Page 28 of The Keeper

The door shut behind me.

He’d get over me leaving early, but I’d never get over it if something happened to Carina.

CHAPTER 11

NOAH

She’d warned me. However, nothing could’ve prepared me for the disaster that awaited me at her flat.

Yes, it was flooded, but the underlying mess was what really struck me. Dirty dishes piled so high they blocked the kitchen sink faucet. Lewd lad mags spread across the coffee table. A half-eaten pizza sharing the same box as a dirty sock on the floor.

Carina was meticulous at my house, so that wasn’t her doing. All evidence pointed to at least one disgusting male roommate.

My stomach roiled. I tore my eyes away from the pizza-and-sock travesty to focus on Carina. She was standing on a semi-dry patch of ground near the front door, arguing with a man whom I assumed was her landlord. Neither noticed my arrival.

“This wasn’t my fault!” Frustration laced her words. “The flat was like this when I came home. We’ve flagged the toilet issues for months now⁠—”

“There’ve been toilet issues because of you lot,” the landlord snapped. “I’ve been renting this flat out for a decade, and I didn’t have any problems until you three moved in.”

“I highly doubt that’s true. The plumber⁠—”

“You can doubt all you want, but the toilet issue is your fault. Therefore, it’s your responsibility to fix it.”

“I think a lawyer would disagree.” I came up behind her, my voice calm despite the anger simmering in my veins. I’d been here less than two minutes, and I already wanted to punch this condescending jerk in the face.

If he interrupted Carina one more time, I just might.

She whirled around, her eyes wide.

Her landlord gaped at me. “Bloody hell. You look exactly like Noah Wilson.”

“I am Noah Wilson.” For once, I was happy to throw my weight around. “And you look like you’re bullying one of your tenants. It’s a landlord’s job to fix issues that affect habitability. That includes toilets.”

He snapped his mouth shut and drew himself up to his full, yet still unimpressive, height. “Normally, yes. But my lease explicitly states that if those issues stem from the tenants’ behavior, then they are responsible. I have a plumber who can go on record saying they’ve been flushing all sorts of things they shouldn’t have.” He glared at Carina. “You know what? I’ve had it. All three of you have twenty-four hours to collect your belongings and vacate the premises. If you don’t comply, I’ll call the police. Even your famous friend can’t get you out of that one. Oh.” He paused, his face twisting with petulant satisfaction. “And it goes without saying that you’re not getting your security deposit back.”

He turned on his heel and stormed off.

I started after him, but Carina stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“He can’t evict you like that,” I said, my jaw tight. “It’s against the law. Any decent lawyer will take him to the cleaners.”

I didn’t ask what happened with the toilet. It didn’t matter.

She shook her head. “The lease isn’t under my name; it’s under my roommate’s name. I signed on because it was cheaper that way. Gary—that’s our landlord—knows, but he’s been letting it slide. Getting lawyers involved will only make things worse for me.”

Carina tried to smile, but her eyes were suspiciously bright.

All the anger drained out of me.

Fuck. I was shit at comforting people. Helping Evie after a bad day at school was one thing; consoling someone who'd just been effectively evicted was another.

“How are your things?” I asked. “Are they…”

“Fine. Mostly. They weren’t stored within reach of the water, so…” Carina’s voice wobbled.

Double fuck.

Please don’t cry. If she cried, I couldn’t be held responsible for what I’d do to that fucker Gary.