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As I walk down the hall, I catch sight of Jaxon in the living room, playing with his toys on the floor. Harrison notices my gaze and follows it to where Jaxon is playing. "He's been looking forward to you coming all morning," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I think he was worried when you weren’t here for a couple of days."
I nod, feeling a swell of affection for the young boy. "He's such a sweet kid," I say, unable to tear my eyes away from him. "You're doing a great job with him, Harrison." I don’t know what makes the words come out, but there they are, tumbling out into the world.
Luckily, I don’t have to wait for Harrison’s response because Jaxon hops up and comes barrelling toward me just then.
“Miss Beanna!” he says, mispronouncing my name. “You came! I wanted to play with you for so long, and I was just waiting.”
Jaxon giggles with delight as he wraps his arms around me, and for a moment, everything else fades away. In that moment, all that matters is the love and joy we share, and I can't help but feel grateful for the chance to be here with Harrison and his son.
“Well, I’m here now,” I tell Jaxon, trying to blink away the sudden emotion that keeps hitting me.
“Okay, Daddy, you can go,” Jaxon says, turning to his father. He wraps his little arms around his father’s waist and squeezes.
I look away to give them a moment to say their goodbyes.
But then, Harrison lifts Jaxon into the air and starts spinning him around. Jaxon laughs raucously, his delight catching.
“I can go. Should I just go right now and drop you on the floor?” Harrison teases, swooping Jaxon toward the floor in a move that makes my heart rise into my throat. I know this is just how guys interact sometimes, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not worried for Jaxon’s safety.
There’s another part of it, though, that is absolutely adorable. Both of them are grinning widely, and Jaxon is clinging to his dad’s arms for dear life.
My phone rings, and a streak of terror runs through me. It’s probably just Vivi. I never got back to her after our last call.
But even as the second ring seems to take over the whole room, I know it’s not. Vivi wouldn’t be calling me this early. I know who it is.
Do I answer? Can I just avoid it?
Fear makes my hands slick with sweat. Avoiding the problem is what my parents became experts at. That’s why their debt is as high as it is. If I ignore it, then I’m no better than them.
“Go ahead and take your call. I still have a few minutes,” Harrison encourages.
He has no idea who’s calling me.
I need to take this in private, so I can keep it that way.
I step out onto the back porch, the cool breeze causing goose bumps on my skin. I finally pull my phone out of my pocket, my heart sinking as I see the bank’s number on the screen. It’s her, again.
With a sense of trepidation, I answer the call, holding my breath as I bring the phone to my ear. "Hello?"
"Is this Breanna Parker?" a voice on the other end asks, and I feel a knot form in the pit of my stomach.
"Yes, this is she," I reply, my voice tight with apprehension.
"I'm calling from the bank," the voice continues, and I can feel my heart rate quicken at the mention of the bank. "I'm afraid I have some urgent news regarding your mortgage. It looks as though you received a call two days ago, but you still have not paid as asked."
My stomach lurches as a wave of panic washes over me. "What... what's going on?" I manage to choke out, my voice trembling with fear.
"It appears that you haven’t made any attempt to rectify the fact that you are months behind on payments," the voice explains, and I can feel the color drain from my face as the reality of the situation sinks in. My legs feel weak, and I sink into one of the cushioned porch chairs. "You have only two days to pay at least one month's worth of the loan, or we will be forced to initiate foreclosure proceedings."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I feel as though the ground has been ripped out from beneath me. Foreclosure. Two days. The thought of losing my home, the one place I thought I would always be able to come, fills me with a sense of overwhelming despair.
"I... I understand," I stammer, struggling to find the words to express the turmoil raging inside me. "Thank you for letting me know."
As I end the call, I can feel tears stinging my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. I sink back into the couch cushions, the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders as I try to process the gravity of the situation.
How did I let things get to this point? And if I pay the house, then the credit cards will still hound after me. If I put money toward the credit cards, then the home will be foreclosed. I can’t win.
I feel a surge of disgust wash over me as I berate myself for my parents’ ignorance and naivety.
