Page 7 of The Fall Fix Up

“Uh-oh. It sounds serious. Let me get your mother.”

Bile rose in Aiden’s throat at how casually his dad called Corrine, the woman he married when Aiden was a kid, his mother. She had been in his life for decades, but she was not his mother. Just because Aiden didn’t have memories of the woman whose picture sat on his table didn’t mean she was replaceable. “No, I just need to talk to you. There was a fire here in Peach Blossom a couple weeks ago.”

“I heard,” his dad said. “So sad. Hopefully everyone found somewhere else to go.”

“Well, yes. That’s why I’m calling,” Aiden continued, a little miffed that his dad had already heard about what was happening but hadn’t thought to actually reach out and call him. “My apartment was affected too, so now I’m looking for a new place. But when I applied for an apartment, the credit report showed some weird stuff. Did you open accounts in my name?”

Silence stretched, broken only by the faint sound of a TV in the background of his dad’s phone. When his dad sighed, Aiden’s mood sank further. “We had to, son. Things got tight and we needed a little to hold us over. It’s just a couple of cards and utilities. Nothing major.”

“Nothing major?” Aiden’s voice cracked as he repeated his dad’s words. “My credit is trashed, Dad. I just got denied for a rental because of it and I’m pretty sure the other place is going to say the same. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

His dad’s tone turned defensive. “We’re taking care of your grandmother. Do you think that’s free? She needs her medicine and food, and Corrine needs to be compensated for watching her when I’m at work since neither you or your damn sister have stepped up.”

“You used my name and social security number and didn’t tell me,” Aiden shot back. He clenched his hands against the rising frustration. “You stole from me. There are thousands of dollars of unpaid shit in my name.”

“I didn’t steal from you. We’re family, and family takes care of one another,” his dad countered. “I raised your ass, didn’t I? I clothed you and kept you fed after your mother passed and now when we need help, you throw it in our faces?”

Guilt twisted hard in Aiden’s gut; an old familiar leash that only his father knew how to tug just right.

The mention of his grandmother hurt the most. She was the one person in their family who had always loved him without condition. The thought of her going without clawed at him. With a sigh to calm himself, Aiden closed his eyes, ignoring the way they burned.

“You could have asked me, Dad. I could have helped without you having to do this.”

“You would have said no. Rowan did,” his dad said flatly.

“I’m not Rowan!” Aiden exclaimed, unable to keep himself from yelling. He’d grown up being compared to Rowan even after she’d turned eighteen and left in the middle of the night with barely a goodbye. He had been surprised in the moment when he discovered she was gone, but the more he thought about it over the years, it had been inevitable, given how much of a mess their family had been after his mom’s death. Aiden’s throat was dry. He wanted to argue more and scream out his frustrations. Instead, he sat there staring straight ahead at the mess that was now his life.

His dad’s voice softened, almost coaxing. “Aiden, son, don’t make a big deal out of this. We’ll get caught up and fix all of it. Just give us a little time so we don’t worry your grandmother.”

Aiden didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was trapped between fury and guilt, and the need to protect himself and the pull of the family that had always demanded more than they gave. For the first time since he saw his life going up in smoke, he didn’t know how he was going to claw his way out.

Chapter 4

Shivering while waking up wasn’t ideal, but it beat not having a place to lay her head at all. Janae groaned as she sat up in her bed and immediately reached for her extra-large sweatshirt and thick winter socks. She felt a little better after pulling them on and then padded to the kitchen.

It was really more of a destruction zone than anything else. The faint smell of sawdust still lingered in the air from when the contractors had last been by. The house was hers, legally with a mortgage and everything, but with the mess and the creaking, it didn’t feel like home yet. With only her bedroom, the spare room, and the bathroom between them remotely habitable, the rest of the space looked like something out of a half-abandoned museum.

Janae had bought this house months ago with the intention of having it worked on over the next year before officially moving in. But with the fire leaving families in need of accommodation, she had decided to not even put herself on the list, moving into her construction-filled house instead. The kitchen might have been a shitshow, but she had bought a small refrigerator for her room, and it was working out just fine. Or it had been until her contractor let her know that renovations would be delayed until further notice.

She had expected construction to slow down, but she hadn’t thought it would come to a halt completely.

“They’re calling on everyone with a license to come together to get things rebuilt as soon as possible,” the contractor had said. She could tell he genuinely felt bad. He explained that all hands were needed at the site of the old apartment building, tearing down the dangerous remnants of the fire, then preparing for the rebuild. Janae hadn’t argued. How could she, when she’d seen the smoke rising a little more than a week ago?

When he explained it that way, Janae hadn’t even been able to complain. He was right. That was the only apartment building in town and this tragedy affected more than just her. The bones of her house were there . . . mostly. Sure, the kitchen was still a mess of half-constructed cabinets, and the refrigerator wouldn’t be delivered for another two weeks, but the stove was in and connected. The sink was there . . . even if it was still in a box on the floor. She could grab water from the bathroom, so really she couldn’t complain too loudly. She had a warm-ish bed and a place to call her own. She knew that was a luxury compared to most.

Still, it did make things a little more difficult, given she wasn’t a particularly handy person. She and her sister always joked about it. Janae was crafty, not handy. Those were two very different things. Painting a wall was no problem for her. Hell, give her a blank canvas or some clay and she could truly make art. But ask her to rehang drywall, seal a drafty window, or fix the mystery creak under the floorboards, and she was useless. She preferred to come in after everything had been constructed and make it look nice.

With a sigh, she poured some coffee into a chipped mug that she’d made at school. She grimaced at the taste and pulled her phone from her pocket when it buzzed against her thigh. Braeden’s name lit up the screen and she sighed again. She thought about just ignoring the call. She loved her twin, but right now she wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Plus, Braeden always had the almost uncanny ability to call when Janae was dealing with the mess that was her life as of late.

With a groan, she picked up the phone, deciding to just get the conversation over with.

“Hey,” Janae said, her voice still raspy from sleep.

“Hey yourself,” Braeden shot back. “You sound like you haven’t actually woken up yet. Are you being lazy in bed again? Don’t you have things to do today?”

“No.”

“Really?” Braeden’s tone was knowing. “You sound kind of tired. And don’t even try to tell me you’re fine, because we both know you’re full of shit.”