Page 6 of Second Chance Savior

“I amnotgetting up yet,” I mumbled against the cushion.

Cleo’s tail flicked. A small movement, but I was sure I detected judgment.

I held out as long as I could. Then I groaned, sitting up. “Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming. You’re so spoiled.” She acted like I didn’t have a pet-sitting service come by every afternoon.

Cleo led the way into the kitchen, tail in the air. On days like this, it was a contest to see which of us was surlier.

Guess who always won?

Meanwhile, my personal phone rang. I gave it a quick glance, but I didn’t recognize the number, so I ignored it.

I was less than a year into my term as lieutenant governor.I loved serving the people of my state. Yet too often, I felt like I was navigating the rapids of oversensitive personalities and petty politics. You’d think I’d be used to it, having served as a representative in the General Assembly for two terms. I also had my master’s in public policy. All those academic egos to deal with.

But some days were more exhausting than others.

Cleo rubbed against my ankles as I pulled a container of food from the fridge. “Oh,nowyou’re sweet?” I laughed. “Because I’m doing what you asked? At least you’re honest about it, babe.”

She knew exactly what she wanted, and she didn’t give up until she’d gotten it. Had to admire that.

Once Cleo had her dinner, I poked around in the fridge for something to feed myself. I had some meals pre-prepped, but I wasn’t in the mood for those. I’d just bitten into an apple when my phone rang again. But this time, I answered.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Am I interrupting dinner?”

“Cleo’s dinner, maybe. I was just rummaging in the fridge. How’s grandma life?”

She gushed for a few minutes about my sister Megan’s newborn. The first grandchild of the family.

I’d been out to Grand Junction to visit a couple of weeks ago right after the birth. My parents were spending a month there, which was a big deal for them. Leaving their idyllic spot in the mountains for a city, even a small one.

I was the only McKinley who’d made the move to our state capital. Instead of a forest outside my door, I had hundreds of neighbors in my high-rise condo building. Great view of the continental divide, though. At least there was that.

“How’s the new initiative going?” Mom asked.

“It always takes a while to get a program off the ground,” I hedged.

“I read those statistics on trafficking you sent. Gave the legislative report to everyone in my crochet club, and trust me, they’ll be making phone calls to help get the ball rolling. Same with your dad and his fishing buddies.”

“We had a lively debate,” my dad chimed in cheerfully.

I smiled despite the darkness of the subject matter. “Thanks guys. I really appreciate you spreading awareness.”

Just recently, my office had announced a renewed initiative to fight human trafficking within our state. I’d pushed hard to get it this far, against surprising resistance. Yet I kept facing more. That was the reason for my frustration today.

My parents hadn’t always been fans of my role in politics. When they were younger, they had both been free spirits. Non-conformists who chafed at anyone telling them what to do. My dad owned a business leading whitewater rafting expeditions, while my mom had homeschooled me and my younger sisters, supplementing our family’s income by selling her original art and homegrown vegetables at farmers’ markets.

But they’d still encouraged and supported me in my career. And here they were, turning into policy wonks. I loved it.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced quickly at the screen. That same unfamiliar number from before was calling again. Strange, but if it was work, they’d use my official phone. Probably an overzealous reporter.

“Speaking of my fishing buddies,” Dad said, “Ralph told me his son is back in Denver. He works for one of those techno companies.”

“I think you mean tech.”

“Whatever. That crap is made up, but I’m sure you’d stillhave a lot to talk about. Ralph showed me his picture. He’s a good-looking guy.”

I rolled my eyes, opening the fridge to grab some containers of olives and cold cuts. “That’s very interesting, Dad. But if you’re trying to set me up with a tech bro, please don’t. No matter how hot you think he is.”

---