Page 1 of Hiss and Tell
Chapter One
Aspen
The cursor blinks accusingly on my screen, matching the rhythm of Mrs. Breckenridge’s latest email: “Where are the final edits for the podcast show? Need them ASAP!!!” Three exclamation points, like I’m not already aware of the deadline looming over me. As one of my virtual assistant clients, her senior dating podcast pays well. I’ve never missed a due date yet—even if it sometimes means working through the night.
A glance at the corner of my laptop screen makes my stomach clench—4:17 AM. Less than three hours until Milo needs to be at Little Dragons Preschool, and I haven’t slept yet. Tomorrow—well, today—Derek’s supposed to pick up Milo after school for their weekend visit. The first one he’s attempted in over a month.
“Just finish this one task,” I whisper to myself, fingers flying across the keyboard. The show notes need to be perfect—Mrs. Breckenridge pays well, and her podcast about senior dating is actually pretty entertaining when I’m not racing against time to edit it.
A soft whimper from the other room freezes my fingers mid-sentence. Please no. Not another nightmare. But the whimper comes again, followed by the rustling of colorful dinosaur sheets.
“Mama?”
The fear in Milo’s voice has me up and moving before he can call again. My sock-clad feet slide across the worn hardwood as I hurry to his room, dodging the perpetual obstacle course of toys that seems to regenerate no matter how many times I clean up.
Milo sits huddled in his bed, his dark curls wild from sleep, clutching his beloved purple stegosaurus plushie. His big brown eyes, so much like mine, are wide with remembered fear.
“Hey, Bug.” Settling onto his race car bed, I open my arms. He launches himself into them, his small body trembling. “Another scary dream?”
He nods against my chest. “The one with the big waves.”
The tsunami dream again. Thanks, Discovery Channel documentary that he glimpsed at his cousin’s house. Rubbing his back in slow circles, I hum the first few bars of his favorite library storytime song. The tension gradually eases from his shoulders.
“Is Daddy really coming today?” he mumbles into my shirt, hope and uncertainty warring in his voice.
My heart clenches. Derek’s track record speaks for itself—three canceled visits in the past few months, each one chipping away at Milo’s trust. But he’d sounded different this time. More committed.
“He promised, Bug. Right after school today, for the whole weekend.” I keep my voice steady despite my own doubts. “Try to get some more sleep, okay? Big day today.”
Once his breathing evens out, I ease him back onto his pillow and tuck the dinosaur sheets around him. He looks so small, so trusting. The digital clock on his nightstand glows 4:43 AM in harsh red numbers.
Back at my laptop, Mrs. Breckenridge’s email still waits. The show notes blur before my eyes as exhaustion creeps in. But the alternative is worse—losing this client would mean no new sneakers for Milo’s rapidly growing feet, or maybe having to skip a payment on the electric bill… again.
My phone glows with a text from Derek. I didn’t see it when it came in shortly after midnight.Still on for pickup today. Can’t wait to see the little man!
Relief floods through me, followed immediately by guilt for doubting him. Maybe this time really will be different. Maybe he’s finally ready to be the father Milo deserves.
The radiator clanks extra loud, as if agreeing with my thoughts. Straightening my shoulders, I grab a used piece of typing paper, turn it over to the empty side, and scrawl today’s schedule.
6:45 AM—Wake Milo;
7:30 AM—Drop off at Little Dragons;
8:00 AM—Shift at the Farm-to-Table Harmony Market;
12:00 PM—Lunch shift at Brady’s Diner;
3:00 PM–Library storytime with Milo;
4:00 PM—Derek pickup;
8:00 PM—Virtual Assistant work.
The schedule stares back at me, a testament to the carefully orchestrated chaos that is my life. One missed deadline, one late arrival, one canceled childcare arrangement, and the whole thing could come crashing down. My dream is to grow Aspenly Yours into a full-time virtual assistant business, but until then, I’m juggling two jobs plus client work.
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I fight to focus on Mrs. Breckenridge’s senior dating adventures. Just two more hours until I need to wake Milo. The coffee maker in the kitchen beeps its readiness, a siren song of caffeine and survival.
Two more hours. I can do this. I have to.
