Chapter 17 #2
“Fine, but when you do get divorced, can I throw a party?” she asks finally.
Relief washes over me. “Definitely.”
For the rest of the drive, Wren catches me up on school and the ongoing saga with her roommate.
“Can I still come visit for a weekend at the start of holiday break?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Do you need to run it by your new hubby?”
“I hate you,” I say as I pull into the driveway.
She laughs, the noise filtering off as the background noise on her end gets noisier. “I just got to the library. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
“Promise you won’t ghost me again?”
“I promise.” I roll my eyes. Little sisters. So cute and so annoying.
“Bye,” she chirps happily.
I shut off the engine and let my head fall back against the headrest. That went…as good as I think it could have.
The first burst of optimism I’ve felt in weeks flits around me, batting away the remaining anxiety. The situation isn’t ideal (gross understatement), but we’ll get through it.
I manage to hold on to those good vibes until I enter the house. I sniff the air. This house still doesn’t smell like home to me, but today there’s something else. Something that smells a lot like…I can’t quite pinpoint it but it’s familiar.
Making my way past the living room and toward the kitchen, I keep sniffing the air and trying to place the source. I took the trash out yesterday and there isn’t enough food in the fridge for something to have spoiled and me not have noticed.
Still… it’s strongest in the kitchen. I take another big inhale. Rotten eggs. That’s the smell! Except I can’t remember the last time I bought eggs. Have you seen the prices lately?
My gaze falls on the stove at the same time my head feels a little woozy. Oh god. I do know that smell.
I make it outside and walk away from the house, sucking in clean air. I text the rental agent and then call the gas company. They have someone out within minutes to confirm what I already know: There’s a leak.
Travis arrives while they’re giving me the rundown. His brow furrows and he carries himself with an air of authority and concern.
“What’s going on?” he asks, looking at me.
“Gas leak.”
His brows lift. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say at the same time the guy suggests (again) that it might not be a bad idea to get checked out at the hospital.
“I’ll take you.”
I thank the guy as I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary. I was inside for only a couple minutes. How long before it’s fixed?”
“We turned off the gas line so the house should air out in a few hours, but we weren’t able to find the leak yet. We’ll need to do some investigating.”
I stare at him in that way people do, willing him to take a guess so I can have some idea of the plan.
He shrugs one shoulder. “A couple days, maybe weeks. The gas line runs under the floor so we may have to take it up. We won’t know until we get in there.”
I note Travis has his phone pulled out and is tapping away on it, but I focus on where the hell I’m going to stay. I hate to ask Kinsley and Skylar, but I’d say this deems itself a true emergency.
The rental agent calls as the guy from the gas company heads back to his truck to confer with his team.
“Hi,” I answer, hoping he’ll have a plan for me.
“Hannah, hi. I haven’t been able to talk with Martha yet, but she’ll fix any issues as soon as we know what’s wrong.”
“Thank you.” That is a relief. Finding a place to live was a nightmare that I don’t want to repeat. “The gas company says I may need to vacate until it’s resolved. Any idea where I can stay until then?”
“Per the rental agreement, she has up to twelve days to make the repairs, and if she’s not able to in that timeframe, then the contract is null and you’ll get your rent and deposit returned.”
“It isn’t the money,” I say, which isn’t really true, but in terms of sleeping in my Jeep versus getting my deposit back, one is more critical in this moment.
“I can make some calls to hotels and check rental options. Do you have somewhere you can go for tonight at least?”
“Stay with me,” Travis offers. I’m not sure if he can hear both sides of the conversation, but it’s pretty clear I’m not staying here tonight.
I huff a small laugh at his offer and then focus back on the agent. “That would be great. Thank you. And yes, I can crash with friends for the night.”
But hopefully not any longer than that. I’m tired of hopping around. I was just getting used to my new, cluttery home.
When I hang up, Travis is beaming at me.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” I tell him because it seems like he got the wrong idea by my last words. “I meant Kinsley and Skylar. They won’t mind if I sleep on their couch for a few nights.”
I texted them right after I called the gas company but neither has read the message yet, which leads me to believe they’re having a very naked, much more fun evening than me.
“You’d rather sleep on their couch than have your own room literally next door?” He arches one dark brow.
“I can’t stay with you.” I search for a valid reason that will stop him from looking at me like a wounded animal.
“I can’t,” I say again.
“You can, Walsh. And you will.”
I’m surprised by his insistence. But also, grateful. It isn’t easy for me to accept help, but I’m so tired of figuring out one disaster after another.
“What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t take care of you?” He winks and then motions with his head for me to follow him inside.