Page 32 of Wilder Love
I rolled my eyes. It was August. “It’s summer break.”
A few weeks ago, Mom said she was ready to move.
“We need to shake things up. We need a change. Everything will be different in Santa Fe. You’ll see.”
It was two against one this time so instead of moving, Mom took off for a few days and left us to fend for ourselves. It wasn’t the first time she’d done it and wouldn’t be the last. But we never told anyone when she disappeared. It was better to have an absentee mom than no mom at all. Mostly, we were self-sufficient. But now the rent was overdue and there was only so much dodging we could do.
“Mom, I need you to pay the rent today.”
“You’re just an old worrywart, Remy. I told you I’ll take care of it. The sun is shining. Go do whatever it is you do. Have a good day, sweetie,” she sing-songed.
I sighed. When she got like this, there was no point fighting her on it. She wouldn’t pay attention. I blocked my ears as she moaned and giggled, somehow simultaneously.
* * *
Oh shit.Jerry made a beeline for me as I climbed out of Shane’s Jeep.
He stopped in front of me and ran his hand over his combover, his murky brown eyes trained on my face and not my boobs which I appreciated. Thankfully, Jerry was an okay guy, not a creeper. But still. He wasn’t running a charity organization. “I’ve left a few messages for your mother, but she hasn’t responded.”
No surprise. Mom was MIA and had been for a week. But I didn’t want him to know that. “I’m sorry. She’s been so busy with work.”
Liar. She lost her job a few weeks ago. On purpose, Dylan and I suspected.
He scratched his head, trying to decide whether to believe me. There were sweat stains under the arms of his short-sleeve white dress shirt. “If I don’t get the rent today, I have no choice but to start the legal proceedings.” Poor Jerry. He looked like he regretted having to say those words. Like he actually felt sorry about it.
“I understand. I’ll make sure she pays it today.” My stomach sank. How was I going to keep that promise?
Jerry nodded and glanced over my shoulder.Shane. Oh God. He was still here, waiting in his Jeep with the windows rolled down. Now he knew that our rent was overdue. I wished the blacktop would swallow me up. Shame burned my cheeks as I watched Jerry return to his office. Shane came to stand next to me.
“How much do you need?”
“I’m not taking your money, Shane.”
“How much do you need?” he repeated. His voice was strained like he was barely hanging onto his restraint. Tension rolled off him.
At this point, I had no other options. My mother was MIA. We needed a place to live and for Costa del Rey, this apartment was cheap. Dylan and I had looked for something else, but everything was out of our budget.
I winced as I told him the dollar amount. He didn’t even blink. He jerked his chin for me to follow him and I did, right up the stairs and through the door to his kitchen. I leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for him while he went to get his checkbook in the bedroom. Or the living room. Or somewhere. He’d left a trail of sand across the white floorboards like he did wherever he went.
Pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, I stifled a groan. Why? Why did this shit always happen in front of him?
I lowered my hands and grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl. Might as well throw that on my tab. Room and board. My eye caught on an invoice, tucked under the fruit bowl and I peered closer. I slid the fruit bowl aside and stared at the name—Rachel St. Clair.
Shane returned with a check, his eyes darting to the bills clutched in my hand.
“You paid them?” I didn’t know if I was pissed or grateful. How had he known? How had he even gotten these?
Shane didn’t answer. Of course, he’d paid them. I should have known that my mom hadn’t.
“I can’t believe you,” I shouted. I slammed out of his house and jogged down the stairs.
“Remy,” he called.
I sprinted across the street and up the stairs to the second floor, my keys clasped in my hand, the metal digging into the skin.
I unlocked the apartment door and slipped inside, trying to shut it behind me. To close him out. He held his hand against the door, preventing me from closing it in his face.
“Shane. Just go.”
