Page 20 of When We Had Forever
Darlene’s eyes shine as she wraps me in a hug. “Sorry about earlier. I hope you can forgive an old lady for worrying about her friend.”
I squeeze back. “There’s nothing to forgive. And I appreciate you caring. Really. I just wish I was more myself. But I’ll get there. Eventually. I hope.”
She nods and releases me. “If you need anything, you just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
The thing is, Iwouldask, if I only knew what to ask for. But right now, even I don’t know what I need.
Still, when I step out onto the welcome mat, I glance back, my gaze latching on to the dog and staying there until Darlene’s door swings shut.
BEFORE
My cousin Patrick answers the door in a bathrobe.
At least Ithinkit’s my cousin, but he’s not what I pictured. Lank brown hair falls past his ears while a toothpick juts from between his teeth. Eyes as small and dark as watermelon seeds slide over me, making me wish I’d worn a parka. Even though it’s June.
Better yet, I wish I’d knocked on a different door.
“Mina Sutton?”
All my hopes of having rung the wrong doorbell evaporate. “Um...yeah. Hi. Are you Patrick? We spoke on the phone about—”
“Nah, I’m Randall, Patrick’s friend. He said you were coming today, so I told him I’d get you set up. He’s letting me crash here for a bit.”
The back of my neck prickles. “Oh. Really? He didn’t say anything about sharing the house.”
“Yeah, it was pretty last-minute. I got evicted from my apartment and needed a place to stay. But don’t worry, I won’t be getting in your way.”
I sidle back a step. Randall’s grin suggests he’d like nothing more than toget in my way.
“Why don’t you come in?” he says.
I peer past him into Rosalie’s house, hesitant.
My eyes widen at what greets me. Mountains of clutter teeter on every available surface, like an episode ofHoarderscome to life. And damn, Kate’s right—it smells like cats. Ones that never get let outside.
My stomach drops. What is this? I agreed to sell off an estate, not dismantle years’ worth of accumulated bric-a-brac.
Randall rolls his toothpick between his molars and grins. “Pat left some garbage bags in the kitchen. Gotta say, it looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
I gulp. Dear god. This is not what I pictured. At all. Not Randall, not the house—none of it.
“I think there’s been a mistake.” My voice thins to a wisp. “I agreed to do an estate sale. Not sort through trash.”
Randall shrugs. “What’s the difference?”
I chance another peek inside. In one corner of the room, a pile of discarded bottle caps avalanches onto the carpet. On a broken end table, a fish tank bookended by towering stacks of newspaper overflows with broken seashells. “Patrick needs a cleanup crew, not me. Tell him I’m sorry, but this isn’t what I signed up for.”
I turn away, praying Michael hasn’t left yet.
“Wait, where’re you going?” Randall’s doughy fist clamps around my arm. “You can’t just leave.”
“Of course I can,” I shrill. “Let me go!” I try to shake him off, but I’m tiny, and he very muchisn’t.
“No.” Desperation seeps into his voice. “Patrick’ll think I scared you off, and he’ll kick me out, and then where will I go?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should take this job instead.” Electricity surges in my muscles, but even when I funnel all my strength into making an escape, Randall’s grip only tightens.
