Chapter 2
A week has passed since Jake’s funeral, and I’m still no further in the hunt to find a job. Anything even remotely in the salary range that I’d need to afford the mortgage, I am extremely unqualified for. I applied for a few waitressing jobs since I have a little experience with that from years ago, but there’s no way I’ll make enough doing that.
I spent the past week going through Jake’s things, setting aside the items I think his mom would want. I feel like I’ve been in a daze. Nothing makes sense. I’m aimlessly going through each day. Maybe I can work a few waitressing jobs at once. It’s not like I have anything else to do.
I hear a knock at the front door, and it makes me jump because I wasn’t expecting anyone today. I look down at my sweats and ratty t-shirt, but then I shrug. I think I can get a free pass for not looking presentable with all things considered.
I swing the door open and am met with Reed’s back. He whips back around and gives me a half smile. “Hi.”
For some reason, I feel more angry at him than I did at Jake when I found out. Before I can stop myself, I swing my arm and slap him across the face. I turn on my heel and walk back into the house. He lets out a long breath and then follows me in.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, sounding annoyed.
I haven’t seen him since he walked out that night. He didn’t even show up for the funeral. Asshole.
He leans against the kitchen island opposite of me. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out harshly.
I’m so sick of people saying that to me. I lean back against the counter. “For what? Telling me or hiding it for so long?”
I can feel tears forming again, so I turn around and pour myself a glass of water. He doesn’t answer, so I continue. “Would you feel better if he died without me ever knowing? Then I at least could deal with all this and have happy memories of him.” My words are harsh, but my voice cracks, showing my true emotions.
I turn back around, and he stands up straight. His face is angry. “You weren’t happy with him.”
I lean back surprised and cross my arms over my chest. “The fuck I wasn’t!” I challenge.
He pauses like he wants to say more, but then he thinks better of it. “I’m here to help.”
“I didn’t ask for your help!” I snap back.
“I don’t care,” he says. “I’m staying here for a while.”
My eyes bug out of my head. “Uhm...what?”
He gives the same answer. “I’m living here with you for a little while.”
“Why would you do that?” I ask even more confused.
“Because I know you can’t afford it.” He says it like it’s obvious.
I place my hand on my hip. “How is that your problem?”
He leans forward on the counter again and stares right back at me. “I promised him that I’d take care of you.”
My eyes go even wider. “Why would you do that?”
He pinches his lips into a thin line. “Because he’s my brother.”
I laugh sarcastically. “Oh, you mean the brother whose funeral you didn’t show up for?”
His frown deepens. “It’s complicated.”
“And you living here with me is going to simplify things?” I ask as I cross my arms over my chest.
He looks at me angry again. “Look. You don’t really have a choice. I don’t see any other options lining up at your door. I’d offer to just pay the mortgage, but I don’t have the money right now. I need to stay here with you. Probably about six months. Enough time for you to save up in case anything happens.”
“I’ll figure something out,” I try to protest.
He turns and starts walking back toward the door. “This is you figuring something out. Come help me bring my stuff in.”
I follow behind him with an open mouth. “You fucking brought your stuff? What if I said no?”
He rolls his eyes as he opens the trunk of his SUV. “Since when do you have such a dirty mouth?”
I make a mocking face back. “Since my husband cheated on me, left me, and then fucking died.”
We both stare at each other with wide eyes since that was completely inappropriate, but then he cracks a smile. I can’t help the little laugh that comes out. I try to cover it with my hand. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve done nothing but cry for what seems like forever, but I don’t even care that I made a joke about my dead, cheating husband only a week after his funeral. I might be going crazy.
I lean in and grab one of the boxes, and Reed reaches for a bag next to me at the same time. His chest presses up against my back, and I feel my whole body warm up. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve felt so betrayed and alone these past few months, but I get the sudden urge to be wrapped up in his arms.
I set the box back down and quickly turn and wrap my arms around his waist and shove my face into his chest. His body stiffens, but then he brings his arm around my back and pulls me closer. “Thank you,” I whisper.
I take a deep breath and relax into him. This is the first moment I’ve felt like I could really truely breathe since everything happened. I know Reed won’t let anything happen to me now. He’s always had my back. I feel a huge weight lift off of me.
He pulls away first and looks down at me funny. “Will living with you always involve this many mood swings?” he smiles.
I smile back. “Depends. Are you going to leave your dirty socks on the bathroom floor?”
He laughs. “Definitely. Get used to it, roomie.”