Page 60 of Yes No Maybe

Sara’s green eyes widen. “Nearly a hundred percent. They’ve been talking about it all day.”

A deep breath brings me to my feet. “Then, we better get over there.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. I can’t let you do this alone. Besides, with my car in your driveway, they might buy your ruse. Maybe Shaina could off-handedly mention that she heard there’s a renter?”

She texts Shaina before I finish speaking.

Outside, cars line the street. Well-dressed partygoers overflow Jack’s yard and driveway. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” plays loudly from Jack’s backyard. Intoxicating food smells waft through the air—Asian barbecue—and my stomach growls.

Sara and I hurry to my car. But seeing Jack at his door greeting guests makes my heels scrape the concrete in a sudden pause—he looks incredible. His shaggy dark hair is tamed away from his eyes. The light stubble on his face is neatly trimmed. And his black suit makes him seem like he should be on a red carpet somewhere—not in a normal neighborhood hosting a house party.

Our eyes meet long enough to mouth a quick “Sorry,” and point to Sara before getting in the car.

Pulling into Sara’s driveway, my phone pings.Is everything okay?

I have to do something with Sara that can’t wait. Sorry.

Can I help?A short pause brings another ellipsis as he keeps typing.I have no qualms about leaving my own party. It’ll make me seem like a rebellious badass.*smirking face.

A heavy sigh escapes, and I realize, confusingly, that I believe him—he’d come if I asked.Thanks, but we’re good. Enjoy your party.

I expect questions, but he texts back.I’m here if you need me. Take care of Sara.

As streetlights flicker on and night takes over, nothing moves, and we hear crickets ramping up their evening activities.

“Shaina says they’re having a few beers first.” Sara unlocks the front door and leads me inside a tidy living room with mismatched second-hand furniture adorned in cozy accents. A crocheted blanket drapes the couch, reminding me of Grandma Betty’s handmade quilts. Colorful beach artwork featuring thick brush strokes in the style of Van Gogh liven up the brown paneled walls.

“These are gorgeous,” I say, peering into a beach at sunset painting.

Sara shrugs and starts turning on the lights and fans. It’s stuffy inside since the AC’s been off. But she gets that going, too, and I follow her lead, clicking on table lamps as I find them.

The living room feeds into an updated kitchen with white cabinetry and clean granite countertops. Sara’s room down the hall, with its walls covered in art and taped pictures, contrasts greatly with her father’s bare-bones minimalism. Everything is clean and well-kept.

We settle into the living room, where the street view through the picture window alerts us to traffic. She puts onAntiques Roadshowon PBS while we keep a cautious lookout.

Sara’s nervous eyes dart from her phone to the window like she’s on high alert. I order Domino’s, hoping to lighten the mood. We picnic in her living room and devour pizza between outrageous value reveals on the show.

“There isn’t much to steal,” she admits, mouth full. “But it’s ours, you know?”

“I understand wanting to protect your home. But you know, you can’t always be here.”

“I know.” She sighs heavily.

“Do you have other family who might help?”

Her lavender head shakes. “They’re garbage people. That’s why I’m with you. Dad didn’t want me with them—a stranger was better. When his parents left him this house, they were all jealous. He wants to believe the best about people. He employs half of ‘em in his lawn business, and they still treat him like shit. Maybe now, he’ll learn his lesson.”

I don’t say anything—what’s there to say? Sara needs no validation that her life is complicated. Nor does she need platitudes about things getting better. What shereallyneeds is a solution.

“You have Wi-Fi, right?” I prompt my phone, thinking about how Jack answered his door before I rang the bell.

“Yeah.”

“I’m ordering two Ring doorbells. They have motion-sensor cameras that alert you if anyone comes near your front or back doors. That way, you can watch while you’re not here.”

“I can’t pay for—”

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