Page 68 of Hometown Halftime

“Holy fucking shit,” he breathes.

Water hits the floor, splashing up the cabinets, spreading fast across the tile. Then, just as quickly as it came, the surge slows. The roar turns into a steady stream, dripping and pooling, creeping outward.

“Kinsey.” Riley’s hands settle on my shoulders, bringing my focus to his words. “Grab whatever you need. Right now. Just in case.”

I nod, still in disbelief, as I spin toward my bedroom and grab my small rolling suitcase from the closet, yanking it open on the bed. My hands shake as I throw things in—jeans, shirts, underwear, bras, and work uniforms. Toiletries are next, along with my makeup, hair supplies, and finally, my phone charger. I zip it up too fast, catching the fabric, swearing under my breath before fixing it and hauling it upright.

Then I grab a duffel and throw in journals, a few of my favorite special edition books. A couple of photo albums from the shelf, my owl prints and my stuffed otter off the bed.

My apartment isn’t big, so the edge of the water has now reached the hall near my bedroom when I walk out. It’s seeping into the living room, stretching toward the couch, creeping along the baseboards. My stomach sinks, my breaths are coming faster.

My apartment, my home, is going to be ruined.

“Hey,” Riley’s voice cuts through it, concerned. He’s by the door, my suitcase already in one hand, reaching for my duffel bag with the other. “Talk to me.”

I blink, forcing myself to focus. “I need to call my landlord.”

I grab my phone and dial his number.

“Hey, Kinsey, what’s up?”

“Water, Sam,” I say. “A lot of water. The kitchen ceiling collapsed, and it’s coming into the living room and hallway.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Shit. Okay. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Okay.” I hang up, staring at the screen for a second before lowering it.

Riley watches me, eyes sharp and concerned. “Is this all you want to take?”

I glance around—at the water, the damage, the mess spreading across the floor—and swallow hard.

“Yeah. That’s…that’s it.”

“Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I open the door, and he heads for his truck. Taking one last look at my home, my shoulders sink. Then I close the door behind me. After loading my stuff into the back, Riley turns to me.

“Hey,” he says as he steps closer. “You’re okay.”

I nod, even though I’m not entirely convinced. “Yeah. I just…wasn’t expecting my ceiling to try to kill me tonight. Fuck, what about all my stuff? And now our night is ruined.”

I look to the side, trying to stop the stinging behind my eyes. Riley doesn’t miss it and he closes the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me. I curl into him, letting him hold me.

“Don’t worry about tonight,” he says, stroking my back. “I’ll just take a…raincheck.”

I lift my head from his chest, trying my best not to smile. “Was that supposed to be a joke? Because it was a pretty bad one.”

He shrugs before pulling me back against his body. “I thought it was pretty good. But don’t worry, Kinsey, there will be other opportunities. Right now, we just need to get all this sorted.”

Headlights cut across the front of the building as a truck pulls up. My landlord, Sam, jumps out the second the engine turns off.

“That’s him,” I say, pulling away.

“Hey Kinsey,” he shouts. “I’m going to shut off the water. Be right back.”

He jogs to the side of the building. Riley and I walk back to my door and when Sam appears again, we step back inside carefully, avoiding the worst of the water. Sam stands in the kitchen, staring up at the hole in the ceiling with a hand braced on his hip.

“Holy shit,” he mutters.