Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
When Zane was eight months old, I started school as planned. To make up for my year off, I took extra classes, and I’m proud to say I’m about to begin my last semester of my senior year. I’m majoring in behavioral science, and once I graduate, I’m planning to get my master’s degree in school counseling so I can become a school guidance counselor. It’s been a long, hard road, and I couldn’t have done it without Sierra by my side.
She’s been so supportive every step of the way. She hasn’t opened her own bar-slash-restaurant yet, obviously, since we’re kind of low on funds, but she’s now a manager at Orange Sunrise, an upscale bar and club downtown, and she loves it. When she’s not working, she helps me with Zane, especially at night when I have to attend study sessions or labs.
I hate that her life revolves around Zane and me. She works so hard, and most of her money goes to our apartment and living expenses. I offered to take out loans when I realized I would never be able to work and go to school, but she wouldn’t let me. She said she didn’t want me to graduate in debt and promised we would make it work. And we have—because of her. Every time I lost it over not knowing where Keegan was, she was there. When I’d insist we go for walks for hours, hoping to find him, she would tag along without complaint. And when I’d cry for hours afterward, scared of being a single mom because I couldn’t find him, she would hold me and promise I would never do it alone.
“Hurry and get ready,” I tell Zane, forcing a smile on my face so he doesn’t know my mood just plummeted. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth,” I add as he scrambles out of bed with excitement to give his friend her belated Christmas gift.
“Morning,” Sierra says, stretching her arms over her head as she walks into the kitchen.
“What are you doing up so early?” I grab my thermos of coffee from under the Keurig and place her cup under it for her.
She leans against the counter and groans. “I lost two waitresses this week, so I’m doing interviews.”
“If you need someone…” I begin, but Sierra shakes her head. I’ve filled in a few times over the years, but she’ll never let me work there full-time.
“Not happening. You have one semester left, and you’ve applied for the master’s program. You need to focus on that,” she says, and I nod, once again grateful to have my sister in my corner.
Zane comes running down the hall, his shirt on backward, and his shoes on the wrong feet, just as the front door squeaks open, and in walks Brenton.
When Sierra and I moved here, we found out Brenton was also attending Carterville. He lives on the floor below us, and over the years has become one of my best friends. Sierra swears he’s in love with me, but I think she’s just trying to play matchmaker. While I’ve dated on occasion, my focus is on my son and my future. I’ll have plenty of time to date once I have a career and can contribute to the bills.
“Brent!” Zane yells, as he runs to the door to grab the bag holding the gift. “I gotta go now to give Melissa my gift. You take me, please?”
Brenton laughs with a shake of his head. “Thank God he’s going to finally give that girl his gift. If she doesn’t like it, it will probably shatter his heart,” he whispers so Zane doesn’t hear him.
“Hey, if more men were as thoughtful as Zane and cared about giving their women gifts, more women would be happy,” Sierra sasses. Brenton laughs, but doesn’t dare argue with my sister. Smart man.
“Zane, you have to eat your breakfast first,” I tell him. Grabbing a yogurt and a banana, I set them on the table, then pour him a glass of orange juice. Zane sighs in annoyance, wanting to get to school, while I think of ways to get him out of bed tomorrow. The kid would sleep until noon every day if I let him, and after any break he’s even worse, since his schedule has been disrupted.
After he’s eaten, we head out. Since Brenton’s morning class is the same as mine—actually, all of them are the same—he walks with us to campus. Brenton’s major is also the same as mine, which is how I came to the decision. I was helping him study for a test one day and was fascinated by the content.
We’re talking about what we think the professor will be like when I spot a man walking toward us and halt in my spot. Unlike the last time I saw him, his hair is no longer messy, but instead neatly combed over. He’s not wearing board shorts and a surfing shirt, either. He’s dressed in a navy blue, button-down, collared shirt and a pair of khaki dress slacks. His sandals have been replaced with shiny dress shoes. But the man who is quickly approaching us is most definitely the same man I never thought I’d see again. His eyes briefly meet mine, but they hold zero recognition. Could he have forgotten me? It’s been almost four years, but wouldn’t he still remember who I was?