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If Jake’s confused, he doesn’t let it show. He’s used to my last-minute changes of plans by now. But this one might throw even my steadfast, unflappable secretary for a loop if he knew what I was really about to do. Which is why, when he asks, I force a smile and lie through my teeth.
“Unfinished business,” I say. “Back in the Keller farm area. I’ll be back in two days at most.”
4
Melanie
My feet throb as I slam the door of my junky car and stagger toward my porch. The poor thing is on its last legs, but I can’t afford a new one, so I just have to keep praying it holds out and paying Ricky the mechanic to jump it every so often. The three steps up to my front door feel like mountains after the day I had.
Before I even make it to the door, though, my feet slide, and I have to grab at the porch railing to keep from skidding over. When I look down to see what I tripped over, my heart lurches in my chest.
A stack of bills awaits me, all sealed within their paper envelopes, each one bearing my name and address. Well, some of them, like the joint electricity bills, have Devan’s name too, but still. Not good news for either of us. I groan aloud as I bend down to scoop them up, then struggle back to my feet to finish unlocking the front door.
“Honey, I’m home,” I murmur as I stagger across the threshold inside. “I come bearing bad news, as usual.”
“Mmrrf?” asks a muffled voice. I glance over to find Devan napping face-first on a cushion on the couch, her arms splayed over her head, her waitressing uniform still around her waist. She got off a few hours before I did tonight, but she’s still in recovery mode from her flu of death. It’s already been a week since she came down with it, but then, our jobs and sleepless schedules don’t exactly make for the heartiest of immune systems.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.” I tiptoe past her to deposit the stack of bills on the dining room table. Right next to the pile, I spot a couple more bills, which Devan must have brought in yesterday afternoon. I sigh and plop down in a chair, my legs pulsing with gratitude at the chance to sit and start to sort through the envelopes. I make two piles: Pay Immediately, and Maybe We Could Get Away With Waiting A Few Weeks.
The first pile is huge. The second pile is getting dangerously close to high as well. I chew on the inside of my lip. We can’t keep living like this forever. Paycheck to paycheck, pulling overtime shifts as often as we can, racking up credit card debt neither of us can pay off thanks to the crazy high interest rates.
Something’s got to give. And based on the sight of Devan right now, that something is probably going to be our immune systems. Or our health. Or my knees. I’m pretty sure nobody our age’s knees are supposed to hurt as badly as mine do pretty much all the time these days.
I blow a strand of hair from my forehead and stand up to pad to the kitchen for tea. On the counter, I spot a piece of chocolate cake Devan clearly left out for me, and I stifle a smile. We’ve been best friends since childhood, and she always knows when I’m going to need a little extra dessert smuggled home from the restaurant.
I take a forkful and sigh with pleasure at the flavor of the dark chocolate and creamy icing. I’ve only just finished putting the kettle on to boil when something bangs out in the hallway.
No, not something. Someone, knocking on the door.
I frown at the clock over the fridge. It’s already 9:30 at night. Who could be coming over at this hour? Devan’s parents don’t tend to visit unannounced, and we don’t have too many other friends who aren’t also working night shifts these days.
Confused and a little annoyed, hoping it’s not somebody either selling things or preaching, I shuffle back to the front door and yank it open.
Then I freeze on the threshold, my mouth dropping open. I should have changed. That’s the first thing that flashes through my mind, standing there still wearing my work uniform, stained at the edges and dotted with grease from a French fry mishap earlier.
Xander stands on the threshold of our apartment, one fist raised in preparation to knock again. The moment he sees me, though, he lets his arm drop, and breaks into a wide smile.
A smile. Even though I must look like an absolute wreck right now. “H-hi,” I manage, blinking. All of a sudden, I’m thrown back to a week ago, to a night that felt like a little oasis, a beautiful dream amidst the dredge of my usual days. Sometimes, since that night he first kissed me out on the cliff overlooking our town, under the moonlight, I’ve wondered if it was a dream. If I hadn’t just returned home from work that night like usual and passed out, only to have a particularly vivid fantasy about a sexy out of town man who rescued me from Bob’s wrath and then made me come more times in one night than I’d known was possible—because oh, we kept going for hours.
