Page 44 of The One Timer

Separating from him, I smile. He’s right, but it’s not so simple with my aunt. I don’t want her to think I’m seeing someone with money. I don’t want her getting any ideas.

“I have to go.”

He leans in for one quicker kiss, the devastating kind that promises more. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His words confirm the promise that sounds more like a threat, but it’s the kind of threat that excites me.

It also makes me want to run the other way. I push out the door and run to the house without turning around, meeting my aunt just inside the door.

She’s waiting for me with a million questions in her expression. “Who’s the guy in the fancy car? I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not. He’s …a fling. It’s nothing.” I go around her into the kitchen, turning lights on and shivering in the chilly apartment.

She follows me, tossing her bag on a small, cluttered table.

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

I take a deep breath and tell her the truth. “He’s Mrs. Whittier’s grandson. We had a night. That’s all.”

“He’s… Doesn’t he play hockey? You’re going to see him again, right? I’d love to get tickets to a Brawlers game. Maybe you can get yourself a raise or a bonus. You know I need the money so I can drop the extra shift I’ve been working on Saturdays. My hip is killing me. I won’t last long if I keep it up, and there’s no way I can afford hip surgery.”

I haven’t told her about my raise and that I’ve been saving money for a deposit on an apartment, and now I feel like a selfish shit.

“You’re right. I should be paying you more.” It’s so selfish to save all my extra money instead of sharing it with my family. It doesn’t matter if I’m not a member of their immediate family, that they sometimes treat me like I’m the outsider, one level removed—the niece or cousin, not the daughter or sister.

“I would need another hundred a week from you to drop the Saturday shift.” She stands with her hands on her hips, confrontation and animosity leaping from her. Her mouth is a flat line, her eyes steely and sharp. Even so, I can see the fear, feel it, underneath everything, and the last thing I want to do is make her afraid of me or hurt her.

She’s so used to bad luck and misery in life, to people taking advantage of her—to being bashed around by others, including her ex-husband, my ex-uncle—that it’s easy to be gentle with her like I’m talking to a skittish horse. Not that I’ve ever done that. I’ve never even seen a horse, though it’s on my bucket list.

The list of things I’ll do someday when I’m standing on my own and thriving and whole…

Gulping down the serious hit to my plans, the bruise to my soul that comes with a postponement of my much-needed independence, I go to her and embrace her.

She stiffens. “What are you doing, you ungrateful brat? Are you going to give me the money or⁠—”

“Of course, I’m going to give you the money, Aunt Beatrice. You’re family, and if you need the money, and I have it, it’s yours.” It’s not the first time I’ve said this to her. Not her first less-than-gracious demand, and not the first or last time my attempt at affection and understanding has been met with rejection.

She pushes me away, but I squeeze her hand, and after a beat, she squeezes mine back and nods. “Good. How about the hockey game tickets? Call it a Christmas present?” Her tone has lost its harshness.

I smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good, because that good-for-nothing boyfriend of Penny’s can’t seem to come up with the tickets he promised over a month ago. But then, he’s only an equipment manager, not the fucking Whittiers.” She almost smiles. It’s one of those greedy smiles I imagine the Big Bad Wolf greeted Red Riding Hood with in anticipation of eating the contents of her picnic basket.

“Let me start dinner.” I turn from her and open the refrigerator.

“Great. I’m taking a nap. Wake me when it’s ready.”

I finally get to pull the couch open to my bed after shooing Petra and Penny to watch TV in their bedroom after eleven. Lying under my blanket, I can’t stop thinking about Chase being at the Whittier house in the morning. There’s too much anticipation running through my nerves to sleep. Should I get there early to catch him before he leaves, or do I purposely avoid him as much as possible?

Am I a coward, or am I strong enough to deal with him and stay focused on nursing school to reach my goal of independence?

Chapter Sixteen

CHASE

Iget up early without an alarm. There’s too much excitement jumping my nerves at the prospect of seeing Em, at the prospect of winning her over. The kitchen is dark when I walk in, and I turn on all the lights and make a pot of coffee the old-fashioned way, brewing it on top of the stove. Gran will be thrilled. She’s had this silver pot since the 1940s, though it mostly sits on top of the stove as a decorative piece.

I’m the only one who uses it. As the smell of coffee fills the air, Gran comes into the kitchen and sits with me.

“You’re up early,” I tell her.