Chapter 3
CHASE
Blackout curtains are going on the top of my shopping list. It’s not even six, and the sun is beaming through the window over the bed, directly into my eyes.
Curtains and an eye mask.
I groan and roll over, shoving my face into the pillow, even though there’s no chance I’m going to fall back to sleep.
Old me would’ve gotten up and started working.
I could have all my inbox cleaned out and have a jump on my day’s tasks before anyone else was even online.
Without a purpose, I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself.
There’s no TV in the little apartment. I have my laptop, but I forgot to ask Nix for the wi-fi password.
By the time I remembered, it was too late to text him.
Theoretically, there are plenty of books downstairs, but where would I even start?
The last time I read an actual book was in college.
And even then, I mostly skimmed the synopsis online rather than reading the whole thing.
I freeze as the mattress dips near my feet. “Um…hello?” I’m not sure what I expect to happen. The fact that there’s no response makes me feel a little bit better. Slowly, I lift my head up a little bit and peer down the duvet cover.
There, sitting at the foot of the bed licking its foot, is a massive black and white cat. It looks more like the kind of creature I’d find wandering through a forest than sitting in a sunbeam in my bedroom. “Um, excuse you.”
The creature pauses his cleansing ritual and glares at me. As though I’m the one in the wrong here.
If the cat lives here, that’s the kind of thing Nix really should have mentioned on the tour.
I grab my phone from the nightstand and open the text chain I have with him.
So far, there’s only the messages confirming my date and time of arrival.
I look back over the bits of information he sent me. No mention of a cat.
It seems the apartment is already occupied.
I add a picture of the cat to the text to make it clear what I’m referring to.
What now? I don’t expect him to respond for another hour or two.
I could stay here, with my new bedmate, or I could get up and go for a run.
It’s the only thing I have to do right now.
There are job applications waiting for me to fill out, but those will only take an hour or two. Plus, they require the internet.
Running it is. It takes me a few minutes to commit, but once I do, I’m on my feet and ready to get dressed and moving. Apparently, my new cat friend is less willing to greet the day. In fact, the traitor makes himself comfortable on my pillow, enjoying the warmth I left behind.
“Enjoy it while you can. When I get back, you’re being evicted.” Nix said that this place was mine, and I intend to enjoy my solitude. After nearly three months of living with my brother, I’m dying to have a little space to myself.
It takes a bit of effort, but I find a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt in one of the boxes. Sending these ahead was a stroke of genius on Russ’s part. Even I’m not low-maintenance enough to live out of the two suitcases the airline allows.
A few minutes later, I step outside and squint into the sun. It’s still a bit cool outside, the perfect temperature for an easy jog around the town. If this is the usual, it’s a huge benefit to living this far north. Back in North Carolina, it’s typically already hot as balls by this time.
Out front, I take a right in front of the store.
I have no idea where I’m going, but I figure I’ll take a different route every day this week until I figure out the best paths.
The town is small enough, I’m sure I’ll find my way around without too much trouble.
Should I have checked a map earlier and made a plan?
Perhaps, but this way is more fun. Besides, with nothing else to do, it’s not like there are consequences if I’m back a little bit later.
Well, other than the cat making himself even more comfortable.
Sleighbell Springs is exactly how I imagined. Full of Christmas spirit. In fucking June. Garlands, twinkly lights, and mistletoe are all fantastic—in December, where they belong. What’s the point if they’re up all year round? Then it’s not special.
Something tells me I’m going to need to work on my poker face. I can’t be making faces every time someone mentions something.
Well, there’s one more thing to add to my growing list of things to do while I’m here.
Find a job
Figure out where to live
Work on a poker face
It’s not particularly long or interesting, but it’ll do.
An hour later, I’m drenched in sweat, thirsty, and back in front of the bookstore.
It’s still a while before anyone in this sleepy town will be out on the streets.
Seven used to be when I arrived in the office, beating many of my coworkers, but solidly there after many others.
Now, it’s just early enough that I have no idea what to do with myself.
After a few minutes of stretching in the alley, I climb the stairs to the studio apartment.
The cool air hits my face, and I breathe a sigh of relief before chugging a glass of water.
As a stopover location, this isn’t so bad.
The Christmas theme isn’t my thing, but I can live with it.
Temporarily. The apartment is bland, but it’s mine for the time being. Well, except for the cat.
On my pillow.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and a message from Nix appears.
Nix Jansen
That’s Nick, he lives in the bookstore. He must have slipped up the stairs last night. You can shoo him out if he’s bothering you. Nick’s a big softie, though. You’ll like having him with you.
No. No, I will not. Cats are ridiculous. I’d love to have a dog. Preferably one big enough to go for runs with me. The dog could sleep on the bed. At the foot, of course.
“Okay, Nick. Time to go.” I hold the door to the staircase open while I stare straight into Nick’s eyes, waiting for him to move.
Nick blinks a few times before giving me a look of contempt and falling back to sleep.
“Nope, I live here. Not you.” I walk to the bed and give him a light shake. Nothing big, just enough to rouse him.
The cat huffs and curls into an impossibly tight ball.
“Fine, but only for this morning.”
NIX
These game nights fuel my soul. Seeing members of the community from all walks of life come together in my shop fills me with immense gratitude.
Sleighbell Springs has given me so much over the years, taking me in as one of their own when I was lost and grieving, that I want to give back as much as possible.
This is one of the small ways I’m able to do that, by being a safe space for people to gather with no expectations.
These nights also leave me exhausted. Unlike when the silent book club meets, the tabletop folks tend to be a bit rowdy.
They aren’t hurting anything, but they do make a lot of noise and leave the place looking a little worse for wear, which means a decent amount of cleanup before I can open tomorrow.
Tomorrow is not that far away. In the early days, I’d leave and deal with it in the morning.
Except the version of me who wakes up tomorrow morning won’t want to do this anymore than I do right now.
Worse, doing it in the morning means leaving my cozy bed and getting here early enough to do both the usual opening tasks plus this.
There’s nothing worse than being on my hands and knees under the table, ass sticking up in the air, when the first customer of the day walks in.
I take a few minutes to pick up the stray game pieces and cards littered around the tables. It looks like it was a rousing game. Not that I needed further proof of that than the whooping and hollering I heard toward the end of their two hours.
Based on what I’ve heard from my friend Kyler, who owns Yuletide Yarn, crafters are even worse. At least Ticket to Ride doesn’t include glitter. Accounting for each individual card is a pain, though. A few times, people have run off with one or two of them in their pockets.
“Need help?”
Great. Worse than a customer finding me in an awkward position is having Chase standing behind me while I’m hunched over, my arms loaded up with a variety of small things I’m trying to keep together.
“Don’t worry about it.” I’d rather stay up all night, cleaning this place, than ask for his help. After I showed him to his apartment, he basically disappeared. It’s not like I expected us to be best friends, but I thought I might get more than a few angry text messages.
“You’re sure? I don’t mind.”
“I got it.” I grab a stray chip from the floor and toss it toward the trash can. It lands a full foot away from the target.
What was I thinking? At no point in my life have I ever exhibited anything that could be considered athletic ability.
They actually asked my mom to take me out of soccer, complaining that all I did was stand around and kill the grass.
The worst part is that they weren’t wrong.
I hated being anywhere near the ball but loved using my cleats to clear patches of the field.
Looking back, I can’t believe they kept me as long as they did.
Thank God the library and I never had the same problem.
To my surprise, Chase leans down, picks up the chip, and places it in the trash. After my embarrassing attempt, I expected him to throw it to show me how easy it is.
“Hey, Nix?”
“Yeah?” I don’t mean to sound so exasperated. It’s late—at least by my standards—and it’s been a long day. I work hard not to let my frustrations shine through. It’s part of good customer service.
“Do you know where Nick is?”