Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76517 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Never thought of it that way, but that’s actually a pretty perfect send-off for that asshole,” I say.
“Ugh. I hate him for what he did to you,” Berlin says, wrapping her arms around me. “And I hate myself for having any part in it.”
“You couldn’t have known.” I hug her back. “I should probably get back home. I said some pretty harsh things to Lachlan earlier . . . and then I ran off. Without my phone, of course. He’s probably worried about me.”
“You want a ride?” she asks.
“Your shop doesn’t close for two more hours.”
“Good thing my boss likes me.” She winks. “Come on. I’ll get my keys. You’re not walking five miles home.”
Berlin closes up the shop for the day, and we load up in her little red Jetta, heading back to the house so I can apologize for going off on him earlier. Being blindsided by Donovan’s actions has made me hypersensitive to anything remotely akin to betrayal, and that’s something I’m going to have to work on.
“You okay?” she asks on the drive.
“Yeah,” I say. “Just mentally practicing my apology.”
She turns onto a side street, not far from my place. We’re a block and a half away when the wail of ambulance sirens in the distance is followed a moment later by the honking of a fire truck.
“Huh,” she says, pointing to the billows of thick black smoke rising above the tree-lined streets. “Is that a residential fire? It’s all houses over here . . .”
A police car flies up behind us in full lights and sirens. Berlin pulls over to let him pass.
My heart lurches up the back of my throat, beat by beat, second by second.
It almost stops beating altogether when we round the corner to my street . . . and I realize the house on fire . . . is mine.
“Oh my God, Anneliese,” Berlin gasps, slowing down to a crawl. I jump out before she gets to a full stop, dashing toward the house, past yellow tape and uniformed officers.
“Ma’am, you can’t go beyond these lines,” a younger officer shouts.
“This is my house,” I yell back. “I need to know if anyone was inside?”
He steps toward me, motioning for me to move behind the barricades.
“Please! My roommate!” I beg, pointing frantically. “There could be a man in there!”
The west side of the roof caves in, sending a thousand sparks up into the clear blue sky. The window in the front of the house explodes.
Berlin parks her car down a ways before chasing after me.
A chaos of flashing lights and shouting emergency workers blurs together to complete the scene.
“Come on.” She grabs me by the arm and leads me across the street, away from the chaos of flashing lights and shouting emergency workers and fire trucks so big they block the view of my driveway so I can’t even see if Lachlan’s truck is here . . .
“My phone was inside,” I say.
“Honey, phones can be replaced . . .” She slips her arm around my shoulder.
“No, I mean, I can’t call Lachlan.”
“You can use my phone.”
“No . . . I don’t have his number memorized,” I say as another section of roof caves in.
“I . . . I can reach out to Bryce.” Her tone is hesitant, but I know she’ll put her issues with him aside for this—for me. “I’ll have him check on Lachlan and let me know.”
She pulls out her phone and moves farther down the sidewalk to make a call.
I take a seat on the curb next to her car and watch the place burn down.
I only pray he didn’t burn down with it.
THIRTY-TWO
LACHLAN
agathokakological (adj.) composed of both good and evil
Two hundred grand.
That’s what Callie thinks the house will pull, maybe even two twenty-five if we price aggressively from the start and manage to snag a bidding war. Luck and timing are half the battle, she said, but she seemed excited about getting the listing.
“Thanks, Lachlan,” she says, walking me to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at ten a.m.”
I leave with a printout of the quick market analysis she did—I wanted to make sure I had something to show Anneliese when I got back, something to put a smile back on her face and give her a little bit of hope that she didn’t have before. Tomorrow morning, Callie’s going to come by to personally tour the home and check out the renovations that have been completed so far and to get a better idea of where exactly we should price it.
Folding the paper, I slide it into my back pocket and climb into my truck to head home. I can only hope she’ll be waiting for me when I get there. She took off without her phone, but if she’s home now, I might be able to reach her.