Willa sighed. “It’s nothing that happened. I did this to myself. Just feeling like I’m never going to be done with school and then about how long it’s going to take me to pay back these loans and if what I’m doing even matters. I’ve seen so many teachers on TikTok and Instagram talking about how the students just don’t care. How they’re disrespectful and unruly and, honestly, just awful. Like there’s no way to maintain any kind of order. Mom, if I end up with kids like that, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I want to teach, not babysit.”
Frankie nodded. “I’ve seen those videos, too, but I can tell you not every school is like that. Mine isn’t.”
“Yeah, but you’re at an arts school. Those kids are different. They want to be there. They know going there is something special. I have no idea where I’ll end up. And what those kids will be like. It’s got me rethinking everything I thought I wanted. Not to mention, teachers don’t make squat.”
“But you’ve always wanted to be a principal.”
“I do, but that’s not a job I’m going to walk into. I have to put time in first. That’s what you did. And you’re still just an assistant. I don’t mean anything bad by that, you have a great job, but you know what I’m saying.”
“I do.” Frankie paused for a beat. “Is your idea of your future changing then? Do you want something different?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want. I thought I did. But I’ve been on this track for so long, maybe it’s just become what I thought I should do. I’ve put so many years into this already.” Willa sighed in frustration. “Changing now would be like starting all over.”
“Not necessarily. I’m sure most of your credits would go a long way toward something else.”
“I don’t know about most. Some, yes. But it doesn’tmatter. It’s not like I know what that something else might be.”
Frankie hurt for her child. “Sweetheart, you sound burned out. Not just from school but from all the responsibility you’ve been carrying for so long. Maybe you need a break.”
Willa scoffed. “Sure, I’ll take a week off and go to the beach.”
“I know you didn’t mean that, but that’s actually a really good idea.”
“Mom, I’m in Ohio. What beach do you think I would go to? Also, I can’t afford to do anything like that. I can barely afford to take a day off.” Willa laughed, but the sound tapered off into a sob. “I don’t like my life very much right now, Mom.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” Frankie understood not having money. But she also knew her child was in a tough spot. Frankie had to do something. Make some effort to help Willa. Her heart insisted. Her credit card would just have to get over it. “What if I sent you a plane ticket?”
“To visit you? I’d love that. But you can’t afford that.”
No, she couldn’t, but she was going to create a logo so amazing that Lucas would have no choice but to like it and pay her. She’d use that money for the credit card bill. “I just got a new illustration job. I can afford it. Also, I’m not at home.” Frankie smiled. “I’m in a place that’s much, much better.”
ChapterForty
Mitch pulled Jeanie into his arms, tucking her against him and inhaling her familiar scent. She was so cold. He kissed the back of her neck, wrapping his arms around her to warm her up, only to realize something was wrong. Jeanie wasn’t moving. Icy panic seeped through him. She wasn’t breathing.
A strangled cry escaped his throat, and he bolted upright in bed, waking himself from the nightmare. He hunched there, clutching the blanket to his chest, trying to breathe, chest heaving, pulse rapid, sweat trickling down his back, heart breaking all over again.
It was just a dream, he repeated to himself.
A terrible, gut-wrenching, awful dream. He hated it with a passion. One brief moment of joy, Jeanie in his arms, then he was plunged back into the dark abyss of grief he’d been struggling to escape from.
Of course that nightmare would returnnow. He’d had a couple of good days. He’d been writing. He’d been getting back into the groove of things. Harper had been helping. He’d thought he’d be all right to sleep in the bed again.
So much for that.
It was like his subconscious thought any kind of happiness, even the kind that wasn’t really happiness but more of a placid existence, was wrong. Like anything a few steps up from mind-numbing grief was some kind of betrayal. Like he’d forgotten he was supposed to be miserable without his wife.
As if that was possible. He could never forget her. He’d also never know true happiness ever again. There was something inside him that wouldn’t allow him to get too close to normal, wouldn’t let him find peace again.
He lay back down and glowered at the ceiling, angry at everything. It was still dark outside, but he knew there’d be no return to sleep.
This mood didn’t make him feel like writing, either. Today would be one of those days like the ones he’d been having since her passing. No words would be good enough, if they even came. He’d stare at the screen, mired in his grief, wracked with guilt about Kyle, guilt for not writing, and accomplishing nothing.
To make matters worse, he’d signed the new contract and emailed Lucinda that things were back on track.
What an idiot he was. Two good days and he thought that was how things were going to go from now on?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, his anger turning inward. Building once again over the fact that Jeanie had been taken from him. That life was so unfair.
