“We’re completely booked up,” Autumn said apprehensively. “I have one spot in a month, but that would only be for the week. What about your cabin, Leo? Or Hazel’s.”
Leo sighed, defeated. “We both have our keys here.”
And I didn’t have keys to their places because technically, they were their homes. “And no one here has a spare key?”
“We do have spares, it’s just… I have Hazel’s?—”
“And Hazel has yours.” Shit. There was no way we didn’t have an alternative.
“I’ll talk with Hazel, and we’ll pop the key in the mail, but for now, don’t you have bunk beds in your cabin, Jack?” Leo asked.
Autumn side-eyed me, and I knew what was coming next.
“They can’t live together. They’ll kill each other,” she said without preamble. “And my second bedroom was turned into an office after Jamie moved in. But someone can sleep on my couch? The only problem is, Jamie wakes up at five and is loud as hell in the morning, so I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Leo, how long are you going to be gone?”
He cringed. “At least a week. Look, Hazel is at her limit. Now, we’re going to have to deal with insurance and repairs, and I don’t even want to bring this up to her. I need you two to figure something out.”
“We can do that,” we said in unison.
“Okay, thank you. Call if you need anything else.”
The screen went blank, leaving Autumn and me to stare at each other until she broke the silence with an undeniable truth: “This is a terrible idea.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Don’t you remember when it was just you and Leo?”
Leo had stayed with me during a squirrel infestation in his cabin. He’d discovered it when he’d fallen asleep with a piece of pizza crust in his hand and woken up with a squirrel on his chest holding said piece of crust. Then it bit him, which led to him bitching and moaning for a week.
But as horrifying as that was, it’d been worse when we lived together. We’d thought it’d be fine since we’d all lived together in one room at the very beginning, but we’d been wrong. Apparently, the girls had balanced us out.
It was time for me to rip the bandage off. “Did you see this morning?”
She closed her eyes. “It’s not great.”
“I’ll take all these options back to Nat and see what she wants to do.” I stood from my chair and grabbed my baseball cap, putting it back on. “And I’ll let you know how bad it is, damage-wise.”
It wasn’t good.I sat Nat down gently. She’d begrudgingly let me give her a piggyback ride over to her cabin. She’d slid on a pair of my shoes that were definitely too big for her.
We assessed the damage. The fallen tree had smashed her door to the point that it couldn’t be opened until I broke it out of its casing. I’d need to take a chainsaw to unblock the entrance. The roof was caved in, and I could only assume there would be water damage.
“Ow. Ow.”
I turned to find her walking gingerly on her heels just like this morning. Only now, it looked like she was wearing clown shoes. She looked ridiculous. And yet again, I rushed to pick her up.
She touched my forearm to stop me, kindness in her eyes. “You don’t have to carry me.”
“But you shouldn’t be walking.” I couldn’t stand the idea of her in pain. It made me physically ill. “And the doctor said to get some rest.”
She stared at me quizzically. “I hurt my feet, Jack. I didn’t get a concussion.”
Okay, that made sense. Despite everything, I offered my arm. When she took it, I breathed in relief. We walked the perimeter at a snail’s pace together.
Nat lifted a broken pot to a nasturtium plant. “What do we do?”
I winced as the pot fell to pieces when she tried to cover the exposed roots with dirt. “We need to retarp the roof since it wasn’t secured properly. I need to take photos for insurance and get the go-ahead to chop this up and get through the door.”
