Chapter 8
Josephine
I roll over in bed, pulling the quilt tighter around me and reveling in the sense of calm. My room is mostly dark thanks to the blackout curtains. Dark and deliciously chilly. The window A/C unit hums constantly. Even though it’s September, North Carolina humidity is no joke.
Cozy. Rested. Safe.
A drawn-out, lazy yawn escapes as I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. I haven’t felt this good in a really, really long time.
I should spend some time reading for class today, but the idea of a lazy Sunday is tempting. Or maybe I’ll use the fancy gym on campus. But not until I appease my rumbling stomach.
The kitchen is stocked with a carton of eggs and a fresh loaf of bread, if I’m not mistaken. So first things first—if Sam’s up, I’ll make breakfast for the both of us.
I roll out of bed and throw on a crewneck over my tank top, then twist my hair into a messy bun. Snagging my phone from the charger, I hastily make my bed and creep into the hallway.
My uncle’s voice carries down the hall from the front office, confirming he’s awake and already at work.
Until I moved in, I had no idea how much goes into running a salvage yard.
The man works from morning ’til night when he’s in town.
Then there are the overnights and multi-day trips.
I don’t think he has any hobbies; he simply doesn’t have the time.
Pulling the eggs and milk from the fridge, I set to work on breakfast.
As the frying pan heats, I pull my phone from my back pocket and check my messages. There are several from Hunter—a mix of memes and pictures from last night, along with a text from an hour ago.
Hunter: Girl. Last night was so fucking fun! And you hooked up with Locke! Gah! Let’s do lunch tomorrow after class. Love you.
Butter sizzles and pops in the pan as I type out my response.
The next text has me grinning just as wide. The time stamp shows it came through in the middle of the night—a few hours after Hunter and I left the party.
Emo Boy: My cock’s been rock-hard just from the memory of you on your knees. I need to see you again ASAP.
He can name the time and place, and I’ll be there. I intend to take full advantage of our mutual attraction. Like he said to me last night: I’m nowhere near done with him, either.
I add the eggs to the pan and start scrambling, then shoot off more texts to both Hunter and Locke.
“Someone’s in a good mood this morning,” my uncle quips as he plops down onto the couch across the room.
“Are you hungry?” I ask over my shoulder. “I’m making eggs.”
He holds my gaze and regards me for a moment before nodding. “Sure. I won’t ever turn down a homecooked meal.” He smiles wider. “Did you have fun last night?”
Sam made it clear when I moved in that he had no intention of keeping tabs on me or playing the role of overly concerned guardian.
I even have my own entrance in the back, so I can come and go as I please.
But I’m still not used to the care he shows or the interest he has in my life and happiness.
It’s kind of… nice… to not feel so alone or invisible.
“I did,” I confirm. “I hung out with my friend Hunter all day, then we went to a party.”
“Crusade’s?”
I still at the reminder—fucking Decker Crusade.
“Mm-hmm,” I confirm as casually as possible as I plate the food. “You know him?”
Sam chuckles quietly and rises to his feet to meet me at the two-person table.
“Do I know him? No.” He snags the pepper shaker and aggressively coats his eggs. “But Decker Crusade is a local celebrity. Soon to be national celebrity, if the rumors are true.”
“Rumors?” I ask a little too quickly. I stuff a huge bite of food in my mouth to mask my eagerness.
A smirk plays at Sam’s mouth. “Supposedly, Decker Crusade is going to follow in the footsteps of his father. Word is the South Carolina Cougars plan to snag him as their first pick in next year’s draft.”
I can barely contain my eyeroll. “His dad plays football, too?”
Sam gawks at my apparent lack of sports knowledge. “Thomas Crusade is a sixteen-time Pro Bowler with seven rings. He’s the crown jewel of Lake Chapel.”
None of that holds meaning to me. But now I have a better understanding of how Decker Crusade can afford a lakeside mansion on a private isle.
His holier-than-thou asshole vibe makes more sense now, too.
“Thomas has got one, maybe two years left in him, tops. People reckon he’s just waiting for Decker to be drafted before he passes the torch and retires.”
I nod and chew, mulling over the interactions I’ve had with Crusade up to this point. I had no idea he was such a big deal. Maybe that’s why he comes across so prickly and rude? If he’s used to women fawning all over him, then our encounter likely came as quite the surprise.
I don’t think I’ve ever even watched an entire football game. So if he expects me to be impressed with his mere existence, he’ll be sorely disappointed.
My phone vibrates on the table, inspiring an instant smile as I eagerly reach for it to see whether Hunter or Locke replied.
Rather than one quick vibration signaling a text message, though, the device continues vibrating, and the screen is alight with an unfamiliar phone number.
“Hmm, eight-two-eight is from around here, right?” I ask as I stare at the digits.
“Yep. That’s a local area code,” Sam confirms.
I rise to my feet as I answer.
“Hello?”
“Is this Josephine Meyer?” The female voice on the other end of the line is curt.
“It is.” I shift from hip to hip, fidgeting in confusion.
“This is Marilee from Lake Chapel Radiance. I received your application for the assistant position. Can you come in for a working interview tomorrow?”
Excitement washes through me as the pieces fall into place. Hell yes. But I swallow and school my giddiness to keep from sounding overly enthusiastic.
“I’m interested in the position, but I have class in the morning. Could I come by in the afternoon?”
Thankfully, the change of plan isn’t an issue, and Marilee, my potential new boss, confirms the time and the dress code before we end the call.
Grinning, I drop back into my seat and meet my uncle’s questioning stare.
“I applied for a job at a spa near campus. They called to set up an interview. I’ll still clean and help around the shop,” I rush to add. That was part of our agreement—I would help out around here in exchange for room and board. “But earning some extra money would be nice.”
“Jojo,” he admonishes, his expression softening.
Emotion prickles behind my eyes at the nickname. No one has called me Jojo for years.
“You came here for a fresh start. Whatever you want that to be, whatever that looks like, I’ll support you. Just make sure it doesn’t interfere with school. Don’t take on more than you can handle,” he cautions.
I turn my head to hide the tears welling in my eyes.
A fresh start. A second chance. I wouldn’t be here without him. I’m endlessly grateful for this new beginning, and I intend to make the most of every opportunity.