Chapter 1
RAE
FOUR YEARS LATER
My calves burned as I climbed the stairs to the fifth floor, my lungs screaming at me to move out of this stupid building, but I couldn’t afford anywhere else. Hell, I couldn’t even afford this place.
The humidity in the sweltering stairwell was an invisible wall of resistance, barreling into me with each step I took, until I finally crested the last one and hit the landing near my apartment door.
“Made it!” I huffed in victory, wiping the sweat from my temple.
My neighbor Darrow exited his door and quirked a brow at me. “You say that every time you get to the top.”
Still catching my breath, I waved him off and headed toward my door. “Gotta live for the little things, D.”
He snorted, reflecting his opinion of my totally pathetic life.
Darrow was cool; he had way more friends than I did, and he dated a million different girls—and a few guys—and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been drawn to him the first time we met, but it was impossible not to be.
He was tall, past six feet, with a jawline so sharp it could cut glass, and eyes as blue as the ocean.
Not that I had spent any amount of time cataloging his looks or anything.
That was old me; new me didn’t give a shit. Darrow was just objectively hot.
“You around tonight?” he asked, three steps down the stairs.
I paused, head turned toward him, exhilarated that he was finally inviting me to something.
“Because, I’m going out, and I was wondering if you could feed Dunk?”
False alarm. I hadn’t made it into the friend circle. I was just the neighbor he asked to watch his cat every now and then. Feeling my face heat, I nodded.
“Sure, no problem.”
He beamed at me. “Really? Thanks…here’s the key, I’ll grab it from you tomorrow.” His long legs carried him toward me as he tugged the silver key from its little spot on the ring in his hand and dropped it into my open palm.
“Have fun.”
He smirked, “Yeah…you too.”
Then he was turning away and walking down the flight of stairs, likely laughing at the awkward girl next door who just admitted to not having any plans on a Friday night and was now feeding his cat. I would definitely be eating that fancy Gouda cheese I knew he hoarded. This called for retribution.
Pushing my house key into the deadbolt and ignoring the chipped wood near my face, I shoved my shoulder and pushed. Good thing about my apartment? I’d know in an instant if someone were breaking in, because between the rusted hinges and a sagging frame, my front door was like a boulder to move.
The box I called home looked exactly as I left it earlier that morning: Two piles of clothes waited for me on my twin bed. A small, thin paned window that hung over my small dresser let in a slice of light, and of course my kitchen, where I could spin in a single circle and reach anything I needed.
A familiar, discouraging feeling bubbled inside as I looked around. There was no air conditioning, and the humidity on the fifth floor was at rainforest levels. My freezer had broken two days ago, so there wasn’t even any ice that I could put in front of a fan for a makeshift swamp cooler.
It was moments like these that made me think of home. How August would be warm, but completely bearable at the high altitude, and how the shops in town bustled with people. How the flower baskets exploded with color, hanging from dark, antique lamp posts, lining the pristine, white sidewalks.
A heaviness settled in my heart, forcing my hand to bring up my cell and dial my mother.
I’d been calling her more and more frequently over the past few months.
I’d finally graduated from college, and I was struggling against a persistent wave of homesickness.
I told myself I was just lonely. Still, I put the phone on speaker and waited for it to connect.
“Rae, honey, so nice that you called! Your dad and I were just talking about how we were going to call you tonight because we have something to discuss,” my mom said happily.
I walked over to my ancient, rattling refrigerator and tugged it open. “Really, what?”
I had nothing in the fridge but ketchup and some questionable carrots, and I wouldn’t until my next paycheck came in, which was a week away. Thankfully, I had bread, peanut butter, and honey.
“Well…” Mom hesitated, and it caused me to pause with my hand over the handle of my two-shelf pantry.
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s just”—she started again, still slightly hesitant—“well, we know you’re not doing so wonderful in New York…”
I let out a sigh. “Mom, I’m fine, I promise.”
I wasn’t though, truly. I hadn’t been fine a single time since moving here, but I’d always kept that truth to myself.
“Nora called us.” She paused, and my eyes narrowed at the phone.
My best friend knew how dire my situation was, but she was under strict order not to ever tell my parents, so I only had one choice.
“She’s a liar, Mom. Whatever she told you, she’s lying. She’s on drugs now. It’s really sad.”
My mom snorted. “Hogwash. She moved back here about two weeks ago, and we’ve enjoyed catching up with her, but that’s not what we wanted to discuss.”
I didn’t know Nora had moved back, but it made sense that she hadn’t told me. Macon was a bit of a taboo subject for us.
“The reason we wanted to call you is because we’re starting a delivery service for the diner.”
I tugged the jar of generic peanut butter out and reached for the honey, but just as I did, something scuttled across the kitchen floor out of the corner of my eye.
“Shit,” I hissed, jumping up on the counter, as my mom continued talking.
“We thought it would be a good idea to drum up some extra business—you okay, honey?”
“Yeah, just…uh…”—I peered over the counter, my knees pulled to my chest—“I stubbed my toe.” If my mother knew that this building had rats and roaches, she’d send in the National Guard.
“Well, anyway… We’re having a difficult time getting the service up and running.”
Concentrating on the floor, while still slightly curious, I asked, “Why do you guys need to drum up extra business? I thought you were doing really well.”
A beat passed, which had my eyes focusing back on the screen as worry slithered through me. I cradled the phone and took it off speaker. “Mom?”
“Things are…” There was another pause and my heart thumped harder as my brows caved in.
“Things are what, Mom?”
She let out a sigh, one that seemed heavy, and if I were there, I imagined her chest expanding and caving with the levity of it.
“Well, to be frank, they’re not so great. The town is struggling, sweetie, and Nora mentioned that you were also struggling over there in New York, and well…I just wondered if you’d consider coming back to help us out, that’s all.”
I was already shaking my head, because regardless of how much my life sucked, and how much I hated New York, going back wasn’t an option. Unless he had moved.
“Mom, I—”
“Just think about it, honey, please. No pressure, okay?”
I paused, biting my lip because the pain lacing her voice was too much.
“I don’t want to be a burden on you guys.
I wouldn’t be able to get my own place for a while.
” Or ever, if the housing market was as horrific back home as it was here—although nothing was as bad as inner city New York.
Macon was likely extremely reasonable; maybe Nora would want to get a place together.
Ideas began taking flight in my head as I imagined getting on a flight back home.
That’s when my heart squeezed tight. I didn’t have enough money for groceries, much less a plane ticket to Oregon.
“Honey, your room is still exactly how you left it. There’s plenty of space here, you know that.”
I wouldn’t bring up the plane ticket, especially if she already had admitted that things were difficult.
“Well, what about Nora, did you ask her if she could help with the deliveries?”
Another heavy sigh left my mother’s lungs, like this was a taxing conversation for her, which made me feel like shit.
“Nora is stepping in to help her parents, while trying to start her interior decorating business.”
My best friend was a kick-ass designer, so that made me feel proud and happy she was pursuing her dreams. Meanwhile, I’d be here, dodging rats and ignoring roaches because acknowledging them would send me spiraling into paranoia and I’d never sleep again.
A tiny tendril of curiosity wound its way through my mind, wrapping around my heart.
An image of working on my laptop from my parent’s back porch, staring at the outline of Mount Macon while maple leaves fell across the green lawn.
If the small businesses in town were hurting the way my mom mentioned, this could be an amazing opportunity to test out my marketing degree and help the owners revamp their businesses.
“Well, anyway, think it over, honey. We have airline miles to get you here, and we’d love to see you. But we support you staying there too, whatever is best for you.”
“Love you, Mom,” I said, unable to get that image of me on their back porch out of my head.
Once we hung up, I slowly left my perch on the counter and briskly checked the floor. Usually when the lights were on, I was fine, which was why I left on several lamps at night, but every now and then one of the suckers would run across the floor.
I could withstand the roaches—they were fairly small—but the rats or mice, whatever the fuck they were? Yeah, I couldn’t deal with them.
Eyeing the wall that separated my apartment and Darrow’s, I suddenly had the best idea ever.