Page 12 of The Roommate Lie

Carl nods and pulls out his phone. Muttering about the Denver airport like he’s going to look up directions or check for flights. I wave my hands to stop him.

“I didn’t fly. I took the bus. But I just have to get to Union Station in Denver, and then I’ll be fine.”

Charlie glances at me, surprised. “You took a bus here from Texas?”

His face scrunches like he’s trying to do the math in his head and figure out how long I was on that bus. I save him the trouble. “It was an overnight trip—I left Sunday afternoon. It was cheaper than flying.”

My voice trails off before I can say anything else about my bus ride out here. Mostly because his brother is staring at me. Horrified.

“Please tell me your bus was a Greyhound,” Carl whispers.

I shake my head. “I took Old Western. Why?”

Neither Roscoe answers. They’re too busy wincing.

Heat rushes to my face, and a thin ribbon of panic unfurls in my stomach. “What? It was nice, and I got a good deal on the tickets. What’s wrong with Old Western?”

“They’re not known for their customer service,” Carl says, and Charlie nods.

“They don’t do refunds. Ever. You’ll get your money back when you pry it out of their cold, dead hands.”

“But I don’t want my money back—they can keep it. I just want to reschedule my return trip.”

That explanation doesn’t help. Those boys are still wincing, and Charlie tries to let me down easy, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t matter. All sales are final, no matter what. People who travel through here complain about it all the time.”

All sales are final?This can’t be happening. I was supposed to stay out here with Jason for over a week before he dumped me. Now I don’t even want to think about that man, let alone get stuck in the same small town with him. All sales can’t be final.

“But you’re right about Old Western,” Carl tells me. “They’re super affordable. You can probably get a new ticket home for about a hundred dollars, maybe less if you’re lucky.”

He stops talking when he notices the look on my face. The despair that suggests I barely have an extra twenty bucks to my name. A look that whispers, “I skipped lunch today to save money.”

My empty stomach chooses that exact moment to betray me. It unleashes a tiger growl of hunger so loud it practically rattles the bus station windows.Thanks a lot, traitor.

Worry creases Carl’s brow. Beside him, Charlie hands me a package of peanut butter crackers he seemingly pulled out of thin air like some kind of snack wizard. Watching me inhale them while crying is probably really something.

“Maybe we can help her out.” Charlie takes pity on me while I gorge myself on snacks. “Between the two of us, I’m sure we can come up with enough for an Old Western ticket.”

I’m already shaking my head no, mouth full of peanut butter crackers, and Carl doesn’t like that idea either. “Charlie, you work a million part-time jobs to make ends meet. You have a mortgage and you need to buy a car, and I’m still helping Jenna pay off her medical bills and…”

He doesn’t say the next part, but I can almost feel him thinking it.And we don’t know her.

I’m thinking the same thing. The Roscoe brothers have done too much for me already. There’s no way I want them paying for my ticket home. I’m broke, but I’m not that broke.

Sure, my work life is a mess right now. I quit my job last year to write books full-time, and then I hit the rough patch to endall rough patches. Every month, my bank account balance gets smaller while my credit card bill gets larger—but I have other safety nets I can fall back on. Maybe things with my family are complicated right now, but I could still ask them for bus ticket money if I had to. Kilpatricks always stick together…most of the time.

Or, if I chicken out with my family, I could just charge it. That’s what credit cards are for, right? Creating the kind of debt that haunts your every waking moment?

Anything’s better than letting strangers pay my way. Though before I can turn him down, Charlie switches gears. “Or we could raise the money instead. Ponderosa Falls loves a good cause. We could have a car wash or a bake sale or…is panhandling illegal or just frowned upon?”

I think he’s kidding—I hope he’s kidding—but a look of sheer mortification spreads across his brother’s face. Pure sibling concern multiplied by a thousand. But then Carl doesn’t say anything. Whole seconds tick by, and that man doesn’t make a sound.

He watches the clock on the wall above me instead, as if he’s begging it to save him from this nightmare. Or maybe he’s just waiting for closing time. When the clock strikes six, he springs into action.

Locking the bus station door and flipping the sign to CLOSED, he glances at Charlie. “Family meeting in the back—now. We need to talk.”

Chapter Seven

CHARLIE

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