17. Sabrina

There was nothing I hated more than to see Keith sick. The poor kid had thrown up more times than I cared to count over the last few days.

“Are you going to work today?” Keith shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the clock.

I sat at the table and patted the chair beside me. “Not today. I thought I’d give you one more day before we start back.” Brushing his hair back from his forehead, I noted his even temperature. No more sweaty forehead or glazed eyes. He looked perfectly healthy.

He hopped into the chair and pulled the plate holding a single waffle closer. “Can I have more than one?”

“We’ll see. You haven’t thrown up all night, but we don’t want to overload your stomach.” I talked to him more like an adult sometimes, and now was no different. “Take small bites and chew slowly. If you start to feel nauseous, stop eating. Okay?”

“Okay.” He blinked sleepily and yawned. “Can we go to the zoo today since I’m not going to school?”

I winced at the request, hiding the frown with a sip of coffee. “I have some work stuff to take care of. Then we’ll talk about it.” I’d called in to work the last two days. The absence would do a number on my bank account. Unless Chase decided to pay me for them. I hesitated to ask. I was a new employee. Surely, I didn’t have vacation or sick time yet. Picking up my phone, I tried again to access Dad’s bank information. I’d always had access to the password, but the last two times I’d tried, it kicked me out. Fine. We’d do this the old-fashioned way. I moved away from the table, ruffling Keith’s hair in passing, and retreated to the patio as I dialed the bank’s number.

A perky female voice answered. “Wilson and Rogers Community Bank, how may I direct your call?”

“I need to transfer money between accounts.” My nails bit into my palms. My phone rang, but I ignored it. Whoever wanted to talk to me could wait. A sense of foreboding squeezed my heart. I hadn’t believed Bailey when she said my access was revoked. I’d thought it was another one of her stupid, narcissistic plots to get a rise out of me.

“I need the account numbers and your name. Along with the last four digits of your social.”

I rattled off the information and held my breath. Keys clacked, then silence.

“Can you repeat those numbers for me?”

Shit. My stomach dropped to my toes. I repeated the information, but I already knew what she’d say.

“I’m sorry, but you do not have access to Mr. Adams’s account. Is there another number you’d like to try? If you need to make a transfer, have Mr. or Mrs. Adams call.”

Yeah, right. I choked out a “no thanks” and hung up the phone. Shit. Shit. Double shit. The small transfers between Dad’s account and mine had helped pad my expenses. I put everything into raising Keith. How could I take him to the zoo knowing I wouldn’t have enough money for anything else we might need before my next paycheck?

I swiped across the screen to access my voicemail, my heart seizing at the sight of Bailey’s name on my missed calls. The trepidation I’d felt earlier increased tenfold. I pressed play and closed my eyes, gritting my teeth as my stepmother’s voice screeched over the line. “Sabrina, I noticed you haven’t gone to work this week. No doubt you’ve already quit or been fired.” She huffed noisily and tittered. “Well, nothing I can do about that except give you a well-meaning nudge. You have two weeks to find a new apartment. Two. Weeks. I’ve already called a locksmith to come out and change all the locks. And don’t think you can stay in the apartment while he does it. Be out before he arrives, or I’ll call the police and you’ll be considered a trespasser.”

She couldn’t do that. Could she? Cold sweat ran down my body and my stomach twisted until I dry heaved. Bailey would find a way. She’d wanted me off the property for years. Now she had a chance to make it happen. Fucking bitch. Yes, I’d wanted independence, but I hadn’t expected it to bite me in the ass. “Two weeks isn’t enough time, you insensitive whore.” I deleted the message, considered playing dumb like I’d never received it at all. I knew better. Bailey would keep pushing until she got what she wanted. “I don’t even like living here,” I reminded myself.

Bailey spent most of her time spying on me. How else would she know I hadn’t gone to work? It only proved my point of why I never brought anyone here. For all I knew, Bailey had rigged the apartment with cameras and microphones. She was messed up enough to do it. The woman thrived on control, and I was the outlier who never listened or obeyed her.

Keith knocked on the glass door and held up his empty plate when I turned around.

I made my way back into the house. “Good job. How do you feel?”

“Good. Can we go out?”

How was I supposed to say no? We hardly had time together anymore, and I was loathe to pass up this chance. “Sure. Get dressed.” Maybe I could squeeze in a few minutes to browse apartments while we were out. I chewed my lip, tapping my phone against my chin. Miranda might know of a place. I tapped her contact in waited for her casual, “What’s up, girl?” before I launched into my request. “I need a new apartment. You know of anything?”

“What did Bailey do?” Consternation filled her voice.

“Nothing yet. But she will soon. I have two weeks.”

“Damn.” Miranda whistled. “Two weeks is fast. I don’t have anything.” She hesitated. “But Russell might.”

“Russell?” His name stirred my senses, awakening me after days of languid unease.

I listened to Miranda chat with someone, her voice muffled. When she returned, she spoke fast. “Call Russell. He rents property as a side job. He should be able to help. I have to go.” She hung up without a goodbye.

Fuck me sideways. Was I really going to let myself be more beholden to the powerful man who made me want things I’d never been able to have before.

Keith bounded outside. “Ready.”

My heart melted. Yes. For Keith, I’d swallow my pride and call Russell.

An hour later, Keith and I pulled up to the location Russell had sent me. He’d been way too enthusiastic when I called, and now my stomach tied itself in knots when I spotted him leaning casually against a porch post with his arms crossed.

I turned to look at Keith in the backseat. “Okay. We’re going to meet a work friend of mine and look at this house.” House. The word felt weird in my mouth. I couldn’t afford a house. Not even the small one behind Russell. I’d looked at enough for rent ads to know that realty was at an all-time high. I didn’t stand a chance.

“Can I play in the house?” Keith’s eyes shot wide when he unbuckled and popped open the door. “I like the yellow door.”

So did I. I followed Keith up the concrete sidewalk and into the shadowed nook where the porch cut off the sun. A single rocking chair was tucked in the corner, a colorful cushion begging me to sit and enjoy the quiet atmosphere.

“You must be Keith.” Russell stuck out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Russell.”

Not really, but I appreciated the sentiment and his obvious attempt to connect with my son. I hoped Keith didn’t slip and tell Russell something that would give me away. I wasn’t ready to have my time with Russel and the others cut short, not when I felt closer than ever before to finding the truth.

“You’re tall.” Keith squinted up at Russell. “Do you play football?”

“I did.” Russell twisted and reached into a basket behind him and pulled out a football. “You want to play?”

Keith took off so fast his feet might as well have rockets on them. “Throw it to me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I crossed my arms and tried to tell my stomach to stop flipping around. It ignored me.

“I want to.” Russell raised his arm and lobbed the ball at Keith. “Go on inside and look around.”

Might as well go ahead and tell him the truth. “Russell, I can’t afford this place. It doesn’t matter how much I like it.”

His brows crashed together.

“Catch, Mr. Russell.” Keith lobbed the ball toward Russell, forcing him to look away from me.

He caught the ball and spun it around in his hands. “Go look, Sabrina. If you don’t like this place, we’ll look at something else.”

“But—”

“Go.” He cut me off with a dip of his chin. “Let me worry about the price of this place. All I need from you is whether you like it.”

I liked anything that got me out from under Bailey’s thumb. But finances didn’t change with the shift in seasons. I wasn’t going to be able to live here. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to look around, see what I liked and didn’t like about the place. That would give me more to go on later when I made inquiries.

Leaving Keith and Russell passing the ball back and forth in the small front yard, I entered the house. The amount of natural light filtering in through a series of bay windows on the far wall forced me to stop and admire the open space. Small but tidy, it had everything Keith and I needed. A full kitchen held brand new stainless appliances and a small breakfast nook. The living room housed a couch, recliner, and a single TV perched on a farmhouse-style entertainment center. An unfamiliar sensation pinched my chest. What was Russell trying to prove by bringing me here? I made my way down the hallway to the left, where I found a small bedroom and bathroom painted in dusky blue. The second hallway led to a master bedroom with attached bath. Russell just happened to have a two bedroom, two bath house for rent? I’d never heard Dad talk about this.

Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. I stuffed them down. I was tired, overwrought with decision fatigue, and completely emotional. But I didn’t cry. I smoothed my hair back and marched to the front door. Stepping out onto the porch, I stopped in my tracks again. Russell and Keith sat on the top step, shoulder to shoulder and heads bent together.

“Then, this one kid dumped a whole bottle of soap into the teacher’s chair. He tried to run away, but he slipped on the soap and fell. Wham!” Keith smacked his hands together. “Busted his head. Had to get ten stitches.” Awe and morbid curiosity widened his eyes. I’d gotten a similar play by play yesterday. But this, Keith talking to Russell like they were not complete strangers staggered me.

Russell turned at the sound of my step toward them. He palmed his knees and stood. “So. What do you think?”

“I love it.” Keith bounded over to the rocking chair and climbed in.

I secured my grip on my arms, crossing them tight over my stomach. “We can’t afford this.” I reiterated my earlier statement.

Russell gave me a look and quoted a price that I knew damned well was a third of the market value.

I grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the far end of the porch. “I’m sorry about the weekend.” His quiet smile disarmed me. “No apologies. Kids come first.”

“What are you trying to do?” I couldn’t let him get beneath my defenses. I needed to understand his plan.

“Nothing.” His shrug was casual, and the way he leaned in to touch my cheek almost melted my resolve. “Let me help, Sabrina.”

My pride flared. I wished I could say that I didn’t need any help, but we both knew that wasn’t true. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended that he knew I needed help. I took a step back, needing the space to clear my head from the intoxication of his cologne and the heady press of his body heat against my chest. “What does this mean for us? You helping me like this. What do you expect in return? What do you get out of it?”