“I’ll fill in your file. In case there’s anything else I need, I’ll give you a call.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“No problem, Wren.”
And then I leave.
The automatic doors hiss open, spilling sunlight over me. My legs carry me forward, but my mind is a tangled mess.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I let him—why did I want him?—?
My cheeks burn as I step outside, hugging my arms around myself like that could hide what I just did.
I wave down a taxi. The driver barely glances at me as I slide in and mumble my address.
I lean my forehead against the glass as the town rolls by, too bright, too alive. My reflection stares back at me, flushed cheeks, messy hair, the sundress that suddenly feels too thin, too revealing.
My phone buzzes in my hand. I tap Norah’s name before I can overthink it.
She picks up on the first ring. “Hey! You okay?”
Her voice is warm, grounding.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “Where are you?”
“With Pancake. Little menace nearly shredded my curtains.” There’s a laugh in her voice, muffled by some sound in the background. “Want me to bring him over?”
“Later,” I say quickly. My chest tightens. “I think I’m just going to head home and nap.”
There’s a pause, but she doesn’t push. “Alright. I’ll bring him by tonight.”
We hang up, and I let my phone drop into my lap. The taxi pulls up in front of the café, and I pay the fare with stiff fingers.
The place still smells like plaster and dust, like fresh sawdust and old brick. Repairs everywhere, scaffolding leaned against one wall, half-finished paint on the frame. I push open the door and step inside, my sandals clicking on the concrete floor.
“Afternoon, Wren.”
Ryker looks up from crouching near a toolbox, his forearm smeared with dust. He’s been my contractor since the day I signed the lease, reliable, steady, older than me by maybe ten years, but sharp-eyed enough to notice things before I do.
“Hey,” I say, already bracing.
He wipes his hands on a rag and stands. “Listen, we ran into a bit of an issue downstairs.”
I frown. “What kind of issue?”
“Pipes.” He grimaces. “A couple of them burst. We managed to stop the leak, but the pipes are too corroded to patch. You’ll need replacements.”
My stomach sinks. “How much?”
He scratches the back of his neck, rattles off a number that makes my pulse lurch. Way higher than what I have in my account. Way more than I can cover with the meager savings I’d set aside for finishing touches, not emergencies.
I force my face into something neutral, nodding like I’m absorbing it. But inside, panic claws at me.
There’s no way I can ask my mother. No way in hell. I just don’t have the funds to make this happen at the moment.
“Ryker…” My voice comes out thinner than I want. “Do everything else. Just… shut off the water to the café. I’ll still have water upstairs, right?”
“Yeah, we can reroute. Might take a couple of days, but we’ll rig a temporary line from one of the upstairs taps.” He studies me carefully. “You sure?”
