Chapter 3
Harley
The next day after work, I push open our apartment door, my body heavy with the weight of a day spent fighting bureaucracy. The Johnson case went better than expected, but court appearances always drain me like an emotional vampire. All I want is Thai food, wine, and Skyler’s arms around me. But something’s wrong; I can feel it in the stillness of our home, in the tight lines around Skyler’s eyes as he appears in the hallway, his carefully neutral expression sending a ripple of unease down my spine.
“You’re home early,” I say, dropping my keys into the ceramic bowl by the door.
“How was court?” Skyler steps forward to take my bag, but his movements are mechanical. His typical relaxed posture replaced by rigid control.
“A win. We got temporary supervision awarded to the mother.” I kick off my heels, studying his face. “What’s wrong?”
“We have a situation…” He uses his architect voice. It’s entirely too professional, and so unlike the Skyler who kissed me this morning.
“What kind of situation?” My pulse quickens. “Is everyone okay? Your parents? Your brother Steven?”
“Everyone’s fine.” He extends his hand. “Come with me.”
He leads me down our hallway toward the bathroom, his fingers laced through mine a little too tightly. My mind races through possibilities. Could be a burst pipe, broken fixture, maybe the ancient water heater finally giving out.
But nothing prepares me for what I see when he pushes open the door.
Black spots are everywhere. They’re on the ceiling and the walls around the shower, spreading underneath the cracks of the white tiles we chose together last year. In the center of the ceiling, the spots cluster into a dark, ominous bloom, tendrils reaching outward. Various tiles have been tossed on the floor, likely from Skyler prying them away to assess the damage.
“Is that—” My voice catches.
“Mold,” Skyler confirms, his thumb rubbing circles on my hand. “I noticed a small spot last week, but thought it was just normal bathroom stuff. When I came home early today to surprise you, I saw…this. It’s even worse underneath the tiles.”
My free hand flies to my mouth. “It wasn’t this bad this morning.”
“It’s spreading fast. I already called a contractor. He’s on his way.”
I step closer, peering at the black invasion. “Can we just clean it? Bleach or something?”
Skyler shakes his head. “I tried a small section with mold remover. It came back within hours.”
I think of all the showers we’ve taken, the mornings getting ready for work, breathing in whatever spores have been multiplying above our heads.
“Have you been having headaches lately?” Skyler asks, watching me carefully. “Or that cough that wouldn’t go away last month?”
The implication hits me like a physical blow. “You think this is why I’ve been sick?”
“Maybe.” His voice is too calm, too measured. He’s trying not to scare me, which only scares me more.
The doorbell interrupts whatever he might say next. Skyler squeezes my hand before going to answer it. I remain frozen, staring at the black evidence of invasion, of our home betraying us.
I hear male voices, then footsteps approaching. A stocky man in his fifties enters our bathroom, clipboard in hand. His eyes go straight to the ceiling, and his small frown tells me everything I need to know before he even speaks.
“I’m Ray,” he says, nodding to me before pulling a small device from his tool belt. “I’m going to check the moisture levels first, if that’s alright.”
I step back, bumping into Skyler, who’s appeared in the doorway. His arm immediately circles my waist, steadying me.
The contractor moves methodically, pressing his moisture meter against different sections of the wall, making notes on his clipboard. Each number he murmurs sounds like a countdown to disaster.
“How bad is it?” I finally ask when I can’t stand the silence anymore.
Ray glances at us, his expression professionally grim. “I’ve seen worse, but not by much. This is Stachybotrys, or toxic black mold. See how it’s not just surface growth?” He points to areas where the paint is bubbling. “It’s in the drywall, probably theinsulation, too. And with these readings . . .” He taps his meter. “You’ve got serious water intrusion somewhere.”
“Can you fix it?” Skyler’s voice remains steady, but I feel the tension in his body pressed against mine.
