Page 7 of Obsession Falls

I’d have to make the best of it. It was just the means to an end anyway.

CHAPTER3

Josiah

The smell was everywhere.

I wrinkled my nose. I’d been hoping the stench was mostly in the carpet, but we’d taken the last of that out yesterday. The entire house still smelled like cigarette smoke and something else I couldn’t name. I probably didn’t want to know. The walls were trashed, there was water damage everywhere, and it seemed like every time I peeled back a layer, I found a new problem.

Still, there was something I liked about this house.

I lowered the sledgehammer and rested my leather gloved hands on the handle. Broken chunks of cheap cabinetry littered the kitchen floor and dust hung in the air. Sweat dripped down my back and I was really looking forward to sitting on my couch with an ice-cold beer tonight. But demo was satisfying work. A chance to let out the beast for a while.

And despite how much work was still left to be done, the house already looked a hell of a lot better than it had when Dad and I had bought it. The previous owners had kept it as a rental and clearly hadn’t bothered with maintenance. I was no stranger to the pitfalls of owning rental properties, but this place had been a dump. We also owned the house next door and half the reason we’d bought this one was so we could clean it up and have an easier time renting the other place. It had to help if it no longer looked like the neighbors might be running a meth lab.

But there was still a long way to go before that would be a reality.

I hoisted the sledgehammer and swung. It hit the next piece of cabinet with a satisfying thwack. I swung again, harder, sending a chunk of particle board flying—along with a big piece of drywall.

What the hell?

Stepping closer, I lifted my safety goggles. Some genius had glued the lower cabinets to the wall. I’d taken out a chunk of drywall along with the cabinet. That probably meant the rest of the cabinets were glued too.

Damn. I’d been hoping we could salvage the drywall but it wasn’t looking good.

I grabbed the remaining piece of cabinet that was still stuck to the wall and pulled. More drywall cracked and tore open, exposing the framing behind it.

Screw it. I picked up the sledgehammer and swung, hard, letting it rip through wood, particle board, glue, drywall—I didn’t care. I swung again. Crack! Cabinets splintered. Again, and I ripped open more of the wall. Over and over, until my back and arms burned, and sweat ran down my temples. Where there’d once been a dated kitchen counter with crappy cabinets, there was now a pile of rubble and a big-ass hole in the wall.

“Are you okay?” a voice asked behind me.

I turned to find my sister, Annika, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. Her blond hair was up and she had a purse hanging off one shoulder.

“Yeah.” I took off my safety goggles and wiped sweat off my forehead. “Why?”

“You’d think that cabinet murdered your best friend.”

I grunted.

“Did you mean to take out half the wall or were you just in the zone?”

“Some idiot glued the cabinets to the drywall.”

She winced. “That’s not good.”

My heart still pumped hard but the quick burst of frustration had already subsided. I glanced back at the damage I’d done. Stupid.

But it had felt good.

“You need something?” I asked.

“I was supposed to meet the new tenants for the two-bedroom next door but they bailed last minute.”

My brow furrowed. “Why?”

“They had some kind of family emergency. Changed their plans.”

“So it’s vacant another month.”

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