Chapter 3
Josephine
Slowing to a glacial pace, I ease my car over the uneven curb of Sam’s Salvage and Parts—my new home.
I learned to take it easy the day after I arrived, when I almost hit Scout, the junkyard’s armadillo in residence. Sam warned me to stay out of her way, because not only is she territorial, but armadillos can spread leprosy.
I came to North Carolina for a fresh start, not to contract a bacterial disease.
Slipping through the back entrance of the shop, I ease the screen door closed behind me. I’m barely two steps into the building when my uncle calls out from the reception area.
“Hey, Jo. Welcome home! Come on up here once you’re settled.”
My natural response is to grit my teeth at the invitation, but I force my jaw to relax and let out a breath instead.
He means no harm. If anything, he’s going above and beyond to be supportive.
I’m just not used to having anyone care about me, let alone someone who’s aware of my comings and goings.
This move is a big change for both of us.
With a sigh, I dump my backpack on the floor by my bed and turn to the set of plastic storage drawers beside it.
Sam picked them up in preparation of my arrival. They’re all pink. Just like the duvet on the twin-size bed and the new fluffy towels stored under the bathroom sink. Pink used to be my favorite color—when I was nine. But I love that he tried.
Before I head out to greet him, I change out of my jeans and pull on a pair of leggings, then spin my hair into a messy bun. I plug my MacBook in to charge—one of the purchases I made with the money Alice left me—and feel a surge of satisfaction when the little chime indicates it’s connected.
My room is tiny. If I stand in the middle and stretch my arms out, my fingertips graze the walls. But Sam rearranged the entire shop, his entire life, really, to give me a place to stay. To give me a second chance. It’s not much to look at, but it’s everything to me.
“Jo?” Sam hollers from the front office.
“Coming!” I call back, making my way past the living room/kitchen combo that’s recently become Sam’s room, too. He insisted I take the only private space when I moved in, opting to sleep on the couch.
He’s out of town four or five nights a week anyway, acquiring storage units and scouring estate sales all over the eastern side of the country.
He’s so good to me—too good, almost, in a way that makes me feel unworthy. But as he’s reminded me time and time again, we’re family.
Family.
The idea never meant much before. A half sister twelve years older than me and a mother who rarely mustered up enough disdain to remember she had a kid to take care of were the only family I had for a long time. It’ll take time for me to trust that this thing with Sam isn’t too good to be true.
“There she is,” he drawls when I enter the front office. “There’s someone I want you to meet. Jo, this is Jeannie. She’s been my right-hand gal for almost twenty years.”
I turn to the desk, where a middle-aged woman with tightly curled, bleach-blond hair is stationed.
“Hey, sugar. Good to meet you.” She rises out of her seat and shuffles toward me.
My body tenses without my permission as she moves into my personal space.
“Welcome to Lake Chapel,” she adds as she wraps her arms around me and pulls me into a suffocatingly tight hug.
I stiffen further on contact, which only seems to inspire her to squeeze tighter.
“I’m a hugger,” she laughs, then finally releases me. The smell of cheap hairspray and stale cigarette smoke lingers in the space between us as she takes a step back but keeps her hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length.
“You’re gorgeous.” She turns to Sam. “She’s gorgeous!”
Sam shakes his head, then runs his hand over his stubbled face. “Give the girl some space, Jeannie. Jesus.”
“I’m just so happy she’s here.” She squeezes my shoulders once more, her affection coming on a little too strong. What the hell has Sam told her?
Shaking my head, I force the paranoia that goes hand-in-hand with my anxiety back to the recesses of my mind.
Jeannie plops into her desk chair again and spins to face me. “Sam says you’re going to help with the cleaning? And the filing?”
I nod. That was our agreement. Sam’s gone above and beyond to make all this happen for me, so before I arrived, I insisted that I help around the shop. And that was before he gifted Honey to me.
“I’ll show you the ropes over the next few weeks. How to file invoices, where we keep the cleaning supplies. I’m here on Mondays and Wednesdays, but we’ll let you get the hang of your classes before we set up any kind of schedule. Okay, sugar?”
I nod again.
“She’s quiet, isn’t she?” Jeannie asks Sam.
My cheeks flame in response. I know my reservedness can come off as rude or even bitchy, so I pull in a deep breath, searching for the right words so I can offer some sort of explanation.
“It’s been a big day,” I admit. Driving to campus. Finding my classes. Not to mention the run-in with Crusade and his boys.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I’m itching to reach for it, but that will only make me look ruder.
Turning to my uncle, I press my lips together, weighing my options. I’m not used to having anyone to answer to, and we’re still trying to figure out our dynamic.
“Um, I thought maybe I’d get started on my reading for class. Then I could make dinner?”
His answering chuckle eases my discomfort immediately. Maybe we’re more alike than we first realized. He has no idea how any of this is supposed to work, either. But we’re trying.
“That sounds great, Jojo. I’ll have Jeannie make a list of which days I’ll be out of town this month for you. Eat around six?”
I nod, then turn to Jeannie. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too, sugar! You just let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll leave my number here on the desk. You can call me anytime. Or text me if that’s easier. I’m not so good with the texts, but I can try.”
“Let the girl study, Jeannie,” Sam scolds mildly. “See you in a bit,” he adds with a knowing look in my direction, followed by a chin tip toward the back of the shop.
That alone gives me the distinct impression that Jeannie can talk a person’s ear off for an hour when all they expected was a two-minute conversation.
Grateful for the reprieve, I head back down the narrow hall, finally fishing out my phone. I grin when the screen lights up.
Emo Boy: I’ll see you Wednesday in class, right?
I smirk. And here I was assuming he’d act too cool or play hard to get.
Hot Girl: Maybe?
Three little dots appear instantly.
Emo Boy: Say yes. Give me something to live for, Hot Girl.
I snort. I love that he has no chill.
Hot Girl: Yes. I’ll see you then.
Emo Boy: I want to see you Friday, too.
Biting back a smile, I make my way into my room and perch on the edge of my bed.
Hot Girl: Sorry. I don’t have any classes on Friday.
Emo Boy: Sorry? Why are you sorry? That means you’re wide open and can come to the party at my place.
I scoff. I walked right into that one. We’re well beyond the point of inevitable. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t want to play the game.
Hot Girl: Send me the details. I’ll consider it.
With that, I stash my phone under my pillow, still grinning. I really do need to get started on my reading. Especially now that I’ve got plans this weekend.