Page 47 of Already Callin’ You Mine

12

PRESLEY

It’s taken a couple of days, but I finally feel human again. Sort of. At least enough to eat.

Eating means energy. Energy is something I desperately need because Otis is back to one hundred percent—maybe even one hundred and ten. Making up for his low-key weekend.

Spying an open table in the Hayes cafeteria, I grab it, plopping down in the padded metal chair. Given how I felt over the weekend, there’s a part of me that wonders if all the different smells in here—whether from what’s actually being cooked up and offered by the catering staff or from the various lunches brought from home—are going to make my stomach riot again, but I need to get away from my desk. I’ve always made a point of taking a lunch and stepping away, even if it is just to the cafeteria, to give my brain a break. Maintaining balance is important.

Plus, I have been craving my favorite snack since my appetite returned last night—hot Cheetos in Greek yogurt.

Yes, I am aware that’s weird. No, I do not care. It’s oddly delicious and hits the spot every time. I know that it will today too.

Unzipping my lunch bag, I flip open the top and reach in, ready for my taste buds to do a spicy tango. My hand lands on something unexpected. Something very much not my yogurt.

Shit…

Double checking the color of the lunch bag—yes, I grabbed my purple one, not Otis’s green one—my heart plummets. My mom packed lunches last night, taking that off my plate so I could continue to rest. It didn’t even occur to me to let her know that we have a color-coding system, nor did I check to make sure what was what. I was too thankful that I didn’t have to think about it to even consider that there was an unspoken part to the routine.

Damn it.

I pull out the contents, my entire body deflating as I take it all in. A ketchup and bologna sandwich, cut into the shape of a dinosaur, some quartered grapes, a small baggie of Goldfish, and a juice box. How this kid ended up discovering the combination of ketchup and bologna, I will never know. The bologna part I understand—one of my father’s favorites is fried bologna. But never with ketchup. That’s the part that baffles me. Then again, my favorite is hot Cheetos in Greek yogurt, so maybe he came by it honestly.

Either way, this isn’t my lunch. It’s very much the lunch—and afternoon snack—of a three-year-old. Which means he has my lunch. I can only imagine the look on his teacher’s face opening it up and seeing what was packed. Because it’s not the nutritionally semi-balanced meal in front of me. Otis might eat the tuna packet that Mom told me she packed for me, although depending on what flavor she grabbed, there’s a good chance he turns his nose up at it. And he certainly won’t drink the flavored sparkling water. He’s going to want this apple juice.

Shit. Does he need lunch now? I’m not sure I have time to get this over to Pitter Patter, the local daycare here in Hickory Hills, and make it back in time for my next meeting, much less eat my own lunch. But if it’s the difference between my kid having lunch and not, then there’s no question.

Hi. Just discovered that I sent Otis in with the wrong lunch. I can be there in 15 minutes with his food.

Miss Reece

Don’t worry about it. We actually just finished lunch. He was not interested in the Thai chili tuna or spicy Cheetos, but he ate the yogurt without question. We keep some Uncrustables on hand just in case, so he ate one of those too.

Thank you so much! I’m so sorry about this.

Also, keep those Uncrustables under lock and key, they’re his favorite

Mine too! Since we don’t currently have a kid with a nut allergy, I can eat them in the open lol

And don’t worry about it. I’ve been there, I’ve done this. Mondays are rough.

Yes, they are. Especially after a weekend of being sick. Extra especially if a good portion of the sick weekend was spent being cared for by a man who you’re not sure if you care for. Or that you’re trying to deny that you care about.

Because there is no caring about Jace Hayes here. None. No feelings whatsoever.

The only thing I’m feeling right now is my gag reflex as I try to force down a ketchup and bologna sandwich.

“Is that a dinosaur?”

The soft, inquisitive southern accent cuts through my thoughts, making me jump. I look up, dino sandwich halfway to my mouth, eyes landing on a beautiful redhead. She smiles brightly back at me, her hair reminding me of the fall colors up north.

“It is,” I admit sheepishly. “I accidentally switched mine and my kiddo’s lunches this morning and didn’t realize until now. So, here I am with a dinosaur ketchup and bologna sandwich.”

The redhead scrunches her nose, her face expressing my own thoughts exactly.

“How about I buy you a real lunch? A grown-up lunch.”

“Oh, no. No, no,” I react almost immediately. The last thing I want is for her to take pity on me. “It’ll be fine.”