My phone pings with a message, which reminds me: I should probably get Chloe’s number, just in case she needs anything when the storm hits.
The message is from Leo, asking if I’m ready for the storm he saw on the news.Writing long texts makes me want to swallow battery acid, so I dial his number instead.
“Hey,” I say when he picks up.
“You still alive there?”he jokes.
“So far.”I peer out at the angry sky.“But if this thing takes out the outdoor stairs I just spent days working on, I’ll be fucking pissed.”
He chuckles.“There’s no chance of that happening.I know the quality of your work, man.”
My chest pinches.I still can’t talk construction with Leo.“So, how are you?How’s the family?”
“Uh… they’re okay.The missus is a bit worried.I saw my doc the other day about the pain I’m in, and they want to do a whole bunch of tests.”
My feet still against the dusty floorboards.“What do they think it is?”
Dumb question, Ethan.He’s not talking about tennis elbow—what happened to Leo would screw up anyone’s body.His doctors told him he’ll need a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
“Who knows.But I want them to find the cause rather than just prescribing stronger pain pills.I can’t pick up work if I’m zonked out all the time.”
“Right.”A weight presses on my chest as I blink out at the sea.
“Hey, man.I’m worried about you,” Leo says.“I thought maybe you’d be able to rest a bit while you’re there, but it sounds like you’re busier than ever.”
“Rest?What’s that?”I reply.
He chuckles, but it sounds heavy.“Just remember: no one lies on their deathbed wishing they’d worked harder.Make sure you carve out some time for yourself too.”
I promise to try, then we say goodbye, and Leo’s voice is replaced by an eerie silence.I clasp my fingers around the back of my neck, trying to make sense of this sudden feeling of loneliness.
Since when do I, of all people, want company?I probably scowled at the obstetrician when I was born because she had the audacity to smile and coo at me.
The faint rumble of a car engine pulls up outside, and an idea spikes in my head.
A shiver of anticipation runs through me.
Is it possible that Chloe wants a bit of company before the storm traps us all inside?
My palm traces the scruff on my jaw as I consider knocking on her door.
Just go over there and be neighborly.Let her know about the sandbags.
I snag two beers from the fridge and stride over to Chloe’s before I can talk myself out of it.
Her dad is on her doorstep, fumbling with a key.
Does this mean she locked her house?A spot of warmth blooms in my chest.I can’t believe she actually listened to me.
I step up behind him and clear my throat.
The guy jerks around so fast he nearly ass-plants.“Who are you?”he grunts.“Whaddya want?”
Honestly, how did someone so smiley and happy come from this guy?“Is Chloe home yet?”I ask.
He shakes his head, tipping back a little on his heels.Dick—was that his name?—isn’t slurring as much as last time, but it’s obvious he’s had a few.A few too many to be driving that battered-up truck he just parked half on the damn curb.My eyes catch on the logo painted on its side:Quick Fix Construction.
You’ve got to be kidding me.That was the name of the company my parents almost hired to fix up their house.
