Chapter 14
After moving out of my mother’s house at eighteen, returning was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but here I am. I don’t think I’m the only one who feels this way. My mom has been an empty nester since I left, and now she’s dealing with me being back and cramping her style.
Despite the little guest house out back behind the shop being a complete disaster, I want to move into it as soon as possible. So today, I’ve loaded up my Jeep with cleaning supplies, and I’m determined to make it livable in the next week.
I pull into the lot out front, stopping for a few seconds to look at the shop.
This has been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember.
Some girls dream about their wedding or falling in love, becoming a doctor or a lawyer, a teacher or a nurse.
Not me. I dreamed of opening my own bakery right here in my tiny community, in this specific building, only sharing my idea with Miles one night with such passion that it stuck with him.
The dream became ours together, talking about how Miles could help after being a part of his dad’s small business. It grew in our minds into something that would probably never happen, but we loved sharing and chatting and building it.
But while all of this was happening, Miles’s dream of his band taking off was happening right before our eyes. After playing in all those little bars all over Maui, the band played one night that changed their lives forever.
All it took was a producer being at the bar that night and recognizing the talent. It all took off from there, and my dream of owning a bakery turned into me cheering on Miles and his dream.
There are days I wish it never happened because it was ultimately our demise, but that thought is accompanied by guilt. Maybe we needed the space. Maybe we needed to watch ourselves implode in the worst possible ways to understand that what we had together was rare and beautiful.
I drive around back, pulling in so I can unload all the shit I’ve piled in the back of my car.
Letting out a hard sigh, relief sets in that I won’t be living with my mom for much longer.
But more than that, I have something to look forward to.
Starting the bakery will consume my time—less worrying about Isaac, more moving on.
Moving on with Miles.
A place we were always supposed to be, but it took us a while to realize it, and to make it happen again. But I plan on spending the rest of my life making it up to him, to making sure he can trust me wholeheartedly like he did all those years ago.
Stepping out of the car, I walk around back and take an armload of stuff up to the door. I set it all down and do it again until everything is piled right near the door.
It feels crazy to pull the keys from my pocket and push open the door to a house that is mine.
Not just mine.
Mine and Miles’s, and without Miles, none of this would have been possible.
Real estate on Maui is insane, so I can’t even imagine what he paid for this, especially having the guest house out back.
I still can’t believe he did this after everything that happened between us. He’s a better person than I am, and always will be.
As soon as the door opens fully, I’m hit with the musty, old smell of a house that has been closed up for years. Everything is covered in dust and cobwebs and possibly some mold, but behind it all, I can see a place Miles and I will call home.
I had the water and the electricity turned back on, but I haven’t tested any of it because the last thing I need to do is flood the place if the pipes won’t hold water. Or worse, flip on a light switch and have it go up in flames.
I need to get a contractor out here to take a look at it, but that costs money—lots of money—so my hope is that things work well enough to live here in the meantime.
Instead of bringing in all the cleaning supplies, I move through the house, opening the windows to let some air in. It can only help at this point.
As I’m doing this, I hear Sage calling my name, and when I make my way back through, I find her standing in the doorway. She’s hesitant to come inside, her nose wrinkled up at the stench, looking around at the mess.
“You can’t live here,” she instantly says, shaking her head as she picks up a bucket and a mop that I’ve left by the door.
“Yes, I can. It’s not that bad,” I tell her, but I know it is. I’m just trying to delude myself into believing I can fix this with some elbow grease and a bucket of Pine=Sol.
“I mean, eventually you can, but right now, it looks like something…” She pauses again, taking in the space in front of her. “No offense, but it looks like something out of a horror movie. You sure someone wasn’t killed in here?”
I let out a laugh because she’s right. It certainly does look like that, and honestly, I have no idea if someone was killed in here. It really does look like it could have happened.
“I’m sorry,” she quickly adds. “It’s not that bad.” Shrugging, she begins bringing in the cleaning supplies, setting them down inside the house now.
Sage is far too sweet to ever insult someone, and for her to even make the comments she did is bold for her. But I get it. The place is an absolute mess. My mom would lose her mind if she saw it, which is why I haven’t even mentioned it to her.
“It has a kitchen,” Sage now says, walking toward it. She opens a cabinet and suddenly lets out a high-pitched scream.
A family of moths flutter out of it right into her face, and she swats at them, running around, her eyes closed.
As soon as she recovers, both of us are laughing hysterically, tears streaming down our cheeks.
“I’m pretty sure that’s probably going to be the least scary thing we see today,” I say, and Sage nods enthusiastically.
“We’re lucky it was just moths and not rats,” she adds, and I clench my teeth together, letting out a low whistle through them.
“This is so true. I don’t even want to think about what’s living under the sink,” I quip, and our eyes dart to it.
We might be laughing now, but who knows what we’ll uncover.
We spend a good solid five hours cleaning just the kitchen and living room areas, scrubbing everything down. Every cabinet, every inch of old Formica countertops that are flecked with gold, the rusty sink, and the cement floors that have been stripped of any flooring.
It feels clean, but it’s by no means nice.
I’m pretty sure the last time this place was updated was the year my mother was born, with its cast iron sink and old walnut-colored cabinets.
The crazy thing is, it’s all in decent shape, almost like it could be usable. Minus not having any flooring, though.
Honestly, the bare floors feel like a win when we finally get to the bathroom.
“You sure about this?” Sage says as we stand in the doorway, peering over my shoulder at the disaster that sits in front of us.
“I don’t know,” I respond, stepping in a little farther, testing the floor to make sure it doesn’t just collapse under my weight.
When it doesn’t, I move over to where the bathtub sits, completely covered in dust, the tile moldy, but like the kitchen, it seems oddly usable.
“I guess we did get the kitchen cleaned, so maybe this will be the same,” Sage suggests, loving the optimism I hear in her voice.
It’s why I asked her to help, not that Alana and Sloane wouldn’t have too, but I just can’t see Alana getting down and dirty in this mess without giving me a ton of shit.
And Sloane, something about this disaster might be triggering for her after all those years in foster care, living in houses that were not maintained or clean.
She’s come so far, and I don’t want this to be something that brings back shitty memories for her.
But when both of us look up at the ceiling, the paint bubbling and brown, we know that there’s water damage, and cleaning this isn’t going to help.
“What should we do about that?” Sage asks me, pointing to the mess above us. We got lucky when there was none of this in the kitchen or the living room, but here we are now.
“Probably get the roof replaced,” I simply say, and Sage laughs.
“Listen, I love you, and I would do anything for you, but I don’t think I can replace a roof,” she tells me, shaking her head. “But I think Nate could. Want me to go get him?”
“Nah, I’ll figure it out,” I say. Grabbing an oversized black garbage bag, I begin tossing some of the weird shit that was left in here: old towels, shampoo bottles, soap—all of it crusted with dirt and grime.
Opening the cabinet under the sink, it’s far worse than the moths that floated out of the kitchen. The roaches that scamper have Sage and me screaming and running for the front door.
We’re both running around, shaking our hands and stomping our feet, shrieking so loudly that I’m sure Nate can hear us down at The Pipe Dream.
To be honest, I’m shocked we didn’t come across any live roaches in the kitchen, but it looks like they took up residence in the bathroom, making it their home.
We’re both still screaming when Miles pulls up. Climbing out of his car, he just watches us, his arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his face.
“You went in the house, didn’t you?” he says when we finally stop freaking out. “I told you to wait and that I would help you.”
“I wanted to surprise you by cleaning it, but we just…” I trail off, a shudder rippling through me at the thought of the roaches.
“Roaches!” Sage wails, swallowing hard and scrunching her eyes shut. “I need to go home and shower, and you two, you need to burn this place to the ground.”
Miles laughs at Sage’s comment, but I’m right there with her. I was unrealistically optimistic that we wouldn’t come across anything like that, but holy shit, I was wrong.
“Babe,” Miles says sweetly, “I know it needs work. I knew there would be roaches in there. You come across any mice?”
“No mice,” I tell him, again with the shudder. “Just lots of dirt until I opened the cabinet in the bathroom. They poured out from under there like something out of a horror movie.”
He tosses his head back, letting out a hearty laugh. I’m glad he thinks this is funny because I certainly don’t. Now all I can think about is one of those fuckers hitching a ride on my clothes or my shoes and bringing them back to infest my mother’s spotless house.
She would kill me.
“I brought mouse traps and bug bombs. I was planning to do it today, but somehow you got here before me,” Miles says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me close, dropping a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’m going to go,” Sage says. “I think I’ve had enough bugs for today. Now I need to burn my clothes and shower outside.”
“Was it that bad?” Miles asks, and all Sage and I can do is nod. “Well, I’m proud of both of you for venturing in there and attempting to get it cleaned up.”
“We didn’t attempt,” Sage clarifies. “We did get it cleaned up until the bathroom. And we didn’t open the fridge. Something told us not to.”
“Yeah, I think we might just want to have that picked up by the trash,” I suggest, thinking about what could possibly be in there.
“Nate and I are going to start working on the roof today, and once that’s done, we’ll get the drywall replaced.
” Miles says all this like he knows what he’s doing, and maybe he does.
It will save us a ton of money if he can do it himself.
“Nate helped Mitch replace the roof on The Pipe Dream a few years back, so he can guide me through it.”
“See, I told you Nate could help. He’s really handy, except when it comes to cars,” Sage says. “We leave that to Flynn.”
“With everyone helping, I bet we can get this done in the next few weeks,” Miles muses, thinking it all over in his head. “But I’m going to hire someone to get the shop done. I want that to be perfect for you.”
“Awww,” Sage croons. “I love this so much.” She motions between us, and even though she hasn’t been around as long as the rest of our group of friends, she knows all about the drama with Miles and me.
“So do we,” Miles replies to her. “So do we.” He echoes it again, pulling me close, and I can’t help but close my eyes and fall in love with him a million times over.