Frustrated?
Boyfriend.
Unsure what to do next?
Having a boyfriend was the obvious solution.
Even if the relationships weren't ideal, being with someone was easier than admitting she didn't know what she wanted to do in her life. Being a physical therapist was great. But she'd always assumed that once she graduated, her path would be more clear.
Wasn't that how it was supposed to work? Get an education, get a job, settle somewhere, and enjoy life? That was certainly how it had worked for two of her older siblings.
After Lucas, her parents had been less than subtle about where they thought her life should be headed. On the one hand, they’d poured out more love in the past three years than the rest of her life combined. On the other, Penny had never felt more pressure to make them proud. To prove that they weren’t terrible parents because one of their children hadn’t made it.
They hadn't been big fans of Danny, and she couldn't blame them. Even when they'd asked her to reconsider moving to Calgary, she was blinding herself to the red flags. All Danny talked about was himself, his practice, his goals. She could count on one hand the number of times he’d ever asked her what she wanted or what she was interested in.
He just assumed her interests were his. But she’d been more than happy to hide behind someone else's ambitions because she had none, and the pressure to make her parents proud was crushing.
What was the point?She'd done everything she could to help her brother, and it hadn't changed a damn thing. She'd been the one he called when he was high and couldn't get home at three in the morning. She’d been the one to pick him up and watch him overnight when he couldn't remember what he'd taken or how much.
She'd gone to therapy with Lucas, had talked on the phone with him for hours in the middle of the night while he sobbed into the speaker. She’d seen his face grow gaunt, his eyes shadowed. She’d watched him waste away and pick at his skin. She'd sat on pins and needles during work hours just waiting to get a call that he hadn't made it home.
When that call finally came, despite all the imagination and mental practice, she still wasn’t ready for it. So when Danny had shown up at her office after a lunch meeting and asked her out, she had no hesitation. Yes, she would go to dinner. Yes, she would go dancing.
Yes, yes, yes.Anything to keep her from having to go home, from talking to her parents or seeing the look in their eyes reminding her that she had failed at herone job.
She'd been unofficially tasked with taking care of Lucas because she was the one he always called. It had been as simple as that. Penny loved and hated him for that. She hated how he hurt her. How she was constantly anxious. And yet, she wouldn’t have wanted him to rely on anyone else.
She loved being the one he trusted, the one who was supposed to make him better. But every time he fell deeper, her own shame and disappointment in herself grew deeper roots.
Penny swiped at the tears in her eyes and gave up on emptying her suitcase. She stood, stalked to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her face. The tears that had been close to breaking out all day were finally here, and she didn't want to face this standing up.
She hurriedly brushed her teeth, pulled her hair into a braid and was about to jump into bed when she remembered she hadn't put her sheets or comforter on yet.
She cursed under her breath, realizing she’d brought her sheets, but her quilt was still at Kelty's. They’d been cold the night before while watching a movie and had pulled it off her bed. She wasnotgoing to go out and ask Brett for a blanket looking like this, so she spread her sheets over the bed with trembling hands and pulled on a sweatshirt, then curled up, clutching her pillow.
At least living with Danny had taught her one thing.
She knew how to cry without making a sound.
ChapterThree
Home.
That word felt like a punch to the gut, but Penny held it together only because Michael Jackson was playing on the radio. Her mom had been obsessed with him all growing up, and listening to the eighties’ synth felt like she’d wrapped her arms around Penny and squeezed. She doubted anyone had ever had that reaction to Billie Jean in the history of humankind, but she was grateful to avoid a full mental breakdown in the cab of Tyler’s truck.
But she would break down. It was coming, which meant she needed to get settled in fast so she didn’t look like a crazy person on her first night. Alone. In a stranger’s apartment.
Penny clenched her jaw and jumped out of the truck the second Tyler parked, then started unloading from the back.
“You’re in a hurry.” Tyler pulled down the tailgate and motioned for her to move to the back instead of contorting herself over the wheel well.
Penny hauled a duffel full of PT equipment over her shoulder and followed him behind the building. They made a few more trips, then finally loaded everything into a single-car garage behind the small complex. “You realize this doesn’t count as an apartment if you have your own garage, right?”
Tyler laughed. “It’s not big enough to fit Brett’s Jeep, so I don’t think it counts as a garage. It would probably fit your car, though.” He dropped the other two equipment bags and stepped back. “Did we get it all?”
Penny nodded. “Just a few more things to take into the house.” Tyler closed the garage, and they walked around the building to the front door.
The complex was nice. On a quiet street. Only six units. A driveway back to an open parking area with six, albeit small, garage units that were most likely all being used for storage like Brett’s.
