Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
RACHEL
“You’re damn right I cut you off,” my father yells at me over the phone, furious as ever.
I hold the phone away from me, my head throbbing with a hangover.
“After you set our family house on fire, I had a realization. You’re a grown woman who wanted to run away and spend the summer reliving your childhood vacations by the lake, but you want to do it, as always, on my dime.
I gave you a house and you burned it down.
I gave you access to my credit cards and you shopped irresponsibly with them.
You’ve been doing that for years, your mother always making excuses for you, and I accepted it.
Well, I’m tired of funding your extravagant lifestyle, Rachel.
You need to learn how to take care of yourself and earn your own money instead of always taking a handout. ”
The tears streaming down my face, I curl into a ball, hiding out on the back patio of Paige’s condo, hoping she can’t hear my father screaming.
“But I-I’m ready to come home. That’s why I c-called you.
” I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
I knew he’d be mad, but I didn’t think he’d be this furious.
“I was only going to ask for you to get me a plane ticket—”
“Nope. You’ll have to find your own funds to come home. You’ll need to return that rental car too. Right away. I’m not paying for it any longer. I’m done paying for everything. Don’t you have money in your savings account?”
I don’t know. I never check it. What’s the point when I have my father paying for everything?
“You can’t just leave me here out in California with no money and no way to pay for anything,” I protest, hoping he’ll at least give me something. All I want is a damn plane ticket. That’s it.
Oh, and money to pay Wyatt back for the drinks. I feel bad about that. Though I guess I should take them as gratis. Thanks for the fuck and the drinks!
God, the humiliation. Luckily, I’ll never have to face him. I have to get out of here. Leave California and never look back. My couple of days in this lovely little town have certainly been an adventure, but not one I want to repeat ever again.
“I sure as hell can leave you out there. You were the one who wanted to go to California so damn bad. Every single credit card you use is in my name. I just received one of the statements this morning. You spent over twenty thousand dollars in thirty days. Twenty thousand dollars. On what? God knows.”
I needed outfits for the summer. Cute summer clothes—bikinis, dresses, sandals, and accessories—it all adds up.
A one-way plane ticket to California—first class, of course.
Mom and I went shopping before I left, and she told me to go ahead and get whatever I wanted, not that I’m going to tell him that.
He doesn’t need to be angry with her too. “You’ve never complained before—”
“Oh, trust me. I’ve complained plenty of times. Usually to your mother. But that was all before you set the house on fire. Your carelessness is going to destroy everything I own if I don’t nip this in the bud right now. You need to learn how to take care of yourself.”
His voice is firm. I can tell he’s not going to back down from his decision, and I realize in this moment, I am 100 percent screwed.
Ruined. Stuck in this small town and living in a half-burned house with nowhere else to go.
I can’t take advantage of Paige’s kindness.
My father is right. I need to figure out my own shit, not put it on someone else.
Hanging my head between my knees, I feel the tears slide down my face and drip off my nose.
I’m sure I look disgusting, but I don’t care.
I’m having a raw, vulnerable moment, and I’m going to swallow my pride and beg this man one more time.
“Please, Daddy. Just—let me come home. I’m sorry I started that fire.
It was an accident—it’s not like I did it on purpose.
And I’m sorry I spent too much money on the credit card. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“Too late, sweetheart. You’re on your own.” He ends the call before I can say anything else.
Taking a deep breath, I tip my head back and stare at the clear blue sky, the sun already blazing down upon us. It’s not even eight in the morning yet, and I feel terrible. I’m hungover. Freaked out. I thought life was bad yesterday? Save for that moment in the back seat of the rental car . . .
Well, it’s twenty times worse this morning.
I haul my body out of the overstuffed chair that sits on Paige’s patio and wipe the tears from my face before I reenter the condo.
Paige is in the kitchen, making herself breakfast, and I watch her for a moment, amazed at how easy she makes it look.
I don’t think I’ve ever cracked an egg in my life, and here’s Paige living by herself and working two jobs.
Making herself breakfast that, despite my hangover and faint nausea, smells amazing.
My stomach growls, and I rest a hand over it, telling myself I can’t ask her to make me breakfast too.
But naturally, she hears my growling stomach and glances over her shoulder, flashing a smile my way.
“Good morning! You’re up early. Want some scrambled eggs?” Her cheerful voice makes me want to wither away and die, but I stand tall, trying to find a glimmer of positivity that might be lingering inside of me.
Nope, it’s all gone. I’m nothing but gloom and doom.
I approach the kitchen counter, watching Paige. She pushes the runny eggs around on the pan over and over again, and like magic, they turn firmer until they look like actual scrambled eggs.
“I couldn’t—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“I made enough for both of us.” She keeps her focus on the pan in front of her. “Are you okay?”
No, I want to tell her. Not at all. My father has cut me off, and I have no money.
No means to get myself home. I have to turn in the rental car, God knows where, and then how am I supposed to get back to my house?
And how am I supposed to stay in that house when the second floor is a burned-out shell and it’s probably a literal toxic environment?
But I don’t say any of that. I remain quiet, and when she looks in my direction, I offer a feeble smile. “I’m a little hungover.”
“Oh my God, same. I haven’t drunk like that in a while.” She turns the stove burner off and grabs a couple of plates, divvying up the eggs before she hands a plate to me. “Here you go. I bet if you eat, you’ll feel better.”
I tell her thank you, and we settle in at the tiny kitchen table. She even pours me a glass of orange juice, and that one tiny gesture of kindness does me in. I start crying, the tears flowing down my face and probably dripping onto my plate, but I don’t care. I’m overwhelmed. Scared.
Lost.
“Rachel, oh no. What’s wrong?” She leaps from her chair and grabs hold of me, hugging me to her while I basically sob into her shirt.
I can’t speak for a long time. I just cry and cry, and she doesn’t ask me any more questions.
Just consoles me by murmuring soothing words I can’t really make out while rubbing slow circles on my back.
When I’m finally able to compose myself and pull away from her, I shake my head. “I ruined breakfast.”
“No, you didn’t.” She settles back in her chair and takes a sip of her orange juice, then picks up a fork and starts eating.
She still doesn’t ask me any questions, and I never realized until this very moment how wonderful that is, not to be pushed into confessing what’s bothering you until you’re ready.
“My father is mad at me,” I start, taking a deep, shuddering breath. That feels so insignificant, saying he’s merely mad at me. Mad isn’t even the right word. He’s furious. Frustrated. Completely over my “antics”—his words, not mine. “And he cut me off. Financially.”
Paige sets her fork on the edge of her plate. “Is that why the credit cards wouldn’t go through last night?”
I nod, sniffling. “I have to turn in the rental car, and I have no idea where to take it. I picked up the car at the airport when I flew in.” We’re at least an hour away from that airport.
How am I supposed to get back here? Not like I can camp out in the airport, though maybe I could? People do it all the time.
“I could help you with the rental car after I get off work.” Paige reaches across the table and grabs my hand, giving it a squeeze. “If you don’t mind waiting. And you can stay here with me.”
“I couldn’t.” I shake my head. “I’ll stay at my family’s house. It’ll be fine. The first level is untouched. Mostly.”
“You can’t stay there. I’m sure it’s unsafe after the fire. No way.” Now Paige is the one shaking her head. “I would be worried sick about you. No, you’re staying here with me. We can totally make this work. We can’t let all that cleaning we did yesterday go to waste now, can we?”
“Paige, you are so sweet, but I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness. You know, they call you the town sweetheart, and I can see why.”
She frowns. “Who told you that?”
“Wyatt.” I shrug, a fresh wave of humiliation sweeping over me when I remember how I tried to use my credit cards and he stepped in and took care of everything.
I have a feeling he’s just that type of guy.
The man is in charge of his life and his work, and nothing goes astray. I have no idea what that’s like. None.
And then, of course, there’s the moment we shared in the back of my car. My God, the man is hot. The entire moment was hot . . .
A fresh wave of humiliation washes over me because if I stick around here and live at Paige’s, I’ll end up running into him again, and that’s the last thing I want to do. I think of the things I said, the things he said, the things we did and . . .
Yeah. That was supposed to be a one-shot moment, and the idea of facing him again is terrifying. Cringeworthy. I’m the cringe part, not him.
“Oh, they all say I’m the town princess, but it’s not true.” She smiles, looking like a princess in her floral dress, which is somehow both demure and sexy at the same time, and if she weren’t so damn nice, I’d hate her guts. “Plenty of people don’t like me.”
“Name five.”
Her eyebrows draw together as she thinks. “Missy Lincoln, when I was in the third grade. God, she hated me. But she moved halfway through the school year, so I never had to deal with her again.”
“Okayyy . . .” Missy doesn’t count.
“William Conway. I turned him down when he asked me to prom our senior year, and I don’t think he ever recovered from my rejection.”
I want to roll my eyes, but I restrain myself.
“And that one little kid with the red hair and bug eyes who comes into Mitchell’s and demands a mocha-chocha ice cream sundae every chance he gets.
” Her voice drops. “We haven’t had mocha-chocha ice cream for two years now, and that kid still asks for it.
Then he glares at me when I have to tell him no.
He’s terrifying.” A visible shudder runs through her.
“That’s only three,” I point out.
She taps her index finger against her pursed lips. “Nathaniel. Because why else would he reject me every time we’re in the same room together? The man must hate me.”
“He absolutely does not hate you.” And I’m not going to press for the fifth person because she’s already totally reaching with the fourth. “What happened between you two last night anyway?”
“Nothing,” she says far too quickly.
“Hmm.” I am skeptical but don’t want to push, hoping she’ll spill, but she’s smarter than that.
“What about you and Wyatt?” Nice subject change on her part.
I sit up straighter. “What about us?”
“What happened? Did he put you in an Uber and send you away? Though I swear I thought I saw your rental in the parking lot when I got home.”
I frown. Her response is highly suspicious. “What time did you get home?”
“What time did you get here?” Paige’s brows shoot up. So do mine. We’re in a standoff, and I give in first.
“I fell asleep in the back seat of the car in the bar parking lot. I was so drunk.” I laugh, and it sounds fake, so I stop. “By the time I woke up, I felt clearheaded enough to drive back here. Alone. Thank God you gave me a key.”
Paige arches a brow at the “alone” part but otherwise says nothing. I need to change the subject fast.
“Look, are you sure you’re okay with me living with you? We don’t really know each other.”
“So? I need a roommate. It would help with my expenses, if I’m being real with you. And you seem like you need somewhere to say.” Her smile is gentle, as is her gaze.
Tears threaten yet again, and I hold them back, refusing to fall apart. “You are seriously the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
Paige rests her hand against her chest, touched. “Why, thank you! I really like you too, Rachel. I think we’re kindred spirits.”
I smile at her, feeling lighter than I did ten minutes ago. “Thank you for being so understanding.”
“Look, I’ve had my fair share of troubles. If I can lend a helping hand to you, then I will gladly do it.” And this kind of sentiment is why she’s the town princess.
“I should probably try and find a . . . job.” Just saying those words out loud scares the shit out of me. I don’t have the first clue as to how to go about this. Who would hire me? I have zero experience. I’m incapable of doing just about . . . anything.
“Where do you want to work?” Paige sinks her teeth into her lower lip. “Not a lot of places are hiring around here right now. Most of the summer jobs are filled. Though I could always bring you around Mitchell’s. I’m sure Misti would hire you on the spot.”
“Really?” My skepticism is obvious.
“She hires pretty much anyone who walks into the building and asks for a job. They’re so busy every summer they need as much help as they can get. Plus, they make so much money, they never seem to care about how many employees they have.”
“That sounds too good to be true.”
“It happens every summer, trust me. I’ve worked there since I was sixteen. It was my first job.” Her smile is faint. “Nate worked there too back then. Down on the dock.”
Oh, we do not need to wax poetic about Nate. That might bring up Wyatt, and I definitely don’t want to talk about him.
“Maybe I should try and get a job there then.” My stomach churns, and I push my plate of eggs away. I never even touched them, and of course, I immediately feel guilty. “Though I have no idea what they would have me do.”
“Scooping ice cream. It’s kind of difficult, but they always make the new employees do that job first. It’s like a rite of passage.”
Scooping ice cream. How hard can that be?