Now, I had a Toyota Sequoia and loved it. Koa had a truck, and even Knox had saved up for an old Honda. Three drivers, three vehicles, and plenty of room for two car seats. The nine of us could all go to places together as long as at least two of us drove.
I didn’t get a chance to check my phone until after the little ones were dropped off and I was sitting in the parking lot of work. I wasn’t surprised to see a text from my best friend.
I laughed a little asHubbyand Koa’s face flashed across the screen. I’d saved the most ridiculous selfie as his picture. I had fallen asleep with an infant Storm on my chest. It was the only way Storm had slept in the beginning, so Koa and I would swap every other night, so at least one of us could rest. We’d tried to stay awake, but I’d still been working two jobs at the time, and yeah, it hadn’t always happened. Anyway, Koa had walked in and decided to throw himself over the couch, his long body mostly out of frame, his head on my sleeping shoulder, ourfaces practically touching. Then the fucker had licked me as he’d snapped the picture. Thank fuck he had kept a hand on Storm because it had scared the shit out of me. Picture was hilarious though.
It was hard to believe that seven years ago, I’d thought he’d be moving across the country and I might never see him again, and now we were married, even if it was on paper only.
My heart still hurt a little knowing that Koa had lost his scholarship and his chance at his dreams of playing in the NFL. But the selfish part of me, the one I would never fucking admit to anyone, had been grateful when Koa had told me he wasn’t going to USC. They had revoked his scholarship due to fears of his lingering injury from earlier that year. He still hadn’t fully recovered, and even though at first they’d said they’d be willing to take a chance on him, something had changed. I’d been so fucking conflicted. Part of me had wanted to storm into their office, and give them a piece of my mind for fucking over Koa. The other part? It had been so damn happy that I wasn’t losing my best friend. That he wasn’t leaving me all alone.
I hated that even the smallest bit of me had been happy that things had ended up the way they had. I wanted Koa to follow his dreams. I did. He was my best friend. The best fucking person I knew. He deserved everything. But—and as fucking awful as it sounded—I needed him and I always would.
I clicked on the text, laughing at the picture of Koa and Cruz drinking milkshakes in his truck.
The text, though, had me frowning.
Hubby: Therapy was rough today. But he was smiling after some milkshakes. Maybe talk to him after school?
My fingers hovered over the keys while I thought of a response. Cruz had only been with us for about a year and was still struggling a lot. He was the only one out of the seven I was raising that wasn’t Mom’s. He was actually my father’s biological child, and was brought to me after his mom relinquished him to the state since we were half-brothers. I didn’t know all the details of the hell he’d gone through in the first nine years of his life, but I knew it hadn’t been good. I wished there was more I could do for him, but I had no idea what.
Me: Of course. Something specific?
Koa didn’t answer right away, but I expected that. He had to be at River Hills High by now, where he worked as a gym teacher and football coach. I pocketed my phone, knowing he’d answer as soon as he could, grabbed my backpack, got out of the SUV, and headed into the building.
Cara’s Creations was an art and pottery store. Back when I’d been a desperate seventeen-year-old, taking any job I could to keep the lights on and food in the kids’ bellies, the owner, Cara, had taken a chance on me working here. I’d done the register, stocked and lugged in supplies, and cleaned up the store. At the time, I’d never even touched clay before, let alone created something. I’d just needed a steady paycheck.
That pity hire had changed my life. One day, shortly after I’d been granted custody and was stressed out of my mind, Cara had taken me into the back, sat me at the wheel, given me a lump of clay, and told me to make something.
Obviously, it hadn’t been that easy. I’d been fucking terrible at it. But every time I’d been ready to give up, when the bills had piled up, and the kids had been screaming, and the guilt had been too much to bear, I’d go back there and make something. When Cara had realized how much I loved it, she’d started togive me lessons. It had turned out that with a little bit of help, I was really fucking good. Not at first. But I’d kept practicing, kept trying. I’d watched every fucking YouTube video I could find. I’d peppered poor Cara with questions until she was probably sick of me. And eventually, I’d become good enough to start teaching classes. Everything had skyrocketed from there.
The light in the store was on and the door was locked, since we were still closed. But it meant Cara was here already. I shook my head, amused. She was always here, even though I was perfectly capable of running this place by myself.
I locked the door back up behind me and headed behind the counter. Cara wasn’t in the main store, but I could hear noise from the back, where the studio and classroom were. “Cara!” I called, throwing my backpack under the counter.
“Back here!”
Once I did a quick sweep to make sure everything was ready up here for opening, I walked back to find my boss and someone I considered a surrogate mother.
Cara had her back to me, focused on the 30x40 canvas in front of her.
While the store was mostly focused on ceramics and pottery, Cara also loved to paint and would take a commission here and there. She had a gallery of her own work that she kept in a converted shed in her backyard. Paintings that she could never bring herself to sell.
The Beatles were playing loudly on her speaker, and she hummed the song quietly to herself as she worked.
“Morning,” I called loud enough to get her attention.
She looked over her shoulder, smiling warmly at me. Cara was in her early sixties, but you would never know looking at her. Her graying brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, pieces falling out and into her face. She had on a long, flowy skirtwith small flowers on it and a bright pink top that was tied in the middle because it was likely two sizes too big, like all her shirts.
“Good morning, sweetie. I picked up danishes from the bakery. They’re in the classroom if you want one.”
I grinned. “You always know the way to my heart, Cara.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile. I amused her.
“Oh, stop. Hurry up and eat. Your class is going to be a big one.”
They all were these days, but something about the way she said it had me on alert. I narrowed my eyes at her. “What’d you do?”
Cara put down the brush and turned to face me. Her cheeks were red, a sure sign she was hiding something from me.
