Page 24 of Open Arms

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Eryn piped up with a smile. “I can schedule you while she’s in school. And if it’s too many hours, we can scale back. You know I love you and love having you on my team, but this would give you the hours you’ve been wanting.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem?”

“Of course not. Anyway, Mason and Abby are family. I know this would help them out.” Eryn nudged me with her shoulder and nudged Chloe with her words.

“You really think I could do it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, feeling a smile tug at my lips. “I know you can. And I want you too.”

She smiled back at me, cautious but glimmering all the same.

“So what do you say? Want to give it a shot?”

I held my breath, watching Chloe’s face as she mulled it over. Her blue eyes darted between me and Eryn, who stood nearby with an encouraging smile.

“Okay,” Chloe said softly, nodding. “I’ll give it a try.”

Relief washed over me. “That’s great, Chloe. Thank you.”

Eryn clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Now, let’s figure out the details, shall we?”

11

Chloe

Paintedhandprints in every color of the rainbow decorated the door of Whittier Falls Elementary. A paper banner above it read “Fall Into Reading” in block letters. I took a deep breath, tugging at the hem of my shirt.

A lady with a clipboard commanded a line of parents, so I joined and gave my information to her when it was my turn. She used a walkie-talkie to call names out.

My stomach churned as I gazed at the sea of unfamiliar faces streaming out the doors. What was I thinking, agreeing to be a nanny? I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of kids. Sure, Abby was sweet, but I’d never spent any time with her alone. An entire afternoon with a six-year-old? How was I supposed to entertain her? What would we talk about? Panic bubbled up in my chest.

I scanned the crowd of chattering children for Abigail’s curly brown hair. Maybe this was all a big mistake. I should tell Mason I changed my mind, that I wasn’t cut out for this. He’d understand, right? Find someone more qualified, more maternal.

The problem was, he’d already done that and she gotinjured. He clearly needed the help. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I needed this job. I’d asked Eryn for more hours not just because I could use the money. I could, that was for sure. But it was deeper than that.

I needed something to fill my days besides wallowing in memories I’d rather forget. Something to make me feel useful again, like I had a purpose.

I spotted Abigail skipping down the steps, her purple backpack bouncing against her back. She looked so carefree, so innocent. A pang squeezed my heart. Once upon a time, that had been me—before that horrible night stole everything away.

I plastered on what I hoped was a welcoming smile as Abigail bounded up to me. “Hi, Abigail! How was your day?” The words sounded awkward to my own ears, but her face lit up.

“Chloe! You’re really here!”

Abigail flung her arms around my waist, nearly knocking me off balance with her enthusiastic hug. Startled, I patted her back, a laugh escaping my lips. “Of course I’m here, sweetie. I promised your daddy, didn’t I?”

She tilted her face up, gray eyes sparkling. “I know, but I was afraid you wouldn’t come. That you’d forget about me . . .” Her voice trailed off, a flicker of sadness clouding her features.

My heart clenched. I crouched down to her level, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Hey, I would never forget about you, okay? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Abigail’s smile returned, brighter than before. “Pinky promise?” She held out her little finger, waiting expectantly.

I linked my pinky with hers, sealing the deal. “Pinky promise.”

As we walked hand-in-hand towards my car, Abigail chattered away, her earlier melancholy forgotten. “Miss Parker let me be the line leader today, and we got to paint pictures of ourfamilies in art class. Oh, and guess what? We’re going to have a class pet! A bunny!”

I couldn’t help but grin at her excitement. “A bunny? That sounds awesome! What are you going to name it?”

“I think we should call it Carrots. Or maybe Fluffy. No, wait—Hoppy!” She giggled, skipping alongside me.

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