Heart pounding, I whip around, finding Thayer standing beside his work truck, a hand shielding his eyes from the sun.
“A pipe broke, and the house is flooding. I need to turn the?—”
Thayer eats up the distance between us faster than seems humanly possible. “Let’s check the garage,” he says. “That’s where ours is.”
“I can’t open it from out here.”
It’s an old door, and it’s locked from the inside. So I hustlein through the front door with Thayer hot on my heels. When he steps into the garage, his fingers find the light switch before mine do, flooding the space with light. And within seconds, he locates the valve and has the water shut off.
“Thank you.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“You’re welcome.” He nods to the house, and I turn, following his silent direction.
Inside, the floor is covered in nearly two inches of water now. It could be so much worse, but even this is threatening to send me over the edge.
“Fuck,” he curses, assessing the damage.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Fuck.”
“I have a wet vac. I’ll get it set up and start sucking out the water, but this…”
“Yeah, I know.” I don’t need him to finish his sentence to know how bad this is. A flood like this means the carpet will have to be torn out. The baseboards will need to go too. God only knows what else.
I press my lips together, holding back tears. Or maybe a scream.
Why this?
Why now?
Whyme?
When my phone rings in my pocket, I bite back a groan and pull it out.
Caleb.
“Is everything okay?” he asks before I can greet him. “I’m at the office, but I don’t see the files you were going to send me.”
“No.” My voice cracks embarrassingly, and my face heats an instant later. “It’s not okay.”
He’s silent for a moment, but when he does speak, his voice has a steely edge. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
I press a hand to my aching forehead, a migraine already jackhammering its way through my skull. “My house flooded. There’s about two inches of water and?—”
“Fuck, I’ll call Thayer. Maybe he’s still home?—”
“It’s okay, he’s already here.” I run my trembling fingers through my hair. “I’m going to call my insurance company too. But I’ll run over and email the papers first.”
“Fuck the papers.”
My heart lurches at the fury in his tone.
“I’m coming home.”
“W-What?” I stutter. “You just got to Boston. You need to be there for work.”
“It can wait.”
With every word he speaks, the tears push against my defenses, determined to pour out. I’ve never been one to complain, but I’ve already endured more than my fair share of upset in my life. Now this? My brothers need a home, and…
