Page 26 of Never Forget

“No. Because if you’re just here checking in on me and letting me know you’re staying somewhere nearby, you wouldn’t need luggage.”

His smile widens. I immediately dislike it.

“You’re not staying.”

“Looks like I am.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Blake disagrees.”

“How did you even know where I was?!” The question leaves my mouth before I even think about it. But realization hits pretty quickly. “Fucking Emmy.”

Scott doesn’t bother denying it.

I sigh. “I take back all the nice things I’ve ever said or thought about him.”

If I had cell service, I’d call that nosey little twink and tell him exactly what I think of this arrangement. Unfortunately, the property has approximately zero bars for the next week. And if I’m honest, I was enjoying being disconnected from reality for a while.

Scott gestures vaguely to the surrounding trees and land. “You realize nobody can reach you out here, right?”

“That was kind of the point.”

“Exactly,” he says pointedly. “No one can reach you, so no one can verify if you’re safe or not.”

Ugh. I hate that he has a reasonable argument. I hate even more that part of me is relieved he’s standing here.

“Fine.” Stepping aside, I wave him inside impatiently.

Scott ducks through the doorway. I cross my arms. His giant ass makes my tiny trailer feel at least forty percent smaller.

“Speaking of shitty cell service, I come bearing gifts.” Scott drops his duffel on the coffee table and bends to open it, brandishing a white box. “That’s from Emmy. He said he wasn’t sure if you were just being cheap or anti-social, but it’s not safe or healthy, blah, blah, blah…”

“What is it?”

“A cell booster.”

I sigh. “Of course it is.”

I don’t bother mentioning that I have a contractor coming out next week to install a private cell tower. They couldn’t even give me a week, really?

“So if I let you install that thing, does that mean you’ll be leaving? There’s a shitty motel two exits up, you’d probably be more comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he says jovially, as if I’m being considerate and not hinting for him to leave. “I can make myself comfortable anywhere.”

“And just where do you think you’ll be sleeping?” I ask, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. He already learned the hard way that I don’t like sharing a bed, and I’m not about to take the couch in my own home.

“Anywhere horizontal works for me,” he says, completely nonplussed by my pissy attitude.

I gesture dramatically around the interior. “No point in a grand tour, this is pretty much it. As you can see, there’s no room for a six-foot-five human refrigerator.”

Scott plops down on the couch, settling back with his hands tucked behind his head. The couch looks tiny with him on it. It’s too small for me to sleep on, and I’m about five inches and probably eighty pounds smaller than Scott. Compared to him, it looks like doll furniture.

“This’ll work,” he says happily.

“It absolutely will not.”

He looks entirely unconcerned, as usual. It makes my blood boil. I can feel my face heating, like a kettle filling with steam. I’m about to go off.