Anything for you dear sister
I threw on a pair of gray sweats and a hoodie. It was still early, only ten, and I didn’t have to work today. I’d lost my job on the construction crew after my massive fuckup, but my job as a ski instructor was still safe. Turned out, skiing and snowboarding while drunk and high wasn’t all that tricky once you had the practice.
But that all stopped now, because by tonight, Elena would be a resident of Sable Point.
And she’d be all mine.
This place was a dump.
When I’d pushed open the cottage door, a wave of musty air hit me square in the face. The previous tenants had left the cottage looking like they’d hosted a frat party for raccoons.
Empty beer cans littered the living room floor, alongside pizza boxes sporting various shades of mold. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, and cobwebs decorated the corners like demented party streamers.
The kitchen wasn’t much better. Dishes with crusty remains piled in the sink, and something that might’ve been food in a previous life had fossilized on the counter.
Elena can’t see it like this. She needs this place to feel like home, not a horror movie set.
The bathroom made me wince—rings of mildew in the toilet bowl, a shower curtain that had seen better days during the Nixon administration, and tiles that?—
My nose caught another whiff of that musty smell, and underneath it, something way worse. The stench hit me like a slap to the face—stale piss mixed with something that made my stomach churn.
How the fuck did any landlord in their right mind rent out a place in this condition? When I found out who the fuck this slum lord was, we’d be having words. Until then, it was time to get to work. I’d grabbed a few cleaning supplies from under Mom’s kitchen sink, but I’d need to take a trip to the store to get more.
I pulled out my phone and fired off a quick text to Tessa.
CHASE
Need cleaning supplies. Lots. And maybe a hazmat suit.
TESSA
Oh no. That bad?
Understatement of the fucking century.
CHASE
Place looks like it was used for amateur taxidermy experiments. Getting supplies now. I’ll handle it.
I pocketed my phone and headed for my truck. The winter air bit at my exposed skin, but the cold helped clear my head.
The hardware store wasn’t far enough away for the heat to even warm the cab. After greeting Jim, the store’s owner with a bald head and a long gray braided beard, I loaded my cart with industrial-strength cleaners, scrub brushes, rubber gloves, and enough cleaning supplies to stock a janitor’s closet. The total made me wince, but I didn’t care.
Anything for her.
Back at the cottage, I cranked up some music on my phone and got to work. The physical labor felt good—like penance for my recent fuckups. Every surface I scrubbed clean was another step toward redemption.
Hours passed as I attacked years of grime. My muscles burned, but I didn’t stop.
She deserves a fresh start. A clean slate.
The bathroom proved to be the biggest challenge. On my hands and knees, I scoured every tile until the grout lines emerged from their grimy prison. The toilet required three rounds with the brush before I was satisfied.
My stomach growled, and when I looked at my phone, it was already six in the evening. I also had a text from hours ago.
TESSA
Hitting the road now. Probably be there around 7.
