Page 39 of In Spades

I surveyed the options before turning to Logan. “What do you think, Lo? Anything we should test drive?”

He shrugged and kicked at a piece of loose gravel.

What I wouldn’t give for someone to lean on. I didn’t need someone to take the burden of responsibility off my shoulders. All I wanted was for someone to prop me up while I caught my breath.

Sure, I had the poker club. They were the most incredible group of friends that someone could ask for. But I craved something more.

Something to call mine.

Was it so wrong to want a little space to become a whole person again? I spent every second of my life taking care of other people.

Hell, I would have settled for a night by myself. Dating required more time and energy than I had to give, but taking myself out for dinner? That sounded like a fantasy. Dinner at a restaurant, a glass of wine, a book, and no one to bother me.

A girl could dream.

“Found something you like?” Kyle Kingsley asked as he wandered back over to us.

“I think this is the one,” I announced, deciding on a small car that didn’t look like a total heap of scrap metal.

“Great choice, Kristin. I’ve been waiting for this one to go to a good home. It’ll be a good fit. Let’s go inside and get you squared away,” he said, leading us back to the office. He helped me sign all the paperwork and handed over the keys.

Chase said he’d have Steve drop him off at the dealership to pick up his truck later. It was probably a good thing that Chase was bringing Steve as a babysitter to make sure he didn’t go ape shit on Kingsley if they crossed paths.

I swung through a drive-through and sprung for a celebratory dollar-menu dinner. With the car payment added to my heap of bills, things would be even more tight than they already were. But I wanted the kids to feel like today was a win.

We got home later than usual, so it was a rush to finish homework, take baths, then—finally—off to bed.

With all that behind me, I rummaged through a laundry basket for something to wear to sleep. Less was more with sleepwear during the summer. Our window unit AC couldn’t keep up with the sweltering summer heat. I couldn’t wait for the change of season when I’d be able to open the windows at night.

“Krissy?” Zoey’s small voice carried from the hallway.

I snagged an oversized t-shirt and threw it on. “Yeah, Zo?”

She tiptoed through the darkness, dragging Floppy by the ears. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

She sniffed. “Dunno.”

There had been a lot of nights where Zoey couldn’t sleep. Kindergarten hadn’t been bad. When she started first grade, though, she noticed that most of her friends had more than one parent. She realized something was different about her situation.

I never lied to Zoey, but I also shielded her from the ugly reality as much as I could. She had no memories of our parents, but she understood I wasn’t her mom.

I was nineteen when Zoey was born. Off at college, living carefree. There was quite an age gap between us, but that was just the way it went since my parents were so young when they got pregnant with me.

Zoey had been eleven months old when the cops busted our parents for selling drugs. Reading through the police report was where I first learned that Bill and Cheryl—no longer mom and dad to me—kept their stash hidden under Zoey’s crib. Recalling that revelation still made my blood boil with the worst kind of hatred.

No one suspected the friendliest real estate agent in Beaufort would deal hard drugs. No one suspected that a mom of five who served as the head of the PTA would push pills in the carpool line.

Bill and Cheryl had everything: the big brick house, white picket fence, and a picture-perfect family.

But it was all built on sinking sand. A foundation of lies.

They could rot in prison for all I cared.

I was the one who left my dorm and showed up in the dead of night to comfort my petrified siblings. I helped Zoey take her first steps. I potty trained her. I helped her learn her ABCs.

I was the one who gave Logan the talk. I taught him how to drive. I helped Kylie decide whether she wanted to use pads or tampons when she got her first period. Hunter hadn’t hit any significant milestones yet—thank God. But they were inevitable. The day would come when his voice dropped and his upper lip sprouted an unfortunate looking caterpillar.

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