Kyland (Sign of Love #7) Read Free

contact with Kyland again as he turned back, his eyes wide, his expression unreadable. He paused briefly, flinching slightly, and then the door swung shut behind him.
    "I'm sorry, Rusty, it was just an accident. Please don't fire me." I needed this job. As much as I hated to beg for it, I had people relying on me.
    "Gave you enough chances. There'll be a line down the street for this job tomorrow." He pointed at me, his eyes cold and mean. "Should have appreciated what you had and worked harder. Those pretty looks of yours won't get you anywhere in life if your head isn't screwed on straight."
    I was well aware of that. Painfully aware. All you had to do was look at my mama for that fact to be established.
    Blood whooshed in my ears. My neck felt hot. I took off my apron and dropped it on the floor as Rusty continued to mutter about the ungrateful, worthless help.
    I stepped out of the store a few minutes later, the sun just setting over the mountains behind me—the sky awash in pinks and oranges. The air was cold and held the scent of fresh rain and sharp pine. I took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around myself, feeling lost and defeated. Losing my job was very, very bad news. Marlo was going to kill me. I groaned aloud. "What more?" I whispered to the universe. But the universe hadn't been responsible for my stupid choice. Only I could take credit for that.
    Sometimes my life felt so small . And I had to wonder why those of us who were given small lives, still had to feel pain so big. It hardly seemed fair.
    I put my hands in my pockets and started the walk to the base of our mountain, my school backpack slung over my shoulder. In the spring and summer, I'd read as I walked, the road familiar enough to me that I could concentrate on my book. Cars rarely drove this road and I always had plenty of advanced notice if one was coming. But when the fall came, it was too dim once I left Rusty's—not that that would be a problem anymore—and so I walked and busied my mind. And tonight was no different. In fact, I needed the distraction of my dreams. I needed the hope that life wouldn't always be so hard. I pictured myself winning the Tyton Coal Scholarship, the one I'd been working toward since I started high school. Every year, one of the top students was chosen to win the scholarship, which would send him or her to a four-year university, all expenses paid. If I won it, I'd finally be able to get out of Dennville, away from the poverty and the desperation, the welfare fraud, and the drug-pushing "pillbillies." I'd finally be able to provide for Mama and Marlo, move them away from here, get Mama the help she needed from a professional doctor, instead of the hollow-eyed one at the free clinic who I suspected was the center of the pillbilly business. I'd make a stop at Rusty's as I drove out of town, and I'd tell him to shove a stale box of Cheerios up his bony, flea-bitten ass.
    As I turned the corner toward the base of the mountain, I saw old Mrs. Lytle sitting on the steps of the now-closed post office eating the last of a packaged sandwich. I squinted at her and smiled slightly when her eyes caught mine. My gaze went to the wrapper in her hand, the one that said "Rusty's Ham and Cheese," with a big red time stamp, dated today. It was the one Kyland Barrett had stolen just ten minutes before. "Evening, Mrs. Lytle," I said. She nodded, her sad eyes blinking as she took the last bite of the sandwich. Mrs. Lytle was almost part of the landscape at this point . . . an alcoholic who wandered the streets of the tiny town, mumbling to herself, and collecting pocket change from the townies to fund her addiction. She'd lost all three of her grown boys and her husband in the mine accident. I suspected she was hoping to follow them sooner rather than later. "You gonna be okay, tonight, Mrs. Lytle?" I asked, stuffing my hands deeper into my pockets. Not that I could offer her anything if she wasn't, but I wanted her to know I cared.