“You’re not paying for Sloth to have surgery.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not.”

“Why not? I have the money, and if it means he will have a better life, then I think it is a necessity.”

“I can’t even get into this with you right now. I need to get him back to my place and get to work,” he says, sounding angry, which is something that seriously annoys me, because I know it’s just his damn ego that won’t let me pay for the surgery.

“Fine, we’ll talk about it tonight.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You’re not paying for Sloth to have surgery. I’ll work some overtime and take care of it.”

“Do you mean overtime on top of the overtime you’re already working? Because if that’s the case, you might as well just move to the shop, since you spend so much time there anyway.”

“I have to work to provide for my family,” he growls, no longer sounding angry but pissed.

“Yeah, and you know what? I have a job and am offering to help,” I hiss, becoming pissed myself.

“You have an apartment and your own bills to worry about, Ember.”

“Fine! Then I’ll just move in with you. That way you don’t have any more excuses for why I can’t help you out.”

“Give your landlord notice today.”

“I will!” I snap.

“Good,” he snaps back, and then rumbles, “I gotta go.”

“Whatever.” I pull my phone from my ear and press End on the call.

“Ugh, that was the most I’ve ever heard you say, and also the weirdest conversation I have ever heard,” Tasha says, and I feel myself turn ten shades of red as I look up at her. “Was that your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Did you just tell him that you were moving in with him?”

“I think so.” I look at my phone. What the hell just happened?

“Girl, you’ve got balls. Good for you.” She smiles then shakes her head. “I also think you might be a little crazy.”

“He makes me crazy.”

“He’s a man; they do that. I’ve been with my guy for almost ten years, and most days I wake up thankful he’s in my life. But from time to time, I wake up wondering if anyone would suspect me of taking him out if he suddenly disappeared,” she says, moving forward to use the microwave after the person in front of her is finished with it. “How long have you two been together?”

“Probably not long enough to move in together,” I mutter, wondering if he was serious about me moving in with him. I mean, I want to, but I don’t know if he was just saying I should because I said it, or if he really wants me to.

“I hear you. Then again, I met my guy on a Friday and moved in with him on Sunday.”

“Did you really?”

“Yep.” She takes her stuff out of the microwave when it dings then turns to face me. “I know you normally have lunch alone, but you can join us if you’re up to it. I promise we don’t bite.”

“Are you sure? I mean about joining you, not the biting,” I clarify, and she laughs.

“I’m sure.” She takes her container of food to a table, and I put my soup in the microwave. Once it’s done, I join her and a few other teachers for lunch, and for the first time since I started working here, I spend the hour getting to know my co-workers instead of reading. And surprisingly, I have to say I actually enjoy it.

_______________

When I reach the track field, I head up the bleachers and take a seat then wave at Mitchell when he looks up at where I’m sitting. He lifts his chin and his lips tip up slightly before he focuses on the older gentleman when he stops to talk to him.

I know this is just a mock track meet, but all the kids look like they are taking this seriously, including him. My stomach starts to fill with nervous energy when the guy pats his back and signals for him to go line up with a few other boys. Once all the boys are in position a horn sounds, and Mitchell takes off so fast he looks like a blur as he passes three runners. When he reaches a curve in the track, he passes another, seeming to pick up even more speed. I stand from where I’m sitting on the bleachers and start to jump up and down when he passes the last runner, and I scream, “Go, Mitchell!” as loud as I can when he crosses the finish line in first place. His chest heaves as he accepts high-fives and back pats from his teammates, and then he rests his hands on his hips and looks to where I’m standing. I catch his grin and grin back then look around, noticing none of the other people in the bleachers are standing, so I take a seat.

“Is that your boy?” I look down at a woman sitting two seats below me and feel my heart melt a little, because Mitchell and his brother have become mine.

“Yeah, one of them.”

“He’s fast.”

“He is,” I agree.

She tips her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work a lot,” I lie, and she nods like she understands, and then she stands and comes up the bleachers to sit next to me.

“I’m Amanda.” She holds out her hand for me to shake then lets it go and points down to the track at a kid who’s doing stretches. “That one with the blond hair is mine.” She waves when he looks, and he rolls his eyes at her. “He’s obviously overwhelmed with joy that I’m here,” she says sarcastically, and I giggle. “Will you be at the meet next weekend?”

I didn’t even know there was a meet next weekend. Still, I will for sure be there. “Definitely.”

“Awesome, me and a few of the other moms bring snacks and drinks to the meets. Would you want in on that?”

“Sure, is there a sign up or something?” I ask, wondering if I will be stepping on Lidia’s toes. I’m sure Gareth’s mom is the one who normally does this stuff.

“No, we’re not that organized. It’s just kind of a free for all. Bring whatever you want,” she replies, and then she grabs my hand, startling me. “Except things with nuts, gluten, dairy, or sugar.” I blink at her and she laughs. “I’m just kidding. Bring whatever you want. We also won’t judge you if you bring wine.”

“Got it.” I smile, and she lets my hand go. Then for the next hour, we chat and watch the kids practice, and when it’s time to leave, I get her number and tell her I’ll see her at the meet before heading down to the track to meet Mitchell.

“I want to hug you, but I don’t think that’s cool. So can I get a high-five?” I ask, and he laughs then holds his hand so high above his head that I have to jump to reach it. “You’re seriously fast. Do you want to run track in college?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugs. “I used to want to play baseball, but last year the track coach asked me to try out for the team after he saw me doing some drills and I told him I would. I didn’t think I would like it as much as I do. I just don’t know if I like it more than baseball,” he says as we leave the field and head for my car. “This summer, I’m going to join one of the summer baseball teams and then decide what I want to do next year.”

“I bet you’re just as great at baseball.”