Page 37 of Can't Help Growling in Love
There’s an inch of water in my basement. It pools on one side, where the floor is slightly uneven, soaking into the old carpet. The boxes of Auntie Ruth’s belongings I’d stashed down here are bulging with damp, and light debris floats on the surface of the water—a slip of paper, probably a receipt, and a few loose bits of wood from the pile in the corner.
I sit on the stairs, my legs suddenly weak. This is a fucking disaster. I pan the flashlight beam from one end of the basement to the other, trying to find the issue—and there it is, a leaky pipe right next to the old water heater, which I’d had repaired just months ago. The guy who came by to fix it warned me that the entire plumbing system needed replacing, but I’d put it off, too broke to know how to tackle the issue.
Now the damage is a hundred times worse. Not only will I have to replace the pipe but renovate the basement, too—neither of which I’d planned for. The roof repair will have to wait, and God knows if it’ll hold through another winter.
A sob builds up in my throat, but I swallow it down. Crying is for people who can afford it. Instead, I grit my teeth and stomp outside to shut down the main water valve. Then put on my rain boots and wade into the basement to figure out if there’s a way to shut off the water leading to that pipe—and the heater—without switching off the water for the entire house.
Luck is on my side—I find another rusty valve that allows me to cut off the supply to the basement. I run upstairs to turn on the main water. The leaky pipe no longer drips all over the floor.
Finally, I take my phone from my pocket and text Asher to cancel our date.
A pipe burst in my basement. Cleanup needed, so it’ll take me a few days. I’ll call you, okay? I’m really sorry. xx
I add a sobbing emoji, hit send, and put the phone face down on the counter to allow myself a minute to think. I’ll need to clean up the mess instead of catching up on sleep. My stomach churns with the knowledge of just how much work and money this will take.
Then my phone pings.
10 min
It’s the shortest message I’ve gotten from Asher, but it sends relief coursing through me.
A wave of panic follows. Why is he coming here? And how can I let him into this disaster of a house?
I whirl around and start putting things away but soon realize there’s no point. My bedroom and the kitchen, the two rooms I use the most, are tidy enough, but the rest of the house isn’t in great shape. I’ve been sorting through Auntie Ruth’s things, which has been a massive task, because as I discovered, the old dear had had a habit of storing decades’ worth of clothes, porcelain, books, and furniture, without throwing out any of the old stuff. I’ve taken several carloads to the donation shop and the dump, and still, most of the rooms look cluttered and over-stuffed.
Putting things in the basement had been a quick solution to get at least the main living spaces sorted without having to go through every single box, drawer, and shelf, and now I’m paying for that decision.
I stop at the top of the stairs, staring down into the gloom. The thought of tackling this…a lump forms in my throat. I’ve been doing so well. I had a financial plan to save up for the roof repairs, but that will have to wait.
Shoving down the emotions, I focus on what I can do right now to save my house. The first necessary thing is to turn off the electricity in the basement. I open the old fuse box and unscrew the right one, mentally thanking Auntie Ruth for her neat labels.
The rumble of a truck’s engine announces Asher’s return. I step out onto the porch and lean against a support beam, crossing my arms. All my instincts are urging me to fling myself into his arms and sob into his chest, but I don’t want to be the damsel in distress.
He rounds the front of his truck, jogs up to me, and wraps me in a tight, soothing hug.
“What are you doing here?” I mumble into his sweatshirt.
He puts his chin on top of my head. “Uh, offering emotional support, of course. And a pair of hands for cleanup.”
I push away from his chest to look up at him. “I didn’t tell you so you’d comework. I just wanted you to know so you wouldn’t think I was blowing you off.”
He brushes back my hair and cups my cheeks with both hands. “I know. But I want to help. That’s what boyfriends are for, right?”
“Boyfriends?” I ask, peering up at him through my lashes.
He cocks his head to the side. “Yeah, I think so. Don’t you?”
In answer, I kiss him on the lips. He puts his arms around my waist and brings me close to his chest. I stand on tiptoes to reach him better, slide my hands up his arms, and cup the back of his neck.
Asher shivers. “As much as I want to take this further, I think we should check your basement first.”
I release him, sighing. “I hate it when you’re making sense. And I can say with one hundred percent certainty you’ll regret what you just said in a moment.”
“It can’t be that bad. Come on.” He tugs on my braid and smiles. “Let’s do this.”
Chapter
Fifteen
