Page 4 of One Day Like This (Excess All Areas 1)

Instead, she focused on his question. “Probably not, but onwards and upwards, right? So, now you can’t go back to Tesco ever again, right?”

Luke huffed. “Nah. I’ll just switch to Aldi for a bit.”

Izabel shook her head. “You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, but I’m the dick who’s letting you stay at his apartment for free.”

She slumped down on his beaten-up, ugly, brown leather sofa. “This is true. Thank you.”

Luke took a large swig of beer. “We’re all we’ve got, right?”

“Yeah. We’re all we’ve got.”

It had been their motto since their father had died. Luke hadn’t wanted to talk about him since the anniversary. He’d left her alone with the gaping hole in her heart that their father’s death had caused and the low-grade anger at her mum.

With Mum checked out, Luke had done his best to keep them afloat, but he’d had his own grief to deal with. It had gotten so severe, he’d dropped out of his A-levels, unable to concentrate. Izabel had done the opposite. Doubled down on her studies as a means of escape.

But Matt had been there for them both, dropping out with Luke so they could start the band, and being there for her. She still had the handwritten notes of encouragement he’d slipped her. And being fifteen and in love with him, she’d hidden them away in an old jewellery box, one with a pirouetting ballerina, that she still kept tucked away in the chest of drawers.

When her mum found love again with Izabel’s father’s best friend, she’d simply sold the house and told them they were now on their own. She’d kept the proceeds of the house sale and their dad’s life insurance policy and moved on. It was the reason they no longer had any real relationship and Izabel had more student loans than she could handle.

Except Luke had stepped in and held the two of them together. He’d worked as a painter and decorator every shift he could around stuff with the band to make sure they had a place to live, food to eat, and that she’d been able to go to university, even though he hadn’t.

Yeah. They were all they’d got. And if that meant overlooking the drinking and the lines of coke and the steady stream of women, then so be it.

“Where’s your gig tonight?”

“Liverpool. Ben’s driving my van. What’s your plan?”

“Pop to the shop and get something for tea. Steal a beer from you. Write a grant proposal for the homeless shelter for repairs. And then send an email to all our local MPs to see if they can help us fend off the developer who we think wants to shut us down.”

“Fucking gentrification.”

“I know. The redevelopment of Manchester is completely at odds with the percent of the population who need affordable housing. We need practical condos where single-parent families on minimum wage can thrive with their two kids.”

The thought made her angry. Currently, the shelter she worked at was on the ground floor of an old mill building zoned for mixed-use. Some living, some business. None of it fancy. A developer was offering a shit-ton of money for the building in need of serious repairs but threatened to kick everyone out. And there wasn’t a plan B for the shelter. Rents were too high in the city, and purchase costs even worse. The homeless congregated in the city centre, but the cheapest place they could find if they had to move was in Stockport, a good thirty minutes away.

“The only difference between me and the people I work with every day is the fact I have you. I mean, I’m technically homeless, but you let me crash here.”

“I’m proud of you, getting back on your feet again, Sis.”

“It’s just until I’ve saved for a rent deposit.”

“You get paid a pittance to work at the shelter. I play in a rock band and wallpaper living rooms. With my best mates. And despite Jase and Matt being at each other’s throats every day, it’s a fucking blessing. But you. You make a difference. People have somewhere to sleep tonight. Yeah, it’s summer, but come winter, people will survive the night because of you. It’s ridiculous how little you get paid given you were the only one of us clever enough to get a marketing degree. You’re overqualified. And I know you could be earning more doing something else. So, yeah. I’m sorry I was a grumpy bastard. You can stay here as long as you need.”

Izabel took in a deep breath. “Thanks, Luke.”

“No worries. Look, I’ve got to get ready to go. The band’ll be here soon.”

She knew better than to mix with them. The last time she had, it had nearly torn them apart. Hell, she’d nearly broken herself into pieces. Such a massive and reckless decision, one made of frustration and longing for Matt. Sure, alcohol had played a significant part. But,urgh, she wasn’t sure she could ever truly get over what had happened between her and Jase. It had been just before she’d met Harry. In fact, looking back, perhaps the reason Harry had looked so attractive was because he was the opposite of Jase. Clean-cut. Steady job as a financial advisor. Reliable, at least she’d once thought so. And it had been convenient. With Gemma, her best friend, dating Harry’s older brother, Ollie, it had been too good to be true.

But Jase. Of all people. She hadn’t been so drunk she didn’t know what she was doing. Nor had she been so impaired she hadn’t been able to give informed consent. She’d just been lonely. The kind of lonely that hurt deep in the pit of her stomach. And she’d seen Matt. With that girl. Another nameless woman he would not remember a week later. And she’d realised he’d never see her.

Urgh!

Clearly, she was a terrible judge of character. “I’m going to head to the shops. Want me to grab anything for you?”

“Juice. Milk. And some cereal for breakfast would be great. Something for me to take to the gig. Sandwiches or something I can eat on the way. Means I don’t need to go shopping until tomorrow.”

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