One Broke Girl (2 page)

As I fixed my eyes on the rotating fan blades above me, I made a solemn vow. Six months from now, I’d be back in New York City. No way would this break me or knock me off my path for long. I was going to do everything in my power to fix this situation. I’d help Dad get settled in Edgewood Falls. I’d save up money. I’d find and confront my runaway mother, demand she do the right thing.

I fired off a text to Steven that my dad was doing okay, then one to Fiona letting her know I was crashing here tonight. I wasn’t ready to face her yet.

My phone buzzed a minute later with a reply from Steven.
Glad to hear. Come back by later if you want.

With a sigh, I put my phone on the bedside table. I knew I should confide in him, but all I could think of was what our friends would say when they found out. And gossip
would
spread. It always did, and a story this salacious was too good not to pass on.

I didn’t want our family to be a joke.

Not to mention he and I were still kinda new, only having become serious a couple of months ago. This felt too intimate, too embarrassing to admit.

Maybe I could hold off on telling him the full truth, at least until I found Mom. After all, I didn’t know everything yet. It was possible that, by then, I’d even be back here, resuming my old life, and the two of us could pick up where we’d left off.

Six months. I could survive small-town Ohio that long. I’d be back in New York City before I knew it.

One month later

“Make sure you scrub those surfaces clean,” Mrs. Portwell told me as her beady brown eyes squinted at me. She was possibly the scariest woman I’d ever met. Something about her quiet intensity intimidated me. “I want to see my face in them.”

I nodded and tried to smile.
I’m super lucky to have this job,
I kept telling myself over and over. “Absolutely.”

“Got some loose curls coming out of your hairnet,” she mumbled. “You need to fix that.”

I tucked a stray strand of blond hair back in. “Sorry. My hair has a mind of its own.” I gave a weak smile that she didn’t return.

When she finally stopped staring at me and flounced off in her pristine white flats, probably to micromanage one of the other lunch ladies, I resumed scrubbing the stainless steel. Amazing how much mess could happen in a couple of hours. And the surfaces… My God, the countertops never ended in an elementary school kitchen.

An hour later, the kitchen was spotless and I’d solidified my intimate familiarity with the power of industrial cleaning products. Despite having started this job a few days ago, I hadn’t been trusted to do much else except sweep and wash dishes. Today, however, I’d been told I’d earned the right to clean. Yay?

I put everything away in its proper place so Mrs. Portwell wouldn’t lose her shit. Then I ripped off my hairnet, closed the doors and made my way down the tiled school hallway. In the classrooms I could hear kids laughing, talking.

Being in this building brought back so many memories—me and Natalie, my bestie growing up, holding hands and running down these very halls. This had been my school. I’d lived in Edgewood Falls until the summer before sixth grade, when our family had moved to the Big Apple for Mom’s career. Back then I’d thought I’d left this all behind, would never look back on this boring small town.

How the mighty had fallen.

I ran my fingers along the wall the way I had as a kid. Even though we’d lost or sold almost everything we had, and Dad and I were now living in the crappiest duplex ever, and I was working as a lunch lady for ten hours a week, earning below-poverty wages, it could be worse.

At least I’d reconnected with Natalie, something that wouldn’t have happened if I weren’t living here again. I’d forgotten how fun she was.

When we’d seen each other a couple of weeks ago at the local grocery store, she’d squealed then squeezed me in a hug so big I couldn’t breathe. Reconnecting with her had saved my sanity and helped me get this job since Mrs. Portwell was her aunt.

Over ten years had passed since I’d moved away, but it had felt like no more than a day. Our connection had been instant, and we’d spent hours reconnecting.

I dug my phone out and shot her a text, fingers flying over the screen.
Moved up to cleaning duties today. By next week I’ll totally be sous chef. Look out, world!

I slammed into a wall of hard flesh and almost dropped my phone. “Oh shit, I’m sorry,” I said right as the guy’s hands darted out to steady me.

I looked up then and my heart gave a painful thud in response to his serious hotness. Vivid green eyes that looked…strangely familiar, with one brow raised. Dark brown hair, shaggy and utterly touchable. Sensuous lips curved in a polite smile.

“You shouldn’t cuss here,” the man said to me, and his voice had a gravelly edge that did wicked things to my stomach. He nodded toward the classroom to our right, which had its door wide open.

Oh, shit. He was right.
Dumbass—you’re in a school. Watch the language.
I bit my lip. “I…uh, fudged up. Sorry. I forgot where I was for a moment. And I was distracted.”

“I can tell.” Those sexy lips quirked. “Probably shouldn’t text and walk either.”

“Wait. I think I know you.” I crammed my phone in my pocket and tilted my head. He looked so familiar.

“Do you have a kid in my kindergarten class? You’re a bit young to have a child that age.” He gave me a genuine smile this time.

This guy was a kindergarten teacher? Somehow, that made him even hotter. My chest tightened with guilt over how hard I was checking him out, and I brought Steven’s handsome face to the forefront of my mind. Which actually made me feel guiltier; I hadn’t talked to him much since moving here.

A vivid memory flew into my mind so fast I almost gasped. I waved my hands in the air between us. “Oh, I know who you are. Gavin…Metcalf!”

Holy crap. I couldn’t believe it. He was all lean muscle, evident even with his dress shirt and dark grey pants. No wonder I hadn’t recognized him at first. When I was in fourth grade, he’d been my boyfriend for a month or so. Back then, he was all limbs and gawkiness. Nothing like the sleek, composed man in front of me. What a difference puberty had made.

He frowned. “Do I know you?”

“Anna? Parker? We dated when we both went here. You gave me your sister’s jewelry for Valentine’s Day.” And then had come to me the next day telling me he’d stolen it from her and needed it back. I was so crushed I broke up with him. Natalie teased me about his romantic thievery for weeks.

His jaw dropped, and he laughed as recognition flared in his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “Now I remember. Wow. Didn’t you move away a long time ago?”

I nodded. “Yeah, but I’m back. For a little while, at least.”

“Mr. Metcalf!” a little girl said as she ran to his side then crossed her legs. Her golden pigtails bounced with her movements. “I have to go to the bathroom real,
real
bad.”

Gavin gave me a nod and took the girl’s hand in his, which made my heart melt just a touch. “Take care, Anna.” With that, he walked down the hall, the two of them whispering back and forth.

Huh. So Gavin had stayed in town and become a teacher. Well, good for him. At least he hadn’t turned to a life of crime—not that he’d been good at it or anything. When we’d broken up, he’d avoided me the rest of the year. My last year in elementary school had been his first year in middle school, so I hadn’t seen him again.

I left the school and stepped into the sunshine, breathing in a huge lungful of fresh, crisp Ohio air. One thing to say about small-town living—it was beautiful here. The trees were laden with turning leaves, flashing red, gold and purple. Since it wasn’t overly cold yet, I only had on a thin sweater.

I walked to my bright purple bike chained at a bike rack near the entrance and sighed. Yeah, I’d gotten it for a song. But it was old and crappy and squeaky as hell. I missed my Chevy SS so badly.

The money I’d gotten from the car’s sale was paying our rent though.

My phone buzzed.
You’d be a great sous chef. Lol. Free to hang soon? Coffee is on me!

God yes,
I typed. I wasn’t going to make Natalie buy my drink though. I might be stupidly broke, but I still had pride. My purple bike drew my attention. Okay, I kinda had pride.
I’ll call later so we can set up a plan
, I added then sent the message.

I went to put my phone away but it buzzed again.
How’s the country?
Your dad feeling any better about the divorce?

My stomach twisted as I read the message from Steven. I tucked my phone in my pocket, hopped on my bike and pedaled as I thought about what to say. The air felt good running through my hair. Main Street’s buildings swept by me in a brick-lined haze. I turned right and headed home.

I’d only told Steven partial truths—that we’d moved here because my parents were divorcing and my dad wanted to return to his small-town roots. One, because my mom was still MIA and my fruitless searches online hadn’t produced anything. And two, because I didn’t want him to know how dire our situation was.

I laughed at myself as I pedaled harder. Back in the city, before we’d moved here, I’d been convinced that I’d somehow find a wonderful-paying job in the area and start making big bucks immediately. Yeah, not so much.

I’m super lucky to have this job,
I reminded myself again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was steady. The girl I was replacing had quit on them at the last minute with no notice, and their desperation meant my security. I’d simply find more work to fill in the income gap.

When I pulled the bike up to the stretch of duplexes and got to ours on the end of the row, I hopped off and walked it into the garage behind our building. The peeling screen door squealed as I opened it.

I wiped my feet on a shaggy rug then went inside. “Dad, I’m home!” I called out as I headed down the narrow, dark hallway. I flicked the light switch, but the bare bulb over my head didn’t turn on.

Fabulous. Did we have bulbs? Yeah, in the closet somewhere.

My phone buzzed again.
You busy? What do you do all day? Catch up on soap operas and eat chocolate? ;-)

Oh, Steven. He had no idea. I grimaced as I flopped down on the green paisley couch. It was the most hideous thing I’d ever seen, but hey, the place had come furnished, and we couldn’t afford to blow our money on crap like that.

I nudged off my shoes and kicked my feet on the battered brown coffee table. Bit my lip and studied his text message.

Just helping Dad get settled as a single man,
I finally decided to write.
U can guess how that’s going. :-/

The divorce proceedings wouldn’t start until Mom sent the paperwork to Dad. And she didn’t even know we’d moved here. Most likely it would be forwarded to us from the family attorney.

For the first couple of weeks after she left, I called her office daily to see if she’d returned. Then her boss told me he’d gotten a voicemail message from her with her apologies and a resignation. Despite my attempts to reach her via her cell phone, the voicemail box was always full.

Another dead end.

That familiar feeling of anger mingled with hurt surged to the front of my mind. I tried to push it back, but it remained, hot and strong and persistent. It had been a month now. How could she go this long without even wondering what the hell was going on with her daughter?

She hadn’t just left Dad. She’d left me too.

I got another text from Steven, accompanied by a picture of him with several of our friends on campus. They were grouped around a table in the commons, waving and smiling.

Miss you. We can’t wait until you return,
he’d written.

Another wave of bittersweet sorrow came fast, and I swallowed it back, trying not to cry. I should have been there with them right now, having coffee, discussing classes, planning for my graduation at the end of next semester.

Just a few more months,
I promised myself. I didn’t care what I had to do—I was going to go back to the city, reclaim my life. I might not be graduating when I’d planned to, but I’d make up for the lost time, take summer classes and double up on the workload. I could possibly graduate next winter if I put my mind to it.

Miss you too
, I wrote
.
I took a pic of me smiling and sent it, and the text, to him. At least my cell phone service plan wasn’t too expensive; I’d go crazy without the ability to talk to people. Then I got up and moved to my dad’s room, where he was probably still sleeping.

I cracked the door open. It was dark inside, and I saw his figure stretched out across the narrow twin-sized bed. “Hey, I’m home,” I told him in a whisper.

He sniffed and sat up, and I saw him scrub a hand across his face. “Oh. Hey, Anna. How was work?”

“It was fine. How was your day?”

I saw his figure shrug. “Mostly slept.”

“Dad…” I started.

“I know, I know.” He stood and moved toward me, flicking on the light. His eyes were baggy. He’d aged ten years in the last month, and he looked scary thin. “I’m going to get a job. I just…needed to sleep a bit today.”

I reached over and rubbed his arm. My heart ached for him. “It’s going to get better,” I assured him. It had to—and it would if we both believed in it.

He gave me a wan smile and stroked my hair. “You’re right. You hungry? I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Maybe a small snack.” I followed him as he shuffled out of the bedroom and into our tiny kitchen. It had taken a good day of scrubbing for me to get it in the shape where I wouldn’t be creeped out about having food touching any of the surfaces.

Dad took out a hunk of cheddar and grabbed a box of crackers from on top of the fridge. “It’s not three-year-aged gouda, but it’ll do the trick,” he said with a low laugh.

I forced a chuckle. “I’m sure it’s fine.” I wasn’t going to sit here and fantasize about all the delicious gourmet cheese I was missing. To help focus my thoughts, I got a new light bulb from the closet—our last one, crud—and changed out the hallway bulb.