Page 2 of Cloudless
A small smile touches my lips at the mention of his wife. She’s the kind of person who’s too good for this world. “They’re doing okay. Getting Posey ready for ballet this morning was a struggle.” My eyes fall to my feet. “Mom was always the one to take her, so?—”
He nods as sadness takes over his eyes. “You are incredibly brave, Lila.”
I shake my head as I move a pebble around with the edge of my shoe. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”
His warm palm lands on my shoulder that feels so much like the weight of my dad’s hand, I nearly fall to my knees. “No one would think less of you, Lila. It’s not a requirement for you to take this on.”
His hand falls from my shoulder as I take a step back. My sniff betrays the tears I so desperately wish to hide. “I better get going. The receptionist watching Jasper at the dance studio leaves after Posey’s class, and I don’t want to be late.”
The sadness stays in his eyes as he nods. “I should get back to the office. Please call if you need anything. I’ll be in touch.”
All I can muster is a nod as our feet carry us in opposite directions to our cars. My thoughts are consumed by budgets that only work because my mom prepaid for Posey’s ballet lessons through the end of the year.
I wonder how much longer I can keep doing this, and it’s only been a week since the car wreck.
What the hell am I going to do when I have to add school into the mix in a few weeks?
I barely feel the impact of my feet against the sidewalk as Judge Harris’ words loop through my mind.
It takes a village.
If only my mom would have told me what happened with her parents. Considering my mom hadn’t talked to them in over ten years…I don’t have high hopes for a joyful reunion. I never imagined Jasper and Posey meeting our grandparents at all, let alone after our parents were dead.
My only memories of my grandparents are of being afraid to touch anything at their house and picking around unrecognizable foods at their fancy dining room table.
But without them, I’m alone.
An extremely familiar burning in my eyes lets me know I’ve reached my pity party limit of the day. Too bad it’s not even lunch yet.
I force myself to focus on the warmth from the summer sun that kisses my cheeks as the canopy of trees sways overhead. The warm breeze, happy birdsong, and crystal blue skies used to represent my favorite time of year. Now, I’m angry at the birds for having the audacity to sing such a happy song.
CHAPTER 1
A LITTLE SUNSHINE
LILA
My backpack feels like a solid weight on my back as I run through the door with a minute to spare. I let out a relieved breath when I realize I won’t be late for my first day of classes.
I quickly scan the room before I’m ducking into the last row of seats. I would normally be at least a middle-of-the-room person, if not nearly-a-front-row person, but this semester will have to be different.
My butt has just contacted the seat when the professor takes his place at the podium. His eyes are red, and his tie sits slightly crooked as it falls down his chest.
He moves the projector remote around in front of him as he tries to read the text on the buttons. A relieved breath flows through my lips as my back molds to the seat cushion.
The murmurs of voices swallow the metallic sound of the zipper on my backpack opening. My hands freeze over where my notebook and fresh case of pens should be as I stare at the mound of pink in my bag. With a barely suppressed groan, I shift through the glittery supplies acertain someone with pigtailsmust have left in my bag this morning.
Looks like Posey and I will be having a talk about personal space when we get home. Again.
I collect a fluffy, pink pen, a sparkly coloring book, and an entire case of scented markers on my desk—and still no notebook. The extra weight on my back during my mad dash from the parking lot makes so much more sense now.
A relieved breath leaves my lips as my notebook comes into view at the bottom of the bag. I’m not even mad at the bend in the lower corner or the pink stain on the cover. I’m just thankful I won’t be taking notes in the margins of a coloring book.
Unfortunately, my new pack of pens is still MIA. Looks like it's going to be a fluffy, pink pen kinda day.
My breathing slows, and the tension leaves my shoulders as I open the brand new notebook. The untouched paper feels smooth under my fingers as I angle the notebook in the perfect way on my desk.
Bright light flashes through the room as the professor finally clicks the power button for the projector. His voice is as slow as his movements as he says, “I’m Professor Mills. Welcome to Negotiation Strategies.” His footsteps echo throughout the quiet room as he takes a stack of papers to the front row. “Take a syllabus and pass the rest back.”
