Page 20 of Small Town Secrets

Whitney giggled, peering up now and quick to clap her hands over Laila’s cheeks in fun. “Even if it was a scuba suit with a tutu over the top?”

Laila giggled. “Especially if you wore that. And just to sweeten the deal, how about I come over to Nana and Popo’s extra early, and I’ll make everyone French toast to celebrate you helping Mommy get closer to graduating?”

“Can I have chocolate spread on my toast?”

She shifted Whitney, helping her stand and using this conversation to surreptitiously get her nearer to leaving. “Absolutely. What do you think I should have on mine?”

While Whitney thought, Laila rose, pulling the duffle bag off the floor and collecting her purse from a nearby hook.

“Strawberries, maybe?” Seeming to not really notice the walk out the front door, Whitney slipped her hand into Laila’s. “Do you think Nana and Popo have any?”

“Hmmm...” Laila ushered her out the front door and toward the car, each passing second fragile with the possibility Whitney might suddenly change her mind about leaving and the ensuing car ride might be filled with brain-splitting shrieks and demands to return home. “If they don’t, we have bananas on the counter. I could bring them with me in the morning.”

Whitney clambered into her child seat and began pushing her arms through the straps. “Yep. Yep. Bananas and honey. You can have bananas with honey on top, okay, Mommy?”

“Sounds good, kiddo.” Laila dropped the duffle bag onto the floor beneath Whitney’s dangling feet, her heartbeat slowing when she finally clicked Whitney’s seat buckle closed.

Another step closer to getting that assignment finished.

After what felt like hours of coaxing, she sat behind the steering wheel, peering through the center mirror and smiling at Whitney. This would be a long night of cramming information and banging out words, and so she steeled herself with a deep breath and pressed the car’s ignition button.

But the engine failed to start. All she heard was a painful silence. No spluttering. Not a single sign of life. No matter how many times she stabbed at the START button.

Trying to process this new hurdle, she paused her pressing, while a million fears collided within her mind. What if she couldn’t get Whitney to her parents’ house? What if she missed the deadline? What if she failed summer school altogether?

Oh God, the literal cost of failing this course. Plus, the time added to her graduation date if she had to repeat this class…

She cut things close already just doing her usual juggle of being a mom, and a student, and an employee. The pressure of yet another thing to worry about threatened to crush her, but she was a mom, and falling apart was never an option. Especially not while Whitney watched.

So, she took another deep breath and forced a false sense of calm and rationality. She tried the START button one more time. Nothing happened. Nothing except her heart sinking deeper into her chest, but she turned to her daughter playing happily with the stuffed ladybird she’d left in her seat on their last trip in this car. Back when this blasted car actually worked.

Time ticked and Laila produced her usual shuttered expression, digging out her phone from her purse in the passenger seat, and finding something more productive to do beyond panicking.

“Who you calling?”

Of course, like most kids, Whitney had a sharp awareness of when her mom’s phone made an appearance, often wanting to play with the screen or speak with whoever waited on the other end of any calls.

“Just Nana and Popo, but”—she waited for another ring to pass, hoping someone could drive over and pick Whitney up—“seems they don’t have their phones on.”

She hung up and tried not to release an audible sigh. Maybe she could call Ally, but that was an absolute last resort. Her sister was in the throes of moving in with Chip, the first exciting and positive thing to happen to her since her violent tangle with the syndicate. Laila didn’t want to be a bigger drag on her family’s fun than she already was.

But how long until her parents noticed her missed calls, or that Laila was late? They hadn’t made any strict plans on when tonight’s drop-off would occur, so best case scenario, it would be another hour before anyone maybe noticed and called her back, much less drove on over.

A groan worked up her throat, but she clamped her lips together and held onto any sound for her daughter’s sake. No amount of fussing would make any difference, anyway. She’d only stress Whitney out. The car wouldn’t start. Laila would lose a big chunk of study time—if she got any at all—and there stood a strong possibility she’d have to churn through Whitney’s dinner and bedtime routine only to fall short and miss her deadline.

She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel, the frustration and fatigue from this day bearing down on her, though she made a point of keeping silent despite the heat gathering behind her eyes.

“Mommy, are you okay?”

She winced at Whitney’s question and the unconvincing weakness in her tone as she replied, “Yep, all good, honey.”

“Mommy. Look!” Whitney’s sweet voice brightened and the distinctive thud of her bouncing in her seat filled the cabin, along with the sound of a hard tap against Laila’s window. “Adrian came over to say hello.”

Thirteen

Adrian’s tall silhouette filled the window of Laila’s broken-down car and just like the fading sun behind him, she sank lower into her seat with an overwhelming desire to hide. He’d already mowed her lawn and brought her food today, and his presence now, in her moment of need, sparked a disconcerting pang of relief.

For a second there, she forgot her emergency. That she had a critical assignment due and needed to get Whitney to her grandparents’ house. But of course, her car chose this moment to conk out. And of course, Laila’s parents weren’t answering their phones.

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