Page 4 of I'll Carry You

Jen shook her head. “Saturday.” Any excitement she’d felt had been dampened by the news Tierney had given her.

The two women parted, and Jen hurried out of the double-glazed doors. An icy breeze blasted her, throwing her long blond hair over Colby’s face. He squirmed, annoyed that his game was being interrupted, and she took the phone away as they approached her sedan.

Colby howled as she put him in his seat. “I wannnnnt it!”

She pushed his shoulders back, desperately trying to pull his arms through the harness straps as he wiggled. “I know you do, but we’re all done.” His arms thrashed, legs kicking, and he caught her right in the gut.

And this was, precisely, why she never gave her kid her cell phone. Strapping him in, Jen closed the door. Hopefully, no one had seen. She peeked through the parking lot, but the parked cars appeared unoccupied.

Yeah. Only she and Colby were being kicked out in the middle of the day.

Jen lifted a shaking hand to her hair, pushing it behind her ear. She sucked in a deep breath, the cold air filling her lungs and making them ache. One thing at a time.

Getting in her seat, Jen glanced in the rearview mirror at Colby, whose tear-streaked face was red. He’d almost returned to his normal, pleasant self, but he had a hurt look in those ice-blue eyes. Eyes that reminded her so much of Kevin.

She pushed the thought far out of her mind. The last thing she needed right now was to dwell on that asshole. Not right now. Never.

“How about a cheeseburger?” she asked Colby as brightly as she could.

He nodded with a bright smile, and she pulled out of the parking lot onto the main road. When she got home, she’d go through the linked calendar her mom had shared a couple of weeks ago. Mom’s work schedule for the month was on it. Mom only did three shifts at the hospital a week, but with Warren and Alice asking her for help with their two youngest this fall, Mom was tired enough as it was. Jen couldn’t expect her to do any more than she was already doing.

Jen pulled into the line at the fast-food place and gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to relax her shoulders. Earlier this fall, she’d felt relief when she dropped Colby off at the preschool in the morning. Deciding to put him in hadn’t been the easiest, but Lindsay was there, and Jen trusted few people as much as her. But shortly after the school year had started, her anxieties had drifted away. Colby only cried at drop-off the first week, but so had the other three-year-olds.

She’d just been a regular mom, swapping stories about how hard it was to yank her kid off her leg. None of the other moms gave her the side-eye, as they did at church. Even people who wanted to be sympathetic still treated her like she was a screwup.

But now, here she was. Jen the screwup. Twenty-three years old, no career in sight, and barely holding on by the threads of the life she’d struggled to sew together. With broken knitting needles, apparently. No wonder she’d failed out of English as a senior in high school. She was terrible at metaphors.

The car behind her honked, and her chin jerked up, her foot mashing the brake reflexively. The car in line in front of her was a few lengths away, the space in front of the illuminated menu, open. She glanced back at the car behind her, a fancy sports car with Illinois license plates. Giving the driver an apologetic wave, she pulled up to order.

As she got to the cashier window, an unenthusiastic teenager mumbled her total, not making eye contact with her. She handed him her debit card. A few moments later, he pushed it back toward her. “It says declined.”

“Of course it does,” she muttered under her breath. The cold, sweaty feeling was back on her neck. She flipped through her wallet for another card. Her paycheck for the first of December should have hit a few days ago. Just how negative had her balance been?

She hadn’t wanted to check the app on her phone to see.

Grabbing her credit card, she handed it to him.Please let there be some credit left on it.

A few more beats. “It’s not going through.” The kid held the card out again.

She popped open the coin holder beside her window. Only about forty cents there. Shifting her gaze to the rearview mirror, she noticed the line of cars accumulating behind her.Oh, God. Come on.

Another credit card came back declined. “Um...” Jen swallowed, her throat thick. “Can you, um... take off the adult meal and leave the kid’s one?” Maybe her debit card would go through if it was less?

Now the teenager looked annoyed. He chewed on his thumbnail. “Hang on, I have to ask my manager.”

Movement beside her window made her jump. The driver of the car behind her, a tall dark-haired man, stood there. Maybe in his late twenties.Wow, he was good-looking.

Great, all she needed. No matter how hot he was, she didn’t need an angry man pissing on her. “Mind if I step in?” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a razor-thin wallet.

Before Jen could say anything, he handed a card to the cashier, who shrugged.

“Y-You don’t have to.” She’d rather drive off. Preferably a cliff.

“It’s my pleasure.” Hot Guy flashed her a smile. His piercing blue eyes met hers briefly, then he glanced toward the back seat.

And there it was.

His smile faltered.