“It’s okay,” I murmur to myself as I add a little extra baking soda to make sure they’re fluffy. “It’ll be fine.” I melt some butter and mix it with water to use in place of the milk. “Everything’s fine.”
I’m turning the fourth pancake when Maverick flies into the kitchen. “Are they done?”
“Depends. How many do you want?”
He taps his pointer finger against the dimple in his chin. “A hundred!”
I stifle a laugh. “How about two?”
“Chocolate chips?” His big hazel eyes are so full of hope that I feel like the worst mom ever when I have to tell him no.
“Sorry, bud. We’re all out.”
He heaves out a big sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist. “It’s okay, Mama. Maybe next time.”
I hate that I’m feeling so emotional over not having chocolate chips, but I can’t help feeling like, somehow, I’m letting him down on a grander scale.
“Definitely,” I murmur as I plate his and top them with syrup. “Eat up—Mama has class today.”
“Will I have to go to school when I’m old, too?”
“Maverick James!” I feign shock. “Are you calling me old?”
He closes his mouth around another forkful of syrupy pancakes and shrugs.
“I’m totally young—and cool!”
“Uncle Phin says if you gotsta tell people you’re cool, you probably aren’t cool.” He licks his fork clean and then carries his plate to the sink. “You’re older than me!”
I stick my tongue out at him as I walk to rinse my plate as well. “Too true, Mav. Too true.”
“Can I watch my show while you get ready?”
My eye twitches at the thought of listening to another episode of Paw Patrol, but Maverick loves it—not to mention, it’ll buy me a few extra minutes to wash my hair. I’m pretty sure it still has glitter in it from last night.
“Yup. The remote’s on the table by the bed.”
“Thanks, Mama!” He crashes into me and hugs me tight before taking off for the bed. “Love you!”
My heart melts in my chest as I watch him snuggle down under the covers. Maverick is every good part of his father. Hell, the kid’s every good thing in my life, period. And even though things aren’t ideal right now, I’m damn sure going to hustle and make sure my kid has the best life possible. Maybe not one full of material things, like mine was, but one filled with love.
So much love.
CHAPTER FOUR
FRANKIE
“Are you ready?” I ask, sliding the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
“Do you learn the same stuff as me when you go to school, Mama?” Maverick asks for the hundredth time. His new thing is us “matching.”
“Sort of. Similar subjects, but my classes are a lot more boring and the books have hardly any pictures.”
“No pictures?” His lips curl as he grabs his backpack. “That’s crazy.”
I press the button on the side of my phone and check the time. “What’s crazy is how late we’re going to be if we don’t get out the door. Let’s go, dude!”
Maverick tears off for the door, flinging it open. “Mama!”
“What?” I ask, grabbing my coffee before following after him.
“Someone left us a note.”
“A note?” I scrunch my nose, wondering what it could possibly be.
“Yeah!” He yanks it off the door right as I join him in the breezeway. “See.”
I take the paper from him, my eyes immediately zeroing in on EVICTION NOTICE across the top in red, bold print. “Oh, God.” My vision blurs as I collapse back against the door.
This can’t be happening…
I bust my ass to make sure the rent is always paid. I’ve never even been a day late. And now, we’re being thrown out? Why? Why is this happening?
“Just calm down,” I mutter to myself as Maverick wraps his little arms around my middle, pressing his face into my belly.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” He clutches the fabric of my shirt between his fingers. “Is it a mean note? I know hitting people is bad, but if it’s mean, I’ll hit ‘em for you.”
My lips twitch even as hot tears burn the backs of my eyes. “Let me read it one more time,” I say, both to him and myself—because maybe I missed something. It has to be a mistake, right?
My heart is pounding and my ears are ringing as I try to reread the document. It feels like my entire world is falling apart, but I force myself to take a few deep breaths to clear my head so I can read the fine print.
Except the fine print only makes things worse—not only are we being evicted, but we have to be out in seventy-two hours. How in the hell am I going to find us a place to live in three days?
This is a nightmare. A certified fucking nightmare.
Maybe I could ask Phoenix—
“Mama,” Maverick whispers my name and tugs on the hem of my shirt, drawing me out of my thoughts. “What’s wrong?”