Chapter 30
ELLIOTT
UNKNOWN
Please call me back
I just want to talk
Imagine my surprise when I stumble upon my neighbor sitting in the middle of the concrete with her head in her hands.
This is just like the night I brought her home from the bar and she wanted to give up and sleep outside.
Except it’s a little early to be drunk. I’m about to ask what’s the matter when I see the paper clinging to her apartment door.
Evicted? For what? Sure, she plays loud music at inappropriate times, but I’ve never complained to the jackasses who own the building.
Winter sunlight hits her cheeks, making her tears glisten like the ice clinging to the tree branches.
“Hey. You okay?”
She glances up at me through red-rimmed eyes. “What do you think?”
Yeah. It was a stupid question. “What happened?”
“I forgot to pay rent.”
They kicked her out for that? Seems a bit harsh if you ask me. “Maybe you can talk to the twins.”
Curls slap her cheek when she shakes her head. “They won’t listen. I’ve never paid my rent on time. I thought…gosh, it’s so stupid.” She laughs to herself. “I thought my luck was changing. Should’ve known better.”
She does seem to have had a shitty run of luck lately. That doesn’t mean things can’t change. “Can you stay with your friend for a while?” Maybe sharing rent with someone would help get her back on her feet.
“Meg’s renting a room over someone’s garage while she looks for a house.”
Yeah, that probably won’t work. “Do you have any other friends?”
“Yes. I have so many friends lining up to help me out. See. Look at all of them.” She gestures toward the empty stairwell.
“There’s no need for the snark. I’m only trying to help.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch.”
“It’s okay.” That notice flutters in the breeze.
She must hear it as well, because she turns, glancing over her shoulder at the ominous pink paper. “I guess this is it. It’s time to go home.”
Wait. Home? “Back to Maryland?”
“Yeah. At least my parents will be thrilled.”
Parents who didn’t want her to move in the first place.
She catches her wild hair, pulling it back from her face and twisting it into that crazy poodle on the top of her head. “All I wanted was to make it on my own.”
I understand exactly what she’s talking about. My parents would happily foot my bills for the rest of my life if I did everything according to their rules.
No, thank you.
Her head falls to her arms folded over her knees.
She looks so defeated. It’s not fair that her asshole ex cheated on her. It’s not fair that some drunk dickhead totaled her car.
It’s not fucking fair.
Loren may be mayhem wrapped in a pretty package, but she’s also sweet and funny and helped me when I was feeling down and… Shit.
I can’t believe I’m about to say this. “You could always move in with me.”
“Ha!”
Well, at least I made her laugh.
I throw myself down next to her, mirroring her position. “I’m serious.”
Her eyes narrow as she watches me, the tiny wrinkle between her dark eyebrows gradually deepening. “I can’t move in with you, Elliott.”
“Why not? It makes perfect sense. You already know who I am.”
Her nose wrinkles when she squints up at me. “Do I, though?”
She might not realize it, but she knows me better than most—which isn’t saying a lot, to be fair, but it is saying something. “I let you drive my truck; we’re practically best friends.”
“I appreciate the offer. Really, I do. But it won’t work. Maybe I’ll find someone willing to rent me a cheap room.”
Let me get this straight. “You’d rather live with a stranger than move in with me?”
“You’re a stranger.”
“You’ve cooked me dinner…”
Her hands fall to her sides, and she sits up a little straighter, some of that fight finding its way back into her spine. “You conned me into making you crab cakes and giving you half my steak.”
Exactly. Dinner. “You’ve visited me at work."
A heavy sigh pushes through her lips as she throws her eyes toward the gray sky overhead. “I stumbled into a bar where you happened to be bartending.”
“I let you drive my truck.” So what if I listed that one twice? It’s that big of a deal to me.
Her mouth opens but no protest emerges.
While she’s silent, I keep going. “I never let anyone drive my truck, Loren. Oh! And you know my family.”
“I met your cousin twice.”
“Like I said, you know my family.”
“Wow.” Her eyes narrow. “You’re really laying it on thick. Makes me wonder what you’re getting out of the deal.”
She’s right. Why am I so adamant about this?
It’s hard to explain, but something about Loren leaving doesn’t sit right in my gut.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my thirty-two years on this earth it’s this: When your gut speaks, you listen.
Otherwise, you’ll find yourself sitting in a courtroom across from the woman you love, arguing over who gets to keep the damn dog.
Loren’s hand falls to my knee, bringing me back to the present. “Look, I can’t put you out like that. You’ve already done more than enough for me. I appreciate the offer, but it’s a no.” She glances past me to my door across the concrete hallway. “Where would I even sleep?”
“In the spare bedroom.”
“Your apartment isn’t a studio?”
I shake my head. “The corner apartments are all two-bedrooms.”
“Why do you need two bedrooms?”
To answer that would be opening a whole can of worms, and having both of us depressed at the same time isn’t going to help the situation. So I keep it light and neutral. “I like my space.”
Her head tilts, that poodle flopping to the side. “Yet you’re willing to give up that space for me.”
“Maybe I just want someone to pay half the rent.”
She finally removes her hand, letting it fall to the concrete between us. “How much is half the rent?”
“Two-fifty.”
“A month?”
“I’ve been here for a while.”
“How long’s a while?”
“Twelve years.”
“And they haven’t upped the rent?”
“They can’t. My rate’s locked in.” That’s why I haven’t moved. One of the reasons anyway. The other one isn’t relevant to this conversation.
“You’re a saint for offering, but I won’t do that to you. I’m sure someone online has a spare room. Maybe a bit closer to the city so the drive to work won’t be such a slog.”
I guess that’s that.
Now I’m going to have to get to know a new neighbor and hope they can cook as well as Loren. Otherwise, I’ll have to go back to going home for proper meals and listening to my mom harp on and on about my life choices in person instead of via text.
But the last thing I want to do is push her. Seems like a woman’s mind is usually already made up before you even realize there’s a problem.
If Loren does change her mind, she can let me know. Otherwise, it’s time to let her go.
Loren smiles up at me from my doorway, a plate covered in aluminum foil in her hands. “So I was wondering if you could do me a teeny, tiny favor.”
From the number of boxes stacked behind her, I have a pretty good idea why she’s knocking.
Would you look at that? She brought what look like homemade chocolate chip cookies. “Let me guess. You want me to help move your stuff.”
The plate presses against my chest, and she bats her long eyelashes. “Pretty please? The trunk on my rental is shockingly small. This would really help me out.”
Damn, she works fast. It’s only been a couple of hours since I left her in the stairwell. “Where are you going?” I fish out a cookie and take a warm, gooey bite.
“I found a place on Roomer near the airport.”
Not the best part of town, but maybe this will be the exception. I stuff the rest of the cookie in my mouth, grab my keys, and help her lug box after box down the stairs. At least now I can skip the gym and not feel guilty for eating a few more cookies.
The house she found is a twenty-minute drive toward the city—which bodes well for her daily commute. But when we pull up outside the drab white craftsman, my optimism dies.
Loren parks behind me and slowly climbs out of the car. When she pushes her sunglasses onto her forehead, there’s horror in her eyes.
I jump out of my truck before she can even set foot on the cracked sidewalk. “This place is a shit hole.”
Her gaze flicks over to me before landing back on the tiny house with a sagging front porch and BEWARE OF DOG signs plastered all over the clapboard fence. “Maybe it’s better inside?”
Yeah, I can’t see that being the case. But she insists, so I take the box from her hands and follow her up the half-sunken walkway to a screen door that’s hanging off the hinges.
The skunky smell of weed wafts from beneath the faded green door.
Before Loren can knock—or run away—a guy with muscles rippling from beneath a ribbed white tank top answers.
Loren offers him a sweet smile. “Hi. I’m not sure if I have the right place, but I was talking to someone named Mika on Roomer and she said there’s a room for rent?”
He gives her a wolfish smile. “You have the right place, sweetheart.” Over his shoulder, he shouts, “Yo, Mike! The new roommate is here!”
Somewhere inside, a dog starts going berserk.
Another guy, even taller than the first, steps into view, jacked as shit. What hope would Loren have if either of them turn out to be complete assholes?
“Hey, girl. Come on in. Room’s down the hall.” Mike/Mika nods to the right.
Yeah, this isn’t happening. I get that Loren doesn’t want to put me out and appreciate the sentiment, but what kind of man would I be if I let her stay here?
I adjust my grip on the box, freeing my hand to take Loren’s. “If you’ll excuse us for a second.” I drag my neighbor back down the driveway until we’re out of earshot. “You’re not staying there.”
“Elliott…”
“No way in hell. I know that’s overbearing or whatever, but if you go in there, there’s a good chance you’ll never come out.”
“It wasn’t that—”
“I swear, if you say bad, I’m going to drop this box, throw you over my shoulder, and lock you in my car.”
Tears fill her eyes. “It’s bad.”
“So bad.”
“Are you positive you don’t mind?”
I’m starting to mind less and less. “I’m not in the habit of saying things I don’t mean. If you want it, the room is—”
She throws her arms around my neck, her soft chest pressing tightly to mine. “Thank you so much. This place is scary. I’d rather go back to Maryland than stay here.”
Fuck. She smells good enough to eat, which doesn’t bode well for my sanity. Thankfully, I’m a grown man perfectly capable of resisting temptation. “Well, now you don’t have to do either.”
Sniffling, she nods, running her fingers beneath her eyes, leaving black smudges of mascara. “I’ll accept your offer on one condition: If at any point I get on your nerves or you want to reclaim your space, you must promise to tell me. I’ll move out right away.”
I press my hand to my heart. “I promise. Come on.” I throw the box in the bed of my truck with the others. “Let’s get you home.”
Loren offers to pick up pizza on the way back, and I let her. Not that I plan on mooching off her for all my meals, but this gives me the chance to do something I’ve been putting off for way too long.
When I step inside my dark apartment, an unsteady breath escapes. My heart jackhammers as I cross to the spare room and twist the knob with a trembling hand. A wave of floral perfume wafts over me, making my head spin.
The boxes that have been sitting beside the bed for the last four years stare back.
I throw open the curtains and unlatch the window, letting the fresh air sweep inside, wishing it would take away the memories too.
Twenty minutes later, everything in the room has been reduced to three trash bags and four large cardboard boxes, and the place smells like lemon-scented cleaner and bleach.
Funny how something you’ve put off for so long builds and builds in your mind until it feels insurmountable. And in only twenty minutes it can be gone.
When I finish clearing out the room, I leave the door wide open, my heart feeling lighter than it has in a long time.