“Well, aren’t you a little cutie,” I hear him say, and assume he’s talking to the baby.
“Want some help?” Carson stands in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Yeah.”
We both slip on our boots, and Wind and Trig follow suit.
“I can come over and watch the kids for a bit,” Krissy tells Sarah.
I meet her in the front yard, pacing. “Do you know where it might be coming from?”
Those eyes tell me if she knew, she’d be doing something about it. “I don’t think it’s a pipe. Could be a problem with the mainline or a backup.”
We start toward her house. “What’d you do? Google it?”
Her head whips in my direction, and she stops, her hand moving to her hip. “Are you teasing me right now?” There’s that twinkle in her blue eye. “Thisis the time you choose to actually have a sense of humor?”
I’m not sure if she really expects me to answer that, so I stay quiet as Carson and Trig talk to Oliver about cars.
Her chin lifts a little. “For your information, I did. Then, I called a plumber who was only moderately helpful and told me to ‘sit tight’ while he dug himself out of a literal pile of crap.”
“Who did you call?”
Krissy sweeps by and holds out her hands to take Frankie. The little girl leans toward her, and she lifts her in the air.
Sarah’s arms cross over her chest, her head falling to the side. “Samsons.”
Carson and Wind groan behind me, and her eyes skirt to them.
“Did you give him your address?” It comes out rougher than I intend, and her shoulders roll back. “Call him back and tell him you’ve found someone else. He’s not coming here.”
Her brow scrunches, not caring for my direct order.
“Everything ok over there?”
Our gazes shift to my neighbor, standing on the other side of the fence, stroking his rat.
“Take your wiener inside, Brandon!” Trig hollers. “This doesn’t involve you!”
Ollie giggles. “He has a wiener.”
Sarah runs a hand over her face, giving it her all not to smile, and something in my chest flutters like a damn butterfly.
I watch her shoulders slump with the weight of every shitty thing, even if I don’t know what they are.
“I have to have a dry house and running water,” she says quietly.
My eyes trace over her face, hearing the exhaustion in her tone. “That might be a while.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I know. That’s why I need a plumber—”
“He’s not coming here.”
Her shoulders rise to the occasion as her spine lengthens.
“He’s a prick and a—”
“Great.” She throws her hands in the air. “I’m used to that. If he can get the water out of my basement and fix whatever the hell is leaking so I can feed and bathe my kids, then I can deal with one more asshole.”
