Page 83 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“What happened?”

“TheCliffsNotesversion? I found out he’s been cheating on me, and I don’t want to stay in this place one more minute. But all of my work stuff is here, and I have to get it moved out so I can work from…wherever I land. He’ll be back by six, and I want to be long gone by then. Can you please, please come help me get all this crap out of here? I also need you here as my moral compass so I don’t do something cuckoo yet appropriate, like fill his bed with fire ants and use his precious record collection to start a bonfire.”

“Ugh, Hannah.” I rake my hand through my hair, knowing my only option is to go help her. It means I won’t get to see Victoria and talk about what happened last night—or explain why I haven’t answered her texts all day.

But this is my baby sister, and she needs me. Hannah never asks for my help because she always wants to handle everything herself. I have some theories about why that is—because independent women like her are often the way they are because they’re accustomed to people letting them down.

I see that in Victoria, too.

And right now, I can’t be one of those people who lets Hannah down.

“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” I tell her. “If that idiot comes home before I get there, just leave. Wait for me at a coffee shop. Got it?”

She snorts. “I can handle the idiot.”

Not the way I want to, but I keep that thought to myself. Jason’s not a violent man, based on what Hannah’s told me—but he’s a manipulative one who’ll try to con his way right back intoher good graces faster than you can sayheartburn. And under all that armor, Hannah has a big, soft heart.

By the timeI get down to Hannah’s apartment in Charleston, it’s nearly five o’clock. Her door’s standing wide open, and half a dozen plastic tubs are piled just inside.

“Hannah?” I call.

“Thank goodness,” she says, plowing into me like a linebacker. She wraps me in a tight, quick hug and then says. “Thanks for coming. I’ll fill you in on everything over an expensive bottle of tequila—my treat—but right now, we need to get rolling. He’s always home a few minutes after six, and if I see his face, I’m just going to put my foot through it.”

She stomps into the bedroom in her beat-up red cowboy boots, and there’s not a doubt in my mind that those words are true.

For the next forty minutes, we pile her most important belongings into her car and mine. When the last box is in the trunk, her cheeks are pink, and her hair’s frizzy because the humidity down here stops for no one. Opal the doodle is strapped into her passenger seat, tongue lolling like this is the best day ever.

“You’re taking the dog?” I ask her.

Her brow lifts. “Of course I am. She prefers me and Jason can’t be trusted with anything that needs more care than a pet rock.” The dog barks, as if to confirm. “Plus, he doesn’t deserve her.”

“Didn’t deserve you, either,” I say, and her lip ticks up in a smile.

“I’ll follow you,” Hannah says, because it’s understood that she’ll come crash at my house. She knows I’m always her soft place to fall.

By ten p.m.,Hannah’s snoring on my sofa, right where she crash-landed after we ate an entire pepperoni pizza and played ourBridgertondrinking game with some top-shelf tequila.I consider waking her so we can pull out the sofa bed, but she doesn’t move a muscle as I tiptoe around the room, gathering the last of our dishes. A couple of hours ago, she set up her workstation in the far corner of this room, claiming she only needed a laptop and a comfy chair to do her work. I offered to make a space for her in my spare room, which is basically like a study with a treadmill, but she said, “No need for that. I’ve already got a couple of leads on apartments and will be out of here before you know it.”

I drape a blanket over her and switch off the lights as I head out onto the back porch. My house is small, situated in an old neighborhood filled with mid-century style homes. With two bedrooms and an open-plan kitchen-living-dining area, it’s plenty big enough for me. It needed some repairs and updates when I bought it, but the thing that sold me on this place was the yard and the screened-in back porch. The previous owners, who loved gardening, created an oasis out back, complete with flowering shrubs, a seating area around a fire pit, and a hammock nestled in the shade. Now, as I collapse into the wicker sofa on the porch, my cordless phone lights up with a call.

“Hi,” Roxy says. “I finally got a hold of Derrick’s parents and have this phone situation worked out for you.”

“Please tell me they’re up for overnighting.”

“Yes,” she says. “I gave them your address, and they said they’d ship it to you first thing in the morning. I got you a prepaid label so you can do the same. I just emailed it to you.”

“Roxy, you’re the best.”

“How’s Hannah?”

I peek back inside the house, where she’s still motionless on the sofa. “Exhausted, but she’s okay. I owe Sophie big time for letting me skip out early.”

“Yeah, she’s one of the good ones,” Roxy says. “But so are you.”

I almost ask her for Victoria’s cell number. But then I consider the last words Vic said to me and think better of it. If she wants space to think, then I’m going to give it to her. I told her I’d wait, and I meant it. But I wish I could text her right now, just to make sure she got back safely and let her know I’m thinking of her.

“Thanks,” I tell Roxy. “For everything.”

“Of course. Enjoy your week off, Noah. I’ll be in touch soon.”

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