Page 100 of Mile High Contract

I open the door with a key, then hang it up on the key hook board hanging by the front door.

“That’s your key. Mine’s on my keyring. I just had it made for you.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, looking around. “It does look the same. The TV’s new.”

“Yeah, I bought it for Mom a couple years ago. She was still watching that old one. She needed a Smart TV. Not that she ever took advantage of the smart aspect of it.”

He chuckles softly. “Doesn’t surprise me. As long as she had her soaps andThe Bachelorto watch, she didn’t really need anything else.”

“What are those?” he asks, pointing to new, bright white carbon monoxide and smoke detectors. “They look space age.”

I laugh. “Probably should tell you about how I almost died from carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Eric’s eyes go wide. “What the fuck, sis?”

I proceed to tell him the whole story as we stand in the living room.

“So basically you would have fucking died if Christa hadn’t forgotten her phone?” he snaps.

I chuckle. “You sound like Carter. Speaking of—he’s the one who had these things installed. They’re ‘smart’ and hooked up to an app on my phone, which will alert us when the battery’s low and beep loudly if carbon monoxide is detected. I’ll install the app when you get your new phone.”

“That’s pretty cool, but I really should kick your ass for not telling me you almost freaking died.”

I laugh. “Let me show you to your room.”

He follows me down the hall.

“My old room,” he says with a smile.

“You can take the master bedroom if you want, I haven’t completely cleaned it out though, just about half of it. But I did buy you a new bed and dresser, so you can move it in there or not. Obviously, it’s up to you.”

“Thank you,” he says, setting his bag on the new plaid blue and green comforter I’d bought to go on it. “I’m really grateful. And I’ll pay you back for it all.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s perfectly fine. Carter pays me well,” I say, testing the waters by mentioning his name again.

“I would hope so. The guy’s loaded.” He wanders into Mom’s bedroom and flips on the light. The curtains are closed so it’s dark in here.

“Sorry, I rarely come in here. I tried to clean out her closet and got about halfway, but...”

He puts his hand on my arm. “I get it.” His eyes well with tears. “I can’t believe she’s gone and I didn’t get to say goodbye.” He touches the dresser, which has collected a lot of dust, and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’ll take care of the rest, you don’t need to worry about it. I’ll need to keep busy.”

“I can still help. Just let me know. And I’ll show you where she’s buried so you can go visit her. Okay?”

He nods and flips out the light.

We head toward the kitchen. I open the fridge and offer him a bottle of beer.

He stares at it. “Damn, that looks so good. I better not.”

“Okay,” I say, quickly putting it back. “I hope you don’t think that was mean or anything. I thought maybe you’d want one since you’ve not had any in so long. I mean, I know why you don’t, but—”

He puts his hand on my arm again. “Sis, it’s okay. I think it’s sweet. And if you want one, by all means. I’m just trying to decide if I should even start up again. It’s been six years and I’ve been fine... Well, mostly. No need to drink. Besides, I think my parole officer would frown on it.”

“Yeah, he seemed like kind of a hard-ass when he showed up to do the home inspection a couple months ago,” I say with a laugh.

“Is he? I only have his name, but I have to go check in with him downtown within a few days.”

“You can use Mom’s car. The keys are hanging up as well. I tried to drive it at least once a month around the block so it wouldn’t die or whatever.”

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