Inevitably You

by Abby Brooks

  Inevitably You

  Abby Brooks

  Copyright © 2017 by Abby Brooks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Michele Catalano Creative.

  Cover image © 2017 by Wander Aguiar Photography.

  To Bill. My Mr. Wonderful. The man who took me from a life of disappointment and taught me the true meaning of joy.

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Connect With Abby Brooks

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Abby Brooks

  MICHELLE

  I never thought I'd be the girl with a gun in her face. Someone like me isn't supposed to understand the way fear boils in your gut when you stare at the business end of a deadly weapon.

  But here we are. I guess bad guys don't understand that bad things shouldn't happen to good girls.

  He thumbs the hammer and fear sears through my veins like fire down a fuse. The tiny click might as well be a lightning strike. Chills race across my skin and I forget what it means to breathe.

  "Is this what you want?" My husband steps towards me, the gun trembling in his hands as spittle flies from his lips. "Or is it this?" He presses the thing against his temple and I run from the room, chased by the demons in his head.

  I grab my daughter, her wrist fragile in my fist. "Why is he doing this, Mommy?"

  I press a hand to my chest, begging my heart to slow while I hold in the bits and pieces that crack off and crumble inside me. I pull my daughter down the hallway, her little feet stumbling behind me as her father lumbers out of our bedroom.

  "Damn it, Michelle! Get your ass back here!" His voice eats through my resolve like acid through metal.

  I grab my phone before I lose my nerve. Dial 911 as I race out of our home, praying the neighbors open the door in time.

  "Why, Mommy? Why is he doing this?" Claire's wide eyes stand out like little moons in the dark.

  "Because," I say as I run across the yard, grass clippings sticking to my bare feet. "I told him he couldn't anymore."

  MICHELLE

  A bead of sweat drips down my back as a light breeze plays in the tendrils of hair falling free from my ponytail. April in Ohio shouldn't be this hot. In a typical year, daffodils would just now be poking through the rain-drenched soil and people would be praying that an overnight frost wouldn't kill the delicate buds. Claire and I should be tucked into our jackets, her too-short sleeves exposing the skin at her wrists because she grows so fast nothing lasts more than a season. Instead, we're decked out in shorts and tank tops as we make our way home from the grocery store, while she points out all the flowers in full bloom along the way.

  "My feet are so tired, Mommy." Claire stops in the middle of the sidewalk and slumps her shoulders, blowing a puff of air past her lips. "And the sun is as hot as fire."

  "I know, Bear." I adjust my grip on the bags of groceries in my hands, trying to relieve pressure where the plastic handles have dug into my skin. "But the good news is we're almost home."

  "I wish gas didn't cost any money at all." My daughter puts her hands on her hips and blows a long breath of air past her lips. "It should be free. The stuff people need shouldn't cost money." She nods with all the finality her five-year-old self can muster.

  I wrestle with the bags and wipe a drop of sweat from my face. "But we don't really need it, do we? Not while we have legs that work." I smile as guilt hollows out my stomach. She shouldn't have to accept this much sacrifice as a normal part of life.

  Claire sighs. "But that's just it. I don't think my legs will work anymore."

  "Come on, Bear." I readjust my grip on the bags. "You're stronger than that. You'll be surprised what you can do if you keep pushing yourself."

  She's tired and it kills me that I have to make her walk to and from the grocery store, but we only have a half mile left. Mom's late on my paycheck again and this is the best way to save on gas. I always thought running a dance studio with my mom would be a dream come true. The reality has been more like a nightmare.

  It turns out trying to support two households off a small business based in a small town isn't as easy as we thought. People are always paying late or quitting in the middle of the season, or the bathrooms in the small, underground facility we rent flood, and we have to spend a bunch of money to fix the plumbing because the landlord can't be trusted to do it herself. Long story short, even as a co-owner my paycheck isn't guaranteed.

  Which only makes things harder. Ever since the divorce, money is tight for me when my paychecks come on time. When they're late? Especially when they're late several weeks in a row like they have been the last two months? Things go from tight to non-existent and I fall further and further behind on everything. I might as well be scrambling up a sandy hill, doing my best to make progress, but all I do is slide backwards, earning myself a mouthful of sand.

  The thought of money makes me panic, which brings tears to my eyes, but I blink them away. I can't waste energy on any of that nonsense right now. I'm doing the best I can and so is Mom. All we need is to have a couple solid weeks at work and things will improve. They have to, because I can't afford for them to keep going the way they are. In the meantime, I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other, keep figuring out how to smile through it as best I can, keep cutting corners here and there, and better days will come to me.

  My sweet, sweet girl doesn't complain again for the rest of the trip home. She keeps her chin up, chattering away about every little thing she sees along the way—a steady stream of happy sounds that make me smile despite my weary heart. My arms and hands ache as we make our way up the short driveway to our small house. The weight of a few days’ worth of groceries surprises me. Even the few essentials I bought ended up weighing me down. The plastic bags rustle as I drop them at my feet and stretch the tendons in my hands and wrists.

  Claire hops from one foot to the other. "Oh hurry, Mommy. I have to pee!"

  "Well don't do it out here." I give my girl a silly look and fumble with my keys.

  "Eww." Claire rolls her eyes. "That's gross."

  "Which is the whole reason you shouldn't do it." The key slides into the lock and I shimmy it open with a few practiced wrist twitches.

  As soon as the door swings open, Claire bolts past me and sprints down the short hallway to the bathroom. I gather the bags and deposit them in the kitchen before taking a few minutes to open all the windows and let in some fresh air. I hate keeping the house closed up while we're gone, but I can't leave with the doors and windows open, either. We'll be uncomfortable for about an hour, but once the air starts circulating,
we'll cool off. I could always turn on the air conditioner, but I can't bring myself do it this early in the season. That's a luxury I'll figure out how to afford later in the summer.

  "Mommy?" Claire's voice comes sing-songing down the hallway. "The toilet won't flush!"

  "Okay, babe," I call back to her. "I'll be right there."

  Dread settles in my gut, heavy and toxic, while I try to remember how late I am on the water bill. I cut it close this month—the shut-off notice came the other week—but Mom swore she'd be able to pay me my full paycheck, plus everything she owed me. I was certain I'd have enough money to pay the bill on time. But despite her promises, she’s late paying me, so I'm late paying them. Again. This is how we live now. I always have more month than money and I'm constantly behind on my bills. Without bothering to unpack them, I shove the grocery bags into the mostly empty fridge and turn on the faucet at the kitchen sink.

  Nothing.

  I grip the counter and close my eyes, shoulders tense, jaw tight. How many more decades of this do I have stretching out in front of me? How many long years of never having enough am I going to have to live through? There are tiny moments in my life where I wish I could just stop.

  Not that I want to kill myself. Nothing like that. But there are times when the desire to fade away, to put my head down and close my eyes until I don't have any of this sitting on my shoulders anymore overwhelms me. If I could simply stop existing, that would be so much easier. Of course, those moments don't last long. My daughter is always the very next thought I have. I think of her needing me and I wipe all the weakness and self-pity right out of my head. I'm not allowed to throw a pity-party for myself because life is harder than they taught me in school. Not when she needs me.

  "Mom?" Claire calls from the bathroom. "What do I do about the toilet?"

  I shake my head and open my eyes, pushing away the guilt that's crowding my heart. Claire needs me. I refuse to do anything but my absolute best to take care of her and make her life as beautiful as I can, despite all the struggles I face.

  "Did you wipe?" I call as I push off the counter and head down the hallway.

  "Yep!"

  "Then you've done all you need to do.” I peek into the bathroom. "The rest is up to me."

  Claire buttons her shorts and reaches up on her tiptoes to wash her hands in the sink.

  "I have a bottle of sanitizer on the kitchen counter," I say before she can discover that we don't have water anywhere. "Use that, okay?"

  She gives me a funny look but doesn't ask any questions and skips out of the bathroom, her blond pigtails bouncing behind her. I fish my cellphone out of my pocket and flip it open. I swear I'm the last adult in the free world who hasn't gotten a smart phone, and I only have this thing because my stepdad put me on his family plan. I can't afford one of these things on my own. I dial Mom's number and lean against the sink, one arm wrapping around my stomach.

  "Misha! How are you?" The smile in my mom's voice is yet another weight on my shoulders. She doesn't have any money to pay me, but she'll figure out a way to give me the money I need, even if she ends up going without something she needs.

  "Hey, Mom." I clear my throat. "Hey, listen. Is there a chance you've got any money to pay me? It doesn't even have to be my whole paycheck..." Part of me wants to tell her that it very much does need to be my whole paycheck. That I'm tired of not having enough money to pay my bills and making my daughter go without some very basic things. But I don't listen to that part. My mom is doing the best she can in the same way I'm doing the best I can. Me adding pressure to her isn't going to change anything for the better, and might alienate the one person who is always on my side.

  Mom sighs and that's all the answer I need. "I'm sorry, but I don't. I've got four families who owe me for this entire season. As soon as they catch up, I'll be able to catch up, too. It shouldn't be too much longer." The weight in her voice stirs fear in my heart.

  "Here's the thing." I close my eyes, searching for the strength to drag words past my lips. "They've turned off my water and I only need enough to catch up on the bill so..." I trail off, unable to say the words out loud. I need money to turn my water back on because I am so close to bankrupt I can't keep the necessities my daughter and I need to survive.

  "Oh, Mish." Mom sighs again, her guilt piling on top of my guilt and doing the tango in my stomach. "I'm so sorry," she continues. "Yeah, I'll figure out how to get you something. Can you stop by? Will a hundred do? I can give you that, I think." She sounds so uncertain and the shame in her voice breaks my heart.

  "Yeah. A hundred will be great." I lick my lips. "Thanks, Mom. Is it okay if we stop by now? I'd like to make it down there before they close for the weekend."

  "Or course, love. I'll be here."

  I hang up the phone and head out of the bathroom to find Claire playing with her dolls in her room. "Come on, Bear. We've gotta go."

  She looks up, crushed. "More walking?"

  "Not this time. We have to take the car."

  Claire's eyes light up. "Yes," she cries as she leaps to her feet. "Where we going?"

  "Couple places." The animal shelter is right next to the sanitary engineering department. I'll take her to visit the animals after I pay the bill, and maybe she'll never understand what happened today.

  We hop in the car and roll down the windows. The gas gauge hovers just below the halfway point, which means I'll have enough to make it to the studio tomorrow even after this unplanned trip. Maybe someone will pay Mom before I leave for the day and she'll be able to pay me. If so, I can fill up on the way home. I make the short drive to Mom's and she's waiting for us outside her apartment when I pull up out front.

  "There's my Bear," she says, a huge smile stretching across her pretty face as she passes by my window in favor of her granddaughter. "Look how tall you are! You can see right out of the car, no problem." She leans her elbows on the open window.

  Claire giggles. "I'm not that big. I'm in my booster seat, silly."

  "Of course." Mom shakes her head. "What was I thinking?" She straightens as I swing open the door and stand. "You have time to stay?" She sounds hopeful.

  "I don't. They close in forty-five minutes." A kid on a skateboard rolls past us, the wheels whirring across the pavement as his T-shirt ripples in the wind. If only I could be so free.

  Mom hands me an envelope, pausing for minute to grip my hand. "I couldn't find a hundred, but I got close. I promise you'll get the rest as soon as I do."

  "I trust you, Mom." Not one part of me thinks she has any more than she gave me because if she did, I'd have it right now.

  "Have you thought about asking your dad for a loan?" My mother picks at the hem of her shirt, avoiding eye contact.

  "No." A lifetime's worth of things left unsaid hang in the air between us.

  She nods, sucking in her lips. "I understand. I wouldn't want to call him either."

  I give her a quick hug and wait while she leans in to kiss Claire on the cheek. A breeze whispers past my hairline, cooling the thin layer of sweat at my temple as I pull onto the road, pausing to wave before turning down the street.

  The Greene County Sanitary Engineering Department is fifteen minutes away and Claire and I fill the time by playing I Spy, laughing when neither of us can hear the other over the wind rushing through the windows and dancing in our hair. I pay the bill, fighting the urge to apologize to the woman behind the counter. I want her to understand that I'm a good person. That I'd pay on time if I could. That I didn't mean to end up where I am. That I didn't intend to fight my way through life as a single mom, overcoming the mountain of debt my ex-husband left on my shoulders.

  Claire studies the pamphlets in the rack and I wonder if she comprehends where we are and what we're doing. Does she realize how hard our life is? Or is this all just normal to her? Of all the awful experiences in her short life, maybe this past year hasn't been that bad in comparison. That thought does nothing to alleviate my guilt, because that in and of i
tself is a tragedy.

  "Wanna go look at the kitties?" I ask as we step outside, nodding towards the animal shelter on the other side of the parking lot.

  "That's a silly question." Her eyes light up and a smile stretches wide across her face. I can't help but smile in return. "I always want to play with the kitties."

  "You know we can't adopt one..."

  "I know," she says, nodding sagely. "Just for looks."

  We cross the parking lot, her small hand folded in mine, and push through the door to the animal shelter. We come here a lot. She likes to play with the kittens and the people who work here don't seem to care when we hang around for hours and never take an animal home. Typically, we're the only ones here, but today a man crouches in front of one set of cages, making the already small room seem crowded. He looks up when we come in—his eyes warm and his smile easy—before giving his attention back to the cats in front of him.

  "These are all the last-chance cats?" He directs the question to a tired looking woman leaning against the wall and fidgeting with a hole in her wrinkled T-shirt.

  She nods once. "Yep. Today is their last day."

  "Last chance?" Claire looks up at me, concerned and confused.

  How am I supposed to explain to my five-year-old that if these kitties don't find a home today, they'll be euthanized? I try on a few different explanations in my head before I divert her attention to a big fat cat in a cage on the other side of the room.