Page 23 of Pretty Heartache

She ends the call and holds her arm out, passing it back to me. “There, now I have yours.”

“Cool.” I slip my phone back in my pocket and swipe my tie from the counter. “Well, thanks for dinner.”

She giggles. “You’re welcome.”

The sparkle in her eye tells me we’re thinking the same thing.

Why does it suddenly feel like this isn’t my house? And why do I suddenly feel awkward for telling her thank you?

I’ve so easily forgotten she’s my best friend’s little sister. I’m only remembering it now as I find myself staring at her long, toned legs, once again.

“I should go,” I force out.

She springs off the doorframe and moves out of the way. I slip past her and head down the hall.

With my hand on the doorknob, I stop, remembering something she said earlier. “I almost forgot. If you plan on washing those sheets, the laundry room is down in the basement, but you might want to be careful.”

“Careful of what?” she asks, her eyes widening with fear. Her full, smooth lips part as she takes in what I assume to be a nervous breath.

“There’s plenty more cobwebs down there than there are up here.” I glance around at the ceiling before locking eyes with hers. “You may want to watch out for all the spiders. It’s probably where they live.”

Her mouth drops, and she shivers. I bite back a smile, thankful to get my mind off the thoughts invading it. My hand twitches, and I tighten my grip on my tie.

After I make my way down the walkway and sit in my car, I stare at the front door of my house. I imagine Adeline still standing in the entryway, thinking about having to go down in the basement. Shame settles in my chest. I shouldn’t have said it, and I feel guilty for leaving her that way, but I needed to get out of there, and I couldn’t leave thinking about how she’d reached up to grab the plates from the cabinet.

My thoughts were headed in a direction they certainly shouldn’t have been going.

Without a place in mind to stay tonight, I force myself to start the engine and put the car in reverse anyway, and by the time I turn off the street and out of the neighborhood, I wonder how long my resolve will last.

EIGHT

I’ve spent the past two days completely remodeling my bedroom. After Micah told me about the spiders in the basement, I didn’t bother wasting my time on the sheets. The bare mattress didn’t have any stains, so I resorted to laying out a few of my T-shirts and sleeping in my sweater.

The next day, with Archer not answering his phone, and Ember in New York City for work, I was forced to call for rideshares and spent several hours going to different stores, stocking up on the necessities. I grabbed an entirely new sheet set and a new rug for the bedroom, along with shampoo, body wash, and a can of bug spray for the house. I refused to use Micah’s credit card, not giving him the satisfaction.

But with the way he dropped the bomb on me the other night about the spiders, I was tempted to buy out the entire hardware store’s stock of spider killer and charge it to his card.

With my arms loaded with clothes, I slowly walk down the stairs to the basement. The musty, acrid air hits my nostrils the same way it has all week. I drop the clothes onto the top of the washer before moving the curtains I tossed in earlier to the dryer. After loading my clothes in and starting the machine, Igrab the can of spider killer and spray another nest I spot in the corner.

If I didn’t need to live here, and if Micah didn’t own this place, I probably would have burned this house to the ground by now. I’ve never been a fan of bugs, and I loathe spiders entirely. I wonder if Micah assumed I’d hate them or if he somehow remembers me hating them from when I was younger.

“Adeline!” Ember’s voice calls from outside.

The washer door snaps shut, and I look up. A small, narrow window sits between the joists above the brick wall surrounding the basement.

“Ember?” I yell back.

The house is large, but the window near the washer sits at the front of it. Shadowed by grass, there’s no way Ember can see me, but I know she hears me call out her name. The sound of shuffling feet on grass grows closer.

“Adeline? Where are you?”

“I’m down here.” I stand on my toes, as if it will help her hear me better.

She moves closer again, but I still don’t see her. “I knocked on the door, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, I didn’t hear it. I’m down in the basement.”

“With all the spiders?” she asks, and I imagine her nose scrunched in disgust.

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