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Chapter One
Peyton
Atlas knocks on the window and cups his giant hands to peer through. He’s a massive man, covered in ink, with a long salt and pepper beard. According to my new friend Lainey, I should let him do more than work on my roof.
If this were a fantasy land where fantasy things happened, I’d agree. I should let him do all kinds of things to me. That said, we don’t live in a fantasy land. We live here, on top of a cold, pine laden, rugged mountain.
I walk toward the window and lift up the pane, wrapping my robe tighter to block the cold air that’s filtering in. “What’s wrong?” I bite. “The kids are still sleeping.”
He groans low under his breath as though I’ve annoyed him with my comment and he’s working hard to keep pleasantries. “You’ve got mold on your roof.”
“Okay… so take it off.”
He laughs. “If it were that easy. You’ve had a leak up there for a while. The damage has spread to the attic. You’re going to need a professional removal.”
“How professional? Like expensive professional, because I tapped myself out to fix the roof. You never said anything about mold.”
He closes his eyes and huffs. “No one could’ve seen the mold unless they looked in that attic and I wasn’t looking atthe attic. I was looking at the roof when I quoted you. I can fix it cheap, but it’s still going to run you five hundred bucks for supplies.”
“I can’t afford that, so… leave it there, I guess.”
“Mold? You want me to leave black mold in your house? You know that shit spreads, right? It can make you sick. Don’t you have kids here?”
“Is this some kind of guilt trip or something? I said I don’t have the money! And why are you talking to me through a window? The door is three feet away. You could come through the house like a normal person.”
He glances sideways at the front door, then back at me. “Am I clearing the mold, or do you prefer to get your family sick?”
What the hell is this guy’s problem? He might make his money on guilting other people, but he can’t trick me. Though, it’s mostly because I couldn’t afford it anyway.
“I’ll fix it myself.”
“Boards and insulation need to be replaced. You’ve got that on your own?” His brows raise as though I’m some incapable woman. “You know I gave you a bottom barrel price, right? I’m not charging you for time, only for materials.”
“Why would you do that?” My tone is biting. I don’t need handouts.
“I don’t know, lady. I get it. You’re struggling. I just want to help. You wait on this and it’s only gonna get worse.”
My knowledge of black mold is limited, but from what I’ve heard, it’s not the best kind to have. That said, I have no clue how I’ll ever get through the month five hundred bucks short. The truth is, I won’t. I’d have to call my parents for help, and I’ve been raising these kids on my own for over a year now. I pride myself in not taking donations. Even if I took a loan from them,it would take over a year for me to pay that kind of money back. I’m not doing it.
To get an extra five hundred bucks would mean so many more shifts at the diner. I wouldn’t make the cash up in time to buy groceries for the month or pay the light bill. I don’t think they’d cut me off in the dead of winter, but even if they didn’t, I still have to feed the kids. I wouldn’t even be fixing the roof if it weren’t for the leak, and I wouldn’t have had the money for that either had I not tapped into the reserve I was saving for culinary school.
“What are we doing with this?” Atlas leans into the window with a groan. “I’m already doing the work as cheap as I can.”
He’s not bullshitting about that. I got half a dozen quotes on the roof before I met Atlas, and he was the cheapest of everyone. I know his profit from this job is small already. He might be a grump, but at least he’s a fair grump… I guess. “This is really the cheapest you can get it?”
He nods. “Bare bones.”
I stare up at the discolored ceiling and squeeze my eyes closed as though I know the words are going to sting. “Okay. Do it.”
The pain hasn’t subsided, but I flash my eyes open anyhow and glance toward Atlas, who’s already pushing the window closed. So much for kinky roof man fantasies… unless the point of the dream is to have him take all my money before he ties me up. Something tells me that’s not happening.
I wish I had someone to talk to. A partner. Someone I could brainstorm with about solutions. Someone who’ll help me figure out where we’re coming up with the extra money to pay for all this work.
“Mommy?”
I turn toward my son’s distraught voice. It’s not a hurt tone. It’s an‘I did something wrong’tone, which turns my stomach. The boy is only four, but you’d be surprised at the trouble he can get into.
“Yeah, what’s up, kiddo?”
