Morning Hurdles
Chapter One: Morning Hurdles
Ashe’s (AH-SHAY) Perspective
Ashe Meaning: Power, Energy, or Life
The ache woke her before the alarm could. Her body never let her sleep until her alarm, and like clockwork, her phone lit up on the nightstand.
Momma. Ashe braced herself before answering. “Hello?” she croaked out, her voice still thick with sleep.
“You need to talk to your sister,” Chelly’s voice burst through, sharp and accusing. No, good morning. No, how are you? Ashe rubbed at her temple, already feeling the stirrings of a headache blooming behind her eyes.
“Why?” she asked, though she already knew whatever the reason was, it would land on her shoulders.
“Because she’s back at it again,” Chelly snapped. “Always fighting with that boy. She never wants to listen. She got a noise complaint at her apartment, and they said the next strike is the last one—they’re evicting them.”
Ashe sighed softly, letting her head fall back against the pillow.
Chelly wasn’t done. “She won’t break up with that boy even though he’s no good. Always making her feel bad. But she won’t get rid of him. You know, it’s all your dad’s fault. Had he been a better dad, she would pick better men.”
“I’ll call her later, Ma,” Ashe said, voice even, fighting the urge to snap. “But I gotta start getting ready for work. Can I call you later?”
“This is what I’m talking about,” Chelly said, her voice growing shrill. “You and your sisters never want to talk to me. Always rushing me off the phone. I’m lonely, Ashe. I miss you.”
Ashe closed her eyes, breathing through the frustration. “I hear you, Ma. I’ll find some time to come by this week, but I really gotta go. I love you.”
“Love you too,” Chelly muttered—and with a click, the line went dead before Ashe could even finish the sentence.
Ashe lay there, eyes closed, head pounding, the nausea curling low in her stomach. She let out a long, shaky sigh.
Well, damn. Good morning to you, too, she thought bitterly. Hurting like hell today. Flare level’s a solid eight-point-five. Thanks for asking. Slept like shit—how did you sleep? she added sarcastically in her mind, scripting the conversation she wished had happened but never did.
The pain settled in her joints like an unwelcome guest that refused to leave. Fibromyalgia flare days were unpredictable, but today’s full-body soreness, paired with a pounding headache—and that phone call—made it clear this one would be brutal.
She groaned softly, instinctively rubbing her temples. Every muscle protested as she pushed herself upright.
“Okay, girl,” she whispered. “We got this.”
She glanced over at her laptop on the bedside table, her small anchor to the day ahead.
The room was dim, soft winter light filtering through the curtains. Ashe grabbed the nearest pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt from a pile of clean laundry she hadn’t managed to fold. Comfort over fashion, as always, on rough mornings.
She ran her fingers through her curls, then tied on a headwrap to tame the frizz.
In the corner, Winry stirred, her fluffy black Shih Tzu-Poodle mix wagging her tail at the first sign of movement. Belle, her older pit-lab mix, gave a low thump of her tail against the floor but didn’t bother getting up yet.
“Good morning, sweet girls,” Ashe murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to each dog’s forehead. “I’ll be back later.”
Sliding into her shoes and grabbing her laptop bag, Ashe shuffled toward the kitchen. Her dad’s door was still shut. He never woke this early on Saturdays. Wallace’s room was silent too, thankfully.
She grabbed her backpack, keys, and purse. Time to face the day.
The cool Detroit air bit at her cheeks as she slid into her car. Her favorite calming R&B playlist hummed softly through the speakers, easing her into the morning.
First stop, as always, was her go-to coffee shop. A vanilla latte with extra vanilla and a flaky cheese Danish.
The warmth of the drink soothed her sore throat. The food kept the edge of nausea at bay. Small victories.
The drive to Horizon Community Center blurred by in a stream of familiar streets.
Ashe pulled into the small parking lot and sat for a moment, watching the morning light spill across the bright murals covering the center’s brick exterior. Smiling kids. Bold colors. Shapes and lines that tried their best to cover the wear and tear underneath.
The building wasn’t fancy. It didn’t need to be. It pulsed with life.
Even on her hardest days, it always felt like hope.
She grabbed her laptop bag and her drink, easing out of the car.
The minute she opened the double doors, sound rushed in—the hum of chatter, the squeak of sneakers on the floor, the thump-thump-thump of a basketball somewhere down the hall.
Parents signed their kids in. Volunteers set up tables. A few children darted around with that unstoppable energy only kids have.
“Ashe!” Ms. Terri’s voice called out from the front desk.
She waved her over, glasses perched low on her nose, clipboard in hand. Mid-fifties. Firm but fair. Everyone at Horizon knew she was the center’s backbone.
“Morning, Ms. Terri,” Ashe said, her voice still scratchy from the headache.
“You look like you could use a second coffee,” Ms. Terri teased, eyeing Ashe’s latte.
“I’m surviving.” Ashe smiled faintly. “What’s the agenda today?”
“The usual. Art workshop, tutoring, basketball league. And...” Ms. Terri lowered her voice a little, though the amusement was clear. “Imani might need a little extra attention. She’s been acting up again.”
At the mention of the mischievous six-year-old, Ashe nodded. “Got it.”
Of course. There was always an Imani situation.
In her short month at Horizon, Imani had already come with notes from school twice. She’d interrupted direction time or lessons more times than Ashe could count, usually with bubbling energy or whatever random thought came to her mind. There wasn’t any talking back or fighting. Just disruptions. Unfocused energy. A lack of care for rules she already knew.
She was a good kid. Smart. Funny. Brave when she wanted to be. She just didn’t always care to do what she was supposed to.
Ashe understood that kind of restless energy. Especially at six years old, with too much on your little mind and not enough space to let it out.
Ashe set her things down in the staff lounge. The room smelled faintly of coffee, floor cleaner, and whatever air freshener Ms. Terri kept changing every week.
It was quiet except for the low hum of the mini-fridge. A calm before the storm.
She sank into the nearest chair and pulled out her laptop, placing it beside her latte, flaky cheese Danish, and the stack of papers Ms. Terri had given her. Her usual Saturday setup.
She rubbed her temples, willing the headache to ease, then unlocked her phone.
Rowan: Guess who’s about to quit their jobbbbb! 🙃
Ashe: What happened now?
Rowan: Same shit, different day 🙄 Guess who called me at 8 AM on a Saturday for an “emergency” meeting with our big Philly client? Rowan: They pushed up the deadline. I scrambled to rewrite the entire onboarding campaign. Rowan: Then just now the client conferred with their partners and decided the original deadline works. 🤡
Rowan: Is this what being a professional is?? 😩
Ashe: Did you at least see Miles during your Saturday meeting 😏 He’s on your team this time, right?
Rowan: Oh, I saw him. And I eye-fucked him. 👀 Rowan: He had on joggers today. He looked good enough to eat. 🤤
Ashe: You could really fuck him if you just asked him out.
Rowan: I’ll think about it. 😌
Ashe: Mmhmm.
Rowan: What’s going on with your love life? I haven’t heard anything new about a man. Aren’t you tired of masturbating?? 😂
Ashe: I think I hear the kids calling me. Gotta go 😘 enjoy your Saturday.
Rowan: I’ll let you get back to work, but this conversation isn’t over. 👏
Ashe put her phone away, laughing at Rowan’s nonsense.
She thought about how they met. They’d clicked surprisingly well. Sophomore year of college, they’d been suitemates. They didn’t talk much at first—no real reason to. Until one day at dinner, Ashe overheard someone talking loudly about Rowan at another table.
Rowan didn’t care. Stuff like that never bothered them. They were too comfortable in their own skin. But it bothered Ashe.
Then someone misgendered Rowan, calling them her.
That set Ashe off.
She walked up to the table and said one word. “They.”
The group looked dumbfounded.
“They. If you’re going to talk about someone, at least get their fucking pronouns right.”
And then she walked away.
Ashe was usually friendly. A sweetheart. Always quick to smile. But she didn’t take shit. And she didn’t stand for disrespect.
From then on, they’d been inseparable.
Four years later, here they were. Rowan was female-presenting, non-binary, thriving in tech, and still loving a bit of drama.
Miles—the work boo—was a tall, broad-shouldered jock. Rowan’s exact type.
Thinking about Miles made Ashe think of her last relationship. What a manipulative prick. She couldn’t believe she had stayed three months. Well... better than the two-year disaster before that.
I don’t want a relationship, Ashe thought. But sex? Yeah, Rowan’s right. I’m tired of masturbating.
She shook the thought off and grabbed the stack of papers Ms. Terri had handed her. She took a sip of her latte and got to work.
Input attendance data.Scan and file completed sign-up forms.Send payment reminders to guardians.File last week’s tutoring forms.Prepare this week’s tutoring signup.Check the supplies for the art workshop.
The structure helped. A little control in a world that often felt unpredictable.
Her eyes drifted to the mural outside the window. Bright colors. A big tree with handprints for leaves. Names of past students painted into the roots.
One day, this will be my nonprofit. My center. A space where kids can find their voice through art and community.
But first? Survive grad school. And today.
The scrape of chairs in the next room pulled her back to the present. Kids were starting to gather.
Time to shift from paperwork to playmaker.
She grabbed the clipboard and attendance sheets, took a final sip of her latte, and made her way to the multipurpose room.
The space pulsed with color. Paint splattered across old tables. Paper, brushes, and jars of glitter spread everywhere. The faint smell of glue mixed with the scent of washable markers and childhood chaos.
This was her favorite part of the week.
“Ms. Ashe!”
Imani’s voice rang out before Ashe even crossed the threshold.
The six-year-old came bounding over, ponytail bouncing, holding up what could only be described as a very lopsided clay creature.
Ashe crouched to meet her eye to eye. “Hey, Imani. What do we have here?”
“It’s a unicorn!”
Ashe tilted her head. “Ah. Of course it is. Just needs a little sparkle and it’ll be perfect.”
Imani grinned wide and dashed back to her seat.
Ashe followed, glancing at the other kids already settled at their stations.
Jordan, ten, was bent over a sheet of paper, pencil flying across the surface with quiet determination. She peered over his shoulder.
“That’s impressive. What are you working on?”
“The solar system,” Jordan answered without looking up. “Trying to get the planets in the right order this time.”
“You’re doing great.” She gave his curls a gentle ruffle.
Across the room, Nia, seven, and always quiet but observant, sat with a coloring book, perfectly content in her own little bubble. She gave Ashe a shy smile but kept her head down, focused on the page.
“Need any help?” Ashe asked.
“No, ma’am.”
Ashe smiled. Nia always preferred working solo. That quiet, thoughtful energy in the middle of the storm.
Near the carpet area, Zion sat cross-legged, his beloved stuffed bear tucked securely under one arm. At just three years old, he was the youngest of the Anderson siblings.
Today, he had a small line of plastic trucks he was pushing in circles around the bear’s feet, making soft vroom sounds under his breath. Every now and then, he paused to glance at the other kids, his big brown eyes curious but cautious.
The quietest of the bunch. Always watching. Always thinking. Always close to his bear.
Ashe’s chest softened at the sight. She’d check in with him soon.
Back at the supply table, she barely had time to settle before a shimmering trail caught her eye. Glitter.
Oh, no.
A path of it curved across the floor, leading right back to—
“Imani…”
Too late.
A path of glitter curved across the floor, sparkling like a breadcrumb trail to chaos.
“Imani…” Ashe sighed.
The six-year-old stood by the craft table, one hand already reaching toward another jar of glitter. A defiant grin spread across her face.
“I was making it sparkly,” she said proudly.
“I can see that.” Ashe crossed the room, crouching beside her. “But remember, glitter stays on the table. Not on the floor. Not on your shirt. Not on the ceiling—”
Imani giggled. “That was one time.”
Ashe shook her head, biting back a smile. “Let’s keep it at one time.”
She helped Imani clean up what they could, though she knew the glitter would live in the cracks of the floor until the end of time.
By now, the other kids were finishing up their projects. Brushes clattered into cups. Pencils rolled into their bins.
The organized chaos of the morning shifted into the softer rhythm of lunchtime.
Imani was the first to grab her sandwich. She took big bites while describing her unicorn’s magical backstory in great detail—mouth full, of course.
“Slow down, kiddo.” Ashe chuckled, wiping a stray smear of paint from Imani’s cheek.
Jordan unwrapped his sandwich methodically, still half-focused on a space diagram he’d drawn during the workshop. Nia quietly opened a container of apple slices and slipped a crayon into her other hand, sketching hearts in the margins of her coloring book.
Zion moved to sit at the end of the table. His trucks parked neatly beside his lunchbox. His bear stayed tucked under his arm while he nibbled on crackers.
Ashe sat at the staff table, pulled out her phone, and texted Rowan.
Rowan: Surviving?
Ashe: Barely. The glitter won.
Rowan: Glitter always wins. ✨
Ashe: How’s work?
Rowan: Reviewing web layouts and the submitted alternatives. Have to pick two drafts to send to my boss.
Ashe: At least you’re almost done, right?
Rowan: Yeah, I’ll be out by 1. I don’t usually work Saturdays, but the Philly client threw off everything. 🙄
Ashe: Did he wear the joggers again? 😏
Rowan: No 😭 he switched to professional wear. Didn’t want to be late for the unexpected meeting.
Ashe: Coward.
Rowan: Bold of you to say that when you’ve got no updates about your own love life. 👀
Ashe: Kids. Lunch. No time for this. 🙃
Rowan: Tired of your lies.
Ashe smiled, slipping the phone into her pocket.
As she looked up, she noticed the classroom door had been pushed open.
Ms. Terri stood there, clipboard in hand. Her reading glasses were perched on her nose.
“Ashe, how’s the art workshop going?”
“Good.” Ashe stood. “The kids are settling into lunch now. Oh—and Imani just ran out a second ago. I was going to go after her—”
Ms. Terri held up her hand, calm. “Let her be. She never leaves the building. She does this when she gets restless. If you let her run it out, she usually comes back with a little less energy.”
Ashe hesitated, then nodded.
Ten minutes passed. Ashe kept an ear out but stayed with the other kids, keeping the routine flowing.
Then—
“Imaaaaaani…” Ms. Terri’s voice carried down the hallway.
A beat later, Imani reappeared, both hands clutching a small, dirt-filled bucket.
“I found worms!” Imani held up the dirt-filled bucket like a trophy. “Who wants to play with my worms?”
Several kids shrieked. Jordan groaned.
Ashe blinked. “Imaaaaaani...” Ashe sighed.
“They’re squishy!” Imani beamed.
Before she could say another word, Ms. Terri stepped forward, arms crossing over her clipboard.
“Imani Anderson.”
The full name. That was serious.
Imani froze, eyes wide, gripping her worm bucket like it was a prized treasure.
Ms. Terri appeared beside them. “Where did you get those?”
“The garden.”
“We don’t play with worms inside.”
Ashe knelt down. “Let’s leave the worms outside, okay?”
Imani’s face crumpled. “But they’re my friends.”
“They’ll be happier in the dirt. Promise.”
After a dramatic sigh, Imani handed over the bucket. “Fine. But I get to say goodbye.” She waved solemnly. “Bye, friends. I’ll miss you.”
A ripple of laughter spread through the room. Even Jordan smiled.
Ms. Terri straightened, holding the bucket carefully. “I’ll return them. Ashe, stay with the others.”
Ashe nodded, suppressing a grin as Ms. Terri marched toward the door with the worms. Imani trailed behind her like someone heading toward a courtroom sentencing.
As soon as they were out of sight, Jordan shook his head. “Told her not to do it.”
Nia kept coloring, unbothered. Zion watched quietly, trucks momentarily forgotten.
Ashe smiled to herself. This crew keeps me on my toes.
The evening was smooth sailing after the worm situation.
They cleaned up lunch and lined up to walk to the gym. The kids broke off into their age groups.
Zion—just three years old and one of the youngest here—hung back, squeezing his bear tight.
Ashe approached him, crouching to his level. “You know you don’t have to be so quiet all the time, right? It’s okay to get loud, especially here.”
She pointed toward the portable jungle gym. “See that rock over there?” She gestured to the plastic climbing rock built into the set. “Wanna climb it with me?”
“Yes!” Zion screamed, letting go of his bear and taking off at full speed.
Ashe followed at a slower pace, smiling. She helped him get comfortable on the jungle gym and stayed close by as he tested the equipment, climbing with growing confidence.
The rest of the evening passed quickly.
By 6:30, Ashe was gathering her group of twelve to prepare for pickup. Bags accounted for. Coats zipped. Hats on.
Parents started arriving. One by one, the kids left.
Soon, it was just Ashe and the Anderson kids waiting patiently for their ride.
A man entered the building.
Tall. Dark skin. Waves. Dressed in black. A gold chain peeked through his coat.
Ashe noticed him—she watched everyone who came through the door—but assumed he was here for another child.
She glanced at the clock, then back at her phone.
When she looked up again, he was walking straight toward them.
“Hello,” he greeted, deep voice calm and steady.
Ashe blinked in surprise. She had never seen him before.
“You are...?” Ashe trailed off.
“I’m Keon. Their older brother. Picking them up today.”
She glanced at the kids. “I’m Ashe. I’ve been taking care of Imani, Jordan, Nia, and Zion today.”
It took a moment to piece it together. Keon. The name had come up when the kids talked about their family. She had never met him in person.
“There’s something I need to sign, right?”
“Yes.” She answered quickly and handed him the clipboard. As she moved, a faint grimace crossed her face. She tried to hide it.
Keon nodded. His voice was warm but guarded. “I appreciate it. How’d they do today?”
“They did great. Imani had a rough start with some worms... but she warmed up. Jordan and Nia focused on art. Zion’s a little shy, but doing okay.”
Keon’s expression softened slightly as he looked at his siblings.
As he filled out the form, a quiet moment stretched between them. He wasn’t the type for small talk, but his presence made her slightly nervous despite herself.
When he finished, Ashe hesitated.
“Keon... I wanted to mention something about Imani. She’s been a little distracted lately. Ms. Terri and I noticed some changes. Maybe something at home?”
Keon paused, setting down the pen. His gaze shifted, thoughtful.
“She’s going through some things. I’ve noticed too. It’s been hard with Mom working so much and me being busy with... other things. But I’ll keep an eye on her. Thanks for mentioning it.”
“I just want to make sure she gets the support she needs. Sometimes kids don’t say what’s wrong. They show it in other ways. If you need anything, we’re here to help.”
“I appreciate it. We’ll figure it out. Thanks for looking after them.”
Keon handed back the clipboard.
Ashe smiled, though a quiet wariness lingered. He was someone carrying more than his share. Someone who didn’t open up easily.
“I’ll let you get them home.”
Keon gathered the kids. One by one, they hugged Ashe or waved goodbye. Zion clutched his bear and nodded shyly.
As Keon passed, his gaze briefly met hers. Guarded. But appreciative.
He said nothing as he left, but Ashe’s thoughts lingered.
There was definitely more to Keon than met the eye.
The building had emptied long ago.
After helping close with Ms. Terri—locking up rooms, shutting down the lights, and tidying the last of the day’s chaos—Ashe finally slid into her car.
Her body ached from head to toe. The pain that had been simmering all day now flared in sharp, insistent waves.
The house was quiet now. The kids were gone. The laughter, the glitter, the worms—all packed away until Monday.
She leaned her head against the steering wheel for a moment, letting herself just... breathe.
Long day.
The cold leather pressed against her back as she sat up and slid the key into the ignition.
Her phone buzzed.
Rowan.
She smiled despite herself and answered through the car’s Bluetooth.
“Hey, Ro.”
“You sound like death. Everything okay?” Rowan’s voice was bright but tinged with concern.
Ashe let out a breathy laugh. “Yes, but Imani tried to start a worm adoption program.”
“In the winter??” Rowan gasped.
“I don’t know how she did it, but she came in during lunch with a bucket full of dirt and worms. There isn’t any snow—and you know anything can happen in Michigan.” Ashe cackled.
“You off yet?” Rowan asked.
“Just finished,” Ashe sighed. “On my way home now.”
“Did you call me to tell me about your upcoming dick appointment?” Ashe teased, pulling out of the lot.
Rowan groaned dramatically. “No, unfortunately. But. He did stop by my desk before leaving and said, and I quote, ‘Good job today, Rowan.’ With a little smile.”
“A little smile?”
“The kind that makes me question my morals.”
Ashe chuckled softly, easing back into her seat. “So... are you going to make a move?”
Rowan paused. “Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“Don’t rush my slow-burn romance,” Rowan shot back. “We can’t all be bold.”
“Mmhmm.”
A comfortable pause filled the line. Rowan was one of the few people who didn’t need to fill silences.
After a beat, Rowan asked, “How’s your pain?”
“About an eight-point-five. Flare’s pretty bad today.”
“Ugh. I wish I could teleport soup to you.”
“I’ll settle for you teleporting sleep.”
Rowan laughed quietly. “One day, when I’m rich from tech clients, I’ll invent it.”
Ashe smiled. The ache in her body was still present, but the heaviness in her chest eased.
“Ro?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for always checking in.”
“Always.”
The sentiment lingered, warm even through the Bluetooth speaker.
“Don’t think I forgot about your nonexistent love and sex life,” Rowan teased, their smirk practically audible. “So, when are you going to get your roster back? I know the semester just started, but damn, I’m bored for you.”
“Annnyway.” Ashe rolled her eyes, turning into her neighborhood. “Guess who I finally met today… Keon. The Anderson kids’ older brother.”
“Keon? Is he cute? What does he look like? Is he single?” Rowan fired off questions like a machine gun.
This was much needed after the kind of day Ashe had.
“Girl. He is fine as fuck. Dark skin, waves, nice teeth. But I’m just looking at the menu. I am not in the mood for another fuckboy, and I am so off relationships.”
“Nobody said anything about a relationship. You can get some dick and leave.”
“He’s a guardian of the kids I literally work with three days a week. And the kids come all six days. What do I look like messing up a good client/ center relationship?”
“Look at Miles’ biggest fan thinking about company politics while rooting for me to ask out my coworker.”
“We weren’t talking about you. Miles is feeling you. Keon is a sexy stranger whose siblings I happen to work with.”
They went back and forth, tossing playful jabs as Ashe pulled into her driveway.
Ashe said her goodbyes, promising Rowan they’d pick the conversation back up tomorrow.
She grabbed her bag and made her way inside, ready to end her night.
