Page 5

FOUR

“How long you planning to stay up there?” My mother coughed through the phone. “You promised you’d come back here after you graduated. What’s everyone going to say when they find out my kid’s abandoned me?”

That I have no interest in being around you ?

I sighed as I slapped my palm to my head.

This was my penance for answering the phone during the school day.

My once-peaceful forty-five-minute lunch had turned into a barrage of questions, all accompanied by my mother’s sneer.

From the moment she lit up the screen, disapproval painted her face.

My mother hated my choices, even down to the sandwich I’d made for lunch.

“Mom, I already told you. I can’t take off work right now.

Go to the church. Call up some of your old friends.

You’ll be fine without me.” Not that anyone would answer her calls after the shit she’s put them through.

Colleen McKay used to be beautiful, the world at her fingertips, but time had made her selfish and entitled—believing the world owed her for how her life had turned out.

When she wasn’t able to cloak her disappointment, she’d started drinking, and now, I was pretty sure her only steady relationship was with Johnny Walker.

My mother’s voice lowered. “I know you don’t like it here, Hadley?—”

“Then you know better than to ask,” I bit out, finally losing my patience.

After talking in circles for way too long, I was tired and so fucking hungry.

I swear, I loved my mother; I really did.

In her heart, I had to believe she wanted what was best for me.

But her version of love usually came with endless strings.

My mother’s face hardened. “Fine. I get it. You don’t have to worry about me. I just miss my daughter and thought she might miss me too. Stupid thought.”

Familiar guilt tucked in the back of my eyes, pressing tears out from the corners. I discreetly tried to rush them away, grateful my mother was on a small screen instead of standing in front of me.

“I’ll try to come home soon,” I promised, unsure if I actually meant it.

It had been months since I’d returned to my childhood home.

After I graduated from college, the plan was to open a daycare with my best friend, Victoria.

We’d done all the work, from scouting locations to drafting up a business plan.

But after she fell in love, our plans seemed to go on the back-burner, and I’d had to look long and hard at my life and what I wanted to achieve.

The answer? I had absolutely no idea. There was no back-up, no alternative route.

I was free-falling with no one there to catch me.

So instead of making a choice, I did the opposite.

Decided to embrace a more nomadic lifestyle before I put my big girl pants on and settled down.

Now, the goal was to let my heart guide me and soak up any new opportunities that came my way.

I’d lived in Denver for almost six months right after I got my diploma, but when Victoria called about a substitute teaching job near her home, I couldn’t say no.

As my mother hung up without another word, the door swung open, and my class poured in, already finished with recess for the day.

I’d inherited this group of kiddos when their regular teacher went on maternity leave in December, and they were mine for the rest of the year.

They all laughed and smiled as they found their desks, grateful to have gotten outside after a long and dreary winter.

The door closed, and my co-teacher walked over to my table.

Even though Brianna and I had only been working together for three months, we’d gotten along from the moment we’d met.

Despite our ten-year age gap and being in different phases in life, we’d become fast friends, at least at work.

I’d asked her to come hang out with Tori and me a handful of times, but she’d always say no, twisting her wedding ring like something was holding her back.

Oh well, at least we worked well as a team. Our classroom operated like a well-oiled machine, Brianna being the more data-driven, practical teacher, while I was more about the sparkle and enthusiasm.

As our students settled at their desks, grabbing crayons and colored pencils for their post-recess calm-down time, Brianna glanced at my unfinished lunch and frowned. “Get interrupted by something?”

“More like someone,” I groaned, standing to brush any errant crumbs off my dress.

Now that it was finally spring, I’d take any excuse to wear my dresses.

Winters in New York were no joke, and after living in Austin for the past five years, my blood wasn’t used to the bitter cold.

I shrugged as Brianna gave me another look. “My mother. Don’t ask.”

“I won’t. But if you ever need any commiseration in the mother department, I’m here,” she said as she moved around the tables, helping our second graders get ready for phonics.

As I gathered my materials for class, I gave Brianna a tight smile.

My family history was a well-guarded secret.

I was all too aware of how quick people’s judgments could change when they found out about your roots.

I’d grown up with the stigma my mother created, and I’d worked really damn hard to keep it in the past. Only a few people in my life knew the truth about my childhood, and I liked that I finally had a clean slate.

For years, I’d held onto the dream of freedom—of finally being free to live life how I saw fit.

With no one else depending on me, there wasn’t a reason to create roots just yet.

As long as my bank account had enough funds, I was free to do what I wanted, spending my days soaking up everything the world had to give.

My life might not have been exactly how I imagined it, but it was mine.

The thought pulled away the last icy remnants of my conversation with my mother, and I settled on the carpet with a wide, genuine smile on my face. This might not be permanent, but right now, it was exactly where I wanted to be.