CHAPTER ONE

FERN

My head pulses in time with the steady drip, drip sounds coming from the kitchen faucet. It has been randomly dripping for months and I've come to the conclusion that I need to either replace the entire faucet, call a plumber, or continue to ignore it.

Considering the pile of bills spread out on the table in front of me, continuing to ignore it is really my only option. In the grand scheme of things, a leaky faucet is the least of my worries right now, as I'm struggling to stay positive and see the light at the end of this nightmare.

I never dreamed I'd be a widow at twenty-six.

Flopping face down, I let out a weak groan, closing my gritty and tired eyes as I press my face to the smooth wood of the table. Once again, I kick myself for not divorcing Jared before he had to go and die. If I had divorced his ass, I'd be off the hook for the mountain of bills he left behind.

After the accident when he was in the hospital for weeks, I never had a single doubt that he would walk out of there. He was too tough and far too mean to die.

But the joke was on me. After running up medical bills into the seven figures, he died.

And he did it quietly, in the middle of the night, while I wasn't there. Something his family will never let me forget.

Ha! As if my presence could have prevented his passing. Maybe they should have had his girlfriend visit him around the clock instead. Bet he wouldn't have died on her.

You shouldn't speak badly of the dead, but what about flipping them off?

I extend both hands and shoot my deceased husband the bird. If he's up in Heaven, which I doubt, he's probably laughing his ass off.

Unable to put it off any longer, I drag myself back upright and face the bills. The pathetic balance staring up at me from the checkbook makes my fingers shake around the pen.

I'm wondering if I can live off forty dollars for groceries for the rest of the month when my phone buzzes. If it's another bill collector, I'm going to call it a day and head back to bed.

A snort escapes me.

I wish.

I can't afford not to show up for my shift at the diner. This job is the only thing keeping food in my stomach and making it possible for me to send all these little payments out. Sure, the paltry amounts are like spitting into the ocean, but they show I'm trying and keep most of the bill collectors at bay.

My headache ramps up at the car dealership's number and, using a finger, I slide my phone further away from me as if that will make it all go away.

After writing the last check, I'm cursing Jared for not having life insurance and for being born.

Doing both is completely fruitless, yet there is a tad more pep in me when I close the checkbook and push up from the table.

Okay, I'm ready to face another day.

Except when I'm halfway across the kitchen, my phone starts ringing again. My shoulders shoot up around my ears as my entire body tenses.

Balling my fingers into fists, I strive to push back the tears that flood my eyes.

Four months ago, my life wasn't like this. I never feared the ringing of my phone or a knock on the door. Now they all mean bad news.

Yes, four months ago I hated my husband for being a lying, cheating prick, but he was also the prick that paid the bills while I spent my time working on my bachelor's degree. All that changed when he crashed into a trash truck.

How he didn't see it, I'll never know. It was only a huge freaking bright yellow trash truck!

But whatever the reason, he smashed the new little sports car he just had to have into it, sending him to the hospital with massive internal injuries and pulverized bones and the car to the scrapyard.

His work was so sweet, sending a huge flower arrangement to the hospital every week, and then one to the funeral home when Jared passed.

Shame that sweetness didn't extend to them sending his last paycheck without me having to make a dozen calls. Or for any of his coworkers to help pitch in for funeral costs or even show up for his service.

The big funeral that Jared's mother insisted he have was a joke. Outside of our two small families, the only others to show were a few of Jared's drunken friends. My dad had to stop the one from pissing on the coffin. Though if I had known the mess I'd be left with, I would have handed that guy a bottle of water and cheered him on.

The phone continues to ring and pushing out a defeated groan, I stomp over and grab it.

At the sight of my mom's name on the screen, I collapse into the chair and try my best to force a brightness I don't feel into my voice as I answer. "Hello?"

"Fern, hello." My mother's voice is like a cool balm to my soul. I close my eyes and for a moment wish I were a little kid again and my parents could make everything right.

Sadly, that moment is far too brief as my phone chimes a reminder that I have the lunch shift today.

"Mom, listen, I can't talk long. I have to shower for work soon."

"Oh sweetie, I understand. How are you holding up?"

Barely.

But it's far too humiliating to admit how awful things are to my mom. I never told her about Jared's girlfriend. It was dreadful enough that everyone around here knew.

"The same."

"You're still working at that restaurant?" Worry colors her words and it makes me feel guilty for upsetting her.

"Bob's Diner, yeah."

Mom hums for a moment. "Are you sure you want to quit school altogether? I understand with losing Jared you needed some time off to process things, but maybe getting back to your studies would help instead of working as a waitress."

It slips out before I can sugarcoat things. "I need money to pay the bills, and college costs too much right now."

"We could send you some."

No, no, my parents couldn't. Driving out for Jared's funeral was enough of a hardship for them. I don't need them sending me money they can't afford.

"Mom, no. I'm making do." I wince as the lie stutters out. I'm drowning here and if someone doesn't toss me a lifesaver soon, I'll be going under. I don't want to take my family with me, so I can't let on how bad things are.

"Fern, have you thought about selling the house?"

Only about a dozen times. I hated it here from the moment Jared decided to move us closer to his family. But I'm stuck. This house is at least a roof over my head. "I can't do that. I have nowhere else to go."

"You could come back home. We'd love to have you."

Oh, that's so tempting, but completely impractical. My sister Carol and her three kids already live with my parents in their cramped two-bedroom house. Growing up, Carol and I shared a room with bunkbeds and that's where Carol's boys are now sleeping with Carol and her daughter taking over my parents' room and poor mom and dad on the pull-out couch in the living room. There's nowhere for me to go except an air mattress in the garage.

"I couldn't impose."

"Fern! You wouldn't be imposing. You're our daughter. Besides, the place is feeling empty now that Carol and the kids have moved out."

Snapping upright in the chair, I squeeze the phone hard. "Carol moved out?" I wheeze. "When?!"

"Last week."

If I could sell the house, I could pay off a big chunk of the bills. And moving back home, I could save money and be around my family and friends again. Within a year, I could be back on my feet and able to resume my studies to finish my degree.

Hope soars within my chest and I feel downright giddy as the possibility of getting out of this mess suddenly seems within my grasp.

Like finding a hair in your lunch, my mood plummets once more and my eyes narrow in suspicion as I ask, "Where did she move?"

I love my older sister dearly. She doesn't always have the best track record when it comes to men and major life decisions, though. Then again, considering my loser husband and the mess he left me in, I really don't have room to talk.

"Into her own place. Not in with a man," Mom says.

It's like my mother has read my mind. Or likely, it's that she's been down this same road with my sister before, so she's used to this. My sister will meet a new guy, things will be rosy, she moves her and the kids in with him, and then boom! She's left homeless and forced to move back in with my parents. This is the third or fourth time it's happened.

Chances are good, she'll need to move back in at some point.

But if she truly does have her own place, maybe she's gotten her act together and our childhood bedroom will stay empty now.

A small, weary part of me is begging for me to do it. After I left home, I never returned. I wouldn't be taking advantage of my parents, not if they offered, and don't I deserve to rest for a bit and not be stressed over everything? This could be the new beginning I need.

"That's great! You're sure I wouldn't be imposing if I were to move back-"

Mom cuts me off. "You wouldn't be! We want you home, Fern. You should have moved back after Jared passed."

Tears sting my eyes. "I'm going to do it. I'm going to see about selling this place as soon as I can." My phone beeps again and now I really do have to get moving or I'll be late. "Mom, I have to go."

She laughs. "I understand. Let us know if you need help to get the house listed or moving. Oh, I can't wait! Love you, Fern!"

"Love you too, Mom!"

After we disconnect, I let the tears fall and race upstairs to shower. My world suddenly feels brighter as I turn the water on.

Except as I strip off my clothes, an odd bubbling comes from the toilet. Lifting the lid, I don't see anything, but that gurgle comes again sounding deeper in the pipes.

Whatever, I'll deal with a clogged drain later. Right now, I'm not letting it spoil my good mood.