Chapter 27
Tilda
I slam the dryer door shut and press the start button.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a public laundromat, not an apartment one, but this place is surprisingly nice.
For some ignorant reason, I was thinking small mountain town meant out of date, but I was wrong. The building is clean, brightly lit, and the machines all have card readers. Which is so much better than having to turn a twenty-dollar bill into quarters.
Today’s been productive.
I unpacked a few more boxes, and now I’ve washed all my dirty clothes, the used towels, and the bedding I brought with me, since I hadn’t washed it before packing.
I also used the laundromat’s Wi-Fi to download three seasons of my favorite baking show onto my tablet and five That’s What I Call Music albums to my phone.
I at least get one bar of service on my cell at the house, so I can call 911 if I need to. But that’s about it.
Turning toward the big wall of windows along the front of the laundromat, I look through the glass at the twenty-four-hour gym across the street.
While my laundry was in the wash phase, I pulled up the website for the gym and found that the front door is run by an app on your phone. I also found an option for a free three-day trial.
It uses my phone number, so I’ll only be able to do this freebie thing once. But I have fifty-eight minutes left on my dryers, and I’m ready for a walk. The gym is just a handy surprise.
I was planning to just stroll down the street.
But I don’t know the town well, and even though it seems safe, I don’t love the idea of leaving my laundry unattended.
But since the treadmills in the gym are lined up facing that building’s wall of windows, I’ll be able to literally watch my dryer while I walk.
I reach up and tug on the bill of my hat.
I thought it looked cute with my oversized T-shirt and bike shorts. And there’s the bonus of it looking like it belongs to a man—since it does—meaning that maybe it will make me look like I belong to a man.
In a hot way.
In a please don’t approach me way.
I take a deep breath, then stride toward the door.
This feels a hundred times more stressful than going to the grocery store that first time.
But I can do hard things.
The door swings open, and I step out onto the sidewalk.
I’m going to go to the gym.