“I can’t afford the accommodation at uni.”
“What about the course fees? Can you get a grant?”
“Yes, Mum qualifies as low income, but she wouldn’t fill in the forms for me to get a grant. I don’t think she wants me to leave.”
A snarl forms on my face. Oak always said his mother became bitter and twisted after his dad died and she turned to the bottle. Of course, she wouldn’t want Sunshine to leave. Who would? If she was my daughter, I’d want to keep her close forever and shield her from the world, but just like the skylark, birds need to fly free. Clipping their wings will only make them resent you, no matter what her intentions. Though I have a feeling that her mother, Jean’s intentions aren’t in the best interest of her daughter.
“I thought Mum would have tried to contact me today.”
“Did you want her to?”
She shrugs. “I just wish she would care.”
“There are plenty of others that do care.” I clear my throat and throw some notes on the table. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Surprise.”
9
HAYDEN
The engine thrums beneath us as I steer us back towards the Black Crow. Faith holds tight, her chin tucked against my back, her smile still warm against the fabric of my cut. She keeps quiet the entire ride, but I can sense the buzz of curiosity radiating off her.
She’s probably thinking I’m taking her somewhere quiet—low key. Maybe just a drink and a pat on the back.
She has no idea I texted Draven.
As we pull up outside the bar, she frowns. “We’re here again?”
“Yeah,” I say, kicking the stand down. “C’mon.”
“Hayden…” she drags my name out with a suspicious squint.
“Trust me, Sunshine.”
I push the door open, and the moment we step inside, the place erupts.
“Wooo! She’s here!”
“Go on, girl!”
“Bloody smashed it, Faith!”
Balloons float above the bar. There’s a dodgy homemade banner across the back wall that reads ‘Well done, Sunshine!’scrawled in glitter. Someone cranks up the jukebox to a cheesy victory anthem.
She stops in her tracks, frozen just inside the door, her mouth open in shock.
“Did you—?” she whispers.
I shrug one shoulder. “Might’ve mentioned your results.”
Heather’s already dragging her towards a table stacked with cupcakes, plastic flutes of cheap fizz, and a chocolate cake someone’s butchered with a butter knife.
Faith laughs, and it’s like the last bit of weight falls off her shoulders. She hugs Yaz, high-fives a girl with violet hair, even throws her arms around Draven, who looks surprised as hell but doesn’t dare say a word. He just mutters, “Get this girl a bloody drink.”
I hang back for a minute, watching her glow.
