Page 142 of Love Me Reckless

Sofie sets up a sandwich-making buffet and we eat sprawled across the living room. Sheldon seems to fit right in with us, telling funny stories about his road trip down from Alaska, making me eager to tell Sawyer about our day.

Zach comes home from his shift and the entryway fills with his and Hutch’s booming voices and the crash and squeak of their tools on the tile.

The power comes back on, triggering a jolt to my gut like I’ve touched a live wire.

“Be right back,” I tell my friends, and walk into the guest room.

My stomach rolls when I see two more calls from Birch and onefrom my dad. I change my mind about calling, and send Birch a text instead.

Can I stop by the house later to get some of my things?

My phone rings a second after I hit SEND. It’s Birch.

Eep. I’m not ready to talk to him. I silence the call with the auto-replySorry, can’t talk right now, then huff a shaky breath.

WHERE ARE YOU??

I ignore this and call the number for my bank, and after answering a series of prompts, a woman answers.

“Hi, I had some trouble with my card earlier today. I just wanted to make sure there’s not an issue with my account?”

“Sure, Ms. St. Claire, I can help you.”

I rattle off my account number, phone number, and my PIN.

“Just a moment while I access your information,” she says. “May I place you on a brief hold?”

I stand there listening to moody chamber music while the wind gusts outside. Is the power still out on the mountain? Sawyer must be freezing up there. I’ll be sure to warm him up tonight. I’m stifling a giggle when the customer service representative comes back on the line.

“Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yes.” I realize that it’s a different person than before.

“Ma’am, there’s a hold on your account.”

My gut hollows. “What does that mean?”

“It means all activity is suspended.”

“Oh.” I hug myself, but it doesn’t quell the sense that I’m being swallowed up. “Do you know why?”

“I can’t say.”

Can’t, or won’t?“Um, is there a problem with the account?”

“There’s a hold.”

I fight my rising frustration with a slow exhale. “I understand. Is there someone there who can explain this to me?” I don’t have the guts to come right out and ask if I’m broke.

“It looks like this is a co-signed account?” the representative says.

“Yes.” I’ve always been embarrassed by this, but my dad explained it was for his peace of mind.

“Maybe the other party has information.”

“That’s the only way to get to the bottom of this?”

“Until the hold clears, yes, ma’am.”

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