6. Chapter 6
Chapter six
Laiken
“Please tell me this is a joke,” I whisper.
Mainly to myself. Not to the man across from me, who practically bathes me with pity.
The day has been going well. I spent most of the morning unpacking what little we brought along with us in the move after the girls left. Trace’s room is officially set up, and even though all I have is a mattress on the floor and a dresser I bought from Penelope in my room, it was coming along.
Until now.
Until two hours ago, when I heard a commotion downstairs and stumbled into an absolute disaster.
Water. Everywhere.
Luckily, Micky Mack, a guy I went to high school with and who now works for his family’s plumbing company in Mayson Ridge, was able to get over here in record time.
“I’m sorry, Laiken. But these pipes are rusted and quite frankly dangerous. I’m honestly surprised they passed inspection.” He checks something on his clipboard. “You did get an inspection when you purchased this place, right?”
“Of course I did.” I groan, my fingers coming to my temples.
I sift through the paperwork in my mind. It’s been two weeks and I’ve barely slept since then.
“Mind me asking who did it?”
“I think it was Sal.” I drop my hands.
He tries to hide the cringe on his face. He fails.
“What?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
“I mean, I don’t want to…”
“Micky,” I snap, then immediately feel like crap.
It’s not his fault.
“Sal is known to fudge things. Push houses through for the bank,” he says, his fingers coming up to glide through his shaggy blond hair. “He should have caught this.”
I sigh, my eyes veering out to Trace, who’s in the backyard, oblivious to the weight of this. I practically spent all my savings on the down payment.
“Be honest, Micky.” I shift, noting the dampness of the original hardwood floors beneath my feet.
They were my favorite thing about this place.
“The whole house needs to be replumbed. This main pipe busted and the others are on the verge at any time. You need to update to PEX. The plastic is much more durable.”
The whole house.
A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. “And how much does something like that cost?”
His eyes shoot to the page, then back up to me. His lips thin, but he delivers the price with the calmness of a man who does this on a daily basis. “You’re looking at about eight thousand.”
Eight. Thousand. American dollars.
My gut churns, the typical feeling that comes when the rug is swept out from beneath you. I know the feeling all too well.
“And if I can’t do that?” I ask, knowing I probably won’t like the answer.
“As of now, the kitchen is unusable. The hall bathroom is right behind the wall where the break initiated. That is also connected to the laundry,” he rattles off.
“Micky, just rip the Band-Aid off,” I say, my gaze moving to the yard again.
“You don’t have running water until the pipes are replaced.”
Defeat entraps my bones, the tears pressing behind my eyes so strong I have to blink a few times. So much for our fresh start. So much for me thinking disappointment didn’t follow me everywhere I went.
Where the heck am I going to get eight thousand dollars on a whim? The bank won’t loan me any more money. I could ask Maddox, but he and Ivy are bringing a child into the world. They don’t need me dipping into their funds.
“I’m sorry again, Laiken. Maybe you could talk to a lawyer about Sal. See if there is something you can do,” he adds in a soft voice.
“I can barely afford dining chairs. There’s no way I can afford a lawyer.” I laugh, but it’s mixed with despair.
Because this would happen to me. But I force a smile. Like always.
“Look, I can talk with my dad. See what we can work out.” Micky places a hand on my shoulder. “Can you find somewhere to stay in the meantime?”
You mean go back to my mother’s house? Sure. Like that isn’t the ultimate I told you so I’ll be getting from her.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “We’ll be fine.”
“Give me a day or two.” Micky pulls a card from the pocket of his shirt. “You need anything, call me.”
I take the card between numb fingers.
“Thanks,” I croak.
He leaves my house, climbs into his Ford Ranger, and I’m left with a wad of wet towels in the middle of my kitchen floor.
Eight thousand dollars.
Wait…
My back straightens, my stomach plummeting again. I know where I can get eight thousand dollars.
Pride wars with my heart, my stubbornness battling what I need over what I want.
I want to keep Park Stillwater as far away from me as possible.
He is detrimental. A disaster far worse than rusted pipes. His damage cost me way more than dollar signs. It cost me my heart.
Trace’s laughter echoes through the yard, my bruised heart swelling at his innocent smile.
But my son. He needs me.
And we need the money.
I may end up regretting this decision, but I pull my phone from my back pocket and fire off a text to Dr. Whitaker.
Laiken: I’ll do it.
Then I pray to the good Lord that this isn’t the worst mistake of my life.