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"Don't you think it's a little coincidental that we've run into each other two times in one day?"
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~Y/N's POV~
I let out an icy breath as I tightened my jacket around me, as I sat in my car in parking lot of the Boelter Superstore. I held my head in my hand, trying to calm down my growing anger as I tried to think of ways to fix whatever I had gotten myself into.
Getting promoted to head of the deli department in Boelter was what I had been working at for the last three months. Of course, when I finally got it, how could I expect nothing to happen? Especially with Jerry and his fucking jealousy.
I needed the money, and he knew that. He only wanted it so he could buy that stupid Pirates of the Caribbean pinball machine to add to his freaky collection. The religious asshole already owned like thirteen of them, I'd seem them myself, they were all based off of some movie he fangirled over. He could go fuck himself. Him and his three cats.
I looked down at the severance check in my hand, clenching my jaw as I tried not to lose control of my anger. I forced my key into the ignition and turned the car on, cranking the heat all the way up. It blasted through the vents as I slid my thumb under the sealed envelope. I ripped open the paper, pulling out the check and sighing.
It was only $450, which would tide me over for one week, paying bills, buying groceries and affording my baby nephew, Elijah's, medication.
I threw my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. This job would've bumped my pay up enough so I could quit my late ass shift at the Burger King and spend some time with Eli every night and not depend on Lindsey to watch him. (yes Lindsey Morgan is in this book too, that's my baby mama) Still, Jerry had to make that stupid comment, knowing what would happen.
"Heaven is for the innocent. The damned all go to hell, unless they ask for forgiveness. Too bad that little boy doesn't even know how to ask."
Jerry knew it was coming. I could see the smile on his face as my fist swung around and connected with his crooked teeth. I knew he was just saying it because he wanted my job. Knowing how I would react, I would get fired. Which is exactly what happened.
I punched my steering wheel, making the car beep. Eli was only four and was showing signs of PTSD, BPD, and whatever developmental disorder the doctor had diagnosed him with. They figured all of it had come from my sister-in-law's habit of drinking to her limit during her pregnancy. I had also been warned about the probability of there being more problems arising as Eli continued to grow, and some of the things he was at risk for were supposed to show signs at later ages.
They said the PTSD had most likely come from my mother who had been looking after Eli for the first two years of his life. From my own personal experience, I knew exactly how neglectful she could be. I was finally able to get him out of that house and into my own two years ago, and we've been barely scraping by since then.
