For Better or For Worse (Book 2)

Mended by Mendes

I know you're telling me the truth
I know it's just no use
That I can't stay away from you
I hold on to every beat of hope, that's all I ever do
Hoping you might change your mind.
—Gloria Estefan

I slam through the doors of the DayCare center, my shoulder aching from crashing into the knob. I race into the classroom and my heart breaks a little as I see small Aaliyah, sitting on the ground, playing with American Girl Dolls.

I lean against the doorframe and watch how she takes such care with them, braiding their hair gently and talking to them in a soothing voice.

"Hey, Aaliyah," I mumble, forcing myself to smile.

Her head snaps up and a grin pulls at her lips, her face lighting up. "Skylar!" She runs to me and throws her arms around my waist, her small arms gripping me as tightly as possible.

"What's up, pretty girl?" I ask her, bending down to look her in the eye.

She shrugs, putting a strand of hair behind her ear shyly. "Shawn forgot me, I guess." She whispers, her eyes darting around the room.

"Well, how dare him, right?" I joke, picking her up and resting her on my hip. "Let's go home, shall we?"

She nods with such eagerness that I laugh out loud, looking at her teacher. "Thank you for staying with her, I'm so sorry."

She looks a little annoyed but she smiles all the same. "I called the house but no one answered. And neither did the emergency contact. I'm really not supposed to stay, but I couldn't leave this little one alone."

I thank her again and take Aaliyah out to Shawn's car. I put her in the back and make sure she straps herself in safely.

"Why do you have Shawn's car?" She asks, her words jumbled, her eyelids dropping.

"Don't worry about it, okay?" I start the car and pull away. "Why don't you go to sleep?"

She almost nods, but is already gone, her head on the window, her breathing even. I race to the school, thinking what Shawn's doing right now.

And then as I take a turn, I slam on the brakes and come to a halt, throwing a hand out to make sure Aaliyah doesn't hit the seat in front of her. She's still fast asleep.

I had almost hit someone sprinting around the corner. Not just someone.

Shawn.

I open the car and jump out. "Shawn?" He whirls around, his face bright red, hit hair as wet as if he has just stepped out of the shower.

He doesn't have a shirt on, and it's no where in sight, and his khakis are grimy and covered in dirt.

"Sky?" He pants, falling to the ground and resting his head on his knees.

"Jesus, Shawn, how long have you been running?"

He looks up at me, completely out of breath, his chest heaving. "Since six because I had to stay after. Only four hours, but I just—I had to get to Aaliyah." And then he catches sight of his car and realization dawns on him, along with disappointment of some sort. "It was you! You're the car thief!"

I might've laughed if I didn't felt so bad for him. "I—I'm sorry." I say, and it takes everything in me to get myself to say those two words.

His face falls, realizing I'm upset and he scrambles to his feet. "No, it's...it's fine. I'm not mad. You're welcome to my car any time. Just, uh, tell me next time you take my car for a joy ride."