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“I guess we’ll talk after your appointment tomorrow and go from there.”
As soon as we hang up, I toss the phone on my bed. There’s a brief knock on the door before my cousin bursts in.
“Any interest in ordering pizza for dinner?” Viola asks. “I could really go for a pepperoni and extra cheese. Maybe mushrooms.”
I shake my head.
My stomach is a tangle of painful knots from the convo with my parents. There’s no way I’ll be able to keep down a single bite. Even the thought makes me nauseous.
It feels like a trapdoor just opened, and I’m now in freefall.
One look at my face has her brows snapping together in concern. “Hey, is everything all right? You look like you’re about to be sick.”
I force out a long, steady breath and relay the phone call.
Her mouth forms a shocked little O before she pads closer and drops down beside me. “What are you going to do?”
I jerk my shoulders as my throat closes up. It’s like I’m being suffocated from the inside out. “Talk with student services and hope that it’s not too late to apply for financial aid.” If I’m lucky, they’ll give me enough money to cover the entire semester.
Along with rent.
I really am going to be sick.
“Have you thought about getting a job? Madden mentioned that Sully was looking for a waitress at Slap Shotz. Apparently, the other girl quit during the middle of a shift last week, and now they’re short staffed.”
I stare for a second or two before laughter bubbles up from my lips, and my eyes widen as I press a hand to my chest. “Wait a minute…are you saying that I should apply for a job there?” There’s a pause before I add, “Where all the hockey players hang out? You do realize that I’ve spent the past couple of years avoiding them, right?”
“Actually, you’ve spent the past couple of years avoiding one in particular. If not there, then maybe a restaurant or store close to campus.”
I force a smile, appreciative that she’s trying to generate a list of possibilities. “You’re right, a job is definitely a good idea. I’ll scour the employment board tonight.”
Will I be applying to Slap Shotz?
Hell no.
There has to be somewhere else I can work.
“What about selling some of your stuff? Any high-end labels sitting in your closet or purses you don’t want anymore?”
For the second time in the span of twenty minutes, my hand rises to the scar that bisects my chest. “I do have a few bags I don’t use, but it’s doubtful that would be enough to take care of the entire tuition bill.”
She chews her lower lip before murmuring, “I hate to even bring this up…”
Even though her voice trails off, I know exactly what she’s going to suggest.
I shake my head. “Forget it.”
“Okay,” she says lightly, dropping the topic. “It was just an idea.”
No matter how desperate I am, Miles’ Porsche is one thing I refuse to part with.
There has to be something else I can do.
I just have to figure out what.
Chapter 2
Wolf
