off her feet for just a second as she wiped. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. She’d already been working six hours and still had another eight to go. Just like yesterday.
And the day before that.
It was the only way she could make ends meet when she earned only minimum wage. Less than that, actually. But she didn’t argue, because at least she had a job.
Not many people were willing to hire a convicted felon, she’d found when she left the Georgia Women’s Correctional Institution four months ago. She’d been fortunate that the restaurant she worked at in high school part-time, still owned by the same family and now managed by their son, Timothy Smittle, a high school classmate of Hayley’s, had been willing to take a chance on her.
They hadn’t let her wait tables, explaining that they couldn’t allow an ex-felon to interact with customers or handle money. But Timothy had graciously offered to allow Hayley to bus the tables, wash dishes and clean the entire restaurant.
The same Timothy who was looking over at her now, eyebrow raised, since she was no longer wiping the table, just resting. Hayley quickly jumped up, not wanting to risk another lecture about how lucky she was to have a job at such a respectable establishment.
Hayley didn’t think too hard about her future. About the fact that she was twenty-eight years old, had no college degree, was an ex-felon and would probably still be working fourteen-hour days at the Bluewater twenty years from now.
Or the fact that she might have to start running for her life as soon as she was legally able to access a computer.
As she carried the bus pan back to the dishwashing area—thankful that some customer had come in and cut Timothy off from the route that had led straight to her and a lecture—she tried to count her blessings.
As a part of her parole she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near a computer. The anklet she couldn’t remove ensured she had no interaction with a computer that lasted longer than two minutes every six hours. Not even social media. Although maybe she could manage a tweet in under two minutes.
It was a prototype. She should probably feel honored that she was one of the first batch of cyber criminals it was being tested on. This was what happened when you were part of a high-profile crime that even grabbed the attention of US senators. Everybody wanted to make sure you didn’t do it again.
Hayley had to admit her fingers itched for a keyboard. She yearned to get back into a world that involved no dishes or people like Smittle. She had a gift. When it came to computers and coding, she knew she had a gift.
Too bad she had let those gifts get her in trouble and cut her off from what could’ve been a very comfortable future. No one to blame but herself for that.
Well, maybe someone else to blame. But she didn’t expect she would ever see Cain Bennett again, so there was no point in targeting any anger toward him.
She rubbed at an ache in the general vicinity of her heart at the thought of Cain. Then cursed herself not only for getting her shirt damp with her wet fingers, but for even thinking about him at all.
Plus, being away from computers was what was keeping her safe right now. As long as she couldn’t go near a computer, she was not a threat to the people behind the situation that had led to her arrest and going to jail. Once they knew she could get near a computer and had the ability to trace their identities, Hayley had no doubt her life would become much more complicated.
But she couldn’t touch a computer for another two years at least, so she would run screaming over that bridge when she got to it. She had more than enough trouble to deal with today.
Which led to her most important blessing. She could hear him entering the restaurant right now, even from the back.
“Mama Hay-lay!”
Hayley dried her hands on her apron and ripped it off, dropping it next to the dishwasher. She walked out into the front of the restaurant, strolling by Timothy without even pausing.
“I’m taking my hour break.”
Timothy didn’t argue. It was the one measure Hayley had demanded when she came to work here. That she would be given a break once a day, during the lull in the afternoon, when her cousin Ariel came by with little Mason.
Mason, Hayley’s three-and-a-half-year-old son.
She grabbed Mason up in a hug, tickling him, breathing in his scent that meant so much to her, that calmed her and the tight spot inside her that grew whenever they were apart.
She and her son were together. They were both healthy, they were both happy, they were both free. A piece of paper signed while Hayley was in prison had made Ariel Mason’s legal guardian hours after his birth, but her cousin had made sure that Mason always knew Hayley was his mom.
Hayley wrapped her arm around Ariel also. “Hey, coz. Thanks again.”
Hayley knew it had to be difficult for Ariel to get Mason here every day. They were trying to figure out exactly how to transition him back from Ariel’s care to Hayley’s with as little trauma as possible for Mason.
“No problem. It’s the best part of our day.”
Hayley’s cousin had been a godsend. Hayley honestly had no idea what she would’ve done if it hadn’t been for Ariel’s willingness to care for Mason while Hayley was still incarcerated. He’d be a ward of the state otherwise.
Because there was no way in hell she would’ve told Cain he had a son. He’d made it very clear how little he thought of her when he’d used sex between them just to further his career by arresting her.
“It’s raining outside, so do you want to go to the mall play area, champ?”
Little Mason nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah yeah yeah.”
The drive to the mall took less than five minutes and soon they were watching Mason run around the enclosed area for children, made of soft foam material shaped like cars and rocket ships. It was one of Mason’s favorite places to go.
Mason took after her—slender build, sandy-blond hair, and a zest for life that unfortunately had been driven out of her in prison. Hayley loved seeing the energy in Mason, and that energy fed her soul, especially on days when work seemed never ending.
“I know I sound like a broken record,” Ariel said, taking a sip of the coffee she had picked up in the food court. “But you look exhausted.”
Hayley rubbed her eyes and looked at the coffee with jealousy. She’d love to have the caffeine, but food court coffee was out of her budget. She didn’t want to admit how good sitting down for an hour felt. “I’m okay, no need to worry.”
“You’re working twelve-to fourteen-hour days, six days a week. You can’t tell me that’s not taking a toll.”
“It’s not forever. I just want to make sure I’m as financially situated as possible before you leave.”
Ariel took a sip of her coffee and worked to avoid making eye contact with Hayley. “About that... I’ve been thinking that maybe now isn’t the right time. There will be another fellowship next year.”
“No!” Hayley’s tone brooked no refusal. “You’ve given up three years of your life for Mason and me. It’s time for you to go do what you really want.”
That included a full scholarship to Oxford, studying medieval literature for her master’s degree. It was what Ariel had dreamed about her whole life. She’d postponed that dream to take in Mason, but Hayley refused to let her cousin give up any more time than she already had.
Ariel leaned over until her head touched the side of Hayley’s shoulder. “I haven’t given up zilch. If anything, I’ve gained. Mason has been a blessing.”
Hayley leaned her cheek against the top of Ariel’s head. “I’m sure you didn’t think that during middle-of-the-night feedings when he was a newborn.”
Hayley