told her, purposely avoiding looking at Jane.
“You promised,” she said.
That had gotten his attention, just enough for him to glance at her with something between annoyance and boredom.
“Don’t start, Jade,” he warned.
“I’m not starting anything,” she’d snapped, exhaustion already fraying her patience. “I just need to know if I can count on you.”
His laugh had been short, and humorless. “That’s your first mistake.”
Then he’d left, just like that. Derek didn’t give any further explanation, and he didn’t tell her when he would be back. He was simply gone.
Jade pressed her lips together now, forcing the memory down as she reached her building. It loomed in front of her, all cracked concrete and rusted railings, the front door sticking just enough that she had to shoulder it open.
The hallway smelled faintly of mildew and something sour she didn’t want to identify. Home sweet home, she thought. She dragged herself toward the row of mailboxes, already bracing.
The metal door creaked when she opened it. There was too much paper crammed in there. Her stomach dropped.
Jade stared at the stack of envelopes, each one stamped with urgency, with red ink, with Final Notice and Past Due screaming up at her like accusations. Her fingers trembled as she pulled them out. There was the electric and water bill, and finally, rent.
There was also a credit card bill she shouldn’t have opened in the first place. She didn’t open any of the letters. Heck, Jade didn’t need to, because she already knew what they said.
You’re behind and failing, and you’re running out of time.
Her throat tightened. For a second, she just stood there, clutching the letters like they might burn through her skin. Then Jane’s face flickered in her mind. Jane’s big eyes, soft cheeks, that little laugh that still sounded like surprise every time it escaped her.
Jade shoved the mail into her bag and forced her feet to move. She took one step, and another. Mrs. Rochford’s door was halfway down the hall. Light spilled out from beneath it, warm and steady.
Jade knocked softly, and it opened almost immediately.
“Well, there you are, dear,” Mrs. Rochford said, smiling as she stepped aside. “She’s been waiting.”
Jade’s chest tightened. Jane sat on a blanket in the middle of the living room, surrounded by mismatched toys. She looked up at the sound of Jade’s voice, her face lighting up in a way that hit Jade straight in the heart.
“Mama.”
It wasn’t a full word yet. More sound than language, but Jade felt it like it was everything.
She crossed the room in two quick steps and dropped to her knees, scooping Jane up into her arms. The weight of her, warm and real, grounded her in a way nothing else could.
“Hey, baby,” Jade murmured, pressing her face into Jane’s hair. It smelled like baby shampoo and something soft, something clean. “Hey, sweetheart.”
Jane giggled, her tiny hands grabbing at Jade’s shirt, clutching the worn fabric like it was the most important thing in the world. For a moment, everything else fell away.
The noise in Jade’s head, with the numbers, the worry, the constant, gnawing fear of not having enough faded into something distant and muffled. The ache in her bones, the burn in her feet, the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin, it all slipped to the edges.
There was only this. Jane’s soft weight in her arms. The warmth of her small body pressed close. The sound of her laughter, bright and unfiltered, like she hadn’t learned yet that the world could be anything but kind.
Jade inhaled slowly, deeply, like she could breathe her in and hold onto it. Nothing else mattered.
Not the way her body felt like it might give out if she stood too long.
Not the stack of unopened bills sitting heavy in her bag, each one a reminder of how close she was to losing everything.
Not Derek, with his empty promises and disappearing acts, his voice echoing in her head like a mistake she couldn’t undo.
None of it touched this moment. Here, in this small pocket of time, she wasn’t behind. She wasn’t failing. She wasn’t drowning under the weight of everything she couldn’t fix.
She was just Jane’s mother, and Jane was here, safe and smiling.
Jane reached for her like Jade was enough.
Jade pressed her face into her daughter’s hair, closing her eyes as her grip tightened just a fraction.
She was afraid the moment might slip through her fingers if she didn’t hold on hard enough.
“I’ve got you,” she whispered. It was a promise, a vow she wasn’t sure how she’d keep, but would anyway.
Jane laughed again, as if the world had never been anything but good to her.
“Long day?” Mrs. Rochford asked gently.
Jade nodded, pulling back just enough to look at Jane again. “Double shift.”
“Mm.” The older woman’s expression softened. “You work too hard.”
Jade huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “Not hard enough, apparently.”
Mrs. Rochford didn’t comment on that. She never did. Jade shifted Jane to one hip and reached into her bag, pulling out a small wad of cash. It looked thinner than it should.
“Here,” she said, holding it out.
Mrs. Rochford frowned. “Jade, you don’t have to—”
“I do.” Jade met her gaze, steady despite the exhaustion clawing at her. “Please.”
A pause, then Mrs. Rochford took it with a quiet sigh. “You’re a stubborn girl.”
Jade smiled faintly. “I’ve been called worse.”
She adjusted Jane again, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thank you. Really.”
“Anytime, dear,” Mrs. Rochford told her.
Jade nodded, already turning toward the door before the weight of everything could catch up with her again. The hallway felt colder this time, or maybe that was just the numbers running through her head.
Rent was due in less than a week, utilities behind. What she had left after paying Mrs. Rochford was not enough. Hell, it wasn’t even close.
Her chest tightened as she unlocked her apartment door and pushed it open. It was dark and quiet inside. She flicked on the light, the weak bulb buzzing overhead.
Jade set her bag down and kicked the door shut behind her, shifting Jane in her arms. The apartment was small. It had two bedrooms, one for her and Jane, and one bathroom.
It was clean, at least. She made sure of that. It was the one thing she could control.
“You hungry, huh?” she murmured to Jane, who had started to fuss lightly.
“Ma.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jade said.
Jade set her down in the little highchair by the counter and moved to the fridge. She opened it and stared.
There was half a carton of eggs, a nearly empty bottle of milk, a limp bunch of something that might have been spinach a few days ago. Additionally, there was leftover rice in a container pushed to the back. That was it, and Jade swallowed hard.
“Okay,” she said softly, more to herself than to Jane. “Okay, we can make this work.”
These days, she always said that. Jade pulled out the eggs, cracked two into a pan, added the rice, stirring it together with practiced motions. The smell was fine. It would be bland, but edible. It wasn’t enough, she thought.
Jane babbled behind her, little hands smacking against the tray. Jade’s vision blurred for a second. She blinked hard, forcing it back.
“Almost done,” she said, her voice thinner than she wanted it to be.
She plated the food, portioning most of it into Jane’s bowl. Less for herself, of course—her baby came first. Jane ate happily, tiny fingers grabbing at the food, smearing more than she actually got into her mouth.
Jade watched her, something twisting painfully in her chest.
She should have more, and certainly better, food. Fresh fruit and vegetables for one, things that didn’t come from the bottom shelf of a discount store.
Jade picked at her own portion, appetite gone. Her hands started to shake. It was too much. The bills seemed endless. No matter how many hours she put in at the diner, it wasn’t sufficient. It felt like there was too much weight pressing down on her chest until it felt hard to breathe.
Her eyes burned. She turned her face away from Jane, pressing the heel of her hand hard against her mouth. Jade couldn’t break down, not now, and certainly not in front of her daughter.
Jade squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears back, swallowing down the breakdown clawing its way up her throat. She took a slow, shaky breath, then another. When she looked back, she forced a smile onto her face.
“There you go,” she murmured softly, reaching out to wipe a smear of egg from Jane’s cheek. “Good girl.”
Jane beamed up at her, and once again, Jade managed to hold herself together. She had to, because there was no one else who would.