“Hm. Bummer for him . . .” I trail off as Lainey walks up.
“Morning, girls,” she singsongs with a bright smile. Lainey is always smiling, happy, and bouncing around her dream bookstore coffee shop. Her brunette hair falls perfectly wavy, model-long legs beneath whichever sundress she’s decided on for the day. She’s like a real life Disney Princess.
“Morning,” we reply in unison.
“Hey, Kacey, is Carson okay? It’s been a while since he’s stopped in.”
Kacey looks at me for an answer.
I shrug because I have no idea.
“Uh, yeah. He’s good, just busy. Things have been crazy at the ranch with my being gone.”
Carson is our chosen brother. He’s worked at the Diamond Hart Ranch since we were kids. All three of us were only children, so we made our own family.
Lainey’s shoulders fall slightly. “Yeah, for sure. Just wanted to check. I have a couple of his favorite muffins in a bag. Can you take them to him for me?”
Kacey agrees, and Lainey bounces back to the counter.
When Kacey looks back at me, I can see the wheels spinning in her mind. “Look, I know you won’t take a handout, but Trey needs a place to stay for the summer runandhe could pay rent,” she rushes to say. “That would help you out and I promise he really is a good guy. Not to mention he’s a decent cook, a handyman, and a clean freak. He’ll probably clean your house daily. He’d be a great roommate.” She rambles so fast—selling Trey like a prize pig at the county fair—that I can’t get a word in.
I love my best friend more than anything in the world. Kacey might know I’m pulling extra shifts, but she has no idea what’s really going on. There is a lot I don’t tell her. Like the fact that I’m drowning in debt. But I’ll work a million extra shifts because there is no way in hell I’m living with Trey Bennett, of all people. I’d rather sell pictures of my feet on the internet.
“I don’t need or want a roommate. I’m fine, really.”
Kacey doesn’t look convinced.
From the moment I saw Trey in Estes Park last year, I knew he was trouble—the kind that ends in tears. He didn’t even have to speak; I could see it in the twinkle of his eyes. He’s a cowboyheartthrob, a blue-eyed temptation with a bone structure made for magazine covers.
Trey embodies every cowboy romance fantasy I’ve ever had, daring me to make a move. But I won’t. I can’t. He’s a player, through and through.
Yeah, things might be bad, but they aren’t “live with your year-long crush who carries around red flags like they’re fashion accessories” bad.
“Are you sure? I’m worried about you.”
I squeeze her hand on the table. “I’m okay, but I love you for caring. Now, let’s move on to more important subjects, like what outfits you’re packing for the summer rodeos.”
For the next hour, we outfit plan, laugh, and drink coffee. I push all my worries into a box, ignoring them. Like I always do.
Pulling in my driveway, I take in my little home. The grass in the yard needs mowing, the paint is starting to chip, and I’ve never done any landscaping. I bought this two-bedroom fixer-upper with dreams of making it my Pinterest-worthy, cottage-style home. Years later, it remains in the fixer-upper category.
I grab my tote bag and open the car door. A couple months after I bought the house, my gran needed help with a few bills. I was happy to help her—she raised me from the time I was nine. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. She’s eighty now and, while still sharp as a tack and in decent health, the medical bills, prescriptions, and a surgery her insurance refused to cover keep stacking up.
So, for the last several years, all my extra cash has gone to Gran’s bills. She hates it, but she barely has enough in retirement to pay her utilities, so I help with everything else. Thankfully, her house and car are paid for. Unfortunately, it’s been worse since the surgery; her insurance has changed and covers less and less each year.
Add to it my own bills, student debt, and my father, who shows up periodically looking for cash. Every month is another stack of bills I don’t know how I’ll pay. It’s wearing me down to the point of physical exhaustion. I’m stressed, overwhelmed, and one bill away from a mental breakdown.
I’ve considered selling my house and moving back in with Gran, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. I value my independence, and I worked so hard to afford this house. I’d feel like a failure. Not to mention it would make Gran feel horrible. I love this little house. I’m still hoping I’ll be able to fix it up one day and it would break my heart to sell it before I got the chance.
When I grab mail from the mailbox, my lungs constrict. I can’t breathe.
The insurance company won’t cover Gran’s new blood pressure medication. How on earth can her insurance not cover this? Or even part of it? It’s $30per pill. I can’t afford another $900 a month on this one prescription.
My hands tremble as I unlock my door. I throw my giant tote bag onto the kitchen table and dial her doctor’s office. This must be a mistake. There has to be a generic brand or something cheaper that insurance will cover.
After waiting on hold for twenty minutes, I get my answer. There was no mistake. Gran hasn’t been responding to the generic, so they’re trying this type that is stronger and known to have better results. Her blood pressure has been climbing and her doctor is concerned.
Shit shit shit.
