Page 33 of Hold On Through The Pain

The cop handed her his card. “I hope you finda place soon and that everything turns out okay. Call if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I’m sure it will be fine. Once I’m no longer spending seven and eight hours a day in class, I’ll be able to find a job.”

He shot her a smile that made her think there were some nice people in this world. “That’s good. I’m excited for you.”

Her heart was a little lighter. “Thank you. I’m just in shock.”

“I bet. You have my number. If anything happens, if your dad comes around, just text. If you need a drive-by or don’t feel safe, call the police emergency number; they’ll have information about what happened. We’ll make sure he can’t hurt you."

“Thank you.”

The police officers left, and she locked the door, wishing she had someone she could count on. But everyone she knew was stressed financially. Most of them were in school and didn’t have places of their own. Striker was the only person she knew who wasn’t living with his parents or sharing an apartment with five other people.

Getting to school the next day was more difficult than it had been from home because of where the bus routes didn’t go. But she left early and made it with only minutes to spare.

Nothing much changed for her life, except she didn’t have to go home and clean up her dad’smesses. She ate soup warmed in the microwave for dinner, and microwave meals for breakfast.

The hotel wasn’t too bad, and it was quiet for the most part. It was located just off the peninsula near a freeway. There was some street noise near rush hour, but she got used to it fast.

The most significant difference living at the hotel instead of her dad’s house was no one bugged her. She studied uninterrupted and went to bed early each night. She was ready for the test and ready to graduate. Now that she knew she was pregnant, she combatted morning sickness with white crackers and cold ginger ale which helped.

The morning after her father had gone crazy, she’d texted Striker asking him to call because something was up. Twenty-four hours passed before she realized her father had cut her phone service.

Now she had no way of getting in contact with Striker. School would be over soon, and she couldn’t rely on getting messages from anyone in her class if she texted Striker from their phone. She needed to buy a disposable phone, but she had to have money for rent first. Since this was the last week of school, she wasn’t taking clients. That meant no tips were coming in. Her life was all stress and pain, and she just needed a break.

The desperation that hung over her since her father kicked her out broke. She went into a fullmeltdown, ugly crying once she stepped into the hotel room. An hour passed before she gathered herself enough to shower. Maybe Striker would still want her in a few weeks after she got a phone. She moved to the dresser and picked up the deactivated device, thinking of tossing it at the dull cream-colored wall, but the phone hadn’t done anything wrong.

After drying her eyes, she found something to eat, then showered and headed to bed early. Though her graduating class wasn’t huge, they were having a party to celebrate after the ceremony. If she skipped the ceremony, she could be out looking for a job. She needed to earn money, but one day to celebrate her accomplishments wouldn’t make that big of a difference.

Was everything that had gone wrong just a sign indicating she didn’t need to keep this baby? The idea of Striker’s child in her arms brought more tears. She tried to stop crying, but nothing calmed her. Fear of never holding or kissing Striker again twisted her up. She didn’t even know his real name, just Striker. Why hadn’t she pushed for his first and last name? Now she was homeless, carrying his baby, and though she was graduating tomorrow afternoon, her prospects were slim because she didn’t have a phone. Life had gone from difficult to nearly impossible in the space of a few days. How would she raise this child? What if there wasanother option? She shivered and clutched her belly.

“What should I do?” she cried out as more tears came. The increased hormones had her all worked up. If only there were an easy answer, but nothing was ever easy.

15

Striker’s gut twisted,and his nerves sizzled like trouble had been aimed his way. He plotted out how long it would take to drive to Charleston. His stomach was in knots when he headed in to ask for leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time—he did, more than enough time—but this leave meant more than any other he’d ever asked for.

His unit commander, Rich, was seated at his desk, his hand covering his mouth as he stared athis computer screen. He glanced up and rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Striker, never move into command of any sort.”

“But you get the big bucks.”

Rich threw up his hands. “Not worth it. God, so not worth it. I have to file this report, but they didn’t tell me what to include, so I’m trying to find out what other people have placed in their reports. It’s messed up.”

Striker chuckled before his stomach twisted. “I need three days.”

Rich lifted his brows. “Didn’t you just get back?”

“I did.”

Rich’s lips thinned, and he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really like you, Striker. You’re okay, right?”

He nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay, you have more than enough time, and your unit won’t be called out like last week. Where are you headed?”

“Charleston.”

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