“Hello?”
“Mommy!” my two-year-old’s cheerful voice fills the line, instantly making my lips spread into a big smile.
“Baby boy,” I coo, already missing his lovely little face.
Some scratching flows through the line before his faraway voice says, dangit. I chuckle at his antics. God, that little boy keeps me so young.
“So, Poppy says—” He pauses for a moment, and I know what my little tyke is trying to do. He’s trying to reword what my dad said, so as not to offend me.
I encourage him to speak the truth, whether good or bad, always. “What did Poppy say, sweetheart?”
“He says you get a big head,” he finishes, making me laugh harder.
“Did he now?”
“Uh-huh.” I can just imagine him nodding his head.
For his age, Maverick is extremely smart. I’m not just tooting the mommy horn here, either. My child, bless his soul, is as smart as any five-year-old I’ve seen. When he doesn’t think too much, he’s as sharp as a tack and as tough as a whip. Nothing flusters him. While he may be kind, warm, and loveable—he’s also stubborn, strong, and completely too smart for his own age. I blame his dad for that one.
Gritting my teeth, I soften my words, “Missing me yet?”
The light turns green, and before long, I’m zipping through the streets that lead to Golden Oaks University. Our conversation takes on a life of its own, and I absolutely love it. Being Maverick’s mom is no hardship.
He’s my little buddy, and I’m his only friend. Well, besides his Poppy and uncle D, that is. Besides those two, I’m the sun that shines in his life, and he’s the reason I exist. One of us cannot survive without the other.
That little boy has me wrapped around his little finger, even though he’s the spitting image of his dad, minus the color of his eyes. Where the dipshit’s is an ice blue and brown, Maverick has an ice blue eye—almost white, it’s so pale—and emerald green with darker green flecks throughout.
Everything about him screams Prince, which I was hoping to avoid. But alas, my son didn’t get anything from me except the color of one of his eyes. Everything else? A spitting image of a Prince when they were his age. His small chestnut-brown gentlemen’s haircut is the same way his dad used to wear his hair. Even the way Maverick wears his jeans and shoes is the same way—the tongue of his shoe always has to be on the outside of his jeans.
A pang hits my chest, remembering that lousy bastard. No matter how much he hurt me, I can’t stop myself from loving him. And I hate myself for it. I loathe the idea that he still has some sway over my heart. Regardless if my mind knows it’s wrong to feel like this for someone who hurt me so badly, my body just never got the memo.
Tears burn at the back of my throat when I remember the last time I saw him—any of them. Quickly, before I get sucked in, I shut my eyes tightly and shake my head to rid my mind of the images.
Fisting the steering wheel harder, I swallow the lump catching in my throat, saying, “Baby boy, let me talk to Poppy, okay?”
“Sure!” he chirps. “Love you, Mommy!”
A traitorous tear breaks free, sliding down my cheek. I hurriedly wipe it way. “Love you, too. Very much.”
I catch my breath as the line scratches and fusses in my ear before my dad’s voice comes across the line. “I told him not to call, sweet pea. I knew it was hard enough on you.”
I bite my lip to keep from crying. “It’s okay, Dad. Just really hard, y’know. And stop telling him I’m going to get a big head! He’s going to think my head will actually grow.”
My dad chuckles a throaty, belly jiggling laugh. “I know. It’s perfect.” Then he goes quiet for a moment before saying, “Everything will be okay, though. In four months, Mav will be where he belongs. Don’t you worry, okay? We got him.”
Fuck. I don’t know where I’d be without my dad and brother. Oh, and Gammy while I was in high school. They’ve all been my rock since I found out I was pregnant my sophomore year. You’d think they would turn their backs on me, considering how conventional a town like Golden Oaks was—probably still is. But they didn’t.
Two days after I broke the news, we all packed up and moved three towns away, over two hours’ drive, and never looked back. Dad kept his job, of course, and made the daily commute back and forth. Every time we’d ask if he was okay doing that, he’d always reply, “Anything for family,” and then smile, grab a beer, kiss my mom on the cheek, ruffle Duncan’s and my hair, and go sit in his recliner. None of us stepped back in Golden Oaks.
Until now.
Even with knowing he’s across the country, I get a funny feeling stepping back into this town is like stepping over an imaginary line drawn in the sand.
This is his town, his people. I left. I have no claim to it anymore.
But this is my only shot. Golden Oaks is the only university within five hundred miles that would accept a single mom in need of campus daycare. There’s no way I could pass that up, even if his family still lives up on Doctor Hill. My baby and his future mean more to me than accidentally running into one of them.
Well, I can always hide if it comes to it.
So, that’s what actually brings me back to this town. Kind of pathetic, actually. I had to practically beg this place to allow me admittance with a child. Usually, they don’t permit freshmen to have their children on campus at the daycare. But, with a lot of begging and pleading, they decided to give me a shot.
Except, I have to wait four months before Maverick can come to be with me. In our world, four months is a long ass time. Since the day my son was born, I’ve yet to be away from him for more than a couple hours.
When I say he’s my world, I mean it wholeheartedly.
There have been no men.
No partying.
No friends.
I get up, take care of my son, go to work, then come back home to my son—day in, day out. The routine never changed. But I knew after finishing my GED that my son deserved more than his mom flipping burgers for a living. I knew he deserved better.
While his dad could provide that, I wasn’t about to get in contact. Not after the way he left things. How he completely shattered me and made me out to be a fool.
I swallow hard. “Keep my baby safe, Dad. Please.”
“You don’t even have to ask,” he instantly replies, giving me his love before ending the call.
Pulling up to a stop in front of the admissions building, I huff a sigh and put my car in park while dropping my phone into the cup holder once more. Shutting my car off, I sit there for a moment, trying to gather my wits. It’d been a long drive, and it was about to be even longer.
Considering this town isn’t known for being punctual, of course, the university wasn’t either. I’ve yet to receive my key for the two-bedroom apartment I’ll be occupying on campus for the next four years.
Shifting slightly, I grab my purse from the floorboard and start going through it to find the letter of admission. The lady I talked to on the phone said I could come a bit early to get settled in, I just needed to bring my admittance letter with me so they could get me set up in my new place. Digging around, I easily find the letter and my ID and social security card before returning my purse to the floorboard.