Chapter 3
Chapter Three
JAKE
“Why don’t you come live with me, sweetheart?” The words were compassionate, but there was an underlying edge to her question, as if his grandmother dreaded the response might be “yes.”
Jake rolled his eyes at his grandmother’s reluctant offer. She would do anything for him, he knew that, but she also didn’t want him around to cockblock her.
God, just thinking about that made him shudder.
“You don’t want me there, Gram.”
“Jakey—”
“It’s okay.” Jake reached out to pet Miranda Priestly, who had jumped up on the kitchen counter to hunker down in a sunny spot. The kitty had a sixth sense for when Jake was struggling and always seemed to show up when he needed support. “You’re allergic to cats, and I have nowhere to leave MP.”
“Oh, bring her here. I’ll be fine.” She might be utterly unperturbed by the idea, but Jake knew better.
“You have asthma; I’m not invading your house with an allergen.”
At his words, Miranda Priestly let out a mighty meow, and gave Jake an almost indignant look.
“Don’t be ridiculous—”
“Absolutely not. The last time you had an asthma attack, you ended up in the ER.” As he spoke, Jake surveyed the empty containers of top ramen and cheap Thai food littering the countertop.
“I can find somewhere to go. I have a few days before the subletter moves in. There’s got to be a friend who has a couch I can crash on until I figure things out. ”
Or he could always sleep in his car. He just didn’t want to do that to Miranda Priestly. She deserved better than being stuffed into his old junker for however many nights.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. That Phil was a real fuckin’ douchebag.”
“Gram!” His grandmother had always had a mouth like a truck driver. He found it pretty adorable, especially when she wielded it against his dickhead ex, but he kept up the facade of being scandalized.
“Just callin’ like I see ‘em, Jakey.” The clicking of an ice cube against a glass tumbler came through the receiver loud and clear. She must be finishing off her nightly bourbon. “You don’t want to come all the way to Massachusetts, anyway. Your life is in New York.”
“It is.”
Jake stopped and considered that fact. Was his life in New York City? He didn’t have a boyfriend or a job. He had a few friends, but many of them had faded away in the few days since Phil left.
“I don’t know,” he continued. “I don’t hate the idea of getting out of the city. New England doesn’t seem so bad. Honestly, disappearing into the backwoods of Vermont or something sounds amazing.”
“Wait.” His grandmother let out a few rough coughs. “Sorry, whiskey went down the wrong pipe. Why don’t you go up to your great-uncle’s beach house?”
“I thought you’d sold it. For your retirement fund.
” Jake didn’t know anything about the house beyond the fact that it was up in Maine.
A little town called Linwood Falls. He’d never been, and he was a little resentful about it.
His great-uncle Charlie wasn’t rich, but he was much better off than Jake and his grandmother, especially back when Jake was a kid.
Charlie hadn’t been willing to help the two of them at all after Jake’s mother died. He’d only met the man a handful of times. But when Charlie died last year, he’d left his beach house to Gram.
“The lawyer convinced me to rent it out. Said that it’s worth more that way. But it’ll be December in a couple of days. No one’s renting it now.”
Jake's eyebrows furrowed at the thought. He’d been kidding before when he said he wanted to disappear into the backwoods. Mostly kidding. Wouldn’t it be admitting failure, running all the way to Maine?
Then again, by any reasonable metric, he was a failure. If this were a lifeline, he should take it. He’d asked Santa for a place to live, and here one was, at least until the tourist season started again in…what? May?
Miranda Priestly licked a stripe up the back of his hand and meowed, begging for more pets. Jake happily obliged. She’d always annoyed Phil with her neediness and bossiness, but Jake found her comforting. At least he could provide this one thing.
“Are you sure?” Jake asked.
“Of course, sweetie,” she answered. “It shouldn’t be in bad shape.
One lady in town cleans it every couple of weeks.
I called her to tell her she could stop, that I wouldn’t have money to hire her until I rented it out again, but she insisted Charlie had paid her for the next three years. Which is fucking crazy.”
It was crazy. Who could afford to pay for house cleaning three years in advance? Then again, it emphasized again what a dick move it had been for Charlie not to help him and his grandmother when they were struggling.
Well, the man was dead, so that was that.
“Okay. I’ll go. I have to figure out how to afford gas, but one of my friends might—”
“I can send you cash, Jakey.”
“I don’t need your money, Gram.” That was the last thing Jake wanted—for his grandmother to be impacted by his failures.
She was in her sixties, and she deserved every cent she’d saved over the years.
Her life had been hard for a long time, and he never wanted to cause her problems, especially now that she was living more comfortably.
“Don’t be an idiot. I’m doing just fine. I can send you a couple hundred for food and gas.” Gram’s voice had taken on a strict timbre. When she made up her mind, it was useless arguing. She was a stubborn pain in the ass, and Jake adored her.
“Thanks, Gram. I love you.”
Miranda Priestly meowed and head-butted his hand before rubbing against him. Did she think he was talking to her?
“Love you too, sweetie. Happy Thanksgiving. Have some turkey if you can.”
With a click, she was gone, and Jake was alone. He wouldn’t be having any turkey. He couldn’t afford turkey. Half an order of leftover pad thai would be his Thanksgiving dinner.
He should clean up the mess all around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It would only take a few minutes to grab a trash bag and toss out all the containers, but…he just couldn’t. He was so tired.
Jake had to face facts. His depression had been getting worse for the last few days. It wasn’t unexpected. Yes, it was a medical condition, but it was a condition that could be triggered by life events. And he’d just had a big, sucky life event.
Phil leaving had kicked Jake’s mental illness into high gear. His sleep schedule was royally screwed. What few belongings he had left were strewn about the floor. He’d spent the last forty-eight hours holed up in their old apartment watching videos on his phone.
Which didn’t sound so bad right now. Trying to put the mess in the kitchen out of his mind, Jake headed to the bedroom, where another shameful situation confronted him. With nowhere to sleep, he’d piled up a mound of his clothes for a makeshift bed.
What choice did he have? As he sank down into his homemade nest and pulled out his phone to search for more cute cat videos, MP crawled in next to Jake, snuggling into his side. Watching cat videos with his cat was one of the few things keeping him sane.
He’d have to clean this all up in the next two days to get ready for the subletter, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jake was so tired. He should text his therapist, but it was Thanksgiving. The guy was with his family.
So, cat videos it was. Jake knew himself. He’d scramble and pack everything up in the middle of the night right before the new tenants arrived. Until then, this was fine. And then…
Was he really moving to a beach house in Maine in the middle of winter?
Technically, it wasn’t winter yet, but it would be soon enough. He’d be stuck there during the worst part of the year, far from friends and family.
On the other hand, it’s not like he had any friends here now. It was better for him to be alone. Might as well be alone somewhere he didn’t have to pay rent.
The drive up to Maine was beautiful. Well, not the part from New York to Massachusetts.
That was just empty highway. Leaving at four in the morning meant the few vehicles he saw were semis, their trailers dwarfing his tiny 2007 Miata as he passed them.
They were lonely giants, barely reacting as he darted in between them.
He was invisible. It wasn’t a new feeling.
When Jake hit Route 1, though, the landscape changed.
He started catching glimpses of the ocean, the rising sun littering the surface of the water with yellow sparks.
He made his way through Kittery, not bothering to stop at the outlets there, then passed through several adorable tourist towns—Ogunquit, Wells, Kennebunkport—before arriving at Linwood Falls.
The village was quiet. Jake had known it would be, considering the time of year, but it hadn’t struck him just how abandoned it would feel. Other than a market and a coffee shop, most of the stores were dark. Closed for the season.
He was soothed, however, by the wreaths hanging from the lampposts and the blood-red bursts of poinsettias in the shop windows. Christmas was his favorite, and he appreciated the commitment.
As he drove down Main Street, one white-haired old woman hobbled down the sidewalk to his right at a good clip. She was on a mission, a telescope tucked under her arm and a determined expression on her face. Other than that, he didn’t see another living soul.
At the prompting from his phone’s GPS, he veered right down a long road.
Crossing several bridges over a series of tidal pools, nearly empty at low tide with the brown dirt of their banks showing, he turned again to travel alongside a line of houses nestled right up to the beach.
All of them had nautical-themed signs with ridiculous names, like “The Nor’easter” and “The Johnson’s Mermaid Haven.
” Clocking the street numbers, eventually he arrived at 373 Ocean Drive.