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It’s been less than a month since our world was turned upside down. And Rue is right—it doesn’t matter where Dean is or what he’s doing. I’m in control of my future now, and of Nolan’s, too. It’ll be hard, and we’ll never have much money for extras, but I can raise him on my own.
I will raise him on my own. I’ll never be blindsided by a man again.
When I open my eyes and squint to make out the numbers on the clock, I sit up quickly, confused.
10:38. Is it 10:38 at night, though? Sunlight sneaks in around the edges of the blinds, sending sprays of light around the bedroom Nolan and I share.
Oh. My God. It’s 10:38 a.m. Nolan and I slept for ten hours straight.
He was restless last night and would not settle down. After watching Nemo, he wanted to eat, do puzzles, and play trucks. It was so good to see him feeling like himself again that I let him stay up and play until a little after midnight.
The payoff was sweet. I feel more rested than I have in a long time. It’s a good thing I don’t have to work today. My friend Claire offered to hang out with Nolan from noon to four this afternoon, because she has the day off work, and I plan to clean the apartment, pick up groceries, and make dinner. Rue has been such a big help to me lately, and I want to show her how much I appreciate it.
I slowly, quietly slide out of bed, trying not to wake Nolan up. It takes so little—I once woke him up by yawning. And once he’s up, he’s up for good. I’ll have to wake him up in half an hour or so to get a bath and have breakfast, but if he sleeps until then, I can take a shower and start cleaning the kitchen.
Rue’s kitchen is modern, with white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, white quartz countertops, and dark wood floors. She usually likes to deep clean the kitchen once a week, but has been too busy this week. So, I’m going to do it for her.
I walk into the kitchen and push the buttons to brew a single cup of coffee in her Keurig. There’s a note on the counter, and I pick it up as the coffee starts brewing.
* * *
Indie,
The guy from the sports memorabilia place came by to pick up the stuff you’re selling. I didn’t want to wake you up, so I gave it to him. He gave me a check for $1,150 for one of the baseballs and I left it on your dresser.
I’m running errands, but I’ll be home by noon and I’m bringing Chinese for lunch.
xo Rue
* * *
Over one thousand dollars! I smile at the note. That money means I can stop stressing about being able to afford groceries. I can buy some Pull-Ups training pants and new shoes for Nolan. I’m going to be smart with it, and make it last as long as I can. Rue refuses to take rent money from me, so maybe I can actually start saving for Nolan and I to get a place of our own.
I tiptoe into the bedroom. Sure enough, the spot where I left the box of baseball memorabilia is now empty, other than a check. Picking up the check, I gently kiss it and thank my lucky stars.
I’m depositing it into my account this afternoon. And then I’ll stare at the deposit slip like it’s a romantic love note from a man I’m crushing on. I may even tuck it under my pillow.
My small jewelry box is the only thing on the dresser now, and I feel a sense of dread as I look at it. I flip open the lid and scan the contents. Just cheap costume jewelry.
My grandma’s ring isn’t there, though.
It isn’t there because when I moved, I put it inside the plastic case with the Roger Maris baseball for safekeeping. I was afraid my flimsy jewelry box would spill open during the move, and I wanted the ring to be safe.
Oh God. It’s still in the box. My most prized possession. My eyes flood with tears.
I have to get it back. It won’t be easy, but there has to be a way.
What if the guy is dishonest and refuses to give it to me? Or denies he has it? What if I have to buy it back with the money I got for the baseball?
I close my eyes. I have to stop assuming the worst. As soon as Claire arrives, I’m going to the auction house to get my grandma’s ring back.
Chapter Four
Pike
* * *
“What do you think of the new blocker?” Katz asks me.
We’ve just finished up practice but we’re still on the ice. I smile as I watch Rudy getting hit with rapid-fire pucks. He’s a good guy who dreamed of playing pro hockey but didn’t make it, so he became a trainer instead. His name’s actually John, but we call him Rudy because of his enthusiasm for being the best practice goalie ever.
