Page 5 of Let You Love Me

I should’ve waited to check the quote until later because now I’m just going to fret over it for the entire day.

It’s times like these I wish I had waited to do adult things until I was an adult. I should’ve saved sex for when I was older, maybe even until marriage, done things right. Then I could’ve had the cute house, white picket fence with a dog in the yard, and the whole nine yards.

Instead, I’d been a doe-eyed fool. Naive. Lovestruck.

And though I love Sophie with all my heart, and I wouldn’t give her up for anything in the world, I can’t say it’s been easy. Quite the opposite. Getting pregnant shortly before my seventeenth birthday had more than a few drawbacks, and I’ve been questioning every decision I’ve made ever since.

Rather than living with my parents, maybe I should’ve skipped college until Sophie was older. Maybe I should’ve worked until she was school age, and then I could’ve enrolled in night classes. It might’ve taken me twice as long to get a degree, but at least then I’d have money and insurance.

At least then, I might not feel like I’m being run ragged from the stress of trying to do it all, though I suppose I only have myself to blame. Since having Sophie, I’ve made it a point to ask for help as little as possible. Some might say I’m independent to a fault, but my parents didn’t choose to have a pregnant teen, so the last thing I want is to constantly inconvenience them because of my mistakes. It’s one of the reasons I fought so hard to get my own place. Now I just needed to make it habitable and I’ll finally be out of their hair. They can have their lives back.

I chew my lip and mull over my options.

I can shift some money around but I still don’t have enough for the roof, and with my paltry income, it’ll take six months to save for it. As it stands, I’ve only set aside money for paint and a few extras, things I thought were necessities before moving Sophie in, and nothing more.

There’s only one way I can think of to earn more money to pay for the roof, and it’s the last thing I want to do.

I groan as I think of the student assistant position my father offered me last year. I’d turned it down, but it has remained open ever since, and I can’t help but feel like he’s holding it for me in the hopes I’ll reconsider.

The position pays well, and since I’d technically be a part of CU staff, it means I’d have access to the campus day care center, which is a free perk for all employees. Currently, I pay Mrs. Miller to watch Sophie while I’m at school, and though she gives me a criminally low rate, free childcare would still save me a pretty penny each month.

The assistant spot is flexible, too. Late afternoon practices are the only time I’d have to be there. Otherwise, I can decide when I prep the equipment and uniforms for the following day as I long as I get the work done.

Childcare.

Better pay.

Flexible.

It would be the perfect job, if it weren’t for one thing. One verybigthing.

Taking the student manager spot for CU’s football team means seeing Sophie’s father every single day.

I groan as I glance down at Sophie. She tosses the ball in her arms and catches it.

I promised myself I’d have us in the house after the holidays, but if I can’t fix the roof before then, it’ll be impossible.

I’m in between a rock and a hard place and I know it.

“Look, Mommy, watch what I can do!” Sophie drops the ball in front of herself, and it bounces off the paved sidewalk, hitting a rock and careening into the yard beside us.

“That’s great, but didn’t I tell you to hold onto the ball?”

Sophie runs to grab the ball, then peers at me over top of it. “I can kick it, too!” Her little foot kicks out, the bright red lights on the heel of her shoe blinking as she makes contact with the ball and it surges forward. I wait as she chases it down someone’s driveway, trying my best to remain patient when she clutches it to her chest, and again, bounces it out in front of her.

I bend down and snatch it up, ignoring her protests when she drops herself onto the sidewalk in a pout, her little hands balled into fists and a frown pulling the soft curves of her lips.

I sigh and close my eyes. Why can’t she cooperate today? I’m stressed as it is, and if the telltale throbbing in the front of my head is any indication, I’m about two seconds away from a monstrous tension headache.

I inhale a calming breath before I open my eyes and cross the space between us. Kneeling in front of her, I peer into her bright blue eyes. “I’ll give you the ball back, but no more bouncing.”

Her gaze darts to the ball and she starts to smile, but I hold it back. “Promise? I’m serious this time. No. More.”

When she nods, I hand it over.

Great mothering, Lane, give her everything she wants and she’ll always throw a fit.

I give my inner critic the middle finger as we continue our walk, resentful at my sour mood. My nerves are worn thin already and we’re not even at the park yet. I’m so preoccupied with my loathsome thoughts on how I’ll pay for the roof that when Sophie drops the ball and it bounces off my foot onto the road, it takes me a second to react.

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