102. Courtney
Chapter 102
Courtney
A branch creaks off to my side, deeper into the woods.
I hug my clothes tighter to my chest. “Lady Bear, if that’s you, I’ll be out of your forest in ten more steps.”
My heart leaps, but I force myself not to run.
“Five more steps.”
I swear I hear a huff.
Two steps.
Okay, I might run up the stairs.
And I might trip on my flip-flops.
But I wrench the door open and get inside before I hear any more signs of Lady Bear or Sasquatch or anything else that hopefully can’t open a round door handle.
The light I left on illuminates the room, and I give Spike a sheepish look as I drop my laundry in front of the washer. “Don’t judge me.”
As I move through the cabin, stripping down to nothing, I realize that it’s just as cold in here as it is outside.
“What the hell?” I stick a washcloth under the running sink water. “Sorry, Spike. I thought you were side-eyeing me for giving my boss a blow job.” I quickly scrub my skin, getting the rest of what Sterling missed earlier, as I stick my head out of the bathroom and talk to my cactus. “But you were just cold.”
Ideally, I’d shower off the chlorine clinging to my skin, but with mystery creature outside, I don’t plan on hiking to the bathrooms tonight. So I wet down the cloth again and do a quick once-over under my boobs and where my waterlogged bra was clinging to me.
Shivering, I hang the washcloth over the faucet, then grab Sterling’s flannel and pull it back on.
It’s a little damp where my bra was across my back, but the comfort it brings me is worth it.
I button it as I move into my bedroom.
Looking like an idiot, I button it all the way up to my neck, then flip the collar up. For warmth.
And if that means I can turn my head and sniff the collar, smelling Sterling’s scent… so be it.
I tug on a pair of sweatpants, then shuffle back out of the room to the thermostat next to the front door.
I frown.
It’s on.
The heat is set.
The little screen is working. Showing that it’s… fifty-nine degrees in the cabin.
“Well, fuck.”
I fiddle with the settings, then get on the floor and crawl under the table to put my ear next to the baseboard heater.
Not a sound.
“That’s probably not good.”
Crawling backward until I clear the table, I shift onto my butt and use my phone to google possible issues.
Ten minutes later, with the small metal panel removed from the end of the heater, I accept that I’m fucked.
Sometime since the previous winter, when the heater was last used, some small creature got in here and chewed the wires. Which are hardwired into the unit and way above my pay grade.
And from what I can tell, it costs just as much to have an electrician repair this as it does to just install a new unit .
I bite down on my lip.
The cost is… It’s too much.
Anywhere from four hundred to twelve hundred dollars.
And I have two hundred to my name.
Fighting the urge to cry, I stand and pull Spike off the windowsill.
“Promise I’ll figure this out,” I tell her. Then I place her on top of the counter over the dryer. “This will help in the meantime.” I twist my discarded sleep pants around her, gently resting the material on top of her spines.
I go back to the thermostat and turn it off.
I don’t know if there’s a risk of fire or if turning it off even mitigates that risk completely, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something.
Back in my bedroom, I pull on my thickest socks and I drag my sweatshirt on over Sterling’s flannel before climbing into bed.
Lying in the dark, I run through the list of should I or shouldn’t I .
I should tell Sterling because it’s his building on his property.
I shouldn’t tell Sterling because he wouldn’t have to fix the heat if I wasn’t staying here.
I should tell him because I think he would want to know.
I shouldn’t tell him because he’ll feel obligated to fix it. And then he’ll spend lots of money on something that’s just for me, and that makes me feel weird. Especially since I’m already dependent on him for a place to live. And for the money I’m earning. And because even at the end of the month, when I get my first paycheck, I still won’t be able to afford to live anywhere else.
I shouldn’t tell him.
Another shiver runs through me, and I pull the blankets up to my nose.
I can ask one of the guys if there’s a space heater available. Keep it on the down-low.
I just need it warm enough so the water pipes don’t freeze.
Once I get paid, I can get my own heater. Maybe a heated blanket too.
Closing my eyes, I snuggle deeper under my bedding.
If Sterling extends my work past December, I’ll probably have enough money to fix the heat .
And if he doesn’t…
I roll onto my side.
It’s still October.
That’s future Courtney’s problem.
I have enough to worry about. There’s no use getting ahead of myself.
A gasp bursts out of me when my alarm starts beeping.
Still on my side, my hands are under my chin, but instead of being gently clasped, they’re clenched together painfully.
I reach out for my phone and groan because everything aches—giving me flashbacks to my first morning here when my body hurt from sleeping on the board.
But today, the groan hurts my throat too. And it only takes another moment for the throbbing in my head to make itself known. Only this time, my maladies have nothing to do with my mattress.
I pull my arm back under the blanket.
It’s so fucking cold in here.
I knew the heat wasn’t working last night, but I underestimated how fast the temperature would drop inside the cabin.
And going to bed with wet hair probably didn’t help.
“Fuck,” I croak. I instantly regret it because talking hurts worse than groaning.
I press my lips together, breathing through my nose.
I can’t get sick right now.
My multivitamin has betrayed me.
I want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but I need to get up.
And drink water.
And take the hottest shower I can stand.
If I had any sort of medicine, I’d be taking that too. But a bag of tea is about as close as I can get.
Maybe there’s some honey in the Food Hall I can steal.
With careful movements, I climb out of my bunk .
And that’s when I realize the blankets were trapping a lot more heat than I was giving them credit for.
Keeping all my layers on, I grab my backup towel—since my other one is either still on Sterling’s deck or in his house.
Before I step out the door, I pause and grab Spike, pants and all, off my counter.
No need for both of us to suffer.
“I’ll be back, I promise.” I adjust Spike’s position on the counter in the women’s restroom.
Guests are coming tomorrow, but on the off chance anyone comes in here, I can’t imagine they’d disturb Spike.
“This is better than the cabin,” I reassure her while pressing my fingers against my throat.
It’s an assumption because I’m too lazy to look it up. But I think it has to be better for a desert plant to be in a warm, humid room than a dry, freezing one.
With a final wave, I leave Spike and hurry back down the path to my cabin.
It’s supposed to be sunny today, and hopefully that will warm things up, but I need to dig through my boxes for my hair dryer. Because if I walk around all morning with wet hair in this frigid weather, I just might perish.