Chapter 9 - Callie
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Callie
My pancakes are exactly how I like them—warm and fluffy, with a big ole glob of butter melting in the center and homemade syrup dripping down the sides—but it seems that not even they can make me smile today.
I shovel a forkful into my mouth and swallow, barely even tasting any of the maple sweetness, as I switch back and forth between the Zillow app on my phone and the Dayton Springs classified ads.
I’d gotten up early this morning with a mission: find a new place to live so I can stop mooching off my too-big-hearted-for-her-own-good cousin. But after spending all day driving around town looking at
potential rentals, all I have to show for my troubles is a nearly empty gas tank .
A little comfort food seemed like a good consolation prize, but apparently not even the diner’s pancakes can make me feel better.
“Ugh,” I grumble, tossing my phone on the table and shoving it away. No matter how many times I check that stupid app, the perfect rental isn’t going to magically appear—a fact that annoys the ever-living crap out of me.
I stab at my pancakes, scooping up another mouthful.
“How you doing over here?”
I quit glowering at my food long enough to see Sutton standing beside my table, a tray with a pitcher of sweet tea in hand.
I’d noticed her when I walked in, but thankfully she’d been busy delivering food to a table full of football players so another waitress grabbed my order. It really shouldn’t feel weird or awkward seeing her, but it does. All thanks to Jensen.
Just the thought of him makes me want to put my head on the table and groan loud enough for people in the next county to hear.
It’s been a little over a week since the photoshoot, and it feels like every time I turn around, Jensen is there.
The likelihood of running into someone in a small town like Dayton Springs is pretty high, but the amount of times I’ve run into Jensen is getting ridiculous.
It’s like the universe keeps shoving us together just so it can have a good laugh.
First, it was the Piggly Wiggly. Next, it was Maude’s Bakery.
Don’t even get me started on how we both ended up at the drug store pharmacy counter on a day that the pharmacist was working solo with a drive-thru full of people.
He’s always polite, but it never goes beyond the basic pleasantries—which, of course, is totally fine by me.
Despite the way shivers ripple down my back when he says hello and the heat that flushes my skin at the sight of him, I am not interested.
Even if my stupid body hasn’t gotten the memo, my brain is pretty solid on that fact.
The check engine light is on in my 4Runner, and I’m at least 500 miles overdue for an oil change, but there’s no way I’m taking it in to Bradford Auto. I’d rather have to cross state lines than do that. Nope, I’ll pass. Take that, Universe.
Eventually, I’ll stop thinking about him so much. I’ll stop going over every detail of every interaction we’ve had in my head, and I’ll finally stop obsessing over the photos of us I have saved on my phone.
Whatever my issues are, none of them are Sutton’s fault. So, even though it feels weird seeing her after her best friend gave me a big ole NOPE, I do my best to put on a normal expression.
“I think I’m good,” I tell her.
“Are you sure? Cause you’re hacking up those pancakes like they’ve personally wronged you.” She gives me a sheepish smile, and it’s pretty obvious that it’s one of those, “sorry my stupid best friend made you feel all the feels and then left you on read,” kind of smiles.
“I guess it’s not their fault I’ve had a crummy day.” I trace a finger around the edge of my plate and sigh. “Their one job is to be delicious, which they are. I may not be able to find a place to live, but at least there’s that, right?”
Sutton’s brows scrunch. “Wait, I thought you were staying with Mabel?”
I glance around for my cousin, who’s due to arrive for her shift any minute before I answer.
“I am, but I’m staying in the studio over her garage, which she usually rents out.
Her last tenant got a job and moved to Atlanta, so it was vacant when I showed up.
She insisted I take the space, but now she won’t let me pay any kind of rent.
She keeps saying we’re family and that means my money is no good to her, but I know she’s struggling to make ends meet.
She has been for a while now, ever since .
. . well, I’m sure she told you about her ex. ”
Sutton nods. “Oh, I’ve heard the stories.”
“She was finally starting to get back on her feet, you know? Then I came home, and she’s too pig-headed to let me help with the bills.
I don’t have a job yet, but I have plenty in savings.
I could help if she let me, but she’s determined to prove that she can stand on her own two feet—even if it means the electricity is about to be cut off.
” I reach into my bag and pull out the envelope I’d snagged from the mailbox this morning.
The big, red bolded “Overdue” stamp on the front is hard to miss.
I’d gone to the electric company and paid the bill in person, but I was sure there were more like it.
The quickest way to help Mabel was to move out so she could find a tenant she’d actually let pay her.
“Oh man,” Sutton winces. “She told me she needed to pick up some extra shifts, but I didn’t realize she was struggling like that.”
“She’s more stubborn than a mule, I swear.
Getting her to admit there’s a problem usually requires an act of congress,” I tease, shoving the envelope back in my bag.
“I’ve been looking at rentals all day, but everything I’ve found is either some hole in the wall or comes with a questionable roommate.
” It was one of the “perks” of small-town living.
There weren’t any condominiums nearby, and the one apartment complex in the area had no vacancy.
“I’ve looked at everything from a shed in someone’s backyard to renting a room from a woman whose entire house was decorated with frogs. And I don’t mean the cute cartoon kind.”
Sutton and I share a shudder.
“I need to find something soon. Mabel’s been there for me when no one else has. I just want to make sure I’m looking out for her the way she’s always looked out for me.”
“Sounds to me like you already are,” Sutton says, reaching across the table to refill my glass of tea. “I’m sure you’ll find something soon. And . . . I get the whole too stubborn for their own good thing.” She gives me a pointed look.
It doesn’t surprise me that she knows about my text to Jensen and his non-existent answer. She probably knows about our awkward run-ins too.
I wave a hand. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
“I just don’t want you to think that he didn’t have a good time at the photoshoot, Callie, because he did. He told me all about it, about how incredible it was. It’s just, Jensen is . . . complicated.”
I can tell from the way she’s pursing her lips that she’s trying not to say too much. I admire her loyalty, even if it does feel kind of like a sucker punch to the gut.
I thought I was doing better, that I was finally starting to recover from what happened with Adam, but Jensen’s rejection, as minimal as it was, brought back a lot of feelings I don’t want to feel anymore.
I was never good enough for Adam—which is why he spent the majority of our relationship changing everything about me. The saddest part about it was that I let him.
And I have to live with that.
“It’s okay, I get it,” I tell her, even though I really don’t get it at all. It’s probably for the best anyway. The last thing I need is complications, and if anything, it’s solidified the fact that I don’t need any kind of relationship right now. I’m better off on my own. “Seriously, it’s fine. ”
Sutton nods, not pushing the issue. “Alright, well, I hope you and me and Mabel can still hangout some time. Maybe do a girl’s night? It’s been a really long time since I had one of those.”
“For sure, I would love that.”
Sutton beams. “The next night Mabel and I both have off, we’re planning something!” She taps the corner of my table. “But for now, I’ll let you eat your pancakes in peace.”
She finishes topping off my sweet tea and then disappears back into the kitchen. I take a few, less aggressive bites of my pancakes and pick up my phone again. It’s not ideal, but there might be some rental options in the next town over. I type in the new criteria and hit search.
The prospects aren’t great, and I’m contemplating whether I should circle back and reconsider Frog Lady, when Sutton returns to my table, a wide smile on her face.
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier, but I know a place that you can rent!” She hands me her phone which is open to a website called RV Share. The listing is for a newly renovated vintage Airstream.
“Oh, wow,” I say, swiping through the pictures.
“It’s so cute!” The RV isn’t very large, but the inside is bright and clean, with black and white accents that are absolutely adorable.
There’s a small kitchen, a bathroom, and a dining area that converts to a bed.
According to the listing, the rent is more than affordable.
It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.
“I know the owner,” Sutton says, “and they mentioned a few other folks are coming to check it out tomorrow afternoon. I bet if you headed over there today, you could get a jump on it if you’re interested.”
“I’m definitely interested.” I scan the listing, noting there isn’t a phone number included. Just an email. “But it doesn’t look like there’s a way to call the owner? Do you have the number?”
“Oh, you can just show up,” Sutton waves a hand. “I’ll give you the address.” She reaches for a napkin off the table and pulls a pen out from the pocket of her apron to jot down the information.
“You don’t think I should call or something first?”
“Nah, I know the guy. He’s more of a face-to-face type anyway.”