7. Ever
Chapter 7
Ever
I t’s perfect.
You know, if I ignore the fact that it might be haunted.
“The den,” Ellis says with a flourish of his arm, and I nearly trip down the three steps into the recessed area in my excitement.
There aren’t any windows in here, shelving built into the longest wall. I’m already creating a mental shopping list, but I’m pretty sure I can transform the space into my dream gaming setup for less than a grand since I already have the computer and monitors. A new chair would be amazing, though. A glance up at the ceiling and I add a stepladder and polyfill to the list. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at one of those cloud ceilings with LED strips inside to give it that rolling electric storm look in fun colors. And now, there’s nothing stopping me. No landlord. No roommate. I can do whatever I want with my house.
Goosebumps appear across my skin as ghostly fingers caress my arm, and I head back to where Ellis is waiting with a shiver. “There are TV dinners in the freezer,” he continues as we reach the kitchen. “Nothing glamorous, but they’ll get you by for a week as you get your feet under you.”
Sleek stainless steel appliances, black and silver-flecked countertops, and hardwood floors have me swooning, but guilt is a close second. A kitchen this nice is completely wasted on me; I can’t cook for shit. But now I can burn things in style.
The rest of the place is equally as impressive. A stone fireplace in the living room, full bathroom next to a laundry room on the first floor so I won’t have to deal with hauling baskets up and down from the finished basement that I’m going to transform into a tech workshop. After all, I only have to finalize the controller for my game system before it’s out of my hands. Soon, I’m going to need a new project to distract me from my pathetic life.
“Bedrooms upstairs then?”
Ellis gives me a mischievous grin and gestures to the staircase. “Why don’t you take a look?”
“After you.” I’m not crazy about having him at my back, no matter how friendly and helpful he’s been.
Everything about this house is too good to be true, and it’s making me nervous. How can a place like this go for so cheap? Maybe someone was brutally murdered in their bed, and that’s why it feels like I’m being watched. All these little ghostly nudges are warnings to get the hell out of here before I get locked in a room with the rest of the realtor’s skeletons and starve to death.
Okay, that’s a stretch even for me. Sleep deprivation isn’t doing me any favors after the rollercoaster of stress.
“What do you think?” he asks, stepping aside after opening the only door at the top of the stairs.
Changed my mind, I don’t care if an entire family was butchered here. I need this house.
The entire second floor is one giant bedroom. Off to the side is a walk-in closet big enough for five people, and on the opposite wall is an attached bathroom straight out of my dreams. A bath the size of a hot tub is recessed into the floor like a pool, and the shower is big enough for company. Everything’s done in light shades of stone; greys, blues, and sandstone, giving it a clean, river rock feel. It’s all the best parts of outside without ever having to leave the house.
Another cool brush of invisible fingers caress my jaw that actually sets me at ease, things clicking into my brain in a way I can make my peace with. Everything about this place, this town, seems too good to be true. If the catch is I get to live in my dream house rent free for three months, but it’s haunted?
Seems like a fair trade.
Returning to the bedroom, I take in the absolutely ridiculously sized bed, already dreading changing the sheets. How the hell did they even get this monstrosity through the door?
At the end of the bed is a cardboard box I missed at first glance. “Do you know where the previous owner moved? I can ship whatever they left behind sometime this week.”
Ellis chuckles. “No, no, my dear, every house comes with a care package. Most people moving here are running away from their problems, so many show up with only the clothes on their back. It’s why you don’t start paying rent for a couple of months; to give you a chance to get your life in order. It’s not much, but a few items to help get you by.”
As he talks, he unloads the box, laying things out on the bed. A brand new mattress cover, toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, shampoo, etcetera. My stomach twists. Most of the foster homes I ended up in didn’t even try this hard.
“If you run out of food and still haven’t found a job, contact city hall and they’ll help you out. Probably will slot you into the first available position to get you by while you look for something better, but nobody here’s going to let you starve.” He pulls the curtain aside on one of the windows before breaking into a broad grin and waggling his eyebrows at me. “You won the neighbor lottery, too. Could show up on their doorstep with an empty plate every night, and I guaran-damn-tee they’d load it up for you without batting an eye.”
Do people really do shit like that? Just waltz over to their neighbors and expect handouts? How would you even start a conversation like that without coming across like an entitled asshole? “Oh, hey, I’m your new neighbor. Smells good, here’s an empty plate. Fill it up, will ya?”
I could never.
“Okay, where do I sign my soul away?”
Twenty minutes and a wicked hand cramp later, I hand him back his pen and the stack of papers. “Here, this has all the information you need.” He passes over a thick manilla envelope. “Where to pay utilities and the billing start dates, when trash pick up is, a town map, different resources, all that good stuff. My business card is in there in case you have any questions or problems as well.”
“Internet?”
“You’ll get something in the mail in the next few days with the new network name and password. At the latest, a week.”
I nod, but internally weep. A week without internet? I’m going to have to camp out at the library or the nearest coffee shop with free WIFI to get my fix.
Then again, I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with the onslaught of messages. I may have blocked Adam, but I’m not an idiot; he’s missing out on a massive payday by losing me as a client. I wouldn’t be surprised if he created new social media accounts to message me.
A few days off grid to settle in might not be a bad idea, actually.
Rising from the table, he shakes my hand and passes over the keys to my new life. “Welcome to Mercy Ridge, Ever. And good luck.”
With that ominous statement, he leaves, closing the front door behind him. The sound echoes around the empty space, cementing the fact I’m completely alone here. In a house bigger than I could have ever dreamed of, and it’s mine.
“I’m really doing this.” I clench my fist around the key ring, metal teeth digging into my palm, and as reality creeps in, I hold them a little tighter. I only have two keys to the house. If I lose this keychain, I’m fucked.
First thing’s first, I take one off the ring and add it to my normal set of keys. The other, I tuck into my wallet. No point making copies when I’m going to get the locks changed ASAP. Ellis seems nice, but I don’t really know him, and I'm sure he has a back-up set of keys for every house in town if he’s the only realtor. Until I can get the locks changed, I’ll be jumping at every little noise, wondering if he or someone that the previous owners gave a spare key to is creeping around.
A wave of exhaustion hits me hard, but I shove away from the kitchen counter with a groan before I can cave into the desire to pass out on top of it. Heading out to the car, I grab my backpack and triple check that everything valuable is covered in case anyone looks through the windows. I’m running on fumes and just don’t have it in me to unload everything tonight, but I can at least minimize the risk of getting my SUV broken into. Slinging my backpack on, I set the alarm, but I’m not overly worried. This neighborhood is way nicer than any I’ve lived in before, and if my next door neighbor is comfortable leaving the windows down on his truck without fear someone’s going to steal the radio out of it? I’m fairly confident I can safely procrastinate until tomorrow to unload my car.
Once inside, I go through my usual routine when in a new place. Ridiculous or not, some habits are hard to shake, and years of dealing with cruel foster siblings and creepy adults have given me enough reasons to trust my instincts. The main one? Better safe than sorry. I’d rather someone call me paranoid and crazy than wake up to someone trying to shave my head ever again.
Kids can be real assholes when they’re hiding under that ‘minor’ bullshit to get away with a slap on the wrist.
After all of the doors and window locks have been triple checked, I add a couple small traps. Nothing that will stop anyone, but for peace of mind. Tape strips on the windows, so even if someone snuck in and out, they wouldn’t be able to reset it as they left, and I’d know someone used it. Same with a pile of salt at the doors. Discreet enough that someone won’t notice it in the dark, but obvious if disturbed by the door swinging open. And again, they wouldn’t be able to reset it on their way out if they used a key to sneak into the house.
Satisfied it’s as safe as I can make it for tonight, I head upstairs, pushing one of the end tables in front of the bedroom door and balancing a bottle of shampoo precariously on the edge. It won’t stop someone from getting in, but it will wake me up from a dead sleep and give me a heads up that I'm about to get murdered.
Too exhausted to change into something more comfortable, I flop onto the bed fully dressed, my eyes falling shut before my head even hits the bare mattress.
I slept so long that grogginess weighs me down even after the most luxurious shower of my life. Only thing that would have made it better is a towel, but naturally, I didn’t think about that little problem until after I was soaking wet, stuck using my dirty clothes to dry off.
“Still worth it.”
Freshly dressed in jean shorts and black tank top, I tuck my damp clothes under my arm as I unbar the bedroom door, dropping them off in the washing machine on my way to the kitchen. I round the corner, and all traces of hunger and grogginess vanish in an instant, the sight of my computer and bags stacked in the middle of the empty living room rooting me to the spot. Icy dread spreads through my veins as I let fear take root for ten heart pounding seconds before I get my shit together and snap into motion. I’m desperately regretting giving Arson his knife back as I grab a screwdriver from my work bag. Better than nothing, but far from a good option.
I strain my hearing for any creaks, but it’s eerily quiet as I search the house room by room. Every one I clear that has no one inside gives me a mixture of relief, and ratchets up my anxiety another notch. By the time I’ve searched the entire house, I’m an adrenaline-riddled mess. Moving onto the traps next, I check each one carefully, my frown deepening as I find them all still in place. When I’ve finished my rounds, I do another, nothing making sense.
If someone broke in… why would they have unloaded my stuff instead of stealing it? How the fuck did they get in when every piece of tape on the windows in still in place and the piles of salt in front of the doors are undisturbed?
The feeling of being watched intensifies, and a cool chill stirs my hair like a breeze… despite all of the windows being firmly shut. “Holy fuck, this place really is haunted,” I whisper.
Another invisible caress trails down my arm before backing off. My legs threaten to give out on me as I slide down to the floor in the middle of the kitchen, putting my head between my knees until my breathing levels out.
Okay, don’t freak out. I knew there was something off about this house and bought it anyway. Hell, I practically thanked the ghost for letting me know the catch about this place up front yesterday, even if I wasn’t serious at the time. But it brought all my shit in from the car while I slept in; that’s pretty sweet. Already a more considerate roommate than Adam ever was. All things considered, this is kind of the best case scenario, actually.
Imaginary friends are way more convenient than real ones. And this one does free manual labor.
“Thank you,” I croak, clearing my throat when it cracks and infusing it with confidence I don’t really feel. I’m way out of my element here, but I already signed on the dotted line. I’m committed to putting down roots, and if those roots go six feet under, well, that just means the universe is making sure I keep the promise I made when I threw that dart. “You didn’t have to bring my stuff in, but I really appreciate it.”
The hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end as ghostly fingers tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, tracing the line of my jaw with a featherlight touch before disappearing again. I swallow hard, but force down my nerves. The fact of the matter is there are only three options here. Either there’s another way in and out of this house I don’t know about, I’m a very productive sleepwalker, or ghosts are real. Option one can’t be ruled out, but I’d be lying if I said a secret part of me wasn’t hoping for number three. I’ve lived my entire life immersing myself in magical worlds, more at home there than trudging through the monotony of adult life. Whether that’s video games or a book, I’ve always been desperate for something more.
If ghosts are real, magic might be too. And maybe if I’m nice enough to my new houseguest, he’ll whisk me away from the land of taxes and day jobs to tame a dragon or attempt to assassinate a broody fae prince with a ten inch dick that’ll fall helplessly in love with me. I could get behind that.
“So, we should probably lay down some ground rules.” Plucking a meal at random from the freezer, I pop it in the microwave. “No spying on me in the bathroom. I don’t care how helpful you are, that’s just creepy, so keep it in your ghost pants.”
I swear I hear a snort, but it’s so faint, it could have been my imagination filling in his part of the conversation so I feel less ridiculous. The microwave beeps, and I peel off the plastic, moving on to scavenge through the drawers and crossing my fingers the previous owners left some more presents behind besides the box upstairs.
A soft whoosh has me spinning around to see a drawer rolling open, full of miscellaneous junk, but there’s a pair of cheap chopsticks from some to-go place I happily pull out of the paper sleeve. Better than eating mashed potatoes with my fingers.
“At this rate, I’m going to have to avenge your death to repay you for all your help. Thanks, Casper.”
I ramble on about nonsense for one-sided conversation as I finish my depressing lunch before I can’t put it off anymore. “Wish me luck job hunting. I'll see if I can pick up a Ouija board while I'm in town or something so we can talk, okay?”
Naturally, I don’t get a response as I finish lacing up my shoes and sling my purse over my shoulder, triple checking that I have my keys before setting the door to lock behind me. “See you tonight, don’t burn the house down.” The sensation of my hand being squeezed is brief before the feeling of being watched completely disappears.
Memories of Arson’s indignant face when I let go of his hand during our hospital escape flicker to the forefront of my mind, and I can’t help but smile. I shake my head to clear it, annoyed at myself. I just got out of a relationship, even if my heart hadn’t been in it for months. And I’m determined to make this place my home. If I have another bad break up, I’ll be forced to bump into him around town or deal with him showing up at my house. The police around here clearly don’t take their jobs seriously, so I can’t count on them if shit hits the fan.
I pause as my SUV comes into sight. “Oh come on. ” I glance back towards the house. “Any chance you know how to change a tire, Casper?”
Crickets. Ditched by a dead guy. That’s a new low even for me.
Sighing, I bring up a how-to video on my phone, but thanks to the spotty service, it won’t load. Tossing my purse on my seat, I pull out the spare and jack, grateful for the clear trunk now more than ever. “I’ll just have to figure it out. How hard can it really be?”
Impossible apparently, because I swear, these rusted old lug nuts are super glued in place. With a frustrated huff of defeat, I toss the tire iron on the ground and resign myself to walking aimlessly around town until I stumble across someone that’ll take pity on me and point me in the direction of a tire place I can beg for help.
A faint clatter pulls my attention next door, and I glance down the small hill to the massive truck parked in my neighbor’s driveway. Hiking boots poke out from beneath the front, and I take it as a sign the old man from the gas station was right. Sometimes the universe isn’t a total dick and puts help within our reach, if only we’re brave enough to take the leap.
“Come on, Ev,” I mumble, psyching myself up. “Part of putting down roots means making nice with the neighbors. If he’s a jerk, you can just walk away and avoid him the rest of your life. Piece of cake.”
Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I cut through the grass instead of taking the long way around. Rock music pounds louder the closer I get, and after three failed attempts to get the man’s attention, I grab the bluetooth speaker off the ground and hit pause.
“Sorry to bother you.”
A clang is followed by a sharp curse as he smacks his head, rolling out from beneath the car with a fierce scowl. “What the hell-” his eyes widen as he spots me, nostrils flaring, “-lo there.”
Ellis was right; I won the neighbor lottery. The man is a powerhouse of muscle, his shirt holding on for dear life. Wild dark brown hair is tied back with several strands escaping, nearly brushing his shoulders. I’ve never been crazy about facial hair before now, but I’d buy this man a thank you card for the beard burn. A shade darker than his hair, it’s neatly trimmed, closer to five-o-clock shadow than a full on beard. He grabs a rag to wipe off his hands as he gets to his feet, towering over me. Slowly craning my neck up, I meet hazel eyes staring back at me with equal intensity and swallow.
The guy’s built like a viking. If he does his yard work shirtless, my realtor is getting one hell of a gift basket.
Painfully aware of how long I’ve been staring, I hitch my thumb over my shoulder. “Any chance you could show me how to change a tire? I just moved in next door and tried to find a tutorial online, but there’s no service up here, and the lug nuts are stuck. I’ve got,” swiftly rifling through my wallet, I cringe, “ten bucks, but if you’re cool with an I.O.U, I’ll hit up an ATM when I’m in town.”
He scowls. “I’m not taking your money, I’d be honored to help.”
Honored? Seriously? Laying it on a little thick there, dude.
“Never met someone that excited about free manual labor, but to each their own, I guess.”
A slow smirk curves his lips. “What can I say, I enjoy getting my hands dirty.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Does that line ever work for you?”
“That depends. Is it?”
“Swing and a miss, I’m afraid.”
“Good, that was terrible, even for me. Keep up those high standards, you’ll devastate half the idiots in town in no time.” He offers his hand to shake with a genuine smile. “Ledger.”
“Ever.”
As soon as my palm slides against his, his arm jolts like I shocked him. Apology on the tip of my tongue, I attempt to wrench my hand back, but he holds firm, staring at me with enough intensity that I squirm self-consciously.
“Ever,” he repeats numbly, nostrils flaring as he catches his breath, pulse fluttering wildly in his neck. “I can’t believe you’re really here.”
Weird response, but okay.
“Um, me either? Never saw myself as a mountain kind of girl, but as long as Oscar wasn’t lying and the internet here is solid, I suppose it doesn’t really matter where I settle down.”
That scowl is back in full force. “He left you stranded to search for help on foot alone ? What a pathetic excuse of a man. Why don’t you wait inside while I deal with him, then I’ll help you burn his shit in the backyard.”
I snort. “While I appreciate you being ready to throw down over my honor, Oscar’s not my boyfriend. He’s a nice old man that I met at a gas station in the middle of nowhere that pointed me in this direction.” It hits me then, and I blurt, “Wait, are you that Ledger?! Do you know who I’m talking about?”
Ledger’s lips part in surprise. “ That Oscar? I worked in his shop long enough to save up for a bus ticket out of that hellhole.” Furrowing his brow, he adds, “Why do you ask?”
“I was passing through and did the dart thing. Once he saw I was coming here, he asked if I ran into you to pass along that he’d love to hear how you’re doing. Didn’t think it’d be so easy to find you though. What are the odds, right?”
A pensive look covers his face I can’t quite interpret before he slowly nods, studying me closer. “Fate works in mysterious ways.”
A breeze blows the hair out of my face and he stills, a low growl rising in his chest as he gently grips my chin, tilting my face for a closer look. “Is this why you moved here?” A thunderous expression takes over his face. “Tell me you only got gas and didn’t step foot in that godsforsaken town.”
I freeze, surprised at his sudden intensity. “No, nothing like that. I walked into a doorway.”
He narrows his eyes, not buying it, and to be fair, I can’t really blame him. It sounds like the oldest, weakest excuse in the book next to falling down the stairs. “No, seriously. I was reading on my phone and distracted. Trust me, if anyone punched me in the face, I’d hit em back. This was just me being careless, I promise.”
His thumb gently traces the perfect dark line in the center of the bruise, and I can tell the moment he accepts I’m telling him the truth. I’m just not sure why he cares one way or another.
Still frowning, he gestures toward my driveway. “Let’s take care of this tire so you don’t run into anything else, then.”
Funny story about that…
He falls into step beside me, putting himself on the side of the sidewalk by the street. “Well, aren't you a gentleman?”
“Hardly, but I have my moments,” he replies with a wink.
When a car drives past, his palm comes up to hover over my lower back, almost as if he’s prepared to shove me out of the way, and drops as soon as the threat’s passed. Yet, he manages it all with a relaxed air, as if his instincts are constantly assessing potential dangers, but he isn’t the least bit concerned about them. I don’t know why I’m surprised. If I was built like a warrior god, I’d be drowning in confidence, too.
Muggers probably take one look at Ledger and give him their wallets. And a blow job for wasting his time.
Once we’re safely in my driveway, Ledger steps away from my side to inspect my tire. Unfortunately, he’s far too observant and pauses, rounding the car to look at the front, jaw clenching. “Ever?”
An embarrassed blush creeps up my cheeks. “Yes?”
“Why’s there a giant dent in your bumper?”
Great, he’s going to think I run into everything, now. Doors. People. Way to make a good first impression.
“I… maaaaaaay have bumped into someone on my way into town. But in my defense, if you’re going to wear all black walking onto a mountain road at night, you should really look both ways.”
“Are you alright?”
Confusion tempers my embarrassment. “Definitely better than the other guy. Pretty sure I’m never getting all the bloodstains out of my backseat.”
I realize I should’ve kept that tidbit to myself about the same time as Ledger’s eye twitches. “Let me get this straight. You picked up a complete stranger off the side of the road and drove him here?” At my wary nod, he growls, “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”
“He came out of the woods looking like he got into a fight with a blender and lost; I couldn’t exactly leave him there to finish getting murdered! There wasn’t any cell service, and I’m not built for prison.” I shrug, hands up in helpless surrender. “Kidnapping him was the only reasonable option left.”
Eyes closed, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a few deep breaths. “Let me see your phone.” He holds out his free hand.
Hesitantly, I unlock it and set it in his waiting palm.
“As soon as you turn off the location services, it’ll work like normal again. It’s a safety precaution the town takes to keep this place quiet.”
That’s… suspicious. But if what the realtor was saying was true and they get a lot of people running away from shitty situations, I suppose it makes sense.
He passes it back. “I put my number in there; use it.” As I try to take my phone back, he holds tight until I meet his stern gaze. “I mean it, Ever. You have a problem, you call me. I’ll take care of it.”
My stomach flips. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet,” he concedes. “But I will.” Breaking our stare down, he picks up the tire iron and gets to work.
Who the hell does that? Decides they’d drop anything to help someone they just met? I don’t even think it’s simply because he’s trying to get into my pants; he looks dead serious.
“Why call you and not the police?”
“I can get there faster.” He grunts as he loosens a lug nut, making me feel a bit better about my failure. “And some problems are better handled… without the red tape.”
Can’t fuck my new neighbor, can’t fuck my new neighbor. That has disaster written all over it. But my inner mantra is sounding dangerously weak even to my ears.
My phone starts buzzing up a storm, flooding with voicemails and text messages now that I have service again. When it finally calms down, the preview for the last incoming text stays on my lockscreen for more than a blink, this one from a number not saved in my contacts.
Unknown:
Don’t do this to me, Everest. I worked too hard to secure this deal for us, don’t blow it just to punish me for making one mistake.
And there it is. Leave it to a cheater to play the victim until the bitter end. There’s no point talking to someone that doesn’t understand the concept of ‘fuck around and find out.’ But in Adam’s little world, even the consequences of his own actions are someone else’s fault.
Nope, I don’t have the mental spoons to deal with him right now.
Abandoning my phone in my purse for Future Ever to deal with, I shift the conversation into safer territory, searching Ledger’s face for any hint of a lie. “Speaking of, I have to ask. This town definitely does things differently. Which is amazing, don’t get me wrong, but why didn’t the hospital call the cops? Everybody’s acting like it’s no big deal I showed up to town with a bloody stranger I ran over. And it’s making me a little paranoid waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Ledger finishes swapping out the tire in no time, already tightening the new lugnuts into place and packing up the tools to take to the trunk. “Most of the residents are a mess when they first arrive, because people come here to escape shitty situations. You can’t get in if you intend to hurt someone here, but once you’re a resident or visiting one, all bets are off. That’s why we look out for each other so fiercely. So even if you did run the guy over, we know it was genuinely an accident.” Closing the hatch, he offers a casual shrug, like he isn’t speaking nonsense. “Why would we punish someone that tried to help a complete stranger?”
“Can’t get in? What do you mean? How on earth could they possibly screen for that?”
“Same way that your phone didn’t work. The technology goes way above my head, but my roommate designed it. He’d be more than happy to geek out about it if you’re interested, but make sure to ask for the abridged version, or you’ll be there for hours .” Despite his teasing words, there’s a fond smile on his face.
I make a mental note to stay put for an entire afternoon if that’s what it takes, because I know firsthand how shitty it feels when you’re excited about something and want to share it with someone, only to be shot down or them to walk away in the middle of the conversation. Been there, done that, fucking hated it. It’s a huge blow to your self-esteem and ruins some of the joy you used to feel in your passion project. And if his roommate is talented enough to create tech that keeps this city off grid while still having access to phones and internet, as well as whatever barrier Ledger is talking about, I could happily spend an afternoon talking shop with the guy.
“Sounds good, let me know when he’s available.”
Ledger’s chest shakes with silent laughter. “Trust me, Ever. He’d happily drop whatever he was doing to talk to you, especially about technology. Just come over next time you’re free. Or, you have my number.” He winks. “Use it.”
Blushing, I nod. “Thanks again for your help. Seriously, you’re a lifesaver.” Opening my door, I toss my purse on the passenger seat and climb in. “Know anywhere that’s hiring before I drive aimlessly around town looking for Help Wanted signs?”
“Consider yourself hired.”
I twist in my seat to give him my full attention. “For… what?”
Ledger sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, a hint of pink staining his cheeks. “I own the bookstore.”
Motherfucker. Hot as hell, considerate, and he owns a bookstore?
Just take my panties already, why don’t you?
“Don't you want to know if I'm qualified first?”
Resting his arm on the roof of my car, he cages me in. “I'm not worried. Even if you struggled at first, I’d be right there to coach you through it.”
I bite my lip, stuffing my dirty thoughts into the deep recesses of my mind to enjoy when I’m alone. “How much does it pay?”
“How much do you need?”
“This is the weirdest job interview I’ve ever had,” I point out, and he grins unabashedly, showing off a dimple. A dimple. I’m so screwed. “Fifteen an hour? Health insurance would be badass, but I know it’s unlikely for this kind of position.”
“Done.” He taps the top of my SUV, backing away with a smug smile. “And we don't need health insurance here. Every resident contributes a thousand bucks at some point in their first year that the town leaders invest in stock. It covers everything taxes normally would, including health care at Mercy Med, and if there's any big project or problem, they hold a town meeting to ask for donations. But nobody is obligated.”
Shock renders me completely speechless.
I don't care if this city is a giant cult. If it means I pay a one-and-done on taxes, have affordable housing, and a community that actually cares about the people that live here? Consider me officially a convert. As long as the internet doesn’t lag, I'll pray to whatever deities they want.