Page 24 of Between the Lines

I seal my lips and nod curtly.

“I’ll text you the address,” he says on an exhale. “I’m assuming you’ll want to move in as soon as possible.”

“Yes.” I swallow hard, palms growing clammy around the key. “I’m going to pack tonight and move in tomorrow, if that’s okay? I know I’m supposed to be training the new hires, but I have a sitter lined up during the workweek and—”

“Sure,” Caden replies dismissively, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I’ll make sure Halle is prepped and can take over training for the day.”

“Whatever you need to do.” He rolls his shoulders back, locking in my gaze. “It goes without saying, but it’s very important you keep this entire situation between us.”

My heart falls into my belly. Halle knows, but I trust her with my life, she won’t say a peep. She’s the least of my concerns.

“No worries there, there’s no one to tell.” I force a laugh, but his brow creases as he watches me without another word. Caden just nods at me once. I wait a second, but he remains stoic.

Now that he got me to comply with his offers, he’s suddenly a man of silence again, like a bulletproof safe. He’s spun one-eighty from the guy in my kitchen this morning.

“Anyway, thanks again. I should get back out there.” Awkwardly I step towards the door.

And still, he says nothing.

I close his office door behind me, shaking my shoulders out.

I hate being indebted to someone, especially someone who controls the fate of my job, but as I shove the silver key into my pocket, relief pours over me. The house will be fixed, and Daisy and I have a place to stay.

Now onto the next two things at hand: figuring out how to keep this secret from my siblings for the next six weeks . . . and figuring out how to pay Caden back.

Little by little, I will. And this whole situation will be behind me.

One day, one step at a time.

I didn’t mention the change of housing to Luanne when I picked up Daisy today.

There’s no need—I will still drop her off and pick her up at the same times. Everything must remain steady for Daisy in that respect.

I already feel guilty enough for moving her temporarily.

The stroller bumps along the sidewalk as we walk home. She’s holding her stuffed giraffe in one hand and a snack cup with Cheerios in the other.

“It’s going to be a late night for Mama,” I tell her, making a mental list of what needs to be packed.

Half of me is filled with relief that the house will be safe and fixed in six weeks. The other half is full of anxiety over the change. But mostly I’m just exhausted.

And it’s only 4:00 PM.

When I push through the weathered iron gate, the hinges squeak and my heart aches. This is the last time I’ll be coming home for a while.

This is the home that’s always been my safety, it’s the only home I’ve ever lived in, that Daisy’s ever lived in, and now it’s trying to kill us with a weak roof and black mold.

“Let’s see the damage,” I say to Daisy as we walk through the front door and up the steps. Thick plastic lines the ceiling, almost as thick as the lump in my throat.

“Okay, change of plans, baby. We are sleeping downstairs tonight,” I say as I tickle her belly.

I don’t care if Eddie said the mold was contained and we’d be safe for another night, I’m not taking my chances.

As I unfold Daisy’s travel crib next to the sofa I’ll be sleeping on, the sound of distressed meows echo in the air. Quickly, I set Daisy down beside the sofa and dash to the powder room, whipping the door open. Hamburger screams another meow at me, and I reach down to scoop him into my arms.

“I’m so sorry, buddy. I forgot you were in here!” I kiss his head, my shoulders tense with guilt. I completely forgot I put him in here to keep him safe from the crew today.