“A code officer came by today and inspected your cabin.”
“Today? When?”
“When you were at Clancy’s.”
I blink a few times. “Someone went through my home, and you didn’t think to tell me in advance?”
“I’m sorry. I…I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“You wanted what to be a surprise?”
He flicks his index finger toward the binder in my lap. “Your new cabin. You can pick whichever one you like. They’re all bigger than where you currently have, and there’s some really cool space-saving designs, more storage, better insulation.”
I close my eyes. “Stop. Talking. Please.”
He does, and I inhale sharply, steadying myself in an attempt to calm the storm he’s ignited in me. That cabin may be nothing to him, but it’s been my home for the past seven years. I like that it’s small. I like that it’s simple. I like that I’ve memorized the layout and have practiced navigating the space blindfolded. It’s not just a cabin; it’s where I feel most safe. And he’s going to rip it away from me.
“You can’t do this,” I say, opening my eyes and fixing him with an unwavering stare.
“I have to.”
“Bullshit. This is just your way of getting back at me.”
“For what?”
“For coming up with that stupid list of all the things that need fixing around here to overwhelm you.”
His jaw locks. “What? I thought you compiled that list because you genuinely care about this place and getting back to where it should be?”
“I…I do.”‘
He sneers, shaking his head. “No fucking way. You did it to get at me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
My anger erupts. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You waltz in here and think you can upend my whole fucking life.”
“Waltz in here?” he spits. “I’ve been here for over two months, abiding by your ridiculous rules and staying out of your way, doing the best I can on my own while knowing absolutely diddly squat about running a horse rescue and not wanting to waste money on the wrong things. For someone who claims to be passionate about this place, some actual real help would have been appreciated.”
I push to my feet. “Now you’re just patronizing me.”
He stands as well. “That’s the last thing I’m doing. I respect you, Jackson.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Believe it or don’t, that’s up to you. You are brilliant at what you do. Why else would I be bending over backward to accommodate every single one of your requests?”
A beat passes as his words wash over me. That’s actually a really good question. Why has he been putting up with my shit all this time?
My mind is too scrambled to answer that right now, overwhelmed by the awful reality that I’m going to be losing my sanctuary.
“You can’t do this,” I repeat, a quiver in my voice.
“I can, and I have.”
I don’t like the finality of that, not one bit. “What do you mean?”
“I was issued a formal notice. The cabin needs to be demolished within thirty days. You can’t live there anymore.”
My jaw drops. “Starting when?”
