Chapter Twenty-Three
From inside the house, I watch Gage’s car pull out of our driveway. The house is silent. It’s late, so I’m not surprised. It’s got to be after 3:00 a.m. by now. With my phone in hand, I remember I turned it off earlier. Pressing the On button, I wait for it to come to life. When it does, a series of dings alerts me to new texts. I know who they’re from.
Cooke:Quinn? You called? My sister said you were upset. Are you all right, love? Call me or text. Please.
Wait. His sister?
Me: I’m sorry I bothered you. Bad day. That’s all.
I smile for the first time in hours as I make my way down to the basement. But the smile is short lived. The second my feet hit the basement carpet, I hear a splash sound. It takes a second for the water to seep into my Converse tennis shoes. Flicking on the flashlight on my phone, I’m shocked at the sight before me. The basement is filled with standing water up to my ankles. I slowly make my way across the room to my bedroom, pushing floating debris away with my foot as I go. I’m doing my best to remember how I left things in my bedroom this morning. I know I was rushing around….
At my bedroom door, it feels like my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I don’t want to know the state of my room, but I have to. I turn the knob slowly. It takes extra effort to push it open because of all the water. The second I have it open all the way, I hit the light switch and nearly choke. All of my things—well, most of my things—are floating in four or five inches of water. Things like my $200 biology textbook and my laptop are sitting just below the surface. Clothes that I’d discarded throughout the week are lying in soggy clumps as well. Those can be washed, but things like my headphones, charger cables, and other schoolwork are lost. The sob that comes out of me is loud. I know it is because I felt it in my entire body. “How will I ever be able to replace my stuff?” My laptop was my high school graduation present. My parents won’t be able to afford a replacement. And the textbooks? I know one of them was a rental, so I’m going to have to pay full price for that one.
Without thinking, I throw myself onto my bed and hear the water gush beneath it. It won’t be long until it seeps up through the box spring to the mattress, but I still have a little bit of time to lose my fucking mind. Honest to God, I’ve never had a day like this one. A day that makes me want to give up on everything. Because right now, it’s not worth it. None of it is worth it.
When my phone rings, I place it in front of my face. It’s Cooke wanting to FaceChat. I’m tempted to ignore it, but fuck if I don’t need a friend right now. I hit the button. I hear him saying things, his voice sounding sweet and reassuring. I’ve been doing my damn best to keep my emotions under control and seeing Cooke’s sweet smile almost puts me over the edge but it also gives me strength. Especially when he says, “My love.” Cooke’s voice is strained. “Tell me what happened.”
So I do. I tell him about my long day at the bar. I even tell him about the rude guy and the terrible things he said to me. I mean, he needs to hear the entire story, right? I mention Bryant and Kara, and when I get the part about Frankenscooter, the sobs start up again, but I quickly get them under control. I explain how helpful Officer Golden was, and then I go back and talk about the incident with Kara and the hair pulling, and then, finally, I set the scene for my flooded bedroom. I turn the phone so he can see the water and the damage. “See?” I whimper. “Ev-Everything’s ruined.”
“I see. Are you insured? Is the home insured?”
“I… I’m not sure. I can ask Patsy.”
“That’s your first step. Perhaps you need to wake your mates so they can see the damage. You can find out what’s covered.”
“Okay.” That’s a good idea.
“As for the rest, I’d like to kill the men at the bar for you, love. You’re beautiful. And I’ll buy you a new scooter. Hell, I’ll replace your bloody—”
“No, Cooke. I didn’t call you so you would buy me things.”
“I know, dearest.”
“I just wanted—”
“You needed a shoulder.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. God, I’m tired.
“I’m your shoulder. I’ll always be.”
“Thank you, Cooke.”
“Now, go wake your mates. Get them to help you. I bloody wish I was there with you.”
“M-Me too.” I hiccup.
“I’ll be in touch, love.”
“Okay.”
God, I sound pathetic.
* * *
“Holy shit.”Patsy gasps.
“What the fuck?” says a sleepy Robbi.
