Page 9 of Weather the Storm
“Mmhmm. It was his until he quit driving, and I drove it in high school. It’s rusted and needs work, but it has good bones and runs just fine. I never got rid of it after he passed.”
“Ah. Well, thank y-you. I hate that I’ve caused all this tr-trouble,” she murmurs into her coffee.
“Shit happens. It’s how we deal with it, yeah?” She nods, and I smile. “I’m gonna go shower. There’s a pen and a notepad over on the counter by the fridge. Why don’t you make me that list?”
“Okay.”
With one last, lingering look, I drain the rest of my coffee and retreat to my bathroom.
§
With my towel wrapped around my waist, I use my forearm to wipe the steam from the mirror. Yesterday’s five-o’clock shadow is now full-on scruff, but I think I’m kind of digging it and decide to skip shaving.
Dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, dry-fit shirt with the school’s logo printed on it, I make my way back out to Magnolia. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face when I find her snuggled up inmyrecliner under the throw blanket I keep draped over the back, happily watching TV.
“You look comfy.”
She gasps in surprise. “Oh, um…sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Goldilocks. In fact, I was thinkin’ about how that chair seems to fit you just right.” Magnolia smiles and blushes at my words, and damn if I don’t want to beat on my chest in a show of masculine pride.
“I don’t usually watch too much television. I prefer to read, but my Kindle’s at home.”
“Is it on your list?” I ask, mentally making a note to grab it.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Great. Rest up, and I’ll run by your place then grab some lunch on the way home. Any requests?”
“Anything you want sounds good to me.”
I smirk, because ifanythingwere an option, I’d choose her. “See you soon. Call me if you needanything.”
Chapter Six
SIMON
I plug Magnolia’s address into my GPS, hoping I’m wrong about where she lives. Sadly, with every turn, I know I’m not. There aren’t many bad parts of Dogwood, but here on the outskirts of town, it gets a bit seedier, and Magnolia seems to have found herself the most run-down, roach-infested apartment complex there is.
My heart sinks even lower when I see the dilapidated building. It’s more than the peeling paint and overgrown greenery; it’s the drooping roof, the lack of decent locks, the fact that outside her front door, there are two guys making a drug deal.
None of this is sitting right with me. The thought of her being here—living here, sleeping here—burns in my gut.
“Excuse me,” I tell drug dealer number one as I move to slide Magnolia’s key in the lock.
“You don’t live here,” he snarls, looking me up and down.
“You’re right,” I agree. “I don’t.” I slip into her apartment and turn the measly knob lock before he can say anything else.
Unfortunately, the situation inside’s not much better.
The carpet is so dirty that I’m not sure what to even call the color, the dingy wallpaper is peeling, there are water spots on the ceiling, there’s mold visible in two places, and I haven’t even left the living area.
Her bedroom is even worse—barely bigger than my pantry, with a twin-sized mattress on the floor pushed against the far wall and a hanging rack with clothes.
My blood boils at her living conditions, and without thinking about what I’m doing, I start tossing everything I think she’ll need into the duffle bag I brought, even things that aren’t on her list, because if I have any say in it, Magnoliawon’tbe coming back here.
Once I’ve crammed in everything I can fit, I stalk back toward the front door. I take one last look at the sad excuse for an apartment and step back out into the breezeway, closing the flimsy door behind me. Before I even get it locked, drug dealer number two is in my face. Guess that makes drug dealer one the dealee. “You know the hot little piece that lives here?” My fists clench. “Tell her to holler at me. Been trying to get her to gimme the time of day, but she’s an uptight little bitch. Won’t holler back.”
