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Chapter 17
Jasmine
Jasmine turned the key for the second time before the car sputtered to life. Meeting with the administrator had been as encouraging as her conversation with Miss Stevens. Jasmine was not confident in the school, but what other choice did she have?
She drove out of the parking lot, towards the inn, her mind on everything else she had to do that day before picking up Zoey. Anything to try not to think of the fact that the anniversary of her mother’s suicide was tomorrow.
The car lurched forward and stalled. “Damn it!” she screamed, slapping her palm on the steering wheel. She tried to restart it, and it made a horrible grinding sound before it choked to life once more.
“Just get me home and I promise I’ll be forever grateful,” she pleaded with the pile of junk that had lasted her far longer than it should have.
She made it home and parked. Letting go of the breath she’d been holding the whole trip, Jasmine got out. After picking up her phone, she texted Link.
Jasmine: Find me a car that is cheap but will last. I’m ready to retire this one.
Forced more like it. It didn’t matter; she’d do whatever she had to do in order to make the payments. She had no other option. Maybe I can pick up a few shifts at the bar with Charli on the weekends.
She dialed Bently as she headed towards the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Bently asked.
“Well, I need your help.” She choked the words out. Anything for Zoey.
“You want that background check?”
“No. Not with that.”
“Oh.” He sounded disappointed. “What, then?”
She explained the situation with Zoey’s school.
“I can talk to them if you want. Women’s and children’s safety are no joke. And I’m sure with a little pressure from the police department the school board will make the necessary changes,” he said.
She smiled. As much as he was a pain in her ass, he’d always had her back. The only one who’d never abandoned her. But now he was building a life with Belle. It wasn’t fair of her to push her problems on him anymore.
“Thank you, Bently.”
“Anything for you, brat.”
“Asshole,” she retorted.
“You wound me.” He chuckled.
She laughed. “Glad to know there are some chinks in your infallible armor.”
He grew somber. “No one is perfect. Especially me.”
“Belle has really done a number on that ego of yours.” She brushed it off.
His deep laugh reverberated through the phone. “She’s something else.” His voice had a far-off quality to it.
“Okay, lover boy, enjoy your day. And thanks again.”
“Sure thing. You too.”
She hung up and tucked the phone into her back pocket. After brushing the hair from her face, she opened the kitchen drawer and found a hair tie. She braided her dark hair out of the way. Making her way to the linen closet, she then collected the items she needed to clean the rooms, as well as a fresh set of linens before adding it all to her cart.
She passed the window and stopped. Atlas was on the phone down below, shaking his head, his shoulders tense. He fisted his hands and slipped the cell into his pocket before dropping defeatedly to the sand, forehead bowed, posture slumped. What’s wrong, Atlas?
