“He wants to play again—really putting in the work.” I pause, my brain rolling around all of the possible ways to wordsmith the question in my head. Instead, I just ask it. “I don’t think you’re dropping by to ask me about Nicky. What’s going on, Ava?”
My boss gives an amused smile before gently pointing a finger at me.
“Want to know what I thought when I hired you?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “That girl is committed to her job. She must love it.”
“I did,” I acknowledge, then catch myself. “Ido.”
“I don’t doubt there’s a love to be good at what you do,” Ava leads softly. “It’s why you’ve been given the role you have—not just right now, but before, too. Working with the film crew and taking on the responsibility of protecting our players. I didn’t think there was anyone else who could live and breathe this job like you do. Except maybe Emmett.”
“But you don’t think I can anymore?” I ask, all my training and education picking apart the words Ava uses. Thepasttense. The way she creates comfort by highlighting my positives, as though she is going to level a blow against me.
“I think a lot has changed for you. It’s all right if your love is somewhere other than your job.” Ava’s face is nothing but kind and understanding. The older sister, who sees more than she speaks, finally dropping some hard-earned wisdom.
Relief floods through me, and I’m taken aback by its strength. I think about every morning for the last three weeks: saying goodbye to Nat and Nicky, wishing I was driving Natalia to school instead, singing Huntrix songs at the top of our lungs. How my heart aches all day with something I can’t name.
Somewhere in falling in love with Nicky, there was a falling in love with Natalia—with the entire Midnight family. A family I never had. A family I didn’t know I needed but can’t imagine being without. I don’t realize I’m crying until there’s an audible drip onto the corner of a memo on my desk.
“Oh!” I gasp with embarrassment, quickly wiping away the salty tracks on my cheeks. I try to gather the shattered pieces of myself, tracking the way Ava leans forward in her chair. She plucks a tissue from the box on the side of my desk and offers it to me. An apology is on the tip of my tongue. Then, as if she is expecting it, Ava raises her hand to silence me before I even speak.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” she tells me. She doesn’t lean back in the chair; she rises and comes around the corner of my desk. Ava hitches a hip on the edge and rests a comforting hand on my arm. “It’s good; belonging.”
“Nothing about my life now is what I expected when I came here,” I confess. “I’m so grateful you took a chance on me, and I do like what we do. I know I’m capable and good at what I do. I?—”
“Bea,” Ava interrupts. “You don’t have to make a decision. I’m not asking you to figure out the rest of your life at ten thirty on a Wednesday morning.”
I laugh, relief coursing through me at her reassurance that there’s no ultimatum coming today. But I know now that my employer is aware of my disconnect, and I realize I’m approaching a crossroads in a truly unexpected way.
Before I can respond, my cell phone rings. The number for Natalia’s school flashes on the screen. I glance at Ava, and she gives me a nod. I pick up the phone, swiping to answer the call, my brows furrowing in confusion.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, I’m trying to reach Beatrice Farrow.” A pleasant voice comes through the receiver.
“This is she.” Ava stands, but I hold up a finger, asking her to wait. “How can I help you?”
“Miss Farrow, this is Mary Bragman, the nurse at Edgewood Elementary. I have Natalia in my office.”
“Is she all right?” I push, even if I know the woman is about to explain the reason for the call. Everything in me is tuned to react—rationally or otherwise—as worry settles in. Ava is a silent support next to me, her hand on my shoulder and concern in her eyes.
“She seems to be fine now.” Mary’s voice is kind. The kind of clinical that comes from taking care of kids and talking to parents. “She did throw up at the end of recess about ten minutes ago, but says she feels okay. I’ve taken her temperature; she’s within normal range, and she isn’t complaining of any other symptoms.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Our school policy dictates that vomiting students must be picked up by a parent or trusted person on their contact form, and cannot return until they are twenty-four hours free of further illness,” Mary explains. “I’ve attempted to reach Natalia’s father, but my calls are going unanswered.”
“He’s at practice,” I reply. “His phone is in the locker room.”
“Your daddy’s skating,” I hear Mary say quietly. Natalia must be next to her, and I know my girl must be worrying. While Nicky has gotten her started with a therapist, it will take Natalia some time to work through the trauma Nicky’s injury caused. Her separation anxiety is ebbing and flowing in ways she can’t control yet. “Well, you’re next on our contact list. Do you think you are able to come pick her up?”
“Mamochka.”
My heart squeezes tightly when I hear Nat on the phone.
Mommy.
It’s like puzzle pieces clicking into place. I can see the picture so clearly, and it’s exactly what I want.
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” I say, then freeze to look back at Ava. I’m halfway to the door, my purse slung over my shoulder and my other hand reaching out for my coat. Ava gives me a nod, and I know where I’m supposed to be. I just have to figure out how to stay there.
