Chapter 2

2

MERRITT

I ran my fingers under the edge of the doormat, feeling around for a key that I was half certain wouldn’t be there. Nothing. I sighed, stepping back and surveying the front of the house.

The place had fallen apart more than I had let myself admit. The shutters were missing on half the windows, the other half hanging crooked. The grass was dead. The flower beds that used to be so pretty and vibrant were filled with dead weeds that had succumbed to the chill of winter. The porch steps creaked ominously under my weight. I could see a hole big enough for a raccoon to crawl through. Dad would’ve hated it looking like this.

“Come on, Dad,” I muttered. “You always left a spare somewhere.”

I was almost afraid to look too hard. I was absolutely certain there were black widows taking refuge all over this place. There were probably a few snakes as well. This house was no longer meant for humans. Nature was slowly reclaiming it.

But I had to get inside. I had to know what I was dealing with. If the outside was anything like the inside, I was going to be very, very busy. Hell, I didn’t even know if there was any saving it. But the only way to find out was to get in. Breaking a window would only make the situation worse.

Finally, I crouched beside one of the cracked potted plants near the door. Potting soil spilled out the bottom. I used the toe of my shoe to kick it around. A faint glimmer of metal caught my eye. Relief flooded me. I pulled out the key, brushed off the dirt, and jammed it into the lock.

The door resisted when I pushed, groaning against its frame. I set my shoulder against it and shoved hard until it gave way with a splintering sound. “Great,” I muttered. Something else to fix or replace.

I hesitated before stepping over the threshold. “Please don’t let a mouse or a raccoon attack me.”

Inside, the house was a tomb, silent and stale. The air smelled like dust and the faint tang of mildew. I waved my hand in front of my face. Opening the door and allowing air inside had stirred up the dust. Before I could stop it, I sneezed, which only stirred up more dust.

I tried the light switch to banish the gloom. Thankfully, it worked. That had been a debacle trying to get the power back on. But there was no way in hell I was coming to this place without the benefit of electricity.

“I should have left the lights off,” I muttered.

I looked around the small living room and grimaced. This was going to take a lot of work to clean up and make habitable again. I took a few more steps inside, testing the floor before putting all of my weight on it.

The floors creaked beneath my boots as I moved, surveying the damage. Water stains bloomed on the ceiling. Cracks ran jagged up the walls. The linoleum in the kitchen peeled at the edges, curling like a dry leaf.

I opened windows as I moved, though half were stuck shut. The fresh air would help, I told myself, even if the cool draft would be uncomfortable. The lake came into view as I reached the dining room. Still and gray, it mirrored the dark sky above. I could picture it in summer—the sun dancing on the surface, my dad laughing as he pulled the canoe to shore, fish thrashing in the bucket.

“Not now,” I whispered, closing my eyes and forcing the memory away.

I flipped on another light switch, relieved when the bulb flickered to life. The kitchen and dining room were just as I remembered but more broken. I looked into the living room. The couch sagged, the fabric worn thin. The coffee table was cluttered with old mail and empty bottles. My dad had been living like this for years, but seeing it now felt like a sucker punch.

I headed to his bedroom. My chest tightened as I stepped inside. The bed was unmade, the covers tangled and half on the floor. On the nightstand was a photo, its glass covered in a fine layer of dust. I picked it up, using my sleeve to wipe away the grime.

Three smiling faces stared back at me. Me, Dad, and Mom. I could still hear my mom’s laughter from that day at the petting zoo, her voice coaxing me to pet the baby goats while Dad stood back, grinning like he’d won the lottery. Simpler times. Better times.

We called it a petting zoo, but it was a farm run by one of my father’s friends. I remembered the chickens scared me at first. They were so aggressive and loud. But it didn’t take long before I was the one chasing them around. That day, I had declared I wanted a farm. My father laughed and told me it was a lot more work than I thought. And it was expensive. Back then, I had been so naive about the world. I never really understood just how horrible it could be. I had no idea living could be so painful.

I placed the photo back and sat on the edge of the bed. The weight of life was heavy right then. The funeral, the house, the memories. I could almost see Dad sitting there, his routine as predictable as the sunrise. He’d drink the glass of water on the nightstand, crack his back, and shuffle to the kitchen, humming off-key as he made coffee.

“I miss you, Daddy,” I whispered. My voice cracked, and I buried my face in my hands, letting myself feel the grief that had been simmering under the surface since I got the call a week ago.

It wasn’t really a surprise. I knew it was coming. He’d been in the long-term hospice care facility for three years. Every day I woke up asking myself if this was the day. The last three years were a weird waiting game. And now that he was gone, I was feeling a little lost.

There were about a million regrets lingering as well. Things between us were rocky at best. But they weren’t always like that. I felt guilty for not doing more, but I knew I couldn’t take care of him. He couldn’t take care of himself.

There was no way I could let him sit and rot in the house. Going into the facility was the right thing, but it didn’t always feel that way. I wished I had a magic wand. I would have fixed his mind in an instant. I wanted him to argue with me.

I felt myself spiraling. It was like looking at the drain. I was circling, ready to go full-on meltdown. I had been keeping the tears at bay since I got the news of my father’s passing a week ago, but dammit, it was there.

The sudden bang of the front door slamming open made me jump. My tears immediately dried up. I looked for a weapon. Anything. I didn’t know if I was going to be fighting man or beast. I hoped man at this point. A rogue raccoon was not on my bingo card for today.

“You didn’t have to ram into it so hard!” a sharp voice hissed.

“I didn’t see you stepping up to try,” another voice shot back, dripping with sarcasm. “God forbid you break a nail.”

“God forbid you think before you act for once!”

A grin broke through my tears as I walked out to the hallway. It was neither man nor beast. Rounding the corner, I found my two best friends, suitcases in hand, hair windswept and faces flushed.

“Lucia! Dominique!” I squealed, rushing toward them. I threw my arms around them, squeezing tight. “You came.”

“Of course we did,” Dominique said. She smelled like her signature perfume—something floral and expensive.

Lucia patted my back with a huff. “You think we’d let you handle this alone? Not a chance, babe.”

I sniffled, pulling back to look at them. “You got here just in time. I was about to lose it.”

“You’re allowed to lose it,” Dominique said. “I would be a basket case.”

“I don’t want to lose it,” I said. “I have a feeling once I start, I won’t be able to stop. Being a blubbering idiot is not going to get shit done.”

Lucia stepped back. “First things first. Let’s call that funeral home and talk about that extra charge. If they can’t explain it, we’re not paying.”

Dominique nodded, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And we’re not letting you stay in this house without backup. Although I’m not sure if we’re enough backup, looking at the place.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “What would I do without you two?”

“Let’s not find out,” Lucia said with a wink.

I took a step back, looking them over. Lucia was in her usual uniform—ripped jeans, a leather jacket, and combat boots. A total badass. She would scare me if I didn’t know her. But having her on my side was like having a whole damn army as backup. Dominique was her polar opposite in a sleek coat, heels, and a scarf that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Her pretty blonde hair always looks perfect. Everything about Dominique was glamorous.

“You really didn’t have to come all this way,” I said, though my heart swelled at their presence.

Dominique arched a perfectly manicured brow. “Don’t be ridiculous. You needed us.”

Lucia nodded. “And you need to eat. When’s the last time you had a proper meal?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Yesterday?”

Both women exchanged a look.

“Alright,” Dominique said, clapping her hands. “Here’s the plan. We’ll handle the funeral stuff first. Then we’ll get you something to eat that doesn’t come out of a can.”

“And maybe crack open a bottle of wine,” Lucia added.

I smiled. “You two are the best.”

Lucia grinned. “Don’t you forget it.”

It wouldn’t be easy. There was so much to do, so much to process. My father was gone. I was officially an orphan. It was so hard to accept. I didn’t know why. I had been bracing for this day for years. I knew I would have to come here and clean the place up.

But it was so different now that it was actually happening.

One day at a time. That was all I had to do.

As long as life didn’t throw me another curve ball while I was back home, I could get through this and return to my normal life.