Yet he’d looked at me like he saw something worth wanting.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to believe that. I had no time for dating, and even if I found some, Micah wouldn’t be a safe choice. Not for a girl barely scraping by.
The humidity hit me the second I climbed the subway steps, thick and carrying the familiar tinge of hot dogs from the cart down the street that made my stomach rumble. A typical New York City August evening.
I shifted my tote higher on my shoulder and started down the block toward my apartment building. My sneakers scuffed the uneven concrete, the worn right toe catching just a little with every other step.
If Micah noticed how beat-up they were, he hadn’t shown it. But the thought still made my chest squeeze.
I needed to stop thinking about the way he’d watched me earlier, as though he saw past my forced smile to the exhaustion I tried to hide. Men like him didn’t look at girls like me for more than a fleeting moment. I was sure he’d forgotten all about me after he left. He probably had a date with a runway model or someone equally as glamorous since I’d heard talk about how women always flitted around him when he was spotted out with his teammates.
The cracked sidewalk outside my building came into view, along with the flickering security light that hadn’t worked properly for the past two weeks. My very unglamorous slice of New York City. But it was still a heck of a lot better than the home I’d left behind the day I turned eighteen.
Inside, the stairwell light was out again. I climbed the stairs in the dim glow of my phone flashlight, trying not to imagine the landlord ignoring the maintenance request I’d send tonight.
My roommate wasn’t home when I stepped into our studio apartment, thank goodness. The only good things about her were that she worked opposite shifts from me and covered half of our expenses.
I kicked off my sneakers and tossed my apron on the top shelf of the stacking cubes we’d used to block off my sleeping area. Then I exhaled a long, shaky breath. My feet throbbed, my back ached, and my bank account was one emergency away from collapse. I didn’t regret the sacrifices I was making, though. Getting away from my mom was worth it, and so was protecting my sister. And tomorrow, I’d do it all again.
I crossed the few steps to the kitchenette and pulled open the fridge. The shelves looked depressingly familiar: half a carton of eggs, a loaf of cheap white bread, a stick of butter, and a coupleof clearance-sale items I’d grabbed on Saturday. Barely enough to survive on.
I shut the door and leaned my forehead against the cool metal for a moment.
I should have turned down Micah’s tip earlier. I knew that.
I’d only given in because Reese’s face had flashed before my eyes. And honestly, if it had been any other customer, I probably would’ve taken the cash without thinking twice, but I hadn’t wanted to be Micah’s charity case.
My phone buzzed on the counter, pulling me from my depressing thoughts. When I spotted my sister’s name on the screen, I answered immediately. “Hey, Reese. Is everything okay?”
Her voice quavered as she answered, “Mom’s drunk again.”
Every cell in my body went cold. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I locked myself in my room. She’s yelling at the TV now.” There was a shaky exhale on the other end of the line. “I hate it here, Ry.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” The pain in her voice was a blade twisting under my ribs. “But you only need to hold on for a little longer. I swear I’ll have enough money saved for you to come here when you turn eighteen.”
“I don’t want you working yourself to death,” she whispered.
Too late. But I was never going to let her know that. “It’s going to be okay.”
We talked for another minute before she had to go. When the call ended, I felt the weight of everything settle on my shoulders again.
Padding back over to the stacked cubes, I pulled a much too thin envelope from the middle of my old high school English literature textbook. It had seemed like the safest hiding spot since I highly doubted Jennifer would ever look inside there.
The last thing I needed was for her to steal my cash. Saving was hard enough with rent bleeding me dry, Mom’s endless calls for money, and sending everything I could to Reese every month to help cover their bills as well. I was perpetually low on funds.
But my sister needed a way out, so I’d keep going until she got it.
After tucking my tips from today into the envelope, I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, breathing through the ache in my chest. I’d just have to work harder. Pull more doubles. Stick to the free meals I got during my shifts. Whatever it took. Including taking a ridiculous tip from the hottest guy I'd ever met even though I didn't want to.
Because the only thing worse than growing up in that house was letting my sister stay trapped there alone.
I set the envelope back in its hiding spot and drifted back toward the kitchenette. My whole body felt wrung out, but I couldn’t let myself collapse just yet.
Not when I needed to feel steady again.
I reached for the thin spiral notebook wedged between my cookbooks. Technically, it was just a cheap grid-ruled journal I’d bought at a drugstore three years ago. But to me, it was more valuable than anything I owned.
