Mom.
What the hell did she want? I’d sent her money, even though it arrived late. I’d explained my circumstances to her lawyer that medical bills were bleeding me dry.
I stared at the screen until it went dark again, my chest already tightening. I should’ve blocked her. Should’ve done it years ago.
The voice mail alert pinged a second later.
I should’ve deleted it. Instead, I swiped the screen and hit Play.
“Hudson, it’s Mom. I got your check. It was late—again—but it cleared. Better than the last one that bounced.”
I flinched. Like she’d smacked me through the speaker.
“My lawyer says you’re having a hard time.”Her voice softened in that way that always made me feel ten years old again.“You could just say so, you know? When are you going to stop being so stubborn and let me help you? All you have to do is ask.”
I clenched my jaw.
“I want to see my grandbaby. Hudson, please?—”
I hit End.
Nope. Not today.
She didn’t get to ask about Ivy. Not after the way she andmy dad turned their backs on me. Would I be in this situation if not for them? They expected me to be grateful. That their decision had saved me from the fast life that would’ve led to my ruin. What they never understood was that the severity of their actions had destroyed me. Plunged me into a life of selling sex to pay them back.
I crossed the hall, paused outside Ivy’s room, and poked my head in. The ache in my chest dulled the second I spotted her. Perched on the bed, legs swinging, her dolls lined up neatly in a row, each with the blanket tucked over their laps like they were attending some formal tea party. Ivy held one of her picture books open on her lap and was reading to them from memory, making up the parts she couldn’t remember with confidence and flair.
“—An’ then da kitty said no-no-no, I don’ yike bwoccoli nee-ver.”
I let out a breath. The storm inside me, all that anger and shame and fear… quieted.
“Hey, Bug,” I said gently.
She glanced up and grinned. “Daddee, I readed ’em a story.”
“I heard. They’re lucky to have such a good storyteller, but it’s time for dinner, baby girl.”
She jumped to her feet and grabbed her favorite bear. “Tumbles hungwy too.”
“Guess you’ll have to share with Tumbles, then, won’t you?” I scooped Ivy up. She rested her head on my shoulder like she knew I needed her closeness even more than she did.
In the kitchen, the scent of garlic and seasoned chicken lingered. I’d managed a decent meal for Ivy—roasted thighs with mashed sweet potatoes and steamed carrots, cut intostars the way she liked. I’d made enough to last Ivy for a couple of days.
For myself? A bowl of instant ramen, half-cooked and limp.
I sat her at the table and tied on her plastic bib. “Let’s wash up first, huh?”
She nodded, and I walked her to the sink, helping her rub soap between her fingers, then rinse and dry them on a paper towel.
We sat down together, Ivy chattering as she picked at her stars. She was happy. Fed. Safe.
That was all that mattered.
I stirred my noodles with a fork and forced them down without tasting them. My stomach was too knotted with worry to enjoy the food, but I needed the energy.
Still, watching her munch her carrots and tell Tumbles to use her spoon made something in my chest warm.
This was why I couldn’t take the money.
