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I parked in the school lot and turned to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“Hailey wants a family. She loves you and me.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s so obvious. Haven’t you been paying attention? She’s just like us. Her family didn’t want her how she is, but she can be herself with us.”
“Fuck. You’re smart, kid.”
“Dad.”
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be swearing. But you’re right.”
“I’m going to school. You better fix this. I like her,” he said before he got out and slammed the door a little harder than necessary.
“I like her too, kid,” I said to myself. I loved her. Hailey was our family. That’s it. I needed to ask her to be part of our family. It was the perfect gesture.
There was no way she could say no unless she held that last week against me, which was a possibility.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
HAILEY
I’d assured Ryan I’d attend the juvenile hearing to testify on Corey’s behalf, but I hadn’t heard from him otherwise. Even if his attorney hadn’t subpoenaed me, I would have been there.
Ryan had a lot going on right now, but I’d feel better if he allowed me to be there for him. He seemed to appreciate my presence in court, but then he hadn’t wanted me to be with him and Corey. It hurt.
My worry that he was pushing me away in case he needed to move to Texas was clearly wrong. The judge awarded Ryan custody, so there was no fear of moving away. He could stay.
Each day that went by, I felt more alone. The pain was visceral. So much worse than waiting for a mother who wouldn’t come.
I’d gone into this thing with Ryan, knowing this could happen, but I hadn’t been able to stop it. Now I was suffering the consequences.
I went to court and testified, but I couldn’t wait around to see if Ryan would talk to me. He had a week between the emergency custody and juvenile hearings, and there’d been nothing but that one text.
I could focus on the pain or my future. I chose me. I needed to come up with a viable way to make money, so I attended the creative writing class and did the assigned writing prompts each night. The one that tripped me up was when she said to take an emotion from our childhood and create a character around it.
It was the character I’d made for my fantasy story. It was the catalyst I needed to sit down and write some words on the page.
I resisted it for as long as I could, worried that I wouldn’t be able to write anything. The day it was due, I woke up early and grabbed my laptop. I didn’t let myself think other than to conjure up pain. It was the pain of my mother leaving mixed with having loved and lost Ryan. The idea that I was alone and forging my own path came to me, and my fingers flew over the keyboard.
The assignment was two thousand words, but I wrote much more than that. I spent all my free time between waking and my evening class writing. I was thankful that I’d called Anne in to work at the shop.
When I finally stopped, my fingertips ached from typing, but it felt good to get those feelings out on paper. As I wrote, I discovered what my character wanted: to save the world and to be loved. She just wanted to be loved.
I covered the ache in my chest with the palm of my hand, feeling the steady thrum of my heart. I read through what I’d written, pulling out the passage that highlighted channeling emotion through a character and edited it.
I hoped it’s what the professor was looking for. I printed it and headed to class. On the drive, I thought about what my ideal day would look like. It wasn’t going in to work at the Spice & Tea Shoppe. It was working with books and writing in every spare moment I had. I imagined shelving books and having inspiration come to me that I’d write down in my notebook.
I felt hopeful that I could have everything I wanted if I followed this desire.
When I parked in the community college’s lot, it struck me. I’d work for Brooke. She’d gone through so many unreliable employees. But I could help and write on the side. We’d be helping each other. Excited at the thought, I headed to class, feeling lighter than I had in a week.
I’d be okay without Ryan. I didn’t need him in my life. That statement rang false, but I pushed it away. I needed to focus on me. I was in control of my life, my present, and my future. If Ryan couldn’t deal with a relationship, or wanted to focus on Corey, that was his prerogative. It didn’t reflect on me. I wasn’t a person who couldn’t get people to stay. The problem lay with my mom and Ryan.
I was a good person. I’d find someone who could love me; I just needed to be patient.
We handed in our assignments, and then the professor told us we’d be reading them out loud for a critique. I started to sweat. I hadn’t anticipated reading anything in front of the class. What I’d written was so personal.
