Dad grumbles something I can’t discern but hefts back in his chair with a sigh. I mirror his actions, letting out a breath of frustration.
“He doesn’t mean it, you know that, right?” Corbin tells me, leaning against the wall.
“I know.”
“It can be hard to see family like this, but it’s the nature of the disease. Don’t take it personally.”
“I don’t,” I tell him, blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face. “He wasn’t very involved when I was a kid. It’s not like I have all these good memories of him to tarnish.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing.”
“I should have been there,” Dad says in a rare moment of clarity. “I should have been there for you and Heather and Jason. I should have made your mother get help. I’m…I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes, shoving all my feelings aside. “You’re here now, Dad.”
Corbin pushes off the wall. “Anyway, Mr. Cooper. It’s time for dinner. You coming, Scarlet? I can get an extra plate for you.”
“What are they having today?”
“Sweet potatoes and fish.”
I try not to cringe. “I’ll take some sweet potatoes, but I’ll pass on the fish.”
“Smart choice,” he mouths and unlocks Dad’s wheelchair. I follow behind as we head to the cafeteria, pulling out my phone to see who just emailed me. It’s a response to the nanny position I applied for a few days ago, which specific one is beyond me. I applied for any and all that I could.
I quickly skim the email, looking to see who sent it. The email was sent from a work account, and the name Quinn Dawson is at the bottom as an e-signature. Once I get to the table next to Dad, I enter her name in a Google search.
“Holy shit,” I say out loud, earning a nasty look from the uptight nurse passing by. Quinn’s made quite the name for herself, and she’s younger than me. I find her on Instagram and creep through her photos. She has a baby and it looks like she’s either married or engaged to a doctor. I already hate her.
I don’t care what the job description is. This is exactly the type of gig I need.
Corbin comes over with two plates of nasty-looking salmon that reeks like it’s been left out on the counter all afternoon. Yep, I’m only eating the sweet potatoes. Swallowing the little bit of morality I have left, I turn to Dad and look into his eyes.
“I’m going to get you out of this shithole, I promise.”* * *
I feel like I’m drowning. Like I’m madly treading water just to stay afloat. I’m gasping for breath, but every time my lungs fill with air it feels wrong. Like I shouldn’t be breathing.
Like I should drown.
But like a cockroach, I keep coming back. Pulling on the cross necklace that’s hanging from my neck, I push my shoulders back and step into the coffee shop.
We’re meeting in The Loop, near Quinn’s place of work. She already ran my background check and said she called my references, and it’s a miracle she hasn’t been scared off yet. I spot her sitting at a table in the back, typing on a laptop. There’s an iced coffee next to her, and I can tell from back here her purse, clothes, and shoes are designer.
Her brunette hair is pulled into a braid that’s perfectly messy, and she’s not wearing much makeup. She’s pretty and has a kind face. You can tell she’s a nice fucking person just by looking at her, and I can’t let myself fall into a trap.
I need money. Specifically hers.
My phone rings right as Quinn looks up, and our eyes meet for a fleeting moment before I glance down at my cell in my hand. It’s the nursing home, and I hesitate before answering. They called this morning to tell me Dad was out of the medication insurance stopped covering and asked if I would be able to provide it until something was worked out.
I’m trying.
I silence the call and look back at Quinn, plastering a fake smile on my face.
“Hi,” she says, standing up to shake my hand. “I’m Quinn.”
“Scarlet. Nice to meet you.”
“Do you want anything to drink? This new caramel frap is to die for.”
“Uh, sure. Thanks.”
Leaving her computer on the table with me, Quinn gets up and gets in line, returning a few minutes later after putting in an order for me.
“So,” she starts, fidgeting a bit as she talks. “I’ve never interviewed anyone like this before. Sorry in advance if I’m a little awkward. And don’t feel like you need to put up a front or anything. I’m not looking for Mary Poppins. Just someone who can help with basic household chores and make sure a four-year-old makes it to see another day.”
Dammit, I kind of like her. “I think I can do that.” My phone buzzes and I glance down, seeing a text from Corbin. Shit.