Indy
Everything I owned could fit inside two duffels and a backpack. How sad was that?
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I burrowed my face into my hands as I fought against the tears burning my eyes. Everything felt so goddamn hopeless.
I was homeless.
Car-less.
And if I didn’t get to work by noon today somehow, I’d be jobless too.
I really hoped this was rock bottom because if things got worse than this, I didn’t think I could handle it.
“Indy?” Dylan called from the living room. “You got a minute?”
I gave a wet sounding sad laugh. Oh, I had a minute. I had loads of minutes but nothing else.
Standing up, I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and willed them not to leak. After giving my sad pile of possessions one more glance, I left the room.
Dylan stood in the living room in front of the tv, shifting his weight like he had ants in his pants or something.
“Everything okay?” I asked softly. I really couldn’t deal with another psychological blow this morning. I couldn’t handle much more.
Oh god.
He wasn’t kicking me out, was he?
“Whoa.” He raised his palms and gave me a tender look that somehow calmed my racing heart. “Everything’s good. You got nothing to worry about. In fact, I found you a job.”
“What? How?” I sank down onto the couch since I felt light-headed. Maybe I should’ve eaten more of his breakfast this morning.
“We need a receptionist at the shop.”
My eyes widened. “So I’d be working for you guys? At the place Itaggedlast night?”
“Yeah…” Dylan squinted. “How about we keep that last part between the two of us?”
I nodded dazedly.
“Great.” He clapped his hands as a huge grin swept over his face. “It’s a pretty basic job, really. You answer the phone. Keep the fangirls out of the shop and filter the legitimate clients from the crazies. Easy as pie.”
I blinked a few times then nodded again.
Dylan winced. “You might have to be on camera occasionally. But that means you’ll be getting two paychecks—one from us and one from the network. I can already tell you that they won’t pay you great, but it’s extra money, so that’s good, right?”
“No, yeah. That’s…great.”
He studied me like I was a flight risk.
And maybe I was.
My brain was snapping connections together like crazy. Relief that he wasn’t kicking me out. Confusion that he magically had a job for me. Uncertainty over how much I was relying on him.
I was so freaking tired.
“It’s a real job?” I finally asked. “This isn’t something you’re making up for me?” Because that would somehow be worse. I hated the fact that I was such a huge charity case. Maybe I’d feel differently if we were friends first, but given our history, this was so crazy.
And honestly, it was starting to make me feel bad. It was hard to hold a grudge against someone who didn’t know about it and was also being so incredibly sweet and giving.
