Chapter 8

As soon as he left, I began to pace. I couldn't sit down. I felt so much tension in my shoulders and my stomach, it was like I was a rope being twisted tighter and tighter. I walked the length of my porch, my porch, and back.

Who did that guy think he was? I could live in my own house as a guest? I could pay rent to him? I could share this little slice of heaven with someone I barely knew? No way! There had to be some solution that I just wasn't seeing, some way to stall the inevitable.

If I couldn't take the landlord to court, and I couldn't convince Jason not to buy the property, maybe I could sour their deal. All kinds of stupid, sitcom-worthy plots flew in and out of my head. What if I tripped and fell, then I could sue the homeowner? But that would involve courts and lawyers, and again, I didn't have the money for that. Plus, it would be totally illegal.

I exhaled in frustration. This wasn't getting me anywhere. I needed a real plan. The next solution my overworked brain came up with was a pint of ice cream. I ditched that idea as quick as it came. This was serious, and no amount of Rocky Road was going to make me feel better.

I turned to walk the length of the porch again, and the sun shone in my eye. What time was it? I wondered. Reluctantly, I went inside to check my phone. It was three in the afternoon. What had happened to the day? I looked down at what I was wearing and felt another wave of panic wash over me. Had I really just stood in the yard, arguing with that man while wearing my pajamas? My situation had gone from bad to worse.

I put some real clothes on, grabbed a water and my keys, and headed into town. Ava had probably just gotten off work, and if I could catch her, maybe I could unload some of these feelings. I pulled up outside the salon just in time to see Ava walk out the door. She recognized my car and came over.

"Hey." Her voice sounded concerned.

"Have you got a minute?" I asked. "Or an hour?"

"Sure," she said.

We drove the next five blocks to the diner and pulled into the parking lot. Inside, I couldn't help myself. I ordered French fries and a soda because I felt like crap. When the food came, I pushed the fries to the middle of the table.

Ava sighed. "He came by the salon today."

I chewed one fry after another, barely even tasting their salty goodness.

"I didn't tell him anything," Ava tried again.

"He offered to let me rent half of the cabin."

"Half of the cabin?" She snuck one fry and popped it in her mouth.

"Like we would be roommates," I clarified.

"Oh?" Ava's voice indicated that she didn't hate the idea.

"I could have one of the bedrooms, and we would share the fridge and the living room." I wiped my hands on a napkin. "He said he works a lot, so he wouldn't often be home."

"That's good, right?" Ava sipped her tea.

"No, it's not good," I snapped. "I don't want a roommate."

"You could come live with me," Ava offered.

I thought about it. Ava lived in a studio apartment, with one large bedroom/living room area, a kitchenette, and a single bathroom. The idea of trying to squeeze into her life was absurd. Where would I sleep?

"No but thank you."

"It wouldn't be the worst thing to share a cabin with Jason," Ava said, picking up another fry.

"I can't believe you're even suggesting that," I sputtered.

"Hear me out," Ava said, waving the fry at me. "He's a cop. So, you know you'll be safe out there in the forest. You'll get out from under that asshole landlord. You'll keep your eye on the market and buy a new cabin when one becomes available."

I let my head fall to the table, muttering into the laminate, "I don't have the money to buy a cabin. That's why this deal was so perfect."

"The deal is over, Lindsey," Ava said. "You just have to pick the best option moving forward."

I sat up again, no closer to an answer but tired of self-pity. "I wonder if I can get my old apartment back."

"There you go." Ava smiled and pushed the plate of French fries back at me. "You ordered these things, and now I'm eating all of them."

I laughed. I sat back in the booth and picked up my phone.

"Now?" Ava asked.

I thumbed my way to Apartments.com, put in the zip code, and scrolled some of the listings. Ava sat back and pulled out her phone to join me in my search.

"Here's one." She leaned forward and held out her phone screen to me. It was an apartment community in a neighboring town, a twenty-minute commute away.

I shook my head. "Too far. I want to stay in Singer's Ridge." I pulled up a listing on my device, a basement apartment in a home on Main Street. Pictures showed dingy walls and a bathroom that shared space with a water heater. I swiped left. The next listing was for the apartment complex I had just vacated, only there weren't any one bedrooms left. I set my phone down in frustration. "This is crazy. I don't want an apartment. I can't move back into town after I've been living on the mountain. You don't know what it's like up there…" I reached my hands across the table to plead with my friend.

"I'm sure it's nice," she said, "but you don't have a lot of options."

"I'm just going to refuse to leave," I decided. "What's the worst they can do?"

"Um, call the police?" Ava said. "Force you out? Throw all your shit out on the front lawn and change the locks?"

I felt my heart breaking and again wished for some ice cream.

"I have to go," Ava said, glancing at her phone. "I told my mom I would pick up some dinner for her, and it's getting late."

"Thanks for listening. I got this." I pointed to the French fries and her takeout bag.

"You sure?" Ava hesitated.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said.

Ava opened her purse and pulled out a five.

"It's fine." I waved her contribution away.

She stood up, slipped the five under her empty glass, took a final French fry and her sandwich, and walked away. I put my head back against the seat cushion, wondering what I was going to do.

"Lindsey?" A voice brought me down from my storm cloud. I looked up to see Macy Ford, takeout bags draped from her arms, standing beside my booth.

"Hey," I said, sliding out of the seat so I could give her a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm picking up some dinner for the family," she said, holding up the two white plastic bags. "How are you?"

"I've been better," I said before I could stop myself.

"What's wrong?" She set the bags down on the table and took a seat.

I returned to my side of the table.

Macy glanced down at the fries. "That bad, huh?"

I smiled. "It's nothing. I don't want to keep you."

Macy shrugged. "It's early for dinner anyway. I was just on my way home. Talk to me."

"You know I told you about my cabin?" I began.

Macy nodded.

"Well, it turns out that the landlord didn't actually sign my lease, so I have no rights to the property." I studied the fries as if they were some sort of modern art sculpture. "He sold it out from under me to this new police officer."

"Jason White?" Macy guessed.

My eyes shot up to meet hers. "Yes."

Macy nodded. "He's Dillon's friend. They've been seeing a lot of each other lately. Dillon told me he bought a cabin, but I didn't know it was your cabin."

I paused, remembering Jason at the cabin trying to offer me a way out. Was it possible that he wasn't a jerk? I couldn't imagine anybody wanting to spend time with him, but I didn't want to insult one of Macy's friends.

"Maybe I could ask Dillon to talk to him," Macy suggested.

My eyes shot up from the table, the first ray of hope sparkling through my rain cloud. "Would you do that?"

"Sure," Macy agreed.

"Thank you." I didn't know what else to say. I wanted to bake her a cake or offer to babysit while she and Dillon enjoyed a night out. Instead, I tried to remain composed.

"I'd better go while our dinner is still hot," Macy said, climbing out of the booth.

"Do you want to grab some coffee sometime?" I asked.

"That would be great." Macy smiled. "Oh, I meant to tell you. Everyone loved my hair."

"I'm so glad," I gushed.

Macy collected her bags and smiled. "Text me."

I watched her slip out the door and wondered if I might have a chance. Out of all the nonexistent options I had, talking some sense into Jason was my overwhelming favorite. He had been nice to offer me a place to stay, I decided, but that didn't mean I had to like it. The idea of sharing the cabin was almost as bad as the idea of sharing a studio with Ava. I frowned into my soda. No, sharing a studio would be worse. For the first time today, I smiled, imagining climbing over my best friend to try to get to the kitchen. When I finally paid for the meal and drove home, I was feeling a little bit better.