The clock finally struck five in the evening. I got out of the beat-up truck in my worn jeans and a baggy t-shirt, heading toward the front of the daycare to get Bubble.

After leaving my former workplace, I'd gone to meet Dad at the mail office where he works to get the keys to his Pacific green '96 Ford F-150, carrying my bicycle along in the truck bed. Driving was safer for Bubble. It was the one rule of the house, so the three of us shared the truck to take him to and from daycare.

Kane was by the front desk, just outside the doors.

"How's today, Kane?" I greeted. He was the security guard in charge of signing kids in and out to their guardians.

I didn't just know him because of Bubble's Daycare. Kane lived around my neighborhood. I wouldn't speak for the rest of the town, where it was always about who had the better asset or the bigger trust fund. But in our low-class corner, we had love.

"Long day," he smiled like he did every other day. "My wife wants a certain cheese that I can't find anywhere in this place," he added, pulling out his phone and sending a message inside for Bubble to be brought out.

"Can I help in any way?" I offered.

I would've gotten caught up in Kane's cheese mystery if my mind wasn't already steep at the thought of having to start job hunting all over again. That, along with the emotional mess stirred by the way Aaron stood up for me earlier.

Did he recognize me? Or was I just lost in my head again, wishing for a good side of him, like I did six years ago?

Kane gave me a grateful smile and said, "No, but thank you for offering."

The door opened almost as he finished speaking, and the caregiver stepped out with Bubble. The moment the little boy saw me, he let go of her hand and raced over with his tiny five-year-old feet.

I scooped him up and spun us around while he giggled. He was such a happy child. Beautiful didn't even begin to cover it.

"How was your day, sunshine?" I tickled him in my arms, and he laughed brightly, squirming.

"Goot," he coughed out. His words were rough around the edges for his age.

Kane handed over Bubble's backpack, and I gave him a nod of thanks as I took it, then jogged us toward the truck, making a game of it to excite Bubble.

Dad had already placed the toddler seat on the passenger side. It wasn't ideal. He was too young to sit in front, but the truck didn't have a backseat.

I buckled him in and walked around to the driver's side.

Bubble was already lost in my phone when I joined him, scrolling through the child-friendly videos I'd downloaded for him.

Sighing against the noisy cartoon dialogue in the background, I palmed my face as a wave of emotions surged through me at the thought of our budget.

I had made about three hundred in tips today. If I had stuck with the golf course job alone, I could have made even more, and by the end of summer, we would have improved our savings. But now I had to come up with another plan.

When I said I needed a job, I meant it. It was crucial for our household. Even with Mom and Dad working two jobs each, it still was not enough. I could not afford not to work.

"Chicen!" Bubble said in his gibberish way of asking for chicken nuggets.

"Lively, ahh you cry–ing?" he frowned.

I wiped my face fast before he leaned closer.

"I wasn't. I have a cold," I lied, and it was enough to make him beam like the sunshine he was.

I stepped on the gas, made a quick stop at a drive-through nearby, and got him those nuggets before heading home.

Dinner was usually just the two of us because Mom and Dad had to keep their jobs.

But tonight Bubble persisted: the nuggets were enough. So, after his usual meds routine, he fell asleep watching PJ Masks on the couch.

It was past nine. I will take a shower and get some rest too.

Before picking Bubble up in my arms, his tiny hands wrapped around my neck as we made our way down the hall, I checked that the doors were locked. I laid him on the twin bed beside mine in the bedroom we shared.

It was a two-bedroom apartment. Mom and Dad share the other room.

Setting the air conditioner, I grabbed my toiletries and headed to the bathroom. I took that shower and changed into pajamas, but my thoughts would not quiet.

Back in the room after I finally lay in bed and turned off the lamp, sleep refused to come. My mind was riddled with all that happened.

When I applied for the job, I didn't see it taking this path. Sure, I knew the Wallace family owned the place, but they usually skipped a year. They were in Lake Oswego last year, so they were supposed to not be here this year. That was the green light that convinced me to even consider the place because I really needed the money.

I had perfected my ways of avoiding Aaron for six years. But that didn't mean I was a fool. I always knew the day I would meet him again would come. I just did not expect it to be this soon. We lived on opposite sides of town, and those streets might as well have been two different worlds.

I had played this day out in my head a hundred times, the day I would meet his eyes and feel every ounce of pain his presence had buried in me.

I sat up in bed and turned the lamp back on. The light was bright enough on my side. The alarm clock said there were two hours more before Mom got home, and four before Dad. Breathing slowly, I reached under my bed for the old peach shoebox.

It was the box from my first pair of heels when I was a freshman. Speaking of freshman year, that was where it all began. My very own Wallace syndrome, like every other Lake Oswego girl.

I took off the box lid.

There was the baseball cap. The only thing I owned that belonged to Aaron Wallace. My fingers trembled as they traced the surface before picking it up.

I hated it, but it still smelled a little like him, or maybe I had let myself imagine it that way.

Screw it. I brought it to my nose and inhaled. Just like that, I was fifteen again, tears swelling behind my lids.

All horror broke through me, and as if a hat could physically hurt me, I dropped it back into the box in terror, where my eyes skated the black leather journal I supposedly started writing in the day I saw Aaron Wallace for the first time.

I swallowed hard, remembering the words in there. I pulled it out, flipped open the cover, and was met with something my naïve self used to dwell in.

No one should be allowed to look this beautiful. Why was he?

My heart jolted in a way it hadn't in a long time. Unable to proceed, I snapped the book shut, and shoved everything back into place inside the small box, slid it under the bed, and turned off the light.

Shit, shit, shit.

The tears had already overpowered me. I couldn't stop them.

December third. I remembered it like yesterday. The first time I saw the picture of Aaron. It was on the high school bulletin board, and I fell for him harder than any human should ever fall. He was the quarterback for a private school from the next city over, set to play against my public school in January for the state championship.

I didn't know who he was. I was just a freshman from the side of town where luxury didn't live. My mornings were filled with overdue bills on the kitchen table and the grocery list for the day.

I always stared at his picture through the glass before class, like it was some prize. There was something about his eyes, manipulating me by shaping up ideas in my head. He was seventeen and in his final year of high school.

Everyone whispered in the hallways, thrilled at the expectation of seeing him in person soon. I was one of them, secretly. As they obsessed over his last name and his family's tradition of boarding school in Switzerland, I wondered why his eyes looked so deep, yet they were smiling. It gave away a facade, one that shut me out.

I'd sneak into the computer lab to stalk his socials, always picking the farthest corner so no one would see.

From the start of December through Christmas and New Year, I watched Aaron's accounts religiously. I wrote about him in my journal, page after page of pure admiration for the version of him I created in my head.

Then came a time, after the season when I admired him when I'd zone out driven by pain, and scribble his name a thousand times.

Sunlight skated across my face, and my eyes squinted. Yawning, I stretched out my limbs. When I opened my eyes, I was alone.

It was past nine, but there was no rush today. Unlike yesterday.

Mom and Dad hadn't left for work yet, but they would soon. I got up, turned off the AC to save power, slipped on my shoes, and wandered down the hallway to the living room.

Bubble sat at the table with Dad, who was eating cereal, while Mom packed meals into the fridge. I glanced at the sink. It was piled with dishes. She must've cooked enough food to last us all week.

"Seriously? Did you have to do all that?" It already felt like she worked more than any human should.

She turned around and spotted me. "You're up."

I nodded and wrapped my arms around Dad from behind. "Good morning, Dad."

"Good morning, love." He kissed my cheek, and I leaned over to kiss Bubble's soft baby face. Mom had dressed him already. He smelled so good. If only he could stay this little forever, but he was growing up no matter how slow the process was compared to his age mates.

"Did you take your medication?" I asked, and he nodded as I sat beside him.

"I made a few things that'll come in handy during the week," Mom announced from the kitchen. "We can just microwave and eat once we get home since no one will be around during the day now."

And just like that, my stomach dropped.

"About that..." I start, then pause, trying to figure out how to break the news to them. They've had expectations for this job I was supposed to have.

"Mom, Livy cr–ied in the cah," Bubble interrupted, and I let out a sigh, rubbing my forehead.

The silence hung awkwardly for a moment before Mom spoke up. "Bubble, sweetheart, can you go get me my bottle from the room?"

The little boy struggled out of his chair and eagerly rushed down the hall. Mom, then walked over to the table, leaning on it for support next to Dad.

"There's no more job, is there?" she asked, and I shook my head in response.

Yesterday, I hadn't been told I lost my job, but I left knowing that was the outcome.

Another silence filled the room.

"Okay, that's fine. There are plenty of other places with better tips. I'm sure you'll get in smoothly. When you're ready, just let me know, and we'll start looking," Dad smiled.

The best thing about this family was the support. We both knew there wasn't anywhere in town with better tips than the Wallace Country Club, but hearing my dad try to give me hope meant everything.

"Thanks, Dad," I muttered, and Mom smiled at me.

"Always, Bug," he said, getting up. "Time's ticking. Is Bubble's lunch packed?"

"Yes," Mom replied at the same time I started, "Maybe he should stay home today since I'm here. I can look after him."

They exchanged a look.

"That works too," Mom shrugged. "I can take the car today."

"Good," I beamed just as Bubble reappeared with empty hands.

I laughed out loud while Mom's face dropped at the toddler's forgetfulness.

"You hear that, Bubble? I'm your babysitter today," I teased, and he came running to me.

The least I could do after Mom put so much work into preparing meals for the week and had to leave for work was do the dishes. I cleaned the house, started the laundry, put away Bubble's toys, and let him do some coloring while I worked.

It was tiring, but it was a good distraction, so I kept busy with the chores, the ones that needed to be done and the ones that didn't, until, while walking through the kitchen to take out the trash, the home phone rang. I had heard it for a while, but I didn't want to interrupt my work. Now that I was close by and my hands weren't full, I figured I could answer.

My phone was in the room, so it could be the daycare checking on why Bubble skipped. I forgot to let them know he was staying home today.

I picked up the call and said, "Hello."

"Lively Kelby?"

The familiar voice that haunted my memories filled my ears now.

No!

"Aaron–I mean, Mister Wallace?" I stammered in shock and confusion.

I would wonder how he had my home number but he was a Wallace, he had everything.

"Carol said you didn't come in today; why was that? Are you sick?"

"No!" I retorted, still struggling with understanding.

"Okay, get here. We need your help," he said simply.

"I do–I don't have a job there anymore, after yesterday." I barely managed to say.

"Carol, you fired her?" he asked sternly, sounding more like he wasn't talking to me.

He mustn't have been alone. And my assumption was correct when I heard Carol deny it immediately in the background.

I was in total shock. But at least now I knew how he got my home number.

"Lively, you still have your job intact. I'm expecting you here," he said in an odd tone, that there was no way I was reading too much into it.

My throat went dry. I didn't know how to feel.

Did I want this job? I knew I needed it, but was it right for me?

"I can't..." I breathed, my eyes closing as realization hit me harder.

Even if I want to go, I can't.

"Why not? If it's about Ruby, it won't happen again. She returned to New York, and Kyle is sober," he told me.

"Uhmm." That's oddly reassuring. Though I don't know why, he thought I needed to know all that. "No, that's not it. Umm... thinking I was fired, I offered to babysit my baby brother today," I explained.

"I see," he uttered, almost like he was thinking.

My mouth opened, and I was about to say, "Maybe tomorrow, if I still have a job by then," when he beat me to it.

"You can bring him to work with you. There's a playroom in my family's suite; your brother can stay there while you work." My heart skipped a beat.

I also didn't know why he was offering this, but I think it's safe to say he remembered who I was, and we didn't part on the best terms. So why was he doing this?

"Really?" I asked, stunned.

This would be perfect. It meant I got to stay with Bubble the whole day. That's all I really wanted.

"Yes."

"Okay, umm—" A small laugh escaped me, half in shock, half in relief. I didn't know why he was doing this, but I could only be grateful. "I'll get ready and grab a cab to the country club," I told him.

"Where do you live?" he asked, the question straightforwardly, catching me off guard.

"Why?"

"You have a kid with you; I'll send Keenan, my driver. Where do you stay, Lively?" His tone was direct like it's already settled.

"You don't have to do that."

"Take it as an apology for what Kyle did yesterday. Even if you didn't tell me the address, I'll get it from Carol," he reminded me coolly, and the call ended.

A gazillion of emotions struck me. I needed to sit down to process the last minute.