I’d made it a point to read to him every night growing up, no matter what. When he finally got old enough to read on his own, we began taking turns and it was, by far, my favorite part of each day.
I could see his eyes start to droop when I took my turn, and I smiled. He was getting so big, but sometimes I still caught glimpses of my baby boy hiding underneath. “Let’s end here. You have school tomorrow, and I need to get started on my own reading.”
“Do you have a test?”
“Not tonight, thankfully, just some reading.” I laid his book on his nightstand and stood, throwing his blanket over his head.
“About what?” he asked, not even bothering to move it.
“Well, one of them is an overview of the research results regarding car wash employees stealing change from vehicles. I have to write up a report naming any issues with validity and reliability.”
I watched his fingers slowly creep out and drag the blanket down his face. His nose was scrunched up tight. “That sounds awful.”
“It will absolutely, without a doubt, be awful.” I laughed, flicking his light off. “’Night, bud.”
“’Night, Mom.”
I closed his door, turning and staring at my own bedroom. I could practically hear the sheets calling my name. They were probably ice cold and fantastic. Fuck, I was tired. Tipping my head back, I sighed, turning and making my way to the kitchen tucked into the corner of our living room.
Twenty-five and there I was, spending the night prepping a cup of dollar store coffee in tie-dye sweats, mismatched socks, and curls plopped on top of my head like a pineapple. I was the antonym of sexy.
Dressing up my coffee with more sugar than my daily allowance recommended, I made sure Rugpants had wandered back inside, and then heaved the door shut, ambling into my room.
The duplex was the largest place I’d ever been able to barely afford. ‘Barely’ being a key detail. With three beds and two bathrooms, it was more space than we’d ever had in our previous one-bed, one-bath apartment.
The master bedroom was the same size as the other bedrooms, but I didn’t have to share so it was a winner in my book. I set my “World’s Best Hooker” mug my friend had gifted me on my nightstand and wiggled my butt down onto my cheap, three-inch mattress, next to the four-legged child that’d already crawled in.
“Here we go,” I muttered, cracking my neck. I set my laptop on my crossed legs and logged into the university website. Once it was loaded and my planner spread out next to me, I promptly pulled up my nightly companion: streaming music.
I couldn’t afford the commercial-free version, but you wouldn’t hear me complain. It was the only thing keeping me awake most nights. Even eyecare commercials were more entertaining than silence.
I pulled up the report I’d been assigned, a research project conducted by one of my professors. He’d assigned it to the class, camouflaging it as a practice assignment when in reality, he was using us to find errors in his work for him.
I was pretty sure it would be considered highly unethical, but whatever. Setting the music station to Top Hits, I rolled my shoulders and got to work.
I’d suffered through the entire report and was summarizing my findings when a knock came on the front door. I startled, straightening up and spilling the majority of my coffee down the front of my top. Cursing, I leapt off the bed and attempted to quiet Rugpants’s barking while she tried to uncover herself from the comforter.
Who the hell could that be? I set my mug down, wiping pointlessly at my wet chest, my heart already in my stomach. I didn’t know anyone in this town besides my parents, and they wouldn’t be knocking on my door this late at night.
I slid out of my room, closing the door behind me to lock sausage butt in so she hopefully wouldn’t wake Jamie. Part of me didn’t want to answer the door at all, but what if it was an emergency? I knew more than most that emergencies could happen at any time of night.