Page 45 of Cross-Check

“I mean, college is what you do, right? It’s to be expected.”

“College isn’t the only option, though. Now answer the question. Are you there for you or someone else?”

“My mom and my brother both really wanted me to go,” I admit reluctantly.

Martha hums. “Well then, I guess it’s up to you if you want to stay now, isn’t it?”

I bite my bottom lip and nod. I know I should stay. I’m just not sure if I want to.

“Do you want to know what I think?” Martha asks after a beat of silence.

“Please,” I blurt out, making her chuckle softly.

“I think you have a real talent for helping these families. The kids adore you, and the parents listen to you. You guide them with a gentle hand even when they probably don’t deserve it. You do good things here, Cora.”

“I love it,” I whisper.

Martha smiles. “And it’s obvious, especially with how much time you spend here. So have you ever thought about making this your job?”

“I…” I stumble over words because, no, the thought never actually crossed my mind. “I don’t even know how that would be possible. I can’t volunteer for the rest of my life and live at my mom’s house.”

“Do you think I still live at home with my mother?” Martha deadpans.

Wincing, I hang my head. “Sorry.”

“I’m only teasing, Cora, but to put you at ease, there are paid positions to do exactly what you’re doing here. We even have two open right now. It’s hard to find people to take them, though, because while you get all the easy cases, they aren’t all that way.”

“Really? I mean not about the cases, but the job. You have one available?”

“Really, and the best part is you don’t have to have an expensive piece of paper to do it. Granted, a degree can help you get ahead in your field, but it’s not required. You could work here for now, and if you want to go back to school later on for it, we would pay for it.”

I open my mouth, but the words don’t come out. I’m overwhelmed in the best possible way. I didn’t even know that this was an option. Could this be it, though? I love what I do here. Hell, I keep coming back whenever I have free time, even when I’m not on the schedule. I like the way this place makes me feel afterward too. I feel like I’ve done something good, something useful. Like I’ve contributed to society.

At the same time, I don’t want to let my mom or Clay down. They have both worked so hard to make sure I have everything I need and could want. Wouldn’t it be selfish of me to bounce on the one thing they want me to do? That and Clay is always thinking about how it’s his job to take care of us when he goes pro. For some reason I have a sneaking suspicion that this job won’t pay a whole lot, and while I know I don’t need much, I know it would give him another reason to worry.

But whose happiness is more important, his or mine?

“Can I think about it?”

Martha reaches out and rubs my shoulder. “Of course you can. Take all the time you need. Just know I’m here if you want to talk about it more.”

“Thanks, Martha.”

“Of course, now you best get out of here. Your time ended an hour ago, and I’m sure you have some studying to do,” she says, raising a brow.

“But helping the kids with their schoolwork is so much more fun than working on mine,” I groan.

Martha laughs and pushes me toward the door. “Go. Rev’s visit is the last of the night, and we both know that it’s just a formality at this point. I can handle it.”

I wave over my shoulder and go to collect my things.

The entire time I make my way back to campus, my mind swirls. I play over the possibility of doing this for real, and I can’t help but be excited over the prospect of it. By the time I make it back to my dorm room, my mind is made up. For the first time since I graduated high school, I feel like I have some sense of direction for my life.

Now I just need to figure out how to tell my mom and Clay about it.

* * *

When we enter the bar, I can’t help but cringe as the music assaults my ears. There’s loud and then there’s this. A person is up on the stage attempting to sing, but it sounds like someone’s assaulting an animal. It’s even worse than nails on a chalkboard.

---